Post by hawkeye on Oct 11, 2021 0:31:40 GMT
Seated on the cool linoleum, Cassandra Vale extends her arms and reaches past her straightened legs, bending as far at the waist as possible. Leaning harder into her Hurdler Hamstring Stretch, she holds the pose there for a good 15 seconds, then switches to a Cobra Press-Up. With as relaxed a face as anyone will see on Cassandra, the Chaos Consultant lies face down on the floor, straight line with elbows bent and hands by her shoulders. Contracting her already firm glutes, Vale pushes her upper body off the floor; breathing in deep, she holds that pose for 30 seconds before resetting. She’s nearing the end of her usual 20-minute pre-match stretching routine; the few people who’ve gotten close enough to Cassandra to see this practice say this ritual jars with their mental image of the Terminator turned to flesh, Cassandra Vale. Understandable, but you don’t want to pull a muscle when you’re destroying bitches in the ring.
A backstage hand pokes his head around the corner and softly knocks against the wall, rightfully fearful of the Walking Weapon’s ire, “We’re two minutes from Go Time, Miss Vale.”
Releasing a breath through her nose, she gets up and rolls her shoulders. Without looking at the attendant, she asks in a neutral tone, “So they found someone then? Cause I’m not issuing an open challenge because management can’t do their jobs. I’m getting paid either way.”
Tapping at his headset, he nods, “Yes, they definitely found someone. They didn’t give me a name but she’s pulling into the parking lot now.”
Vale nods, silently giving the agent permission to leave. Bethany Christian has booked a singles match between two cohabiting talents (always one for making drama, that Bethany), but because they lived together, they both got the flu at the same time, leaving a gap in tonight’s card. The majority of the roster that isn’t booked is either injured, overseas, or out of state. Not to mention that the new promotion EMPRESS had also raided a good chunk of FAWN’s talent. Leaving Bethany no choice but to pay Vale’s somewhat extortionate but entirely just mercenary fee to fill time and give the fans their money’s worth. Cassandra makes one last adjustment to her ring togs, not out of nervousness but professionalism, talking to herself, ”Alright, let’s see who’s tears are shining my boots tonight.”
Standing in the ring in his crisp, pressed suit, the announcer takes out hastily written information cards for the imminent match-up. He quickly speedreads through them once for any troubling pronunciations and raises the microphone to his lips.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty-minute time limit! Introducing first, hailing from Gatlin, Nebraska. She stands at five feet five inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty-two pounds. She is the Chaos Consultant, the Walking Weapon… CASSANDRA VALE!”
CASSANDRA VALE
'Every Day is Exactly the Same' dripped from the speakers, and the sold-out crowd leapt to their feet to await the Merc’s arrival. Brushing the curtain aside shortly thereafter, Cassandra pauses atop the ramp to sweep her gaze across those assembled. Once the perusal finishes, she raises both hands and very deliberately craaaaaaaaacks her knuckles. The crowd didn’t expect to see the technical terror tonight and greets her with loud, welcoming cheers, but Vale doesn’t acknowledge them, she only had eyes for the squared circle. Possessed of a self-control that was almost impossible to fathom considering the list of atrocities attached to her name, the powerhouse blonde starts down the aisle accompanied by Trent Reznor and a whole lotta wicked intentions.
For her surprise return to FAWN, Vale wore a sturdy midnight blue two-piece so dark it was almost black and pads that actually were black. Her hair now hangs loosely to just below the curve of her shoulders; her, former bob cut considered unceremoniously retired. Ignoring the hands and signs extended in her direction, Vale reaches the base of the ramp, hooks right and strides up the steel steps before dipping between the top and middle ropes. Vale pauses to take in the unusually muscular referee Reginald Worthington; the tall, handsome Brit is a drastic difference from the usual breed of zebra around these parts. Vale privately enjoys the sight, but it won’t let it distract her. She’s a professional after all. Vale resumes her trek to the middle of the ring, raises a fist to the rafters, then pops a thumb and draws it across her throat nice and slow-like. This gets a loud roar from the more bloodthirsty elements of the crowd, and it isn’t long before they start a ‘VALE IS GONNA KILL YOU!’ chant. The Merc doesn’t bother to contradict ‘em, instead, she makes her way to the far corner where she offers her elbows, wrists, knees and ankles for Worthington’s inspection. Only mildly curious of who’s going to suffer at her hands tonight.
An unseen battery of cannons fire booming shots, startling most people in the building, the lone wrestler in the ring an exception. Cassandra turns her head to the entrance ramp as the FAWNtron becomes a swirling tunnel of blue energy. It opens and expands to a black screen, soon disrupted by a brilliant shaft of white light. It dissipates and in its wake, the words FALLOUT SUNRISE shines gold Spectral font—a nostalgic and adrenaline-pumping instrumental cut of the Thundercats’ theme blasts through the speakers.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mWN8aELvZU
Exploding from the curtains is a veritable comet of glaring colours. Racing from one end of the stage to the other while pumping her fists is a powerfully built woman of a light mocha complexion; Her long, dark, wavy hair had random streaks of colour that caught the light as it trailed after her. A stark white handprint gripped the woman’s features with the thumb going above her right eye and past the brow, her Electric Cyan lipstick glaring among the paleness of the palm. A light, neon pink sports bra covered her ample bosom with neon carrot laces crisscrossing the front, her cleavage puffing past the restricting fabric. Giving no mind to fashion or style, Fallout Sunrise wears fluorescent green bottoms and electric red boots. The announcer reads her information to the audience with a hint of incredulity.
FALLOUT SUNRISE
“Standing at 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 143 pounds, here by way of a temporal vortex... a Cosmic Warrior from the end of time! The nurturer of hope and light and a bane to grey despair... Fallout Sunrise!!”
With a manic look of absolute intensity Fallout launches into a dead sprint down the ramp, tassels every colour of the rainbow dangles from her shoulders to pink elbows pads and trails in the wind as she runs. Forgoing every offered hand, the ‘Cosmic Warrior’ runs a full lap around the ring before sliding in. Springing to her feet she takes the nearest top rope in her electric yellow, fingerless gloved hands and starts shaking it, shaking it, shaking it! Fallout’s gritting her teeth with all the energy she’s putting into that cable. It’s about to fly off its hinges. She halts her strange ritual to climb onto the second buckle of the nearest corner and beat her chest while ROARING into the abyss. The crowd is as always equal parts confused and delighted by this hyperbolic woman.
Cassandra watches the strange newcomer with an air of tired exasperation. Lightly shaking her head, she mutters under her breath, “What fresh hell is this?” Everything about this crime against colour tells Vale this fight’s going to be a coin flip. This wannabe is either a young pup straight out of wrestling school about to get a rude and brutal awakening or a nutcase going to make this fight as long and difficult as possible.
KER-ASSH!!
“RRaaaagh!!!”
Fallout Sunrise vaults herself over the top rope onto the apron and dashes across the narrow ledge. She throws herself onto the Dutch commentator’s table with a giant leap, shattering it to pieces! The crowd screams, “OOHHHH!!” Momentarily still, Fallout surges up as if she didn’t just self-propel through furniture and audio equipment and throws her arms back to roar at the FAWNatics in attendance, which roar back twice as loud in delight!
Cassandra clicks her tongue behind her teeth.
Nutcase it is.
Fallout Sunrise slides back into the ring and allows a nervous referee Worthington to check her for foreign objects. The brightly coloured behemoth stands still save her heaving chest; she breathes in deep, shaky breaths like a barely restrained wild animal. She is gazing ahead intensely at Cassandra, the referee, and anything within eyesight. Her only setting appeared to be MAX, no matter what her focus was. Worthington finds nothing suspicious on Sunrise, aside from the woman herself, and motions for the bell.
DING!DING
Cassandra measuredly stalks the perimeter of the ring, taking in her strange opponent, bracing for a wild rush from the brightly coloured behemoth. Fallout walks along the ropes as well, her left arm extended in a fist and swinging in a big circle, her right fist beating against her quivering chest. The audience picks up Fallout’s tempo, CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP. The long-distance dance completes two revolutions when FS throws herself into a set of buckles, going into a deep crouch. She supports herself by holding on to the middle ropes and bares her teeth at Vale with an expression too ambiguous to tell if it’s a smile or a grimace. With a yank of her brawny arms Fallout pulls herself back up and makes a beeline for Cassandra, who generally wouldn’t do this with an opponent who got five inches on her, but it’s a bad look to back away from a wannabe and as she never backs down from a faceoff. She marches forward to meet the new meat in center ring.
Cassandra Vale’s already in a bit of a bad mood. Being in the same ring as this clown is driving her prices down by the minute. Speaking evenly but with clear condescension, Cassandra jaws to her nearing foe “You sure you want to do this Rainbow Brite?” She chests into Sunrise, her ivory breasts pressing into an ebony pair, “this can go from cordial to fucked up real quicCRK!!”
Fallout’s arms snap around Vale’s ribs with surprising quickness and lift the blonde to boot tips; the FAWNatics wail an “OOOHH” at the audacity of FS to attempt a Bear Hug on the Walking Weapon. Vale mentally curses herself for a rookie mistake and rears back a crooked arm to punch her way free… and freezes in confusion when Fallout begins to gently rock side to side, the hold more Hug than Bear. A brilliantly grinning Fallout nuzzles her cheek against an astonished Vale’s, “Welcome back, mighty Nimrod!”
