Post by hawkeye on Mar 8, 2021 1:15:13 GMT
FAWNatics were well accustomed to the strange and bizarre, yet even the most veteran viewer was surprised by an unannounced appearance from a mystery woman to start Heartbroken event, particularly when that mystery woman had absconded with the Lightweight title belt a month prior.
This time there was no stealth or secrecy, as the blast of a warhorn preceded her appearance at the top of the entrance ramp. Also unlike a month ago, the enigmatic interloper was not alone as she was flanked on four corners by a quartet of towering Amazons dressed in the manner of Roman legionnaires -- each armored in a bronze-plated cuirass, pleated skirt, leatherbound sandals, and knee-high greaves while carrying a spear in one hand and a shield in the other.
Their more diminutive master held the pilfered Lightweight title over her shoulder and a gilded scepter in her hand while a diamond encrusted coronet adorned her head -- the latter two pieces of regalia suspiciously similar to what had recently been reported missing from the Tokyo Imperial Palace. The thief still kept her face hidden behind a cardboard mask bearing the likeness of Shea London, but the judo gi and black belt she wore now let everyone in the arena know her true identity.
“I LOVE YOU, SHEA!” a drunken man slurred as they passed by on their way to the ring.
Almost everyone.
The entourage duly ignored him as they took the center of the squared circle, and to the surprise of nobody except one, the ringleader removed her mask and revealed the beatific, smiling visage of Maria Alves.
MARIA ALVES
“Greetings and salutations!” Maria spoke into a microphone she produced from the sleeve of her gi. “It is I, Maria Alves, and I am your new Lightweight champion! Huzzah!”
Instead of sharing in her jubilation, the FAWNatics only responded with a dull “WHAAAAAAAAT” but their skepticism didn’t seem to dampen her spirits in the least.
“As Bethany Christian has long advised me to do, I have seized the figurative brass ring by seizing this literal leather and gold cummerbund!” Alves continued, her smile never leaving her face. “Tradition dictates that possession of this trinket has elevated me to FAWN royalty, and thus I graciously accept my position as your QUEEN!”
“WHAAAAAAAAT,” the fans boomed again.
“The responsibility of a tyrant is not one I take on lightly...” Maria said as she solemnly placed a hand over her heart. “...and I swear upon the graves of your children that I shall be a cruel yet ruthless --”
A murmur from the crowd drew her attention, and the Brazilian spun about to see head official Nick Castle jogging down the entrance ramp. She placidly watched the man as he made his way to her, then she greeted him with a bow as soon as he joined her at center ring.
“Welcome to my coronation, Nicholas Castle. I see that you are still living after our previous encounter,” Maria cheerfully welcomed the referee. “How unfortunate for your family and the beneficiaries of your life insurance.”
A single twitch of his left eyebrow was all that betrayed Castle’s annoyance, and he promptly got down to business and said, “Maria, I need you to hand over that belt. I don’t know who told you otherwise, but you are NOT champion just because --”
“Your judgment is overruled, Nicholas,” Alves blithely interrupted. “As Queen, I have no further need for your services. You are hereby dismissed from my court, and I grant you permission to commit seppuku.”
“WHAAAAAAAAT,” the crowd echoed Nick’s inner thoughts as his eyebrow twitched again.
“Okay, look…” the head referee wearily sighed, already feeling exhausted just minutes into the show. “...first of all, you’re not actually Queen. I know plenty of ladies around here refer to themselves as such, but that’s all that it is -- a title they give themselves to boost their egos and nothing more.”
Maria’s smile faded, the corners of her mouth turning downwards into a small frown instead, and she softly asked, “Nicholas Castle, do you mean to tell me that the multitude of ‘queens’ and ‘ladies’ in our federation are merely powerless figureheads?”
“Honestly, not even that,” the man replied. “At best, it’s a ceremonial title. At worst, it’s something that any raving lunatic can call herself.”
“I am not a raving lunatic. I am not...” Alves murmured with her gaze downcast and forlorn, then after a few seconds, she raised her head to meet the referee’s eyes. “Thank you for enlightening me, Nicholas Castle. In consideration of what I have just learned, I must abdicate my position as Queen…”
“It’s for the best, Maria,” Nick said, trying his best to sound sympathetic and comforting. “Now if you would just hand over the --”
“...and instead proclaim myself KING!” Maria triumphantly roared as she raised her royal rod high overhead. “Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!”
“WHAAAAAAAAT.”
“Wha -- ?! Oh, for the love of -- !” Castle sputtered as his eyebrow twitched uncontrollably. “That’s not how this works! That’s not how anything --”
“SILENCE, Nicholas Castle!” King Alves bellowed. “You will either respect my authority, or you will be fed to my eunuchs!”
