Post by dsb on Oct 22, 2019 5:12:46 GMT
While the wait between matches was relatively short, it’s was still long enough for the FAWNatics to grow restless, especially in Orlando, especially on PPV Fight Night!! While the action had already been blistering, the masses were still wanting more, and it was with audible anticipation that they began to chant before the Announcer came to centre ring.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, capturing their attention. “The following contest will be for One Fall and for the EuroAsia Title!!”
That got the FAWNatics cheering.
“Introducing first, the Challenger…”
ELECTRIFIED
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oNuQMTI7n0
…burst to life over the loud speakers, cutting him off mid-sentence.
IRMA IRONS
The Dark-Haired Destroyer tore through the curtains with little ceremony, setting a murderous pace as she stormed towards the ring with singular purpose. She glowered, every muscle of her physique positively twitching, five foot four and one-hundred and twenty-five pounds of scarcely contained aggression made manifest as she cracked her own neck in alarming fashion.
She forgo the need to torment the FAWNatics, either having outgrown such necessities or, more likely, her volatile need to inflict misery had merely become more focused, refined by the counsel of one, Darla Diane Davis. Her murderous glare was for the squared circle only and, after she had stormed up the steel steps, the Manchester Malcontent ducked between the top and middle rope and began striding about the four corners of the ring, displaying clear signs of agitation.
She began pacing one way before coming to an abrupt stop and turning about sharply, incessantly rolling her shoulders as she clenched her fists. When the Announcer dared to approach to ask her if she were ok, Iron’s instead snatched the microphone from out of his hand as though she were a rottweiler about to bite. He backed off immediately in alarmed fashion, giving up on the stick without a fight, leaving the Weaponised Wolverine in full command of the arena’s sound system.
Irma immediately made use of it.
“SINCLAIR!!” she shouted, just barely coming to a stop at centre ring as she glowered at the curtains. “Aint no-one else in my way now, Bytch, just you and me!!” she explained in a volatile manner, inhaling deeply in anticipation, having endured a Fatal Four Way at Summer Swelter and then emerged victorious in Fatal Three Way at Red, White and Bruised, she was finally getting what she wanted. “You! Me!! This Ring!!! NOW!!!!”
She dropped the microphone the moment she was done with it, possessing little sympathy for the crowd as its collision with the canvas caused a SQUEEL to ring out across the arena, the FAWNatics wincing at the noise. Thankfully, the discomfort faded quickly, for that painful ringing was soon replaced by…
FEEL INVINCIBLE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gco_SAvHVSM
…bursting into life over the loud speakers, heralding the arrival of FAWN’s EuroAsia Champion!!
When the house lights bathed the stage with welcome illumination, the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance officially lost their collective sh*t, the Upstart Supreme herself revealed for all to see!
SAMANTHA SINCLAIR
Standing with her feet braced apart and arms upraised, the miniature Brit flashed her most winning smile as her freckled cheeks flushed an endearing shade of crimson. She raised her hands up high and wiggled her fingers, the Little Sparrow cluing in her supporters that it was time for them to join in before she brought them together…
ONCE!
TWICE!!
THRICE!!!
…the audience doing likewise in unison before she pointed dramatically towards the squared circle, pyrokinetics exploding to either side of the crowd favourite Brit and surrounding her in a halo of light.
Statement of intent made, the brunette of petite proportions set off down the ramp at a brisk and lively pace as she made her way to the ring, diverting from her destination as she spotted the youngest members of the audience in the front rows and delivering crisp high fives to make their evenings. Standing in at five foot four and one-hundred and ten pounds, her spirited and welcoming demeanour made her every inch the People’s Princess, welcoming the masses with open arms as they welcomed her in return.
Arriving at her destination, the lithe, gold clad grappler hopped up onto the apron without even a hint of hesitation, grasping onto the top rope in short order. After delivering a cheeky shake of her pert booty, Sammie leaned backwards before positively vaulting her slender physique up and over the uppermost coil, turning about into a darling spiral after her boots returned to canvas, brunette curls bouncing about her shoulders as she toured the four corners of the squared circle.
About her trim midriff snuggly sat ten pounds of coveted strap, the EuroAsia Title right at home about her waist and, if the FAWNatics had anything to say about it, that was precisely where the gold would stay.
She had to give it up for the time being, however, Sammie well aware that her right to carry the belt reset to zero each and every time she stepped into the squared circle. With the barest hint of trepidation appearing upon her cherub cheeks, the People’s Princess released a short exhale as she lightly drummed her fingertips atop her beloved straps faceplate.
Sammie whipped it off a moment later before she grinned brightly, thrusting the liberated belt free up into the air for all to see and the Loyalist’s in attendance cheered with gusto. Reluctantly, she then surrendered the very same title to the Official for safe keeping, vowing at that very moment to earn it back again before the night was over.
Sinclair exhaled again before stretching out her shoulders, turning to face one of her most heated nemesis. “Alright, Iron’s, let’s do thi…”
She never finished her sentence.
The FAWNatics attempted to voice a warning, but it came far too late, Iron’s storming across the ring as though she was a bull seeing red. Without provocation, she positively SLAMMED her forearm into the side of her opponent’s temple, releasing a pent up roar as she did so, the People’s Princess rocked backwards onto her heels as her eyes momentarily lost focus.
Irma didn’t relent, not giving her adversary the chance to breath, quite literally as she roughly cupped the back of Sammie’s noggin and folding her forwards, LAUNCHING a wicked kneelift up into the smaller brunettes unprotected gut to drive the wind from her lithe physique. Sinclair gasped as her trim tummy buckled beneath the impact, the petite Brit briefly popped up onto her tip toes before her knees displayed a worrying shimmy, a low groan soon following as she ineffectually pawed at her ambushers flexed biceps.
Still, the Manchester Malcontent would not relent, pulling the Upstart Supreme forwards into a fierce front headlock, securing her in place before slinging one of her opponents arms up and over her shoulders. With the gold clad crowd sweetheart so secured, Iron’s inhaled a deep breath before displaying her superior power, forcibly lifting Sinclair off the deck until the young woman’s athletic stems were pointing directly upwards towards the ceiling. Just as it may have seemed that Irma would follow through into a conventional Suplex, she instead spun her captive about and DROPPED her vertically straight back down to earth, DRILLING her into the canvas head and shoulders first!!
KIWI CRUSHER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZORv9r5U-c8
Gravity, momentum and the sudden stop all conspired to rapidly compact Sammie into a small ball, a breathy grunt escaping from her body as she was both used and abused, her stems momentarily folded in such a way that they could have easily been captured, and Sinclair tied up into a tight ball for a blisteringly fast pinfall. Irma forgo that opportunity, shoving those same (coveted) legs aside, Sammie spilling out across the canvas in a moaning starfish as Iron’s surged back up onto her feet.
She roared, adrenaline spiking at unsafe levels, the Weaponised Wolverine thumping a fist against her own chest as she marched a rapid circuit about the squared circle. “BYTCH AIN’T NEVER SEE ME COMING!!” she screamed at no-one in particular, which was to say, she screamed at everyone at ringside. She exhaled deeply, crooked grin plastered across her features, a shark who had tasted blood and now demanded more. She turned about…
…to find as insistent Official standing in her way.
“Jesus, Iron’s,” the Gentlemen in black and white exasperated, “the match hasn’t even started yet!!”
“So f*cking what?” Irma would not be cowed, right eye twitching dangerously, “I don’t need no permission to rip out her spleen!!”
“You want to win the EuroAsia Title?” the Official cut straight to the heart of the matter which, to his credit, did earn a moment’s hesitation from Iron’s, a rare thing indeed. “Then you let me start the match above board, and you back all the way off until I’m satisfied. Otherwise, well, feel free to go home empty handed.”
Irma seethed, her knuckles positively bleeding white with intensity as she clenched her fists. For the longest of moments, it looked as though she may well indulge in her ref beating ways, but with a grinding of her teeth, she relented. She backed off one step, then two, the glare of her dark eyes suggesting that he should hurry the f*ck up before she changed her mind.
“Very good,” the man in black and white nodded, tentatively turning about to address the other young woman in the ring, “Ok, Sammie, how are you fee…”
Sinclair wasn’t listening, she was too busy sprinting across the ring, releasing a (not exactly intimidating) war cry of her own now that she’d been given the chance to catch her breath. No sooner than had the Official dodged aside, had Sammie bypassed him, Irma only able to open her eyes wide in surprise as the brunette she had only just ambushed was returning the favour. Sammie THREW herself into the air, launching her lithe frame into a beautiful Dropkick, the soles of her boots SLAMMING into her foes exposed bosom, knocking the air from Irma’s body and flattening her to the deck!!
Iron’s hit the canvas hard and, as she sputtered to inhale a fresh breath into her suddenly enflamed chest, she continued rolling, tucking under the bottom rope and vacating the ring. She landed on her feet with a grimace, clutching at her bosom as she snarled, stepping back from the squared circle for just a second before surging forwards, BEATING her fists against the apron several times in frustration.