The Cosmic Warrior gives the mercenary an overly tight but friendly squeeze, their abs and chests bullying for space before Fallout sets Cassandra down and claps her hands onto the blonde’s shoulders.
“It’s an honour to see you in the field of battle once again, Nimrod. I’m hearten to see your achievement of inner peace has not softened your body. Let’s hope the same goes for your spirit, eh? Ha-Haaa!!” Fallout laughs boisterously at her jape. When mentioning Cassandra’s form she lowers her hands to the mercenary’s biceps and kneads them like she was the Vale’s family doctor. Cassandra just stares back with a raised eyebrow, her mind overcome with the what-the-fuck’edness of this rookie. The crowd at this point has transitioned from gasping to audibly chuckling at the wrestlers. A sound that NEVER occurs when Cassandra Vale’s in the ring.
Reginald shyly interrupts the odd scene, “Excuse me, ladies, do mind if we continue the contest?
Fallout gives Cassandra’s arms one more squeeze and gives them a light slap before backing away, throwing a palm on Reginald’s broad shoulder as she does, ”Of course, fair Heracles. Watch o’er our battle with a keen eye!”
The zebra is a bit caught off guard by the nickname and speech pattern and sputters back, “Ah.. well..okay, yes. I will. Cassandra?” Vale closes her eyes and breathes slowly, “I should have charged Bethany double for this…” she backs into the ropes and bounces into a pace around the ring once again. This time their dance only travels half the canvas before Fallout decides to get up close and personal with the blonde once again. The Cosmic Warrior walks deeper into the ring with slowly raises her palms with twitching fingers to level with her head, “Shall we test that spirit now, Mighty Nimrod?”
Vale eyes her for a half-second, analyzing. Judging FS is too stupid for this to be a trap, the Walking Weapon saunters to Sunrise. with a bit of show of cracking her knuckles and muttering, “I see we’re sticking with that nickname huh?” Vale’s borderline monstrous strength is known as something to be avoided going back to her rookie years. Tell them to look up clips of her vs Amy Angels or Chrissy Daniels if anyone doubts it. Threading fingers, their palms kiss while their chests and bellies SMECK together, both planting a boot back for stability. The warring beauties clench their fists and pour their all into bringing the other to kneel. Biceps and triceps quivering their arms slowly stretch into a T while their bodies briefly separate and SMECK together again. FAWNatics and wrestling fans around the world are used to displays of Cassandra’s power, usually splattering one of their heroines against the ring floor, but seeing her go toe to toe with that brilliant behemoth renews their awe and fear. In turn, the rookie Fallout Sunrise is already earning points with the crowd for not crumbling under the mercenary’s might.
Sunrise’s big boulders continually mash into the top half of Vale’s silky pair. Fallout growls almost flirtatiously into her foe’s ear as they strain against each other, “You smell of mead and spices, Nimrod. I’m happy the Sacrificial Mutton’s success hasn’t taken time away from your training.”
It took Cassandra a moment to realize this brawny clown was referring to The Slaughtered Lamb, the bar Cassandra owned, managed and took great pride in, a respected establishment. It’s not the first time an opponent(victim) mentioned her retirement plan, but it’s genuine relief in Fallout’s voice that the Chaos Consultant isn’t getting soft that gets Cassandra’s blood up. “My bar doesn’t affect my gym time, cause everybody knows what’ll happen if they start shit in my bar-regh!”
To everyone’s amazement, it’s Vale’s wrists that start to ebb backward! Cassandra’s more shocked than anyone, eyes darting back and forth between their enjoined fists as they push past neutral ground into the blonde’s territory. The muscles in her body shredding in definition Fallout breaks into a near maniac simile, edging out the high-ground FS keeps the pressure pouring and raises their arms into a Y to apply more direct force. Fallout releases a drawn-out growl that increases in volume to the fan’s cheers, ”RrrrrRRAAGH!!” Cassandra’s left knee starts to buckle… it’s lowering… it hits the mat, and a ripple of cheers run through the crowd! Cassandra’s perturbed as hell and fights back on one knee against the hydraulic press that is Fallout Sunrise. Cassandra thinks a foul stream of expletives feeling her other knee buckle...and falls! The most dangerous woman in the world, Casandra Vale is on her knees before the Destroyer class rookie, and people in the stands are losing it!
This is an unfamiliar and unwelcome situation for Cassandra. World champions are on edge around the Merc, and now an 80’s stereotype is showing her up? Unacceptable. Fallout pushes harder, trying to get Vale’s smooth shoulders to the canvas but the blonde refuses to pay further obeisance, FS looks down at Cassandra from her lofty position, jokingly chiding “Perhaps you spent too much time in the kitchen Nimrod, your blades feel better suited for breaking bread!”
That’s it. Now Vale is angry.
Silent except for harsh breathing through her nose, the mercenary lifts Fallout’s crushing hands just a bit higher and stomps her right boot back on the mat, going from repentant to genuflecting. Forcing much of her weight on her plant foot, Cassandra pushes forward and, slloowwlly regains lost ground and pushes back to standing, slapping her belly against the rookie’s like she’s daring Sunrise to try that again. Fans applaud Vale’s minor victory and start cheering when Sunrise’s wrists start bending back. The face-painted fighter’s look of desperate effort is almost comical as she’s forced to one knee. In contrast, Cassandra’s is a stone mask of neutrality, the rookie has power but she isn’t paid to make the talent look good before they sob a submission.
A jerking shove puts FS on two bent gams, but like Vale before, she
won’t retreat further. She seems oddly happy, “Appears I’m mistaken. You still have some steel, Nimrod!” Cassandra has nothing to prove to this roided-out rainbow, but the insulation still pisses her off, squeezing Sunrise’s fists so hard she can feel the bones in her hands grind, Cassandra grunts “I never lost any steel. And my name’s Cassandra.”
FS laughs off the career crusher’s brusqueness, “Haha!” and starts to tremble like her whole body is vibrating. Cassandra’s ears pick up a tell-tale rhythmic CLAP-CLAP-CLAP, and she mutters a “goddamnit,” under her breath. She knows what’s coming. Feeding off the crowd’s support to a supernatural degree Fallout gets one foot under her, and then the other, to Vale’s dismay, she rushes to her full height with a pop of the crowd. Cassandra bites the inside of her cheek to stop flinching when her wrists start to bend back once again. In the bombastic tone Fallout always speaks in, she offers a conciliatory platitude, “Kneeling in this manner is no blow against your dignity. It is just the will of the universe.”
Cassandra’s done with this whole thing. She shakes her head, “Nope.” And slides her left leg behind the rookie’s, shoving forward instead of down Cassandra trips Fallout as she breaks the handholds, the Warrior’s back slaps against the canvas, “Aarh!” In a flash, Cassandra raises an elbow and drops it hard into Fallout’s breast. The Gatlin grappler shifts her feet past Fallout’s hair and slides up the Cosmic Warrior’s body to cinch in North-South Choke, briefly pressing in to make sure her chest trailed across Sunrise’s features. Vale’s arm is about to close the loop when Sunrise shows some technical ability, grabbing the Merc’s hand and rolling out of the hold. With the veteran’s limb captured, Fallout shifts behind Vale to force her flat with a hammerlock, but Cassandra pops to a seat and rolls to the side, yanking her wrist free. Like they’re magnetically charged, they come together again in an Elbow and Collar and ride to their feet together.
Making full use of her height and weight advantage, Fallout forces Vale backwards step by step at a surprising pace. Grinding her forehead against the Chaos Consultant’s, Fallout remains infuriatingly complementary, speaking far too loud given they’re close enough to kiss, ”Ha-ha! Very clever, Nimrod. I did not expect such trickery!” For a second, Vale thinks the woman is calling her stupid with backhand praise. The woman with a handprint on her face. Then Vale recalls a day at The Hellhole (how wrestlers refer to Sydney Deschain’s training school, much to her chagrin) where Emily West complained about America dumbing down a topic till it’s unrecognizable.
Cassandra huffs “You’re calling me a hunter, right?” She bears down and halts the Destroyer’s progress, and stomp by stomp bullies Sunrise on a route to the nearest set of buckles, “That’s not bad. Betcha had to go to the second page of search results to find a good reference.” Fallout plants her feet to halt their progress, but her boots skid against the canvas. Cassandra maintains her public image and personal standards as the stronger woman in any match by bulldozing this blazing beauty into the corn- “Eeh!”
A few feet from the buckles, Sunrise violently twists to the right and charges ahead. Vale awkwardly back peddles on her heels till her back hits rubber encased steel cables; Sunrise bodies up on the surprised breaker for hire, letting the more petite woman feel her weight. Trapping a resistant Vale between the ropes and her hard yet curvy body till Sunrise deigns to move. The Ref counts "One… two… three…." Fallout breaks cleanly at three, backing away letting Cassandra lightly recoil off her heels onto flat feet. Fallout waves Cassandra out of the ropes bidding for another Elbow and Collar, “Come Nimrod! I think the weights of peace are finally off your limbs, come at me!”
Cassandra calmly readjusts her slightly askew top and smoothes out her hair, taking advantage of the brief pause in the action to reassess her battle plan. The Chaos Consultant gingerly steps closer with arms ready to accept Sunrise in another grapple. The two women get in close, their arms brushing against each other as they embrace- Vale’s head shoots forward, thunking Fallout on the bridge of the nose! “Rargh!”