“WHAAAAAAAAT.”
The judoka gestured to the women of her ‘kingsguard’ with a broad sweep of her arms, though the four ‘eunuchs’ only exchanged uncomfortable glances with each other and the referee.
“We’re not eunuchs, and we really wish she would stop calling us that,” one of them muttered.
“We’re not cannibals either and I don’t know why she thinks that we are,” a second woman added. “Cannibalism doesn’t even fit with the Amazon warrior trope we’ve got going on.”
“I’m actually a vegan, and I’m borderline offended that anyone would imply otherwise,” a third chimed in. “Meat is murder, and even putting ethical issues aside, the environmental problems are profound. Did you know that the methane production from livestock alone accounts for climate change on a scale that --”
“Oh my God, shut UP, Jan!” the fourth ‘eunuch’ cut in. “If I have to listen to your self-righteous spiel ONE more time --”
The FAWNatics abruptly roared to life, drawing the kingsguard’s attention to the entrance ramp once more.
MESS AROUND
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1tE__Hsjm4
‘Mess Around’ hit the speakers a couple seconds after Macy stormed through the curtain, the Slappin’ Sensation apparently a bit too quick for the crew in the production truck tonight. Regarding Renquist’s arrival with the same sort of attention one would grant to a slightly tardy bus, Maria Alves pointed her scepter at the blonde and told the kingsguard, “Please check to see that her papers are in order. Something about her body language suggests that they are not.”
MACY RENQUIST:
Jan blinked, looked from her King to Macy and back again. “Ummmhhh, what exactly do you want us to do? The ad said ‘mostly modeling with a little light clerical.' You don’t actually want us to fight her, rig--”
CRAAAAAAACK!
Macy clapped Jan upside the head with a whistling forehand that spun the poor dope in a woozy half circle before she pitched to the floor in a facedown sprawl.
“Good lord, that sounded terrible!” the ‘eunuch’ who’d interrupted Jan’s latest round of factoids gasped. “I mean, it was satisfying in a sick sort of way, but you didn’t have to turn her face around backwar--”
CRAAAAAAAACK!
Macy tagged her with a scintillating backhand, then grabbed hold at skirt and cuirass and pitched her into the guardrail with a clattery BWAAANG!
Shaking the worst of the tingle from her slappin’ hand, Macy looked to the remaining kingsguard and asked, “Do you want to step aside or are you here for more free samples?”
One of the two looked to her associate and banged the butt of her spear against the floor. “Stand firm, Yolanda! She’s probably tired after dispatching Jan and MelinOOOOOFFFFFHHH!”
Renquist drove a Back Kick into the talker’s mouth to double her over, then hopped up and TWHONKED the point of her right knee between the taller woman’s eyes.
“Yolanda, is it?” Macy’s voice remained neutral, though her eyes were anything but. “Seems to me like you’ve got a choice to ma--”
Damned if Yolanda didn’t toss her Spear aside so she could snatch Macy’s left hand in a tight Wristlock! Drawing away from the interloper in a single long stride, Yolanda dropped into a deep crouch and slung Renquist straight at the steps at the corner of the NO! The Beach Blaster leapt onto the top step and launched herself backward, Macy shooting through a tight corkscrew that culminated in a vicious Springboard Bytch Slap that dropped Yolanda to all fours.
Taking a moment to smooth out her ponytail in the wake of that percussive dismissal, Renquist looked to the ring and somehow wasn’t surprised to see that Maria Alves had vanished, the would-be royal leaving nothing of her presence save for a microphone and that cardboard Shea London mask.
“Did you see which way she went?” the blonde asked Nick Castle after she’d slipped through the ropes.
Nick offered a bashful shrug. “Through the crowd, I think, but you can never be sure with Maria. I’ll have security at all the exits, we should get the title back to you before the night is over.”
“Screw that noise.” Macy snarled before picking the discarded mic off the canvas. “Hello thief. I know you’re listening, so pay very close attention. You have something that doesn’t belong to you and I mean to take it back. I can do this in one of two ways. I can hunt you through the bowels of this building OR you can come to the ring later on tonight and we can hash out our differences face to face. Either way ends with me slapping you into unconsciousness, but meeting me in front of the whole world means you might be an actual fighter and not just some idiot wannabe super-villain.” Renquist lowered the stick and took a deep breath as a ‘SLAP HER OUT!’ chant started in earnest.
“Make your choice, thief.” the champ suggested. “And make it fast. Because if I come down that ramp and you’re not here? There’s not a goon squad big enough to save you from me.”