She glowered in Sinclair’s direction with murderous intent, the enthusiasm of the crowd setting her blood to boil, the People’s Princess matching her stare from inside the ring and inciting her to come back in. Irma, her shoulders twitching, turned about sharply and paced rapidly towards the Time Keeper, pointing threateningly in his direction.
“Ring the bell!!” she demanded, brooking no argument, “ring the bell so I can rip this bytches throat out!!”
The Time Keeper in general, the unfortunate gentlemen that he was at that particular moment, was evidently caught in indecision, swallowing deeply before following her instructions.
The FAWNatics responded with gusto, eager for the already heated festivities to be officially underway.
Iron’s grinned her crooked grin, satisfied that she had gotten her way, returning herself to the apron with all due haste…
Which evidently wasn’t haste enough, for the spritely frame of Sammie Sinclair was significantly lighter footed than the powerhouse physique of Irma Irons. With a rapid pitter patter of her boots across the canvas, the Upstart Supreme cut the Challenger off at the pass with a sleek display of athleticism, leaping at the last moment and leading with her feet as she grasped the top rope for greater leverage!!
THIRD ROPE BASEBALL DROPKICK
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoLJhrbef7E
The soles of her boots THUMPED against her opponents unprotected torso, the modified Dropkick driving a grunt from Irma’s body before she was sent her sprawling off the apron for the second time in quick succession. Secured by the top rope, Sammie was able to reverse her own trajectory, neatly slinging herself back into the squared circle, where she popped a fist up into the air by way of salute to the adoring masses. The FAWNatics were enjoying themselves a great deal, and they let the EuroAsia Champion know it, Sinclair fuelled by their support as she turned about to face her adversary.
Irma’s mood had not improved a single iota as she braced herself against the barricade, dragging herself back up to vertical and preparing to invade the ring with a great deal of hostility.
Unfortunately for her, Sinclair was evidently far from done, the miniature brunette once again dashing towards the ropes and launching herself up into the air. With a delightful bounce, Sammie took herself all the way up to the third coil and, after spring boarding off the top rope, she flipped through the air in a crowd-pleasing sault before SPLASHING all of her one-hundred and ten pounds across Iron’s unprepared body!
SPRINGBOARD FORWARD SAULT
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_meezWSNAR8
With both gravity and momentum proving to be a frequent ally of the Sinclair’s, the high velocity impact packed more than enough punch to knock Irma off her feet, the gold glad grappler riding her adversary all the way down to the concrete. Iron’s hit the deck across her wider shoulders with a pained grunt while her foe, after using her adversary as a crash pad, was better positioned to roll her way to freedom and pop right back up onto her feet.
Sammie was buzzing now, the People’s Princess swinging both of her hands up high as she hopped to a stop at the barricades, whooping loudly as the FAWNatics showered her with praise. Caught up in the moment, she delivered a quick series of high fives to those fortunate enough to find themselves in the front row, a chant building in steam around all four corners of the arena.
“WORLD’S! BEST!! BRIT!!! WORLD’S! BEST!! BRIT!!! WORLD’S! BEST!! BRIT!!!”
“Alright, Iron’s,” Sammie put on her game face (which was not quite as fearsome as she imagined), getting back to business, “now that we’re officially on the same pa…”
For the second time tonight, Irma didn’t let her finish, cutting off her statement before she could complete it, the Weaponised Wolverine still on one knee as she DROVE her forearm up and between the smaller brunette’s exposed thighs, DRILLING the low blow home with visible vengeance!!
Sammie opened her lips wide in stunned surprised as her legs were split so expertly and her most private of regions was abused so vigorously, a silent moan escaping from her small body as she momentarily popped up onto her tip toes. With her hips all a shimmy, and the FAWNatics calling fowl, the shell-shocked Sinclair almost toppled over, and perhaps she would have done had the freshly risen Iron’s not tugged her forwards.
“We aint never gonna be on the same page, bytch,” Irma snarled with considerable hatred, determined to assert her authority over Sinclair once and for all. Wrapping her arms about the folded young woman’s midriff, Iron’s stiffened her posture and, with a dominant grunt of effort, both spun and hoisted the petite Brit up and over until the small of back lay posted across the Challenger’s powerful shoulder. A short cry escaped from the body of the EuroAsia Champion as her spine arched painfully in a wicked curve, the miniature brunette held aloft by way of a Canadian Backbreaker.
Sammie grunted and groaned as she was jostled up and down, Irma exercising every ounce of torque that she could find as she enjoyed the sounds of pain her adversary was making. With her peepers fluttering closed as she struggled to endure her predicament, the movements of Sinclair’s arms and legs all too soon became involuntary, twitching this way and that only because Iron’s was shaking her overpowered physique out, each moment in the backbreaker sapping her of more and more of her desire to endure.
Fortunately, the Official had evidently decided that more than enough had been transpiring outside of the squared circle.
“…One! Two!!...” he called out from inside ring, finally opting to begin his count.
Iron’s curled her lip in irritation, those attired in black and white frequently getting on her last nerve. Realising that her time was up, Irma inhaled deeply before, with a forceful shove, she pushed the People’s Princess up into the air before SLAMMING her down hard into the concrete beside them!!
CANADIAN BACKBREAKER SLAM
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F93t8ipJ8Mw
Many of the FAWNatics looked away from the crash landing, the rest expressed their collective displeasure. Irma didn’t seem to care, she got exactly what she wanted, which was the Upstart Supreme quivering at her feet.
“…Five! Six!!...” the Official continued, injecting a sense of urgency into his tone
Irma flipped him the bird before reaching down to scrape Sammie off the concrete, dragging the young woman up and unceremoniously shovelling her beneath the bottom rope. With her cargo so deposited, Iron’s followed her into the ring, quickly rolling atop of the smaller brunette and collecting both of her athletic (and much coveted) stems, rolling the EuroAsia Champion up into a tight ball
“ONE!”
“TWO!!”
Sammie kicked out, blinking several times as she came to with a pained grimace, laid out on her side as she struggled to remember where she was.
Iron’s, now sitting, rolled out her strong shoulders before creaking her neck, pushing her way back up onto her feet. “Stubborn Bytch,” Irma chided, the tone of the Manchester Malcontent loaded with scorn, “you should learn to stay down, then I won’t enjoy myself so f**king much!”
With a sharp turn, Iron’s suddenly STOMPED down, driving her heavy-set boot down HARD onto the inside of Sammie’s exposed thigh. Sinclair; unprepared, released a heart-breaking yelp as she attempted to recoil away, only to find herself pinned in place as Irma followed up with not one, but TWO further, vicious stomps, driving more and more feeling from her precious stem with each impact.
“Who am I kidding,” Iron’s snorted, exposing her crooked grin, “keep going for all I f**king care, I’ll bury you either way!!”
LEG STOMPS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWRJRvpauUk
Steeling her resolve, Sammie suddenly scooted her pert, little booty across the canvas to avoid a fourth stomp, pushing down a wince as she rolled for the closest set of ring ropes. While it could be perceived as a dive for safety, she was far more interested in using the rubber coated steel as leverage, pulling herself upright with their assistance whilst ignoring the protests of her right leg as she placed weight upon it.
She returned to vertical far more swiftly than she likely had any right to and, while her swift evasion had earned her a burst of support of the FAWNatics watching, there was little Sinclair could do avoid the incoming Iron’s once she had regained her footing.
Despite a valiant effort to raise her guard to fend off the assault, Sammie released a pained grunt as a knee was slammed up into her trim midriff, folding the lithe Brit forwards as Irma grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. With her wrist also secured in short order, the Upstart Supreme was forcibly dragged into an Irish Whip, one that sent her into an involuntary dash across the canvas.
She hit the opposite set of ring ropes in short order, turning about and rebounding off the coils with a fluid, practiced motion, her dash transforming into a sprint as she promptly began returning to sender. Irma was there waiting to collect her parcel but, as she reached out to grasp her own, high velocity projectile, it was Sammie’s turn to catch the Weaponised Wolverine flat footed, neatly dodging beneath her embrace before she could secure it.
Sammie just kept on going, much to the delight of the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance, now throwing herself into the waiting ring ropes with growing confidence, the rebound with the rubber coated steel all but LAUNCHING her back towards her opponent…
…who turned the tables back in her favour in emphatic fashion, catching a momentarily panicked Sinclair about her firm thighs and popping her high up above the canvas. With a sharp pivot and turn, the Challenger threw her Babyfaced adversary back first towards the deck, PLANTING her with a wicked, ruthlessly powerful Spinebuster!!
SPINNING SPINEBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPfxXDKlBug
The EuroAsia Champion recoiled from the canvas with a hollow groan as she popped right back up to sitting, Iron’s possessively shoving her right back down onto the mat scarcely a moment later. Irma threw herself atop her most heated rival, seizing the girls wrists and pinning them above Sammie’s noggin, grinding her hips sharply between the submissively open thighs of the People’s Princess as she Iron’s secured a second pinfall.
“ONE!”
“TWO!!”
Again, Sammie surged back to life, defiance in her cry as she shoved up a shoulder to break up the pinfall, albeit not quite possessing the strength to dislodge her rider.