Fallout staggers back with eyes watering, hands wrapped around her hurting beak. Shockingly fast, Cassandra gets low, takes the multicoloured monster by the thighs, and upends Fallout with a Double Leg Takedown. The Warrior’s back and head slap against the covered plywood before Vale straddles her in a Mercy Ellis-style mount, and starts dropping bombs on Fallout’s face and chest. The overwhelmed rookie’s head whips side to side with Vale’s punches a few times before she raises a competent guard. The blonde’s fists ricochet off Sunrise’s forearms more than the Monster of Gatlin would like, but that’s more of her personal standard than reality; far more hits land than those that do not. Peppering in elbows and forearms to keep Worthington quiet about closed fists, Vale talks to the rookie she’s pasting.
“I think you’re smarter than you let on(bambambam), and this 80’s glazing and persona is an act(bambambam), and you know you’re taking shots at me. I admire that unusual strategy, but I got to steamroll your ass for trying that comedy shit with me.”
On that note, Cassandra shoves Sunrise’s guard apart and cracks her forehead against painted nose for the second time tonight, getting an audible cringe from the fans. Sunrise looks a little stunned as Cassandra quickly pulls up by the ears and guts her5 with a broadside kneelift. The mercenary turns away while taking Fallout in a grinding Side Headlock. Vale’s sinewy arms bulge trying to pop this wild clown’s head like bubblegum, Fallout’s legs tremble, and her face reddens, contrasting with the white face paint in an iconic camera shot. Cassandra pumps the headlock putting a kink in Fallout’s neck before smoothly switching to a Cravate style headlock. She walks with the strange Destroyer in tow, gruffly ordering, “Come ‘ere,” Picking up speed as she nears the far corner, Cassandra hurls Fallout frontward, banging her forehead against the top turnbuckle. The towering rookie staggers back, holding her head, probably suffering from a loss of some IQ points. Irritated that her opponent’s still vertical, Cassandra backs up a couple of steps and charges the razzled rainbow, raming Fallout’s front against the buckles with a mini Splash.
Sunrise lets out a wheeze as she’s crushed between leather padded steel and Vale’s hardbody. Her arms hanging over the top cables, she tries to pull them back and shove off the corner but gets flattened by another Splash from Vale, who compounds the offence by reaching past Fallout to grab the middle rope and heave herself forward to ram her whole body against the Sunrise, one, two, three times. Referee Worthington makes his presence known, “Let’s take it out of the corner now, Miss Vale.”
Vale answers flatly without looking at him, “Uh-huh.” She lowers her shoulder and drives it into the small of Sunrise’s spine, making her go from limp ragdoll to seizing muscles and arched back. Vale snags an arm and takes a step back, sending Sunrise away to the far corner with a big Irish Whip. On instinct, Fallout turns to take the crash with her back but that may have been a mistake, Fallout bounces off the buckles with a bwung and grimace. The Chaos Consultant may be targeting Sunshine’s back tonight.
Cassandra keeps the ball rolling with Running Splash, her breasts briefly colliding with Fallout’s face before she’s sandwiched once again. As payback for earlier, Vale presses close, letting the rookie feel the weight of her mistakes through a count of four. Cassandra presses her chest against Fallout while she takes her by the wrist, speaking low, “Still think my blades are dull?” She steps away and pulls a more compressed Fallout out of the buckles and flinging her away with an Irish Whip, but Fallout drops her hips and holds on to Cassandra. Grasping the blonde’s wrist tightly with both hands, Fallout nearly pulls Vale’s arm out of its socket when reversing the whip, angling to send the vaunted veteran to the leftward ropes. Cassandra speeds towards the coils and guts herself on the shoulder of a bent-over Fallout on the return trip. She straightens like a sprung trap flinging Cassandra in the air with a Back Body Drop.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=btmIF9O4AR8
The Chaos Consultant rarely leaves her feet; it’s a sign of the apocalypse that she’s thrown into a full 360 degrees and faceplants on the canvas. The FAWNatics become unglued, seeing the woman that the most decorated stars fear to cross thrown for a loop. Vale pops to her knees on the first bounce and immediately gets up, shrugging off any pain from the fall to focus on bringing misery to Fallout Sunrise. Vale whirls back and fires a jaw-breaking right hook that Fallout deftly ducks, then latches onto the wayward arm to throw Cassandra back into the coils. On the rebound Fallout pivots as she throws a brawny arm under the Nebraskan’s, taking her off her feet planting her in the canvas with a ring shaking Hiptoss. Again Vale’s quick to get up but just a mite slower, the moment she turns around Sunrise has her shoulder against Vale’s abdominals and sends the blonde into her second Back Body Drop and third flip of the night in less than a minute.
youtu.be/KN3J2s-k618?t=338
The Orlando crowd and EVERYONE in the back is alarmed and elated to see Vale so easily and quickly tossed. The mercenary’s gathered a good and loyal fanbase in recent years, but that doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy seeing Gatlin Hammer get a little roughed up by an out-and-out babyface. They shower the young, hot-blooded Warrior with loud praise, and Fallout seems to feed off it, violently shaking the ropes with both hands and whipping her head up and down, roaring wordlessly, “Rraaahhh!!” Pushing off the canvas Cassandra shakes her head, trying to get her vision straight and use her aches and pains to focus on ending this foolishness. Fallout sees Cassandra collecting her wits and leaves the rope to shake wildly on its hinges to greet the mighty hunter with a running clothesline.
Mentally judging Sunrise harshly for not ending her while she was down, Vale turns in time for the Rainbow Ravager’s arm to audibly slap against her sternum, the blow rattling the blonde’s skeleton and innards. Vale wobbles but doesn’t reside a single step, regaining her Antaeus-like ability to remain unmoved by her foe’s offence. Fallout sees a challenge laid down makes a quick retreat; throwing herself into the coils, Fallout Sunrise rebounds into a sprint and nearly smacks the mercenary’s jubblies out of their cups with another clothesline, Cassandra stumbles back a few feet but does not fall to the larger babe. Seeing the Chaos Consultant unconquered, Fallout makes a speedy retreat to the ropes and comes back with another clothesline. The second hit harder than the first; a SMACK! echoes through the air, and Cassandra wobbles, gnashes her teeth and makes a sound like she stepped on a nail, but she does not fall. Despite her throbbing chest, Vale feels more like herself. Withstanding a foe’s offence with little regard is a return to the norm. The Walking Weapon points over Fallout’s shoulder to the ropes; Cassandra speaks authoritatively with just a hit of rasp from the deluge of offence just endured, “Give it another try. Let’s see what happens.”
The brilliant behemoth’s lips curl back in a threatening manner, emitting a low purring snarl like a panther. Fallout gets nose to nose with the smaller, no doubt more dangerous woman and shares an intense gaze. The air is tense and silent for a moment, the fans prepare for the match to step up a gear…. Then burst out laughing seeing Fallout wrap Cassandra in another hug!
Fallout tilts Cassandra side to side like distant family members at a reunion, “Nimrod! I see the fire burns still!” Cassandra has no response to this, her face carries a look of dumbfoundedness she had during the first showing of Sunrise’s overfamiliarity, “You will be an important weapon to the forces of justice! Even if only brought out sparingly.” Sunrise claps Vale on the shoulders and gives her smile so wide it borders on threatening, teeth as bright as the handprint on Fallout’s face, “Get ready!” The Cosmic Warrior heads to the ropes with long, swift strides and launches into them with her whole body. Fallout springs back, running at full speed. The tassels on each tricep make the wrestler a streaking comet of colour when she unfolds her left arm like a scythe.
THWAM!
The ring quakes with the move’s force while the body takes a brutal and harsh impact. But the clothesline never connected. Like a switch was flipped, Cassandra pops up the Destroyer like she weighs nothing and slams Sunrise onto the mat with a Standing Spinebuster.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsJIm1TMsZs
In less than a second, Vale turns the match deeply in her favour and regains her mystique as The Walking Weapon. Vale stares down at her twitching prey with clearly restrained anger. “Alright, playtime is over, funny girl.” Fallout is too busy looking for the truck that hit her to answer. Fallout shakes her head clear and steadily pulls herself to a seat only for Vale to drag her up by the multicoloured hair and pull her into a Front Facelock. Throwing Sunrise’s right arm over her head, Cassandra reaches behind FS to take hold of her bottoms and give them a sharp tup upwards, baring nine-tenths of Fallout’s butt and earning the Merc back some fans. Green lycra surging into private places painfully focuses Sunrise, “Rah! Unhand my holy vestments, Nimrod!”
The Cosmic Warrior attempts to squirm out of the Suplex set up, so Cassandra pumps a couple of broadside kneelifts into her belly to settle Sunrise down. With a half-restrained bellow of effort, Cassandra lifts the more prominent woman in the air, getting a smattering of applause from the FAWNatics for the show of power and some hoots for showing off Sunrise’s nearly nude backside at a new angle. Holding Fallout straight in the air like she’s playing in the Caber Toss, Vale quickly sidesteps closer to a corner, gaining louder applause for this impressive feat. Rather than fall back for a Vertical Suplex, Cassandra hurls Fallout straight down while twisting to land on top of her victim for a ring rattling Power Plex. Also known as a....
JACKHAMMER
youtu.be/G3ZokbXzgX0?t=87
Sunrise finds herself breathless and squashed between the canvas and a mercenary; she utters a low groan as Cassandra hooks in the far leg for a lateral pin. Ref. Reginald drops for the count; One!... Two!... Fallout throws a shoulder up, turning on her side and grazing Vale’s face with a weak slap in the process. Most likely accidental, not that it matters to Vale. She cuffs FS on the back of the head with a disrespectful palm and knees her in the offered back, the behemoth cringes, her back flaring up as damage piled on. Fallout literally rolls with the hits, getting a few feet of distance to recover. Vale allows this and stands up to hastily retreat to the parallel corner, Fallout pulls herself to a seat against the buckles and adjusts her trunks to their proper placement with a wince.