Macy tossed the mic to Castle and took her leave over and through the smoldering wreckage of Maria’s kingsguard, all of whom seemed to be regretting their latest career choices after a single meeting with the Leader of the Renquistition.
This time there was no stealth or secrecy, as the blast of a warhorn preceded her appearance at the top of the entrance ramp. Also unlike a month ago, the enigmatic interloper was not alone as she was flanked on four corners by a quartet of towering Amazons dressed in the manner of Roman legionnaires -- each armored in a bronze-plated cuirass, pleated skirt, leatherbound sandals, and knee-high greaves while carrying a spear in one hand and a shield in the other.
Their more diminutive master held the pilfered Lightweight title over her shoulder and a gilded scepter in her hand while a diamond encrusted coronet adorned her head -- the latter two pieces of regalia suspiciously similar to what had recently been reported missing from the Tokyo Imperial Palace. The thief still kept her face hidden behind a cardboard mask bearing the likeness of Shea London, but the judo gi and black belt she wore now let everyone in the arena know her true identity.
“I LOVE YOU, SHEA!” a drunken man slurred as they passed by on their way to the ring.
Almost everyone.
The entourage duly ignored him as they took the center of the squared circle, and to the surprise of nobody except one, the ringleader removed her mask and revealed the beatific, smiling visage of Maria Alves.
MARIA ALVES
“Greetings and salutations!” Maria spoke into a microphone she produced from the sleeve of her gi. “It is I, Maria Alves, and I am your new Lightweight champion! Huzzah!”
Instead of sharing in her jubilation, the FAWNatics only responded with a dull “WHAAAAAAAAT” but their skepticism didn’t seem to dampen her spirits in the least.
“As Bethany Christian has long advised me to do, I have seized the figurative brass ring by seizing this literal leather and gold cummerbund!” Alves continued, her smile never leaving her face. “Tradition dictates that possession of this trinket has elevated me to FAWN royalty, and thus I graciously accept my position as your QUEEN!”
“WHAAAAAAAAT,” the fans boomed again.
“The responsibility of a tyrant is not one I take on lightly...” Maria said as she solemnly placed a hand over her heart. “...and I swear upon the graves of your children that I shall be a cruel yet ruthless --”
A murmur from the crowd drew her attention, and the Brazilian spun about to see head official Nick Castle jogging down the entrance ramp. She placidly watched the man as he made his way to her, then she greeted him with a bow as soon as he joined her at center ring.
“Welcome to my coronation, Nicholas Castle. I see that you are still living after our previous encounter,” Maria cheerfully welcomed the referee. “How unfortunate for your family and the beneficiaries of your life insurance.”
A single twitch of his left eyebrow was all that betrayed Castle’s annoyance, and he promptly got down to business and said, “Maria, I need you to hand over that belt. I don’t know who told you otherwise, but you are NOT champion just because --”
“Your judgment is overruled, Nicholas,” Alves blithely interrupted. “As Queen, I have no further need for your services. You are hereby dismissed from my court, and I grant you permission to commit seppuku.”
“WHAAAAAAAAT,” the crowd echoed Nick’s inner thoughts as his eyebrow twitched again.
“Okay, look…” the head referee wearily sighed, already feeling exhausted just minutes into the show. “...first of all, you’re not actually Queen. I know plenty of ladies around here refer to themselves as such, but that’s all that it is -- a title they give themselves to boost their egos and nothing more.”
Maria’s smile faded, the corners of her mouth turning downwards into a small frown instead, and she softly asked, “Nicholas Castle, do you mean to tell me that the multitude of ‘queens’ and ‘ladies’ in our federation are merely powerless figureheads?”
“Honestly, not even that,” the man replied. “At best, it’s a ceremonial title. At worst, it’s something that any raving lunatic can call herself.”
“I am not a raving lunatic. I am not...” Alves murmured with her gaze downcast and forlorn, then after a few seconds, she raised her head to meet the referee’s eyes. “Thank you for enlightening me, Nicholas Castle. In consideration of what I have just learned, I must abdicate my position as Queen…”
“It’s for the best, Maria,” Nick said, trying his best to sound sympathetic and comforting. “Now if you would just hand over the --”
“...and instead proclaim myself KING!” Maria triumphantly roared as she raised her royal rod high overhead. “Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!”
“WHAAAAAAAAT.”
“Wha -- ?! Oh, for the love of -- !” Castle sputtered as his eyebrow twitched uncontrollably. “That’s not how this works! That’s not how anything --”
“SILENCE, Nicholas Castle!” King Alves bellowed. “You will either respect my authority, or you will be fed to my eunuchs!”
“WHAAAAAAAAT.”