Iron’s, dissatisfied by her rival’s resistance, pushed herself back up to kneeling and grabbed her fellow Brit by her proud mane, holding the smaller woman in place as she rained down one, two, THREE solid forearms to the crowd favourites temple, returning her to a state of compliance in short order. Retaining her grip, Irma dragged her opponent back up to standing, pulling her head back sharply to expose the young woman’s throat in a display of dominance.
Sammie, as it happened, was having none of it, Irma milking the moment for just a moment too long, the lithe brunette within her grasp scrunching up her button nose in a (fierce?) display of Babyfaced dander before reaching up to grasp Iron’s wrist. With a sudden jerk forward, Sinclair was able to free herself from the hair pull, surprising frankly everyone as she then THREW her own noggin forwards in an impromptu and surprisingly forceful Headbutt!!
The THUNK of skull meeting skull was audible to everyone sitting in the front row, and while many winced at the sight of it, that was nothing compared to the recoil from the two competitors that had been at the centre of it.
Both young women stumbled away, clutching at their foreheads as either one could surely topple over at a moment’s notice, Iron’s in particular cursing a surprisingly creative string of vulgarity as she brought herself back around.
Almost simultaneously the duo returned to face to face, anger in the eyes of the Manchester Malcontent, but it was the People’s Princess who responded first, both leaping into the air and spinning herself about to connect with a sweet as you like Enziguri Kick to the back of Irma’s noggin!! Iron’s eyes turned vacant for just a fraction of a second after boot leather SMACKED the upside of her skull, and she tumbled to the canvas with a pivot, spreading out across her back as she struggled to recover.
Riding her adrenaline as only a Babyface was capable of, Sammie was back on her feet again in a flash, bracing her lithe physique for a fleeting moment before she popped herself backwards into a crowd pleasing, Standing Moonsault!!
JUMPING ENZIGURI/STANDING MOONSAULT
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQmowUswCFk
Tummy to tummy, Sammie connected with her landing, splashing atop her downed opponent with enough force to knock the wind out of Iron’s torso and cause her right leg to kick up into the air. Dutifully enough, Sammie collected that convulsing limb, rolling her Rival up for a Pinfall.
“ONE!”
Irma shoved her way free with a shout that confirmed that she was far from done, immediately rolling over onto her front and beginning to push her way back up to kneeling.
Sammie, however, was a blur of motion and, quickly enough, it became apparent that the Upstart Supreme had not so much been dislodged as she had rolled away, repositioning herself to retain a hold of her opponents captured stem. Before Iron’s could properly assimilate her rapidly altering circumstances, Sinclair had tucked her foes ankle beneath her shoulder and with an (adorable) war cry, and began to lean backwards, applying a wicked torque her opponents knee joint.
SINCLAIR LEG CRAB
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKlZp73xN28
The FAWNatics were almost at a loss for words upon witnessing Sammie bust out a rare display of Submission Offensive, but as Irma popped up onto her elbows and bellowed out an enraged shout of pain, they were soon lending their voices in support to the miniature brunettes unexpected tactics. Emboldened by the FAWNatics, Sinclair piled on the pressure, determined to put the match to bed before Irma could reach the ropes.
Iron’s, however, had other ideas, gritting her teeth with a savage snarl before she bit down on her own lip. With an especially deep inhale, the Weaponised Wolverine fed on the agony of her punished leg and braced herself up onto her elbows, beginning the loooooooooong drag towards the closest set of coils. Inch by painful inch she pulled herself towards them, reaching out with her right hand to brush her fingertips against the rubber coated steel.
The FAWNatics willed her to fail, but Irma was listening only to the blood pounding in her ears and, with one final effort, she reached out to grasp the bottom rope!!
Sammie, with the smallest of huffs, released her submission hold before the Official could even begin asking her to, observing not only the letter of the rules, but also their spirit. She paced away from the relieved Iron’s, taking a moment to regather her own bearings, burying her own disappointment beneath layers upon layers of Sinclair determination. Running a hand through her hair, she took a quick moment to salute the FAWNatics
before readying herself, the posture of the EuroAsia Champion low and ready.
“What’s up Iron’s, feeling sleepy?” Sammie queried with the smallest of cheeky smirks, Irma dragging herself back up to sitting with an assist from the ring ropes. “I can do this all day.”
“Bytch,” Iron’s cursed, struggling to put weight on her wounded stem, stumbling not once, but twice in her efforts to return to standing. The ropes saved her from falling but, without them, it seemed unlikely that she could remain vertical. She snarled, low, dangerous and frustrated, her lip curling in ugly fashion. “I’m putting you in the f**king ground before we’re done, right next to yer f**king sisters.”
Sammie’s smirk slipped from her features as her freckled cheeks flashed with Babyfaced dander. Her Rivals could threaten her as much as they pleased, but she would be damned if she let her feuds be played out on her siblings. Mind made up, Sinclair decided that she had been more than sporting enough and took off at a sprint for the ring ropes at her back. She turned about to recoil off them, soon blitzing across the ring to bring the hurt to a waiting…
…Iron’s SURGED away from her own set of rubber coated steel with a roar that was almost primordial, demanding that her wounded leg take all of her weight whether it wanted to or not. So unexpected was her resurgence, there was no hope of Sammie slamming on the brakes in time, the Manchester Malcontent NAILING the People’s Princess across her noggin with a thunderous elbow!!
SURGING ELBOW
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJdMa13JcD0
Sammie was damn near knocked off her feet, but she did not quite tumble, the young woman instead stumbling down onto one knee before instinctively popping back up to her feet. That proved to be a mistake, her head still spinning as she struggled to retain her balance, the Little Sparrow a sitting duck as a vengeful Irma zeroed back in to take advantage.
Folding the smaller brunette forwards to secure a forward headlock, Iron’s slung one of her opponents arms up and over shoulders before securing a hold of the girl’s belt. Her knee protested like a proverbial mother f**ker, but Irma buried that pain deep, feeding off it as she exhaled a deep hiss and, exerting a burst of effort, she deadlifted Sammie off the deck as though she were about to complete a Suplex.
Instead, with the Upstart Supreme airborne, the Weaponised Wolverine pivoted her rival about and, with a great deal of vindictiveness, FLUNG her front first down across the top rope!!
FRONT DROP SUPLEX
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXAelqedyYU
Sammie gasped with a pained yelped as her trim tummy was almost bisected by the rubber coated steel, her lithe physique recoiling from the impact as she rebounded into a spiral that landed her awkwardly on the canvas across her head and shoulders. She immediately began to turtle up, hugging her punished midriff as she winced visibly, struggling to inhale as her body trembled.
Iron’s, by comparison, was feeling significantly more satisfied, beating a fist against her chest as she could smell blood in the water. She paced a dominant circle about the four corners of the ring before coming back to Sinclair, snorting in derision as her fellow Brit remained near prone. “Come on, Sinclair,” she scorned with considerable malice, “not so f**king uppity now, are yer bytch!” She hunkered low, preparing for her moment, preparing to deliver a haymaker dispatched directly from hell.
The FAWNatics found themselves conflicted, the stubbornly determined Sammie rising slowly to her feet, the Loyalist Legionnaires willing her to succeed, yet horrified by the trap she was walking into. Those closest to the ring cried out desperate warnings but, with Sinclair returning to vertical with Irma on her blindside, it seemed inevitable that she was about to be beheaded, Irma SURGING forwards to do precisely that…
…only for Sammie to react as only a Babyface was able, the FAWNatics positively elated as she pivoted at the last moment to dive into a delightful forward roll. As Irma completed a swing and a miss, Sinclair’s featherweight frame returned to boot leather, but only momentarily, the young woman forcing the camera crew to keep pace as she seamlessly flipped backwards into an impromptu handstand.
Irma, overbalanced, turned about just in time to find herself caught in a Headscissors, managing to curse only a single syllable before the EuroAsia Champion tensed every fibre in her small body and, with a shout, was able to reverse her own course and WHIP the Challenger off her feet with a sharp pivot of her entire physique!!
Iron’s went down, cursing all the way as, infuriated, she almost immediately powered her way back up to standing…
Sammie, however, was one step faster, the FAWNatics whooping in delight as the girl of their affections launched herself back to vertical by way of FAWN’s Favourite Kip Up!! She did not remain idle, throwing herself into a Dropkick that PLANTED the soles of her boots right on Irma’s bosom, both knocking the air from her opponents’ body and sending her tumbling backwards.
Unable to stop herself, Irma just kept on going, stumbling ass over head until she reached the ring ropes and then, unable to grasp purchase, tumbled right on past them, falling through the top and middle ropes and plummeting to the concrete outside the ring.
SAMMIE SURGE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMBoNYkgeho
Sinclair was clearly eager to join her, up on her feet again as swiftly as her aching limbs would allow. The Babyfaced Brit rode her momentum, dashing towards the very same ropes Irma had tumbled through, and threw herself into a daring, Suicide Dive. Having turned herself into a projectile, she impacted with an increasingly irate Iron’s, the duo colliding with enough force to send them both crashing into the Announce Table!!