Too distracted by undoing her improvised thong, Fallout doesn’t see Cassandra’s running knee till it blasts her cheek. The Merc’s force carries her to the ropes, her knee bursting under the second strand. Vale grabs a handful of Fallout’s hair and drags her near limp form to her feet, and walks the rookie deeper into the ring, Fallout’s eyes look unfocused, and she paws at Vale’s body on autopilot. The Gatlin Hammer slaps at a hand on her breast and moves behind the rookie, clinching on a Full Nelson. Sunrise gets an enviable look at her cleavage, with the price of Cassandra’s steel pythons putting ungodly pressure on her neck. Luckily, she doesn’t feel it for long, unluckily, that’s because the Merc lifts Fallout into the air like she’s a featherweight and rearranges her spine with a Full Nelson Slam!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYFqRspfo4E
Sunrise’s body seizes into a bridge, and her teeth clench tightly in a silent scream. That move hurt everything but especially her back; Cassandra’s battle strategy of targeting Sunrise’s vertebrae pays dividends. Cassandra lowers to shove FS flat and cover her in a BackPress pin; she hooks the far leg and pulls Fallout’s arm above and around her head by the wrist against the canvas. The official slides in for the count: One! Two! Thre- Fallout shifts onto her side, saving herself and putting Vale’s shoulders are on the mat! The Merc’s kicking wildly and swearing up a storm while Reginald restarts the count; One! Two! Thre- Cassandra flips free onto her knees and drops a trio of elbow strikes to the side of Fallout’s head, following up with a knee driven deep into the rookie’s belly. The brilliant behemoth lets out a bellow as she bends around the protruding joint. The Walking Weapon secures a tight Front Facelock and brings Sunshine up in stages, peppering her bent back with clubbing forearms. Cassandra tightens up on the hold and growls low in a wriggling Sunrise’s ear, “That was clever. You do have a brain.” She takes Sunrise’s bottoms in hand and stretches them to the middle of the Destroyer’s back. Smiling at the warbled whine Vale receives, she says, “Ditch the Rock n’ Wrestling outfit, and you might have a chance in this business.”
After a quick adjustment of Fallout’s arm, Cassandra lifts the big girl by Vertical Suplex with a big tug of crotch floss. The mercenary makes a display of power by keeping the soles of Fallout’s red boots pointed at the lights for a count of three before- Fallout gets loose! Enduring through the uncomfortably invasive jerk of her togs the escape required, Fallout slips out of the facelock and lands with a cat’s grace on Cassandra’s left with her right arm looped backward around the Nebraskan’s neck. Cassandra swipes at Sunrise’s ear, looking for a reversal, but the new blood grabs her forearm before it can find purchase. After cranking Vale’s neck back at an awkward angle, Fallout kicks up her legs to hurl herself onto her back, rattling The Walking Weapon’s brain in her skull with an Inverted DDT!
youtu.be/CsjLtz2W5HU?t=72
Biting back a cry of pain, Vale sits up, cradling the back of her head. FS moves with a speed and skill antithetical to her size and demeanour; she worms her arms under Vale’s and applies a Full Nelson of her own that makes the veteran’s eyes bulge at the power in Fallout’s betasseled arms. Cassandra feels herself being leaned back and tenses, preparing for a Bodyscissors into a Keister Bounce. Instead, Fallout’s long, luscious legs raise past her head, and the Full Nelson disintegrates, replaced by what the veteran would describe as a side saddle Lotus Lock. Sunrise’s left calf presses down on the back of Cassandra’s neck as it extends past her shoulder, where it crosses ankles with her right leg, threaded under the blonde’s arms and trapping Cassandra’s upper limbs behind her in a distressing hold.
ARJUNA’S BOW
youtu.be/yi-NXHk_rdQ?t=63
Vale can feel her face reddening under the weight and power of Fallout’s stems bearing on her neck. Experience tells her to bridge in a Lotus Lock to pin the user. Still, this side application places most of Cassandra’s weight on her left hip, making the necessary foot placement nigh impossible. And even if she did, Sunrise has a firm grip on her forearm that stops the Nebraskan from clawing her way out and keeps Sunrise’s shoulder elevated, preventing a sneak pin. This submission “is some Deschain bullshit,” Cassandra grumbles under her breath.
Fallout flexes her legs, getting a restrained growl of frustration and pain out of the captured grappler. She tugs harder on Cassandra’s wrist and calls out, “Mighty Nimrod! This is Arjuna’s bow, I shall use your agony and all of those entangled in its string to forge an arrow that will pierce the Heart of Darkness.”
Cassandra has no energy to waste protesting this insanity, grunting a placative, “Good to know!” while shuffling her feet closer to the ropes. The leather of her boots scraps against the canvas as she drags her weight and that of the rainbow rookie inch by crucial inch. A long, excruciating trek with the veteran’s shoulders burning and extremities feeling numb, Cassandra lets loose a yell that’s equal parts frustration and relief when she places a heel on the bottom strand.
“Break!”
Sunrise disengages without any coaxing from the Ref; she quickly rolls away from ‘Nimrod’ who collapses on the mat panting. Sunrise kips up like she’s fresh as a daisy, raises her fists and lets loose a triumphant shout. The FAWNatics shower the towering, bombastic rookie with echoing praise, she’s going toe to toe with a vaunted veteran who’s one of the most dangerous women in the history of the sport. Seeming to feed off the crowd's energy, FS begins running the ropes, bodily throwing herself into the strands a scant two feet from Cassandra as she slowly gets up. The mercenary gets to a knee and wipes the sweat from her forehead, and she rolls her neck and shoulders to ease some of the abused rubber sensation taking over her muscles. Sunrise is almost to the far ropes when she hops onto the second strand and rebounds to mid-ring in a big crouch, the softer parts of battle-ready body jiggling. her chest, she whips up straight and throws her arms out wide, yelling “Justice!!!” The crowd neither understands nor cares; they love the energy and yell back thousands multiplied “JUSTICE!!!”
Cassandra stares back and licks her teeth in menacing contemplation. That Arjuna shit really drained her batteries; if the clown kept on the offensive, even The Walking Weapon would have to admit turning it around would have been a real hurdle. The face-painted rook chose to play to the crowd instead. Until that submission, Sunrise’s attacks had been power moves taught in every wrestling class. So she may have more moves like that and chose not to use them, going ‘easy’ and extending the match. This bitch is making a spectacle of Cassandra Vale for buzz. These summations cause a slow, cold boil of rage to bubble in Vale’s soul, increased further by scattered pockets of fans in the arena cheering for Vale, thinking she needed the support. Some of them using Fallout’s new moniker for the Merc.
“You can do it, Nimrod!”
“Nimrod!! Wooo!”
Fallout waves Vale closer to her when the Merc walks to meet at center-canvas; she speaks excitedly to Cassandra’s stonefaced and silent form. “Come, Mighty Nimrod! The apex of battle calls!”
The brilliant berzerker touches her left shoulder with her right arm and wobbles Vale’s bust with a series of Knife-edge Chop, the blonde sways on her feet, and the FAWNatics yell a Pavlovian “WOOO!!!” at each blow.
Chop!
“WOOO!!!”
Chop!
“WOOO!!!”
Chop!
“WOOO!!!”
Sunrise’s hand whiffs above Cassandra’s mane on the fourth chop; the Chaos Consultant ducks the blow and wraps around the toned rookie with a Gutwrench hold. Cassandra coils down then explodes upright, flipping Fallout so she’s balanced on the ball of her right shoulder. The Chaos consultant swiftly turns as she shoves Fallout away, sending the Cosmic Warrior twirling before she indents the mat with a nasty fall.
HIRED GUN
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-UKjcp4sBo
The audience is a little astonished at seeing such a quick yet ferocious move and done in response to standard chops, no less. They go quiet, watching the match with rapt attention. Vale likes it when they’re silent, which means she’s doing her job well. She raises her boot and stops it on Sunrise’s chest for a dominating pin, right where the clown’s heart should be. Vale grinds the boot against glistening flesh as Reginald slaps the One! Two! Thre- Fallout shoves the boot off! Turning away on her side, Fallout saves herself to a big reaction from the Orlando ticket buyers. The Walking Weapon’s lips briefly curl in irritation; with an exasperated huff, she takes a handful of Sunrise’s polychromatic lock and pulls the rookie to her feet. Working silently, Cassandra moves behind Fallout and lowers a shoulder to take a clawing grip of her inner thigh and chin. Hoisting the sweaty bundle face-up across her shoulders, Cassandra puts all her substantial strength into snapping Fallout’s spine in two. All those attacks to the Cosmic Warrior’s back have just been place-setting for the most Torturous of Racks Vale applies to Fallout, who shrieks and flails in the Hired Gun’s clutches.