The judoka gestured to the women of her ‘kingsguard’ with a broad sweep of her arms, though the four ‘eunuchs’ only exchanged uncomfortable glances with each other and the referee.
“We’re not eunuchs, and we really wish she would stop calling us that,” one of them muttered.
“We’re not cannibals either and I don’t know why she thinks that we are,” a second woman added. “Cannibalism doesn’t even fit with the Amazon warrior trope we’ve got going on.”
“I’m actually a vegan, and I’m borderline offended that anyone would imply otherwise,” a third chimed in. “Meat is murder, and even putting ethical issues aside, the environmental problems are profound. Did you know that the methane production from livestock alone accounts for climate change on a scale that --”
“Oh my God, shut UP, Jan!” the fourth ‘eunuch’ cut in. “If I have to listen to your self-righteous spiel ONE more time --”
The FAWNatics abruptly roared to life, drawing the kingsguard’s attention to the entrance ramp once more.
MESS AROUND
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1tE__Hsjm4
‘Mess Around’ hit the speakers a couple seconds after Macy stormed through the curtain, the Slappin’ Sensation apparently a bit too quick for the crew in the production truck tonight. Regarding Renquist’s arrival with the same sort of attention one would grant to a slightly tardy bus, Maria Alves pointed her scepter at the blonde and told the kingsguard, “Please check to see that her papers are in order. Something about her body language suggests that they are not.”
MACY RENQUIST:
Jan blinked, looked from her King to Macy and back again. “Ummmhhh, what exactly do you want us to do? The ad said ‘mostly modeling with a little light clerical.' You don’t actually want us to fight her, rig--”
CRAAAAAAACK!
Macy clapped Jan upside the head with a whistling forehand that spun the poor dope in a woozy half circle before she pitched to the floor in a facedown sprawl.
“Good lord, that sounded terrible!” the ‘eunuch’ who’d interrupted Jan’s latest round of factoids gasped. “I mean, it was satisfying in a sick sort of way, but you didn’t have to turn her face around backwar--”
CRAAAAAAAACK!
Macy tagged her with a scintillating backhand, then grabbed hold at skirt and cuirass and pitched her into the guardrail with a clattery BWAAANG!
Shaking the worst of the tingle from her slappin’ hand, Macy looked to the remaining kingsguard and asked, “Do you want to step aside or are you here for more free samples?”
One of the two looked to her associate and banged the butt of her spear against the floor. “Stand firm, Yolanda! She’s probably tired after dispatching Jan and MelinOOOOOFFFFFHHH!”
Renquist drove a Back Kick into the talker’s mouth to double her over, then hopped up and TWHONKED the point of her right knee between the taller woman’s eyes.
“Yolanda, is it?” Macy’s voice remained neutral, though her eyes were anything but. “Seems to me like you’ve got a choice to ma--”
Damned if Yolanda didn’t toss her Spear aside so she could snatch Macy’s left hand in a tight Wristlock! Drawing away from the interloper in a single long stride, Yolanda dropped into a deep crouch and slung Renquist straight at the steps at the corner of the NO! The Beach Blaster leapt onto the top step and launched herself backward, Macy shooting through a tight corkscrew that culminated in a vicious Springboard Bytch Slap that dropped Yolanda to all fours.
Taking a moment to smooth out her ponytail in the wake of that percussive dismissal, Renquist looked to the ring and somehow wasn’t surprised to see that Maria Alves had vanished, the would-be royal leaving nothing of her presence save for a microphone and that cardboard Shea London mask.
“Did you see which way she went?” the blonde asked Nick Castle after she’d slipped through the ropes.
Nick offered a bashful shrug. “Through the crowd, I think, but you can never be sure with Maria. I’ll have security at all the exits, we should get the title back to you before the night is over.”
“Screw that noise.” Macy snarled before picking the discarded mic off the canvas. “Hello thief. I know you’re listening, so pay very close attention. You have something that doesn’t belong to you and I mean to take it back. I can do this in one of two ways. I can hunt you through the bowels of this building OR you can come to the ring later on tonight and we can hash out our differences face to face. Either way ends with me slapping you into unconsciousness, but meeting me in front of the whole world means you might be an actual fighter and not just some idiot wannabe super-villain.” Renquist lowered the stick and took a deep breath as a ‘SLAP HER OUT!’ chant started in earnest.
“Make your choice, thief.” the champ suggested. “And make it fast. Because if I come down that ramp and you’re not here? There’s not a goon squad big enough to save you from me.”
Macy tossed the mic to Castle and took her leave over and through the smoldering wreckage of Maria’s kingsguard, all of whom seemed to be regretting their latest career choices after a single meeting with the Leader of the Renquistition.