The commentary team scrambled backwards from their chairs as the two young women clattered across their monitors, sending paperwork flying before the two of them settled in a tangle of limbs. Both were soon fighting to free themselves from the other, finesse evidently thrown out the window as hostilities were boiling over.
Sammie was the first to dislodge herself from the table, slipping down over the side and stumbling to the barricades, many a spectator close enough slapping her on the shoulder in support. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to focus and she fought to regain her composure. Momentum was all well and good, but she was in danger of trying to play Iron’s at her own game, which was unlikely to end well for her. With a small, self-assuring exhale, she pushed away from the barricade, turning about and…
…Iron’s was there to greet her, roaring out a fresh challenge as she grasped the Upstart Supreme by the back of her bountiful curls whilst she was flat footed. Allowing for no time to compensate, Irma SNAPPED Sammie’s noggin forwards and SLAMMED her forehead off the surface of the Announcers table with a devastating THUNK!!
Sammie went flaccid in an instant, her lithe physique submissive as all one hundred and ten pounds of Babyfaced Brit was then muscled up and over Irma’s shoulders by way of Fireman’s carry. Iron’s marched her out into the middle of no-man’s land with nary a protest emerging from the EuroAsia Champion, hauled about as though she were the possession of the Manchester Malcontent.
Iron’s picked her spot and, regardless of the protests of the FAWNatics, she pushed up on her rival’s, unresisting lower limbs upwards before dropping sideways, NAILING!! the back of Sammie’s head and her shoulders into the scarcely padded concrete!!
IRON VALLEY DRIVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2O_10bNJ3Zg
The air went out of the arena just as the life seemed to go out of Sammie, the young woman SPIKED by her rival’s devastating finisher outside of the squared circle. She flopped out on the deck in a in a spread-eagled starfish, her petite, pert bosom hiking whilst her right stem twitched.
Iron’s remained kneeling, her breathing noticeably laboured, a crooked grin spreading across her features. Wiping the back of her hand across her jaw, she looked almost idly back to the ring beside them before slowly, oh so slowly, her attention was turned back to the Announcers table.
Her grin grew wider as she pushed herself back to standing, grabbing her rival by her hair and draaaaaaging her prone form across the concrete, the Gladiatrix Photographers more than happy to capture that particular moment for prosperity. Arriving back at her destination, Irma readjusted her grip of Sinclair, the Weaponised Wolverine hauling the dead weight of the People’s Princess up to lay idly across the top of the most unfortunate desk in wrestling. Only then, with Sammie laid out like an offering before her, did Irma make her way back into the ring.
“What are you thinking Iron’s?” the Official questioned, not at all liking where this was going. “You can end the match right here, call it a night, you get everything you want, just finish it in the ring!”
Irma ignored him, rolling beneath the bottom rope before pulling herself to vertical, wiping the back of her hand across her lips as she approached the closest set of turnbuckles. She climbed one, and then the second, the FAWNatics protesting every step of her ascent, until finally she reached the third, standing precariously as she lined herself up with the Announcers table several feet away, and even more feet below…
“I mean it Iron’s,” the Official tried one last time to talk her out of taking to the skies, “think about what you’re doing, you don’t have to…”
“Shut the f**k up,” Irma snapped, refusing to be deterred, “I owe this bytch a FAWNMANIA moment!!”
As one, the FAWNatics held their collective breath, Iron’s taking to the skies and, all too quickly, began her rapid descent following her leap into the abyss. With her elbow outstretched, she prepared to demolish her opponent…
…only for Sammie to roll aside at the final, heart stopping moment!!
Many of those watching gasped, several more almost missed it, so sudden was the change in fortunes, Irma somehow finding time to violently curse as the People’s Princess, barely conscious, rolled herself off the top of the Announcers table. There was no such luck for Irma, locked on her disastrous trajectory, and the Manchester Malcontent CRASHED atop the furniture with enough force to splinter the wood and collapse the entire structure in a violent explosion of debris. Minus her human crash pad, Iron’s bore the full brunt of the calamitous landing, scarcely moving afterwards.
Sammie, just barely avoiding being road kill, lay almost just as immobile as her opponent, the pert bosom of the Upstart Supreme rising and falling in short, shallow gasps. She blinked a few times, turning her head ever so slightly to the left, finding Irma crumpled in a heap scarcely half a foot away from her. Something about all this struck her as vaguely familiar…
“Crap,” she muttered to herself with a grimace, “we broke another table at FAWNmania.” Sammie smirked then, just a little, amused despite herself with the symmetry from a year before. “Sucks,” she voiced her musings with a question, “doesn’t it?”
“…F…ck…. Y…. you Sin… Clair…” Iron’s growled back, her body unwilling to obey her commands.
“Never going to happen,” Sammie stonewalled, grimacing a little more, “You strike me as a one-minute wonder.”
Irma’s only answer was a guttural snarl, one that voiced her desire to rip her rival’s throat out, but her body refused to follow through.
“ONE!”
The Official began counting from inside the ring, Sinclair momentarily finding it perplexing that he had only just started. She seriously considered staying put and allowing the match to play out, her aches and pains agreeing with her completely but then…
…but then this was the biggest night of the year.
Sammie exhaled deeply, resigning herself to both her fate and her nature, groooooooaning as she pulled herself back up to sitting. “Come on Irma,” she muttered with a weary sigh, “no-one ever pays to see a count out.”
The man in black and white was up to “FOUR!!” and Sinclair was up onto her knees, the miniature Brit Brunette making her way over the debris her opponent had created and, on her way by, snagged Iron’s by her lifeless wrist. With considerable effort, she began to draaaaaaaag Iron’s across the concrete, making slow, painful progress with the dead weight of her foe as the FAWNatics willed her on, the young woman determined to reach the apron.
“NINE!!” the Official announced just as Sammie had reached ringside.
“WAIT!!” the EuroAsia Champion flopped back to sitting, evidently exhausted, tilting her head back to look up at the man in black and white with her most adorable of imploring looks. The big, baby brown eyes of the People’s Princess were large enough to melt even the most cynical of hearts and tonight, the man in black and white was no more capable of resisting than any other.
Sammie smiled, both charming and disarming, “Thanks, now see, hear me out. I know you’re doing your job, but I’m thinking maybe, possibly, since I don’t usually give you guys much hassle, you could give me just a teeny, tiny bit more time to hoist Iron’s heavy ass back into the ring. Please?”
The Official, somewhat flummoxed, wasn’t entirely certain what to say.
The FAWNatics, on the other hand, showed no hesitation…
“LET! THEM!! IN!!! LET! THEM!! IN!!! LET! THEM!! IN!!! LET! THEM!! IN!!!”
…they insisted from one corner of the arena to the next.
“Fine,” he relented, halting his count reluctantly. “But you finish it in the ring now, no more funny business.”
“Thanks!” Sammie flashed a her most winning smile in gratitude. “Hear that Irma, we get to finish up properly.”
Iron’s, most of her anatomy still unresponsive, growled out an irritated grumble.
Sinclair paid it no mind, huffing and puffing far more than she was happy with as she did her utmost to both lift and shovel her heavier rival up onto the apron, and then roll her into the ring. Sammie exhaled in relief once the task had been completed and, true to her word, she immediately made to follow her in…
…until she hesitated at ringside, something evidently catching her attention, the Upstart Supreme clucking tongue as she was undergoing a great deal of pondering.
“Sam,” the Official utilised a firm tone, “we had an agreement.”
“And we still do,” she nodded reassuringly, before smirking with mischief. “I just need one more second…”
“Sam!” the man in black and white attempted to implore, but there was no deterring the Brit now, the miniature brunette dashing along the apron until she reached the very same Ringpost Irma had made her ill-advised leap from. “Sorry,” she apologised, meaning it entirely, “but it’s FAWNmania, go big or go home!”
Adrenaline surging, Sinclair rapidly ascended the turnbuckles, reaching the uppermost pad and turning about to face outwards towards the FAWNatics. They were already in full voice, perfectly primed for Sammie to raise her hands up high to announce some of her ‘old school’ offence, the crowd chanting along as she brought her palms together not once, not twice, but thrice, declaring her intentions before she suddenly HURLED her spritely frame backwards into the sky!!
SINCLAIR SUMMER SLAM!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPQq8hpPdOQ
After completing a beautiful arc by way of a Double Rotation Moonsault, the People’s Princess SPLASHED her tummy down across Iron’s, forcing her rival to exhale sharply as her head and legs kicked up off the mat in recoil. Sinclair was no slouch in collecting those convulsing stems, rolling Irma up for…
“ONE!”
“TWO!!”
“THREE!!!”
…the FAWNatics lost their collective shit as the bell rang, confirming her victory, the Announcer more or less making it official as a formality.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner, and STILL EuroAsia Champion, SAMANTHA! SINCLAIR!!”