Fallout Sunrise is a tad heavier than most women in FAWN(in a most lovely, perfectly proportioned way). Still, you would never know it from the ease with which Vale carries the indie mystery around the ring, walking with jerky, jarring steps to give FS the most uncomfortable ride possible. After a complete circuit of the mat, Cassandra walks to the middle of the canvas; she provides a llloooonnng, powerful crank of Sunrise’s chin and leg, bending the screaming rookie into an upside-down U. The entire time, Vale stares right into the hard camera with sadistic determination. A warning to any woman in the back or abroad that thinks Vale has gotten soft. Bytches get broke. Referee Reginald Worthington stands by Fallout’s upturned head, asking if the brilliant behemoth submits to the torture rack, and gets desperate, shrieking rejections in response, “AIE! AAIIEE! NONONO-NIVERRR!!!!”
Vale’s face goes red and her arms burn with exhaustion, but Sunrise still isn’t giving up, it’s almost admirable, but Vale isn’t here to make friends. Dropping into a deep crouch and slowly stands back up pouring all she can in the rack, fans watching are worried Sunrise may leave the arena on a stretcher if she doesn’t tap soon! Throughout the enduring constriction, Fallout lets loose a long scream that dies into a low moan, then silence as the tension seems to leave Fallout’s body, her limbs and face going slack and ragdoll-like. Worthington quickly reaches for the Warrior’s wrist, but Cassnadra pulls her away before he can grasp it. Pushing off her toes, she lifts Sunrise off her shoulders and, in mid-air, shoves her into position for a Powerbomb. Grabbing the rookie by the legs, Cassandra throws Sunrise down while sitting out to make the ring shake with a Towerhacker bomb!
THE HARBINGER
youtu.be/ch-6teqX99Y?t=190
It’s a miracle there isn’t a Fallout-shaped crater in the ring with how hard she hit the thinly covered plywood. Her limo legs are held up by Vale, framing the Merc's tired but subtly relieved face as she stares into the camera as Ref. Reginald counts One! Two! Thre- Fallout breaks the count!!! At the absolute last moment before the three, Fallout flops to the side and out of Cassandra's hands. Seeing the eccentric Babyface still has life left in her, the crowd comes alive and gets even louder when Fallout bolts to her knees with wild eyes, clenched fists, and gritted teeth. She looks ahead with a maniacal stare and completely ignores Vale and the thousands around her; Fallout’s body is visibly vibrating, she’s like a volcano about to erupt at any moment!
Vale looked a little shook at Sunrise’s escape, then greatly annoyed at Rainbow Brite making a pair of disrespectful choices. Not keeping her eyes on Cassandra Vale the entire match, and this ‘Hulking up’ bullshit. Vale angrily gets to her feet and drops multiple, stiff overhead forearms onto Fallout’s head and shoulders. The multicoloured monster grimaces a bit but doesn’t break out of her stance or trance. Vale pours on the clubbing the blows, mixing in punches and elbow strikes to Sunrise’s back. Wet, smacking sounds of flesh hitting flesh eco in the arena, as it always does when the mercenary starts Breaking Out The Tire Iron. But while most opponents wilt under pressure, Fallout appears to be energized by Vale’s volley; her tremors increase as Fallout rises to her feet under the storm and starts walking around the ring. The pace of Cassandra’s hits slows but their intensity increases, the veteran winding up and taking her time to aim to maximize the hurt. But Fallout is undeterred, completing a half circuit of the ring before whirling to face Cassandra and roaring right in her face!
“Yyyoouuu!!!!”
Cassandra has no more patience for this, spitting, “Fuck off!” fires a right jab that Sunrise dodges by going low and behind Vale, then starts to commit a gross example of gimmick infringement. Picking up Cassandra by a loin and chin, Sunrise lifts the monster of Gatlin across her shoulders, reversing their roles from earlier in the match and contorting Cassandra in a torture rack. The arena comes alive seeing a challenge laid at Vale's kicking feet! The blonde in question claws at Fallout's arm and squirms for an escape from the brilliant behemoth's rack. Cassandra lets out barks of anguish as Fallout hops up and down while trying to snap Vale's spine like an extra-large Slim Jim. The Merc is pissed off at this turn of events and gets more enraged as Sunrise turns at the apex of every jump to face each side of the arena, ensuring everyone gets a good look at the freshly hunted prey. Silverlining from this predicament is the anger helps dull the fire running up and down her body and brings some feeling into her numbing fingers. Fallout’s power could make this move a match ender if Vale doesn’t escape quickly!
Vale dictates to Sunrise as threateningly as possible between yelps of pain, "Ugh! Going move for more is a bad ideauUgh!! Just ask Erway about our Splash match-ERgh! You're forcing me to make an example of-Don'tyoudoitbytch!!"
Still stuck in the mental state Sunrise will later reveal as 'Cosmic Awareness' Fallout ceases her hopping and starts to spin over and over in one spot, ramping up speed with each revolution. The FAWNatics get loud and rowdy at this crowdpleaser of a move and count each turn of this human propeller system.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!.....
The count gets all the way to “THIRTY!” before Sunrise’s spinning becomes too fast to track accurately, so the fans just cheer the spectacle of the bizarre rookie stuntin’ on the veteran. Perhaps a little ego starts to crack through Fallout’s Cosmic Warrior venear and she starts to show off a little; Fallout places her hands on her hips and keeps the mercenary perfectly balanced across her neck and shoulders through several rotations by momentum alone. Vale’s defiant and indignant yells turn into nauseated, oscillating screams after twenty or cycles, and her body goes from tense and coiled to flaccid and outstretched, Vale’s limbs unbending to make a swirling X from the centrifugal force. Fallout finally slings a spinning Cassandra away, the mercenary cycling another three times on her own before she splats chest-first on the canvas.
AIRPLANE SPIN
youtu.be/N5LqiZz24-w?t=32
Cassandra listlessly turns onto her back and crosses her arms over her flattened breasts; too dizzy to stand or speak, she lays there, head rolling, trying to find her sense of gravity. Meanwhile, Fallout backpedals unsteadily to the ropes, doe-si-doing a few steps before throwing herself to and diving atop a horizontal Cassandra and hooking her leg for a pinfall. Vale lies still with her legs spread wide for the camera.
ONE!
TWO!!
Cassandra gets a shoulder up!
Most women would be disheartened or frustrated at this outcome, but Fallout seems ecstatic. Smiling maniacally, she pulls a limp Vale up in stages by the hair, "Tremendous! We are lumps of steel beating each other into fine swords!" The Weapon’s vision is still a kaleidoscope, Vale goes on instinct and peppers Fallout's stomach with aimless punches, but her arms are rubbery and bounce off the Warrior's abs. Fallout backs Cassandra up, gives her some whiplash with a European Uppercut, and then spins around for a Discus Clothesline; Cassandra's teeth clack together, and she tastes blood. The familiar taste restores some sense and steel to the Chaos Consultant; she starts to lunge when Sunrise's arm thuds into the upper slopes of her breasts and turns Vale inside out! The veteran is blasted head over heels and lands hard on her shoulder. She lays in the shadow of the ropes wheezing, with a look of pained breathless.
youtu.be/0O7nC60mHas?t=91
With the energy of a dog breaking in a new toy, Fallout drops heavy stomps and kicks the prone Cassandra, using those electric red boots to shuffle the blonde under the ropes to the ring's apron. Cassandra stirs to life under the booting and pushes to her knees; Fallout steps through the top gap in the coils to join her. Cassandra balls up a fist and bludgeons the multicoloured monster on her pelvis! Not quite a low blow, but it’s cutting it close. A suddenly pale Fallout squawks pitifully, her jaw drops, and she hunches over, now looking like an ordinary woman hit in the privates and not a time-travelling acolyte as she claimed. Finding Fallout’s croak of pain invigorating, Cassandra fires another hard punch at the same spot, sending tremors through the oddity’s moaning form.
Vale takes a raking grip of Sunrise’s mane, ”You like that?” and turns her cheek with a forearm strike, then with a controlling grip of her hair pumps fist after into Sunrise's belly. The Cosmic Warrior sounds a guttural bleat with each body blow, "Guhh! Goahh! Urgh!" FS falls to her knees after Vale digs her knuckles against her liver with a piercing hook shot. With Fallout's locks still wrapped around her fingers, Cassandra gets to her feet, talking to her fascinatingly resilient foe like a delinquent teenager.
"Goddamit. Why couldn't you just tap? Now I have to make an example out of you!"
The Walking Weapon shoves Fallout's head between her legs and SQUEEZE a pitiful moan out the indie mystery with a crushing headscissors. Cassandra turns her head and looks a few feet away and down at the commentator’s table. Without a word spoken, the Merc gets an extra loud pop from the Orlando audience with the non-verbal message that someone’s going through a fuckin' table. Cassandra bends over and wraps her arms around Fallout’s middle and lifts her off the apron; Fallout bicycles her legs like she’s working a Peloton and lowers herself lowers back to the apron. Cassandra angrily bites her lip, clubs the doubled-over rookie on the back twice, and resets the waistlock to lift Fallout onto her shoulders. Before Vale’s arms tighten, Sunrise goes deadweight and drops to a knee; digging her fingers into the firm meat of Vale’s backside, Sunrise roughly pulls her head out from the vice of the Chaos Consultant’s gams. With a loud exhale of relief, Sunrise rears her head back and headbutts Vale’s mound with concrete cracking force!
“OOOHHH!!”
This time it’s a paling Cassandra Vale doubling over with an almost comical look of shock; the taciturn hired gun lets out a rasping croak and instinctively reaches for the afflicted area. Fallout latches onto Vale with a Headscissors faster than you can blink. The behemoth’s hot, silky thighs brace Vale’s ears and give a pulse that coaxes a moan from the blond, followed by an indigent, if muffled, shout when FS gives her rump a hard, two-handed spank that echoes in the air and ripples Vale’s cheeks. After that butt-battering, Fallout applies a tight waistlock and flips Cassandra up her body and onto her shoulders in a Powerbomb position. The fans are going NUTS as the Cosmic Warrior turns towards the now very anxious commentary team. Cassandra is visibly worried for the first in years, and raises a fist to halt the move with some rapid punches-but Sunrise’s already running down the apron.
Fallout streaks down the ring’s apron at top speed, her arm tassels flowing behind her like the tail of a colourful comet. She leaps off the edge and soars across the aisle amid a storm of flashbulbs. Fallout’s voice is a triumphant scream as she descends...
“Behold the Cosmic HHAAMMMERRR!!”
youtu.be/AlMYqxVJe4g?t=111
KKREERESHSHSH!!!!
The battling beauties shatter the table sending splinters flying everywhere. Fans dodge debris as they scream approval for the carnage. Cassandra and Fallout lie in the remains of the table; Cassandra’s twitching and spasming, emitting shuddering groans that clue in the audience of the level of pain the steadfast Merc is experiencing. Fallout is a bit more animated after a fashion, almost groggily sitting up and shoving away pieces of wood to stand up. She looks a little shaky and loses her balance, bracing a hand in front of her to keep from falling on her face, her mane of many colours cascading down and lightly grazing the padded concrete. Somewhere deep in Fallout’s soul, a reservoir of stamina is tapped, and she snaps to her full height. Arching her back and throwing her arms out wide, she booms throughout the arena “WRESTLING!!!” and clambers over the guardrail into a sea of FAWNatics. The weird, wild rookie is pulling random men and women into one-armed embraces and taking cups of beer from grateful hands, pouring them down her throat and face at an impressive rate. Early tomorrow morning, dozens of videos will upload of up-close shots of Sunrise’s beautiful beer and sweat-soaked cleavage recorded via smartphone will find its way online.
Back in the crash zone; Cassandra Vale rises from the wreckage not like some kind of horror movie monster she usually echoes but like a normal woman run ragged through the course of a match. With a great assist from the guardrail Cassandra drags herself up and throws an arm over the barrier to stay upright. She ignores supportive pats on the back and shoulders and pushes herself away into a shambling walk to the apron where Vale places her hands to catch her breath. The fact that the fans- people the Chaos Consultant rendered into an uncomfortable silence with how thoroughly she beats opponents time and time again- thought SHE needed support? This drives Vale up the wall!
Smoothing back her hair, she glances up at Ref. Worthington, still in the ring, the alpha zebra taps at his earpiece. The signal implies that Commissioner Bethany Christian says to hold off on the count until she gives the say-so. This makeshift match is going better than the HBIC hoped. An irate Vale snaps at Worthington, “Tell Bethany I’m charging extra for this bullshit!” He nods placatingly but has no intention of doing so, “Of course.”
Vale hears the din of raucous Floridians getting louder and assumes Fallout is making her way back. The Monster of Gatlin rolls her shoulders to pop something displaced back in position, going by the sickening cracks, she succeeds. Vale pounds the hard edge of the apron to hype herself up and swivels back to the crowd, seeing the sea of people beginning to part she screams over the collected voices.
“Get your tie-dye ass out here Fall! If you make me chase you this match gets becomes a fight-Whoa!”
FS leaps out of the crowd in a prismatic flash! Fallout perches on the guardrail briefly before jumping at Cassandra and near decapitates her with a flying clothesline! A bicep empowered by the stars(so claims FS) slams Cassandra in the throat and upends her into a matchbook, the back of Vale’s head smacking against the floor. Fallout is humming with energy; she heaves up the gagging blonde by the straps of her midnight blue top and shouts with glee into her coughing face, “Do you feel it!” She cracks her forehead against the bridge of Vale’s nose with a brutal headbutt. Vale hobbles back, eyes blinded by tears(purely instinctive). Fallout stays close to bury a fist in her gut, and right uppercut to the chin, and a left hook to the cheek and a- you get the idea.
Sunshine Breaks out the Tire Iron on Vale in front of an astonished audience; the Merc tries to give back as good as she’s getting, but that headbutt threw off her vision, and FS has a painful and robust headstart. Sunrise is landing four punches for every one of Vale’s, and as the barrage rolls on, the Warrior will not. Stop. Talking.”
“Do you feel it? The change begins! (Pek! Pow! Pek!) The gears of the universe turn, and the molten plasma of your future beings to cool and solidify! (Pow! Pow! Smack!) The shadow of your final form begins to encroach, and uRGH! Uuh!”
Vale lands a heavy right fist just below Sunrise’s eye and turns her head with a left forearm strike. Vale lands another, and another, and with each stiff smack of Fallout's bruising flesh Casandra regains her strength. Anger overriding her common sense, Cassandra rears back a fist to smash the rookie’s face in, “SHUT UP!”
Whiff!
The Chaos Consultant’s punch grazes Fallout’s cheek but doesn’t land; the Cosmic Warrior lunges close and pivots on a heel to get side to side with the mercenary and palm the back of Vale’s head. With a trip and a pivot, Fallout slams Vales face-first on the ring’s edge, the hardest part of the ring, with a thunk!. Sunrise continues her speechifying as she tries to beat the dents out of the squared circle with Cassandra’s skull, “Your thoughts and feelings alter your reality! (Thunk!) Your actions are the final act. Your signature is your soul’s contract with the cosmos! (Thunk!)”
The Brilliant Behemoth spins a much more docile Vale around and braces her against the apron. Taking a wrist, Sunrise takes a big step back and throws the mashed Merc away with a powerful Irish Whip. Cassandra tries to take the landing with her back but can't entirely turn in time and hits a junction of the guardrail hard with her shoulder. The barrier skids backward, banging into the legs of rich or lucky front seaters. Cassandra grips her wounded joint with a warbled cry and crumbles to the ground.
Back in the ring, the colloquially nicknamed "hot ref" is wringing his hands. Vale is getting ragdolled, but Bethany hasn't given clearance to start the count. -Smack!- Reginald winces seeing Sunrise flatten Vale with a Short-Arm clothesline and thinks, 'management be damned!'
He yells from the high ground as Fallout picks up Cassandra in a Suplex position and walks up a set of steel steps, " Miss Sunrise, I'm starting the count. If you two are not back in the ring, I will end this match."
Fallout nods at him, still in her state of manic glee, "We'll be there soon, Great Heracles!" The silence of a concerned and stunned crowd that Cassandra loves to bring coax out the masses has come again. But this time it's out of concern for her… In perhaps the most one-sided drubbing the Nebraskan has received going back to her rookie years, Vale's mind turns from punishment to escape, regroup, end the match. Sunrise pulls her into a front facelock and takes hold of her bottoms by the hip; Vale tenses and tries to take the rookie overhead with a Snap Suplex. Sunrise's red boots briefly leave the ground, but the Warrior chokes up on that facelock, and Cassandra's strength falters, returning Sunrise to the earth. A pacifying knee to the solar plexus later and Fallout guides the veteran to the plateau of the steel steps.
Fallout offers what she perceives as friendly advice and what Cassandra sees as nonsensical ramblings, "When fate gives you wings, enlightenment is in the landings, might Nimrod."
Cassandra shakes her head with irritation, "what the fuck are youuAAIE!"
The indie mystery pulls Cassandra's bottoms DEEP into Box Canyon baring a full buttcheek and breaking the silence with wolf whistles and laughter. Fallout lifts the Hired Guns boots to High Noon using that improvised lever and keeps her there till Reggie hits "Six!" On his count, giving the fans in the cheap seats a chance to see Cassandra's beautiful and rarely seen backside while letting the blood rush to the blonde's head. Next, FS hops back off the steps while hurling her burden back down, shifting Vale, so she concaves the steel crash pad with her spine.
Vertical Suplex Side Slam
youtu.be/r5F5hVoqIlk?t=72
"OOAAAIIEEHH!!!"
Vale spasms like she’s in the electric chair and lets out an earsplitting scream followed by dry heaves that makes the spectators and the referee uncomfortable. Reginald Worthington halts his count and steps out onto the apron to better understand Vale's condition. Fallout takes a few steps back with an arm outstretched in the air, swinging in a tight circle, yelling, "The final blow will be struck!" Ref. Worthington turns his head from a writhing Vale to demand they get back in the ring, but FS is already breaking into a run. The official decides to keep the count going rather than futile diplomacy.
"Seventeen!"
Sunrise gets those knees high with a rapid gait around the ring; the Cosmic Warrior's long hair of many colours flying behind her, rainbow tassels dancing with each pump of her arms and Sunrise's breasts jiggling in time to each piston of her legs. Sunrise is a blur as she rounds another corner en route to a-
PLANETARY COLLISION
youtu.be/F3kwHeMe4t4?t=98
Meanwhile, Cassandra gingerly scraps herself off the steel steps and braces a slightly shaking hand against it to steady herself. The Walking Weapon is a shell of the confident, composed monster that entered the ring.
"Eighteen!"
A shrinking distance away a trembling Cassandra gets her breathing under control and has both feet on the floor, but the veteran seems far from capable of turning this fight around. Cassandra hunches over with dishevelled hair matted to her head with sweat. She stares at the black padding covering the concrete, willing her mind blank to focus on dulling the sensation of the fireworks going off throughout her body. Vale hears the masses’ growing echo giving away the charging Fallout. The blonde looks up and sees a -swiftly moving- about to leap forward and squash her against the steps. With pure, unchecked survival instinct Vale lurches into a slide under the bottom rope, dodging Fallout Sunshine and letting the rookie destroyer RAM into the steps!