The People’s Princess pushed her way back up to kneeling, her shoulders slumping for just a moment as all of her aches and pains returned with a vengeance. She stood up a few moments later, her strap returned to her possession in short order, the Brunette Brit holding it up high before refastening it about her waist. Sammie smiled, visibly relieved to have survived her latest encounter with Irma Iron’s, and already considering who she would be encountering next…
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, capturing their attention. “The following contest will be for One Fall and for the EuroAsia Title!!”
That got the FAWNatics cheering.
“Introducing first, the Challenger…”
ELECTRIFIED
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oNuQMTI7n0
…burst to life over the loud speakers, cutting him off mid-sentence.
IRMA IRONS
The Dark-Haired Destroyer tore through the curtains with little ceremony, setting a murderous pace as she stormed towards the ring with singular purpose. She glowered, every muscle of her physique positively twitching, five foot four and one-hundred and twenty-five pounds of scarcely contained aggression made manifest as she cracked her own neck in alarming fashion.
She forgo the need to torment the FAWNatics, either having outgrown such necessities or, more likely, her volatile need to inflict misery had merely become more focused, refined by the counsel of one, Darla Diane Davis. Her murderous glare was for the squared circle only and, after she had stormed up the steel steps, the Manchester Malcontent ducked between the top and middle rope and began striding about the four corners of the ring, displaying clear signs of agitation.
She began pacing one way before coming to an abrupt stop and turning about sharply, incessantly rolling her shoulders as she clenched her fists. When the Announcer dared to approach to ask her if she were ok, Iron’s instead snatched the microphone from out of his hand as though she were a rottweiler about to bite. He backed off immediately in alarmed fashion, giving up on the stick without a fight, leaving the Weaponised Wolverine in full command of the arena’s sound system.
Irma immediately made use of it.
“SINCLAIR!!” she shouted, just barely coming to a stop at centre ring as she glowered at the curtains. “Aint no-one else in my way now, Bytch, just you and me!!” she explained in a volatile manner, inhaling deeply in anticipation, having endured a Fatal Four Way at Summer Swelter and then emerged victorious in Fatal Three Way at Red, White and Bruised, she was finally getting what she wanted. “You! Me!! This Ring!!! NOW!!!!”
She dropped the microphone the moment she was done with it, possessing little sympathy for the crowd as its collision with the canvas caused a SQUEEL to ring out across the arena, the FAWNatics wincing at the noise. Thankfully, the discomfort faded quickly, for that painful ringing was soon replaced by…
FEEL INVINCIBLE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gco_SAvHVSM
…bursting into life over the loud speakers, heralding the arrival of FAWN’s EuroAsia Champion!!
When the house lights bathed the stage with welcome illumination, the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance officially lost their collective sh*t, the Upstart Supreme herself revealed for all to see!
SAMANTHA SINCLAIR
Standing with her feet braced apart and arms upraised, the miniature Brit flashed her most winning smile as her freckled cheeks flushed an endearing shade of crimson. She raised her hands up high and wiggled her fingers, the Little Sparrow cluing in her supporters that it was time for them to join in before she brought them together…
ONCE!
TWICE!!
THRICE!!!
…the audience doing likewise in unison before she pointed dramatically towards the squared circle, pyrokinetics exploding to either side of the crowd favourite Brit and surrounding her in a halo of light.
Statement of intent made, the brunette of petite proportions set off down the ramp at a brisk and lively pace as she made her way to the ring, diverting from her destination as she spotted the youngest members of the audience in the front rows and delivering crisp high fives to make their evenings. Standing in at five foot four and one-hundred and ten pounds, her spirited and welcoming demeanour made her every inch the People’s Princess, welcoming the masses with open arms as they welcomed her in return.
Arriving at her destination, the lithe, gold clad grappler hopped up onto the apron without even a hint of hesitation, grasping onto the top rope in short order. After delivering a cheeky shake of her pert booty, Sammie leaned backwards before positively vaulting her slender physique up and over the uppermost coil, turning about into a darling spiral after her boots returned to canvas, brunette curls bouncing about her shoulders as she toured the four corners of the squared circle.
About her trim midriff snuggly sat ten pounds of coveted strap, the EuroAsia Title right at home about her waist and, if the FAWNatics had anything to say about it, that was precisely where the gold would stay.
She had to give it up for the time being, however, Sammie well aware that her right to carry the belt reset to zero each and every time she stepped into the squared circle. With the barest hint of trepidation appearing upon her cherub cheeks, the People’s Princess released a short exhale as she lightly drummed her fingertips atop her beloved straps faceplate.
Sammie whipped it off a moment later before she grinned brightly, thrusting the liberated belt free up into the air for all to see and the Loyalist’s in attendance cheered with gusto. Reluctantly, she then surrendered the very same title to the Official for safe keeping, vowing at that very moment to earn it back again before the night was over.
Sinclair exhaled again before stretching out her shoulders, turning to face one of her most heated nemesis. “Alright, Iron’s, let’s do thi…”
She never finished her sentence.
The FAWNatics attempted to voice a warning, but it came far too late, Iron’s storming across the ring as though she was a bull seeing red. Without provocation, she positively SLAMMED her forearm into the side of her opponent’s temple, releasing a pent up roar as she did so, the People’s Princess rocked backwards onto her heels as her eyes momentarily lost focus.
Irma didn’t relent, not giving her adversary the chance to breath, quite literally as she roughly cupped the back of Sammie’s noggin and folding her forwards, LAUNCHING a wicked kneelift up into the smaller brunettes unprotected gut to drive the wind from her lithe physique. Sinclair gasped as her trim tummy buckled beneath the impact, the petite Brit briefly popped up onto her tip toes before her knees displayed a worrying shimmy, a low groan soon following as she ineffectually pawed at her ambushers flexed biceps.
Still, the Manchester Malcontent would not relent, pulling the Upstart Supreme forwards into a fierce front headlock, securing her in place before slinging one of her opponents arms up and over her shoulders. With the gold clad crowd sweetheart so secured, Iron’s inhaled a deep breath before displaying her superior power, forcibly lifting Sinclair off the deck until the young woman’s athletic stems were pointing directly upwards towards the ceiling. Just as it may have seemed that Irma would follow through into a conventional Suplex, she instead spun her captive about and DROPPED her vertically straight back down to earth, DRILLING her into the canvas head and shoulders first!!
KIWI CRUSHER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZORv9r5U-c8
Gravity, momentum and the sudden stop all conspired to rapidly compact Sammie into a small ball, a breathy grunt escaping from her body as she was both used and abused, her stems momentarily folded in such a way that they could have easily been captured, and Sinclair tied up into a tight ball for a blisteringly fast pinfall. Irma forgo that opportunity, shoving those same (coveted) legs aside, Sammie spilling out across the canvas in a moaning starfish as Iron’s surged back up onto her feet.
She roared, adrenaline spiking at unsafe levels, the Weaponised Wolverine thumping a fist against her own chest as she marched a rapid circuit about the squared circle. “BYTCH AIN’T NEVER SEE ME COMING!!” she screamed at no-one in particular, which was to say, she screamed at everyone at ringside. She exhaled deeply, crooked grin plastered across her features, a shark who had tasted blood and now demanded more. She turned about…
…to find as insistent Official standing in her way.
“Jesus, Iron’s,” the Gentlemen in black and white exasperated, “the match hasn’t even started yet!!”
“So f*cking what?” Irma would not be cowed, right eye twitching dangerously, “I don’t need no permission to rip out her spleen!!”
“You want to win the EuroAsia Title?” the Official cut straight to the heart of the matter which, to his credit, did earn a moment’s hesitation from Iron’s, a rare thing indeed. “Then you let me start the match above board, and you back all the way off until I’m satisfied. Otherwise, well, feel free to go home empty handed.”
Irma seethed, her knuckles positively bleeding white with intensity as she clenched her fists. For the longest of moments, it looked as though she may well indulge in her ref beating ways, but with a grinding of her teeth, she relented. She backed off one step, then two, the glare of her dark eyes suggesting that he should hurry the f*ck up before she changed her mind.
“Very good,” the man in black and white nodded, tentatively turning about to address the other young woman in the ring, “Ok, Sammie, how are you fee…”
Sinclair wasn’t listening, she was too busy sprinting across the ring, releasing a (not exactly intimidating) war cry of her own now that she’d been given the chance to catch her breath. No sooner than had the Official dodged aside, had Sammie bypassed him, Irma only able to open her eyes wide in surprise as the brunette she had only just ambushed was returning the favour. Sammie THREW herself into the air, launching her lithe frame into a beautiful Dropkick, the soles of her boots SLAMMING into her foes exposed bosom, knocking the air from Irma’s body and flattening her to the deck!!
Iron’s hit the canvas hard and, as she sputtered to inhale a fresh breath into her suddenly enflamed chest, she continued rolling, tucking under the bottom rope and vacating the ring. She landed on her feet with a grimace, clutching at her bosom as she snarled, stepping back from the squared circle for just a second before surging forwards, BEATING her fists against the apron several times in frustration.
She glowered in Sinclair’s direction with murderous intent, the enthusiasm of the crowd setting her blood to boil, the People’s Princess matching her stare from inside the ring and inciting her to come back in. Irma, her shoulders twitching, turned about sharply and paced rapidly towards the Time Keeper, pointing threateningly in his direction.
“Ring the bell!!” she demanded, brooking no argument, “ring the bell so I can rip this bytches throat out!!”
The Time Keeper in general, the unfortunate gentlemen that he was at that particular moment, was evidently caught in indecision, swallowing deeply before following her instructions.
The FAWNatics responded with gusto, eager for the already heated festivities to be officially underway.
Iron’s grinned her crooked grin, satisfied that she had gotten her way, returning herself to the apron with all due haste…
Which evidently wasn’t haste enough, for the spritely frame of Sammie Sinclair was significantly lighter footed than the powerhouse physique of Irma Irons. With a rapid pitter patter of her boots across the canvas, the Upstart Supreme cut the Challenger off at the pass with a sleek display of athleticism, leaping at the last moment and leading with her feet as she grasped the top rope for greater leverage!!
THIRD ROPE BASEBALL DROPKICK
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoLJhrbef7E
The soles of her boots THUMPED against her opponents unprotected torso, the modified Dropkick driving a grunt from Irma’s body before she was sent her sprawling off the apron for the second time in quick succession. Secured by the top rope, Sammie was able to reverse her own trajectory, neatly slinging herself back into the squared circle, where she popped a fist up into the air by way of salute to the adoring masses. The FAWNatics were enjoying themselves a great deal, and they let the EuroAsia Champion know it, Sinclair fuelled by their support as she turned about to face her adversary.
Irma’s mood had not improved a single iota as she braced herself against the barricade, dragging herself back up to vertical and preparing to invade the ring with a great deal of hostility.
Unfortunately for her, Sinclair was evidently far from done, the miniature brunette once again dashing towards the ropes and launching herself up into the air. With a delightful bounce, Sammie took herself all the way up to the third coil and, after spring boarding off the top rope, she flipped through the air in a crowd-pleasing sault before SPLASHING all of her one-hundred and ten pounds across Iron’s unprepared body!
SPRINGBOARD FORWARD SAULT
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_meezWSNAR8
With both gravity and momentum proving to be a frequent ally of the Sinclair’s, the high velocity impact packed more than enough punch to knock Irma off her feet, the gold glad grappler riding her adversary all the way down to the concrete. Iron’s hit the deck across her wider shoulders with a pained grunt while her foe, after using her adversary as a crash pad, was better positioned to roll her way to freedom and pop right back up onto her feet.
Sammie was buzzing now, the People’s Princess swinging both of her hands up high as she hopped to a stop at the barricades, whooping loudly as the FAWNatics showered her with praise. Caught up in the moment, she delivered a quick series of high fives to those fortunate enough to find themselves in the front row, a chant building in steam around all four corners of the arena.
“WORLD’S! BEST!! BRIT!!! WORLD’S! BEST!! BRIT!!! WORLD’S! BEST!! BRIT!!!”
“Alright, Iron’s,” Sammie put on her game face (which was not quite as fearsome as she imagined), getting back to business, “now that we’re officially on the same pa…”
For the second time tonight, Irma didn’t let her finish, cutting off her statement before she could complete it, the Weaponised Wolverine still on one knee as she DROVE her forearm up and between the smaller brunette’s exposed thighs, DRILLING the low blow home with visible vengeance!!
Sammie opened her lips wide in stunned surprised as her legs were split so expertly and her most private of regions was abused so vigorously, a silent moan escaping from her small body as she momentarily popped up onto her tip toes. With her hips all a shimmy, and the FAWNatics calling fowl, the shell-shocked Sinclair almost toppled over, and perhaps she would have done had the freshly risen Iron’s not tugged her forwards.
“We aint never gonna be on the same page, bytch,” Irma snarled with considerable hatred, determined to assert her authority over Sinclair once and for all. Wrapping her arms about the folded young woman’s midriff, Iron’s stiffened her posture and, with a dominant grunt of effort, both spun and hoisted the petite Brit up and over until the small of back lay posted across the Challenger’s powerful shoulder. A short cry escaped from the body of the EuroAsia Champion as her spine arched painfully in a wicked curve, the miniature brunette held aloft by way of a Canadian Backbreaker.
Sammie grunted and groaned as she was jostled up and down, Irma exercising every ounce of torque that she could find as she enjoyed the sounds of pain her adversary was making. With her peepers fluttering closed as she struggled to endure her predicament, the movements of Sinclair’s arms and legs all too soon became involuntary, twitching this way and that only because Iron’s was shaking her overpowered physique out, each moment in the backbreaker sapping her of more and more of her desire to endure.
Fortunately, the Official had evidently decided that more than enough had been transpiring outside of the squared circle.
“…One! Two!!...” he called out from inside ring, finally opting to begin his count.
Iron’s curled her lip in irritation, those attired in black and white frequently getting on her last nerve. Realising that her time was up, Irma inhaled deeply before, with a forceful shove, she pushed the People’s Princess up into the air before SLAMMING her down hard into the concrete beside them!!
CANADIAN BACKBREAKER SLAM
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F93t8ipJ8Mw
Many of the FAWNatics looked away from the crash landing, the rest expressed their collective displeasure. Irma didn’t seem to care, she got exactly what she wanted, which was the Upstart Supreme quivering at her feet.
“…Five! Six!!...” the Official continued, injecting a sense of urgency into his tone
Irma flipped him the bird before reaching down to scrape Sammie off the concrete, dragging the young woman up and unceremoniously shovelling her beneath the bottom rope. With her cargo so deposited, Iron’s followed her into the ring, quickly rolling atop of the smaller brunette and collecting both of her athletic (and much coveted) stems, rolling the EuroAsia Champion up into a tight ball
“ONE!”
“TWO!!”
Sammie kicked out, blinking several times as she came to with a pained grimace, laid out on her side as she struggled to remember where she was.
Iron’s, now sitting, rolled out her strong shoulders before creaking her neck, pushing her way back up onto her feet. “Stubborn Bytch,” Irma chided, the tone of the Manchester Malcontent loaded with scorn, “you should learn to stay down, then I won’t enjoy myself so f**king much!”
With a sharp turn, Iron’s suddenly STOMPED down, driving her heavy-set boot down HARD onto the inside of Sammie’s exposed thigh. Sinclair; unprepared, released a heart-breaking yelp as she attempted to recoil away, only to find herself pinned in place as Irma followed up with not one, but TWO further, vicious stomps, driving more and more feeling from her precious stem with each impact.
“Who am I kidding,” Iron’s snorted, exposing her crooked grin, “keep going for all I f**king care, I’ll bury you either way!!”
LEG STOMPS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWRJRvpauUk
Steeling her resolve, Sammie suddenly scooted her pert, little booty across the canvas to avoid a fourth stomp, pushing down a wince as she rolled for the closest set of ring ropes. While it could be perceived as a dive for safety, she was far more interested in using the rubber coated steel as leverage, pulling herself upright with their assistance whilst ignoring the protests of her right leg as she placed weight upon it.
She returned to vertical far more swiftly than she likely had any right to and, while her swift evasion had earned her a burst of support of the FAWNatics watching, there was little Sinclair could do avoid the incoming Iron’s once she had regained her footing.
Despite a valiant effort to raise her guard to fend off the assault, Sammie released a pained grunt as a knee was slammed up into her trim midriff, folding the lithe Brit forwards as Irma grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. With her wrist also secured in short order, the Upstart Supreme was forcibly dragged into an Irish Whip, one that sent her into an involuntary dash across the canvas.
She hit the opposite set of ring ropes in short order, turning about and rebounding off the coils with a fluid, practiced motion, her dash transforming into a sprint as she promptly began returning to sender. Irma was there waiting to collect her parcel but, as she reached out to grasp her own, high velocity projectile, it was Sammie’s turn to catch the Weaponised Wolverine flat footed, neatly dodging beneath her embrace before she could secure it.
Sammie just kept on going, much to the delight of the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance, now throwing herself into the waiting ring ropes with growing confidence, the rebound with the rubber coated steel all but LAUNCHING her back towards her opponent…
…who turned the tables back in her favour in emphatic fashion, catching a momentarily panicked Sinclair about her firm thighs and popping her high up above the canvas. With a sharp pivot and turn, the Challenger threw her Babyfaced adversary back first towards the deck, PLANTING her with a wicked, ruthlessly powerful Spinebuster!!
SPINNING SPINEBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPfxXDKlBug
The EuroAsia Champion recoiled from the canvas with a hollow groan as she popped right back up to sitting, Iron’s possessively shoving her right back down onto the mat scarcely a moment later. Irma threw herself atop her most heated rival, seizing the girls wrists and pinning them above Sammie’s noggin, grinding her hips sharply between the submissively open thighs of the People’s Princess as she Iron’s secured a second pinfall.
“ONE!”
“TWO!!”
Again, Sammie surged back to life, defiance in her cry as she shoved up a shoulder to break up the pinfall, albeit not quite possessing the strength to dislodge her rider.