"Nin-!"
KKERRASSH!!
Sunrise meets steel in a violent clash! The steps recoil off the post; the bottom half now askew and shifted a foot and half left, the top half tumbling through clumsy rotations till it bangs against the guard rail startling some fans. Fallout turns inside out at the impact, smacking her thighs against the bottom steps and twisting horrifically around the runaway top segment till she rolls onto her side in a heap.
“Twenty!”
DING!DING!DING!
The FAWNatics are on their feet and screaming before the announcer has hold of his mic, “Your winner via Count Out, Cassandra Vale!!”
A count-out on a regular show is usually seen as unsatisfying and for the biggest PPV of the year FAWNmania, unthinkable. But this out-of-nowhere, unorthodox ending fits perfectly with this oddity of a match-up; some fans cheer for Vale, some for Fallout, but most cheer for both. These Floridians came to the arena to be entertained, and they were with interest! Still lying on her belly, one cheek against the coarse material of the canvas Cassandra wearily pushes to her knees in stages. Unaware of the bell’s echoes, she mutters tiredly, “Come on...I’ll put you through the ring.… where are.…wait, what are you doing?
Referee Worthington outs a studly arm under Vale’s armpit and easily lifts her to her feet. Raising her wrist, the official keeps the teetering blonde vertical with a hand on her side(well above her hip), “Congratulations on your victory, miss. Well fought,”
Cassandra blinks uncomprehendingly then straightens up as the results dawned on her. She had won, with a Count Out, through sheer dumb luck. Cassandra catches a glimpse of herself and the stands behind her in the FAWNtron. Every hair out of place like Vale’s been caught in a wind tunnel, her top a gentle breeze away from flashing the goods to millions of spectators watching at home, half her ass hanging out and scrapes and bruises already starting pepper her exposed skin. What stood out the most were the legions of spectators cheering for the Monster of Gatlin, saying things like, “Great job, Vale!" "Way to grind it out!" You did it!"
This patter usually accompanies a real come-from-behind victory from the jaws of defeat, getting your ass kicked the whole match, but in the end, Babyface wins. The type of crowd response for a Shea London or Juliet Bloodwind type. Not Cassandra Vale, who spent most of her career destroying women like that, a depressing realization forms that will create a dark motivation.
I didn't win this match. I survived it.
Cassandra hears a growl at her six, "Grrr.. " and she whirls around, fists at the ready. There stands Fallout Sunrise, looking scuffed up from their bout but ready to go another hour. A cut centred in the palm of the Cadium white hand across Fallout's wild and wide-eyed face dribbles blood. A new shade of red on the rookie's ensemble makes a narrow river down the bridge of Fallout's nose and cheek, likely made from the hard edge of the steel steps.
The two women stand a foot apart, Fallout with an air of a barely restrained storm, shoulders heaving and breathing heavily through her nose. Fists clenched, Cassandra seems defensive. She can't seem to get a measure of this 80s oddity aside from the fresh, painful knowledge of what a "Sunrise Run" is like on the receiving end.
Fallout's vibrating she's about to reach Cosmic Awareness again. Vale knows she has to strike first or get run over! Cassandra lunges at her with a dagger strike aimed at Fallout’s throat- she’s too late! FS dashes under Cassandra’s flattened hand and wraps her powerful arms around her ribs- and lifts her into a hug!
Vale goes still with a blank yet surprised face as FAWNatics enthusiastically cheer this moment of sportsmanship. Fallout squeezes her preceived friend a touch too hard and speaks in her usual manner of loud and Gregorius over a rare whimper from Vale,"Excellent battle, mighty Nimrod. They shall sing songs of our rivalry till the ziggurats become dust."
This comment knocks Vale out of her stupor. She presses down on Fallout's brawny arms and tries to squirm out of the embrace, growling, "STOP. THAT.” If FS heard the Chaos Consultant's protests, she didn't show it, Fallout breaks the hug to raise an incredulous Vale's arm. Nowhere near the level of familiarity the rookie feels, Vale tries to pull her hand away, but Fallout's grip is undeniable. The multicoloured monster lowers Cassandra's hand and steps back with a slight bow, "Farewell, Nimrod! When we next meet, the skies shall turn red and rain holy oil!"
On that strange but fitting statement, Fallout Sunrise quickly rolls under the bottom rope, Vaults over the guard and leaves through the crowd. As she exits Fallout walks past a drunken man bothering a group of women and ensnares the lout in a skull-creaking headlock without breaking her stride, effortlessly dragging the flailing man out of the building to cheers. Vale watches this from a distance with hands on hips, walking back and forth a bit as she mulls over the events of the match. Won the match through count out? Not good enough. Got that Count Out by mostly luck? That’s some rookie shit. Getting Pounded to the point you’re getting sympathy cheers from the audience? Unacceptable. As the crew jogs down to clean up for the next match Vale looks into the crowd when a chant starts to grow, “VALE! VALE! VALE!...” Cassandra bites the inside of her cheek, realizing the biggest offence. That walking rainbow just worked her into a FAWNmania moment. This match will be brought up, referenced and analyzed when looking at Cassandra Vale’s career, forever tying her name to Fallout Sunrise. Cassandra sums up this understanding in one despondent breath.
“Fuck.”
A backstage hand pokes his head around the corner and softly knocks against the wall, rightfully fearful of the Walking Weapon’s ire, “We’re two minutes from Go Time, Miss Vale.”
Releasing a breath through her nose, she gets up and rolls her shoulders. Without looking at the attendant, she asks in a neutral tone, “So they found someone then? Cause I’m not issuing an open challenge because management can’t do their jobs. I’m getting paid either way.”
Tapping at his headset, he nods, “Yes, they definitely found someone. They didn’t give me a name but she’s pulling into the parking lot now.”
Vale nods, silently giving the agent permission to leave. Bethany Christian has booked a singles match between two cohabiting talents (always one for making drama, that Bethany), but because they lived together, they both got the flu at the same time, leaving a gap in tonight’s card. The majority of the roster that isn’t booked is either injured, overseas, or out of state. Not to mention that the new promotion EMPRESS had also raided a good chunk of FAWN’s talent. Leaving Bethany no choice but to pay Vale’s somewhat extortionate but entirely just mercenary fee to fill time and give the fans their money’s worth. Cassandra makes one last adjustment to her ring togs, not out of nervousness but professionalism, talking to herself, ”Alright, let’s see who’s tears are shining my boots tonight.”
Standing in the ring in his crisp, pressed suit, the announcer takes out hastily written information cards for the imminent match-up. He quickly speedreads through them once for any troubling pronunciations and raises the microphone to his lips.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty-minute time limit! Introducing first, hailing from Gatlin, Nebraska. She stands at five feet five inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty-two pounds. She is the Chaos Consultant, the Walking Weapon… CASSANDRA VALE!”
CASSANDRA VALE
'Every Day is Exactly the Same' dripped from the speakers, and the sold-out crowd leapt to their feet to await the Merc’s arrival. Brushing the curtain aside shortly thereafter, Cassandra pauses atop the ramp to sweep her gaze across those assembled. Once the perusal finishes, she raises both hands and very deliberately craaaaaaaaacks her knuckles. The crowd didn’t expect to see the technical terror tonight and greets her with loud, welcoming cheers, but Vale doesn’t acknowledge them, she only had eyes for the squared circle. Possessed of a self-control that was almost impossible to fathom considering the list of atrocities attached to her name, the powerhouse blonde starts down the aisle accompanied by Trent Reznor and a whole lotta wicked intentions.
For her surprise return to FAWN, Vale wore a sturdy midnight blue two-piece so dark it was almost black and pads that actually were black. Her hair now hangs loosely to just below the curve of her shoulders; her, former bob cut considered unceremoniously retired. Ignoring the hands and signs extended in her direction, Vale reaches the base of the ramp, hooks right and strides up the steel steps before dipping between the top and middle ropes. Vale pauses to take in the unusually muscular referee Reginald Worthington; the tall, handsome Brit is a drastic difference from the usual breed of zebra around these parts. Vale privately enjoys the sight, but it won’t let it distract her. She’s a professional after all. Vale resumes her trek to the middle of the ring, raises a fist to the rafters, then pops a thumb and draws it across her throat nice and slow-like. This gets a loud roar from the more bloodthirsty elements of the crowd, and it isn’t long before they start a ‘VALE IS GONNA KILL YOU!’ chant. The Merc doesn’t bother to contradict ‘em, instead, she makes her way to the far corner where she offers her elbows, wrists, knees and ankles for Worthington’s inspection. Only mildly curious of who’s going to suffer at her hands tonight.
An unseen battery of cannons fire booming shots, startling most people in the building, the lone wrestler in the ring an exception. Cassandra turns her head to the entrance ramp as the FAWNtron becomes a swirling tunnel of blue energy. It opens and expands to a black screen, soon disrupted by a brilliant shaft of white light. It dissipates and in its wake, the words FALLOUT SUNRISE shines gold Spectral font—a nostalgic and adrenaline-pumping instrumental cut of the Thundercats’ theme blasts through the speakers.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mWN8aELvZU
Exploding from the curtains is a veritable comet of glaring colours. Racing from one end of the stage to the other while pumping her fists is a powerfully built woman of a light mocha complexion; Her long, dark, wavy hair had random streaks of colour that caught the light as it trailed after her. A stark white handprint gripped the woman’s features with the thumb going above her right eye and past the brow, her Electric Cyan lipstick glaring among the paleness of the palm. A light, neon pink sports bra covered her ample bosom with neon carrot laces crisscrossing the front, her cleavage puffing past the restricting fabric. Giving no mind to fashion or style, Fallout Sunrise wears fluorescent green bottoms and electric red boots. The announcer reads her information to the audience with a hint of incredulity.