Iron’s, dissatisfied by her rival’s resistance, pushed herself back up to kneeling and grabbed her fellow Brit by her proud mane, holding the smaller woman in place as she rained down one, two, THREE solid forearms to the crowd favourites temple, returning her to a state of compliance in short order. Retaining her grip, Irma dragged her opponent back up to standing, pulling her head back sharply to expose the young woman’s throat in a display of dominance.
Sammie, as it happened, was having none of it, Irma milking the moment for just a moment too long, the lithe brunette within her grasp scrunching up her button nose in a (fierce?) display of Babyfaced dander before reaching up to grasp Iron’s wrist. With a sudden jerk forward, Sinclair was able to free herself from the hair pull, surprising frankly everyone as she then THREW her own noggin forwards in an impromptu and surprisingly forceful Headbutt!!
The THUNK of skull meeting skull was audible to everyone sitting in the front row, and while many winced at the sight of it, that was nothing compared to the recoil from the two competitors that had been at the centre of it.
Both young women stumbled away, clutching at their foreheads as either one could surely topple over at a moment’s notice, Iron’s in particular cursing a surprisingly creative string of vulgarity as she brought herself back around.
Almost simultaneously the duo returned to face to face, anger in the eyes of the Manchester Malcontent, but it was the People’s Princess who responded first, both leaping into the air and spinning herself about to connect with a sweet as you like Enziguri Kick to the back of Irma’s noggin!! Iron’s eyes turned vacant for just a fraction of a second after boot leather SMACKED the upside of her skull, and she tumbled to the canvas with a pivot, spreading out across her back as she struggled to recover.
Riding her adrenaline as only a Babyface was capable of, Sammie was back on her feet again in a flash, bracing her lithe physique for a fleeting moment before she popped herself backwards into a crowd pleasing, Standing Moonsault!!
JUMPING ENZIGURI/STANDING MOONSAULT
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQmowUswCFk
Tummy to tummy, Sammie connected with her landing, splashing atop her downed opponent with enough force to knock the wind out of Iron’s torso and cause her right leg to kick up into the air. Dutifully enough, Sammie collected that convulsing limb, rolling her Rival up for a Pinfall.
“ONE!”
Irma shoved her way free with a shout that confirmed that she was far from done, immediately rolling over onto her front and beginning to push her way back up to kneeling.
Sammie, however, was a blur of motion and, quickly enough, it became apparent that the Upstart Supreme had not so much been dislodged as she had rolled away, repositioning herself to retain a hold of her opponents captured stem. Before Iron’s could properly assimilate her rapidly altering circumstances, Sinclair had tucked her foes ankle beneath her shoulder and with an (adorable) war cry, and began to lean backwards, applying a wicked torque her opponents knee joint.
SINCLAIR LEG CRAB
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKlZp73xN28
The FAWNatics were almost at a loss for words upon witnessing Sammie bust out a rare display of Submission Offensive, but as Irma popped up onto her elbows and bellowed out an enraged shout of pain, they were soon lending their voices in support to the miniature brunettes unexpected tactics. Emboldened by the FAWNatics, Sinclair piled on the pressure, determined to put the match to bed before Irma could reach the ropes.
Iron’s, however, had other ideas, gritting her teeth with a savage snarl before she bit down on her own lip. With an especially deep inhale, the Weaponised Wolverine fed on the agony of her punished leg and braced herself up onto her elbows, beginning the loooooooooong drag towards the closest set of coils. Inch by painful inch she pulled herself towards them, reaching out with her right hand to brush her fingertips against the rubber coated steel.
The FAWNatics willed her to fail, but Irma was listening only to the blood pounding in her ears and, with one final effort, she reached out to grasp the bottom rope!!
Sammie, with the smallest of huffs, released her submission hold before the Official could even begin asking her to, observing not only the letter of the rules, but also their spirit. She paced away from the relieved Iron’s, taking a moment to regather her own bearings, burying her own disappointment beneath layers upon layers of Sinclair determination. Running a hand through her hair, she took a quick moment to salute the FAWNatics
before readying herself, the posture of the EuroAsia Champion low and ready.
“What’s up Iron’s, feeling sleepy?” Sammie queried with the smallest of cheeky smirks, Irma dragging herself back up to sitting with an assist from the ring ropes. “I can do this all day.”
“Bytch,” Iron’s cursed, struggling to put weight on her wounded stem, stumbling not once, but twice in her efforts to return to standing. The ropes saved her from falling but, without them, it seemed unlikely that she could remain vertical. She snarled, low, dangerous and frustrated, her lip curling in ugly fashion. “I’m putting you in the f**king ground before we’re done, right next to yer f**king sisters.”
Sammie’s smirk slipped from her features as her freckled cheeks flashed with Babyfaced dander. Her Rivals could threaten her as much as they pleased, but she would be damned if she let her feuds be played out on her siblings. Mind made up, Sinclair decided that she had been more than sporting enough and took off at a sprint for the ring ropes at her back. She turned about to recoil off them, soon blitzing across the ring to bring the hurt to a waiting…
…Iron’s SURGED away from her own set of rubber coated steel with a roar that was almost primordial, demanding that her wounded leg take all of her weight whether it wanted to or not. So unexpected was her resurgence, there was no hope of Sammie slamming on the brakes in time, the Manchester Malcontent NAILING the People’s Princess across her noggin with a thunderous elbow!!
SURGING ELBOW
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJdMa13JcD0
Sammie was damn near knocked off her feet, but she did not quite tumble, the young woman instead stumbling down onto one knee before instinctively popping back up to her feet. That proved to be a mistake, her head still spinning as she struggled to retain her balance, the Little Sparrow a sitting duck as a vengeful Irma zeroed back in to take advantage.
Folding the smaller brunette forwards to secure a forward headlock, Iron’s slung one of her opponents arms up and over shoulders before securing a hold of the girl’s belt. Her knee protested like a proverbial mother f**ker, but Irma buried that pain deep, feeding off it as she exhaled a deep hiss and, exerting a burst of effort, she deadlifted Sammie off the deck as though she were about to complete a Suplex.
Instead, with the Upstart Supreme airborne, the Weaponised Wolverine pivoted her rival about and, with a great deal of vindictiveness, FLUNG her front first down across the top rope!!
FRONT DROP SUPLEX
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXAelqedyYU
Sammie gasped with a pained yelped as her trim tummy was almost bisected by the rubber coated steel, her lithe physique recoiling from the impact as she rebounded into a spiral that landed her awkwardly on the canvas across her head and shoulders. She immediately began to turtle up, hugging her punished midriff as she winced visibly, struggling to inhale as her body trembled.
Iron’s, by comparison, was feeling significantly more satisfied, beating a fist against her chest as she could smell blood in the water. She paced a dominant circle about the four corners of the ring before coming back to Sinclair, snorting in derision as her fellow Brit remained near prone. “Come on, Sinclair,” she scorned with considerable malice, “not so f**king uppity now, are yer bytch!” She hunkered low, preparing for her moment, preparing to deliver a haymaker dispatched directly from hell.
The FAWNatics found themselves conflicted, the stubbornly determined Sammie rising slowly to her feet, the Loyalist Legionnaires willing her to succeed, yet horrified by the trap she was walking into. Those closest to the ring cried out desperate warnings but, with Sinclair returning to vertical with Irma on her blindside, it seemed inevitable that she was about to be beheaded, Irma SURGING forwards to do precisely that…
…only for Sammie to react as only a Babyface was able, the FAWNatics positively elated as she pivoted at the last moment to dive into a delightful forward roll. As Irma completed a swing and a miss, Sinclair’s featherweight frame returned to boot leather, but only momentarily, the young woman forcing the camera crew to keep pace as she seamlessly flipped backwards into an impromptu handstand.
Irma, overbalanced, turned about just in time to find herself caught in a Headscissors, managing to curse only a single syllable before the EuroAsia Champion tensed every fibre in her small body and, with a shout, was able to reverse her own course and WHIP the Challenger off her feet with a sharp pivot of her entire physique!!
Iron’s went down, cursing all the way as, infuriated, she almost immediately powered her way back up to standing…
Sammie, however, was one step faster, the FAWNatics whooping in delight as the girl of their affections launched herself back to vertical by way of FAWN’s Favourite Kip Up!! She did not remain idle, throwing herself into a Dropkick that PLANTED the soles of her boots right on Irma’s bosom, both knocking the air from her opponents’ body and sending her tumbling backwards.
Unable to stop herself, Irma just kept on going, stumbling ass over head until she reached the ring ropes and then, unable to grasp purchase, tumbled right on past them, falling through the top and middle ropes and plummeting to the concrete outside the ring.
SAMMIE SURGE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMBoNYkgeho
Sinclair was clearly eager to join her, up on her feet again as swiftly as her aching limbs would allow. The Babyfaced Brit rode her momentum, dashing towards the very same ropes Irma had tumbled through, and threw herself into a daring, Suicide Dive. Having turned herself into a projectile, she impacted with an increasingly irate Iron’s, the duo colliding with enough force to send them both crashing into the Announce Table!!
The commentary team scrambled backwards from their chairs as the two young women clattered across their monitors, sending paperwork flying before the two of them settled in a tangle of limbs. Both were soon fighting to free themselves from the other, finesse evidently thrown out the window as hostilities were boiling over.
Sammie was the first to dislodge herself from the table, slipping down over the side and stumbling to the barricades, many a spectator close enough slapping her on the shoulder in support. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to focus and she fought to regain her composure. Momentum was all well and good, but she was in danger of trying to play Iron’s at her own game, which was unlikely to end well for her. With a small, self-assuring exhale, she pushed away from the barricade, turning about and…
…Iron’s was there to greet her, roaring out a fresh challenge as she grasped the Upstart Supreme by the back of her bountiful curls whilst she was flat footed. Allowing for no time to compensate, Irma SNAPPED Sammie’s noggin forwards and SLAMMED her forehead off the surface of the Announcers table with a devastating THUNK!!
Sammie went flaccid in an instant, her lithe physique submissive as all one hundred and ten pounds of Babyfaced Brit was then muscled up and over Irma’s shoulders by way of Fireman’s carry. Iron’s marched her out into the middle of no-man’s land with nary a protest emerging from the EuroAsia Champion, hauled about as though she were the possession of the Manchester Malcontent.
Iron’s picked her spot and, regardless of the protests of the FAWNatics, she pushed up on her rival’s, unresisting lower limbs upwards before dropping sideways, NAILING!! the back of Sammie’s head and her shoulders into the scarcely padded concrete!!
IRON VALLEY DRIVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2O_10bNJ3Zg
The air went out of the arena just as the life seemed to go out of Sammie, the young woman SPIKED by her rival’s devastating finisher outside of the squared circle. She flopped out on the deck in a in a spread-eagled starfish, her petite, pert bosom hiking whilst her right stem twitched.
Iron’s remained kneeling, her breathing noticeably laboured, a crooked grin spreading across her features. Wiping the back of her hand across her jaw, she looked almost idly back to the ring beside them before slowly, oh so slowly, her attention was turned back to the Announcers table.
Her grin grew wider as she pushed herself back to standing, grabbing her rival by her hair and draaaaaaging her prone form across the concrete, the Gladiatrix Photographers more than happy to capture that particular moment for prosperity. Arriving back at her destination, Irma readjusted her grip of Sinclair, the Weaponised Wolverine hauling the dead weight of the People’s Princess up to lay idly across the top of the most unfortunate desk in wrestling. Only then, with Sammie laid out like an offering before her, did Irma make her way back into the ring.
“What are you thinking Iron’s?” the Official questioned, not at all liking where this was going. “You can end the match right here, call it a night, you get everything you want, just finish it in the ring!”
Irma ignored him, rolling beneath the bottom rope before pulling herself to vertical, wiping the back of her hand across her lips as she approached the closest set of turnbuckles. She climbed one, and then the second, the FAWNatics protesting every step of her ascent, until finally she reached the third, standing precariously as she lined herself up with the Announcers table several feet away, and even more feet below…
“I mean it Iron’s,” the Official tried one last time to talk her out of taking to the skies, “think about what you’re doing, you don’t have to…”
“Shut the f**k up,” Irma snapped, refusing to be deterred, “I owe this bytch a FAWNMANIA moment!!”
As one, the FAWNatics held their collective breath, Iron’s taking to the skies and, all too quickly, began her rapid descent following her leap into the abyss. With her elbow outstretched, she prepared to demolish her opponent…
…only for Sammie to roll aside at the final, heart stopping moment!!
Many of those watching gasped, several more almost missed it, so sudden was the change in fortunes, Irma somehow finding time to violently curse as the People’s Princess, barely conscious, rolled herself off the top of the Announcers table. There was no such luck for Irma, locked on her disastrous trajectory, and the Manchester Malcontent CRASHED atop the furniture with enough force to splinter the wood and collapse the entire structure in a violent explosion of debris. Minus her human crash pad, Iron’s bore the full brunt of the calamitous landing, scarcely moving afterwards.
Sammie, just barely avoiding being road kill, lay almost just as immobile as her opponent, the pert bosom of the Upstart Supreme rising and falling in short, shallow gasps. She blinked a few times, turning her head ever so slightly to the left, finding Irma crumpled in a heap scarcely half a foot away from her. Something about all this struck her as vaguely familiar…
“Crap,” she muttered to herself with a grimace, “we broke another table at FAWNmania.” Sammie smirked then, just a little, amused despite herself with the symmetry from a year before. “Sucks,” she voiced her musings with a question, “doesn’t it?”
“…F…ck…. Y…. you Sin… Clair…” Iron’s growled back, her body unwilling to obey her commands.
“Never going to happen,” Sammie stonewalled, grimacing a little more, “You strike me as a one-minute wonder.”
Irma’s only answer was a guttural snarl, one that voiced her desire to rip her rival’s throat out, but her body refused to follow through.
“ONE!”
The Official began counting from inside the ring, Sinclair momentarily finding it perplexing that he had only just started. She seriously considered staying put and allowing the match to play out, her aches and pains agreeing with her completely but then…
…but then this was the biggest night of the year.
Sammie exhaled deeply, resigning herself to both her fate and her nature, groooooooaning as she pulled herself back up to sitting. “Come on Irma,” she muttered with a weary sigh, “no-one ever pays to see a count out.”
The man in black and white was up to “FOUR!!” and Sinclair was up onto her knees, the miniature Brit Brunette making her way over the debris her opponent had created and, on her way by, snagged Iron’s by her lifeless wrist. With considerable effort, she began to draaaaaaaag Iron’s across the concrete, making slow, painful progress with the dead weight of her foe as the FAWNatics willed her on, the young woman determined to reach the apron.
“NINE!!” the Official announced just as Sammie had reached ringside.
“WAIT!!” the EuroAsia Champion flopped back to sitting, evidently exhausted, tilting her head back to look up at the man in black and white with her most adorable of imploring looks. The big, baby brown eyes of the People’s Princess were large enough to melt even the most cynical of hearts and tonight, the man in black and white was no more capable of resisting than any other.
Sammie smiled, both charming and disarming, “Thanks, now see, hear me out. I know you’re doing your job, but I’m thinking maybe, possibly, since I don’t usually give you guys much hassle, you could give me just a teeny, tiny bit more time to hoist Iron’s heavy ass back into the ring. Please?”
The Official, somewhat flummoxed, wasn’t entirely certain what to say.
The FAWNatics, on the other hand, showed no hesitation…
“LET! THEM!! IN!!! LET! THEM!! IN!!! LET! THEM!! IN!!! LET! THEM!! IN!!!”
…they insisted from one corner of the arena to the next.
“Fine,” he relented, halting his count reluctantly. “But you finish it in the ring now, no more funny business.”
“Thanks!” Sammie flashed a her most winning smile in gratitude. “Hear that Irma, we get to finish up properly.”
Iron’s, most of her anatomy still unresponsive, growled out an irritated grumble.
Sinclair paid it no mind, huffing and puffing far more than she was happy with as she did her utmost to both lift and shovel her heavier rival up onto the apron, and then roll her into the ring. Sammie exhaled in relief once the task had been completed and, true to her word, she immediately made to follow her in…
…until she hesitated at ringside, something evidently catching her attention, the Upstart Supreme clucking tongue as she was undergoing a great deal of pondering.
“Sam,” the Official utilised a firm tone, “we had an agreement.”
“And we still do,” she nodded reassuringly, before smirking with mischief. “I just need one more second…”
“Sam!” the man in black and white attempted to implore, but there was no deterring the Brit now, the miniature brunette dashing along the apron until she reached the very same Ringpost Irma had made her ill-advised leap from. “Sorry,” she apologised, meaning it entirely, “but it’s FAWNmania, go big or go home!”
Adrenaline surging, Sinclair rapidly ascended the turnbuckles, reaching the uppermost pad and turning about to face outwards towards the FAWNatics. They were already in full voice, perfectly primed for Sammie to raise her hands up high to announce some of her ‘old school’ offence, the crowd chanting along as she brought her palms together not once, not twice, but thrice, declaring her intentions before she suddenly HURLED her spritely frame backwards into the sky!!
SINCLAIR SUMMER SLAM!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPQq8hpPdOQ
After completing a beautiful arc by way of a Double Rotation Moonsault, the People’s Princess SPLASHED her tummy down across Iron’s, forcing her rival to exhale sharply as her head and legs kicked up off the mat in recoil. Sinclair was no slouch in collecting those convulsing stems, rolling Irma up for…
“ONE!”
“TWO!!”
“THREE!!!”
…the FAWNatics lost their collective shit as the bell rang, confirming her victory, the Announcer more or less making it official as a formality.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner, and STILL EuroAsia Champion, SAMANTHA! SINCLAIR!!”
The People’s Princess pushed her way back up to kneeling, her shoulders slumping for just a moment as all of her aches and pains returned with a vengeance. She stood up a few moments later, her strap returned to her possession in short order, the Brunette Brit holding it up high before refastening it about her waist. Sammie smiled, visibly relieved to have survived her latest encounter with Irma Iron’s, and already considering who she would be encountering next…