FALLOUT SUNRISE
“Standing at 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 143 pounds, here by way of a temporal vortex... a Cosmic Warrior from the end of time! The nurturer of hope and light and a bane to grey despair... Fallout Sunrise!!”
With a manic look of absolute intensity Fallout launches into a dead sprint down the ramp, tassels every colour of the rainbow dangles from her shoulders to pink elbows pads and trails in the wind as she runs. Forgoing every offered hand, the ‘Cosmic Warrior’ runs a full lap around the ring before sliding in. Springing to her feet she takes the nearest top rope in her electric yellow, fingerless gloved hands and starts shaking it, shaking it, shaking it! Fallout’s gritting her teeth with all the energy she’s putting into that cable. It’s about to fly off its hinges. She halts her strange ritual to climb onto the second buckle of the nearest corner and beat her chest while ROARING into the abyss. The crowd is as always equal parts confused and delighted by this hyperbolic woman.
Cassandra watches the strange newcomer with an air of tired exasperation. Lightly shaking her head, she mutters under her breath, “What fresh hell is this?” Everything about this crime against colour tells Vale this fight’s going to be a coin flip. This wannabe is either a young pup straight out of wrestling school about to get a rude and brutal awakening or a nutcase going to make this fight as long and difficult as possible.
KER-ASSH!!
“RRaaaagh!!!”
Fallout Sunrise vaults herself over the top rope onto the apron and dashes across the narrow ledge. She throws herself onto the Dutch commentator’s table with a giant leap, shattering it to pieces! The crowd screams, “OOHHHH!!” Momentarily still, Fallout surges up as if she didn’t just self-propel through furniture and audio equipment and throws her arms back to roar at the FAWNatics in attendance, which roar back twice as loud in delight!
Cassandra clicks her tongue behind her teeth.
Nutcase it is.
Fallout Sunrise slides back into the ring and allows a nervous referee Worthington to check her for foreign objects. The brightly coloured behemoth stands still save her heaving chest; she breathes in deep, shaky breaths like a barely restrained wild animal. She is gazing ahead intensely at Cassandra, the referee, and anything within eyesight. Her only setting appeared to be MAX, no matter what her focus was. Worthington finds nothing suspicious on Sunrise, aside from the woman herself, and motions for the bell.
DING!DING
Cassandra measuredly stalks the perimeter of the ring, taking in her strange opponent, bracing for a wild rush from the brightly coloured behemoth. Fallout walks along the ropes as well, her left arm extended in a fist and swinging in a big circle, her right fist beating against her quivering chest. The audience picks up Fallout’s tempo, CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP. The long-distance dance completes two revolutions when FS throws herself into a set of buckles, going into a deep crouch. She supports herself by holding on to the middle ropes and bares her teeth at Vale with an expression too ambiguous to tell if it’s a smile or a grimace. With a yank of her brawny arms Fallout pulls herself back up and makes a beeline for Cassandra, who generally wouldn’t do this with an opponent who got five inches on her, but it’s a bad look to back away from a wannabe and as she never backs down from a faceoff. She marches forward to meet the new meat in center ring.
Cassandra Vale’s already in a bit of a bad mood. Being in the same ring as this clown is driving her prices down by the minute. Speaking evenly but with clear condescension, Cassandra jaws to her nearing foe “You sure you want to do this Rainbow Brite?” She chests into Sunrise, her ivory breasts pressing into an ebony pair, “this can go from cordial to fucked up real quicCRK!!”
Fallout’s arms snap around Vale’s ribs with surprising quickness and lift the blonde to boot tips; the FAWNatics wail an “OOOHH” at the audacity of FS to attempt a Bear Hug on the Walking Weapon. Vale mentally curses herself for a rookie mistake and rears back a crooked arm to punch her way free… and freezes in confusion when Fallout begins to gently rock side to side, the hold more Hug than Bear. A brilliantly grinning Fallout nuzzles her cheek against an astonished Vale’s, “Welcome back, mighty Nimrod!”
The Cosmic Warrior gives the mercenary an overly tight but friendly squeeze, their abs and chests bullying for space before Fallout sets Cassandra down and claps her hands onto the blonde’s shoulders.
“It’s an honour to see you in the field of battle once again, Nimrod. I’m hearten to see your achievement of inner peace has not softened your body. Let’s hope the same goes for your spirit, eh? Ha-Haaa!!” Fallout laughs boisterously at her jape. When mentioning Cassandra’s form she lowers her hands to the mercenary’s biceps and kneads them like she was the Vale’s family doctor. Cassandra just stares back with a raised eyebrow, her mind overcome with the what-the-fuck’edness of this rookie. The crowd at this point has transitioned from gasping to audibly chuckling at the wrestlers. A sound that NEVER occurs when Cassandra Vale’s in the ring.
Reginald shyly interrupts the odd scene, “Excuse me, ladies, do mind if we continue the contest?
Fallout gives Cassandra’s arms one more squeeze and gives them a light slap before backing away, throwing a palm on Reginald’s broad shoulder as she does, ”Of course, fair Heracles. Watch o’er our battle with a keen eye!”
The zebra is a bit caught off guard by the nickname and speech pattern and sputters back, “Ah.. well..okay, yes. I will. Cassandra?” Vale closes her eyes and breathes slowly, “I should have charged Bethany double for this…” she backs into the ropes and bounces into a pace around the ring once again. This time their dance only travels half the canvas before Fallout decides to get up close and personal with the blonde once again. The Cosmic Warrior walks deeper into the ring with slowly raises her palms with twitching fingers to level with her head, “Shall we test that spirit now, Mighty Nimrod?”
Vale eyes her for a half-second, analyzing. Judging FS is too stupid for this to be a trap, the Walking Weapon saunters to Sunrise. with a bit of show of cracking her knuckles and muttering, “I see we’re sticking with that nickname huh?” Vale’s borderline monstrous strength is known as something to be avoided going back to her rookie years. Tell them to look up clips of her vs Amy Angels or Chrissy Daniels if anyone doubts it. Threading fingers, their palms kiss while their chests and bellies SMECK together, both planting a boot back for stability. The warring beauties clench their fists and pour their all into bringing the other to kneel. Biceps and triceps quivering their arms slowly stretch into a T while their bodies briefly separate and SMECK together again. FAWNatics and wrestling fans around the world are used to displays of Cassandra’s power, usually splattering one of their heroines against the ring floor, but seeing her go toe to toe with that brilliant behemoth renews their awe and fear. In turn, the rookie Fallout Sunrise is already earning points with the crowd for not crumbling under the mercenary’s might.
Sunrise’s big boulders continually mash into the top half of Vale’s silky pair. Fallout growls almost flirtatiously into her foe’s ear as they strain against each other, “You smell of mead and spices, Nimrod. I’m happy the Sacrificial Mutton’s success hasn’t taken time away from your training.”
It took Cassandra a moment to realize this brawny clown was referring to The Slaughtered Lamb, the bar Cassandra owned, managed and took great pride in, a respected establishment. It’s not the first time an opponent(victim) mentioned her retirement plan, but it’s genuine relief in Fallout’s voice that the Chaos Consultant isn’t getting soft that gets Cassandra’s blood up. “My bar doesn’t affect my gym time, cause everybody knows what’ll happen if they start shit in my bar-regh!”
To everyone’s amazement, it’s Vale’s wrists that start to ebb backward! Cassandra’s more shocked than anyone, eyes darting back and forth between their enjoined fists as they push past neutral ground into the blonde’s territory. The muscles in her body shredding in definition Fallout breaks into a near maniac simile, edging out the high-ground FS keeps the pressure pouring and raises their arms into a Y to apply more direct force. Fallout releases a drawn-out growl that increases in volume to the fan’s cheers, ”RrrrrRRAAGH!!” Cassandra’s left knee starts to buckle… it’s lowering… it hits the mat, and a ripple of cheers run through the crowd! Cassandra’s perturbed as hell and fights back on one knee against the hydraulic press that is Fallout Sunrise. Cassandra thinks a foul stream of expletives feeling her other knee buckle...and falls! The most dangerous woman in the world, Casandra Vale is on her knees before the Destroyer class rookie, and people in the stands are losing it!
This is an unfamiliar and unwelcome situation for Cassandra. World champions are on edge around the Merc, and now an 80’s stereotype is showing her up? Unacceptable. Fallout pushes harder, trying to get Vale’s smooth shoulders to the canvas but the blonde refuses to pay further obeisance, FS looks down at Cassandra from her lofty position, jokingly chiding “Perhaps you spent too much time in the kitchen Nimrod, your blades feel better suited for breaking bread!”
That’s it. Now Vale is angry.
Silent except for harsh breathing through her nose, the mercenary lifts Fallout’s crushing hands just a bit higher and stomps her right boot back on the mat, going from repentant to genuflecting. Forcing much of her weight on her plant foot, Cassandra pushes forward and, slloowwlly regains lost ground and pushes back to standing, slapping her belly against the rookie’s like she’s daring Sunrise to try that again. Fans applaud Vale’s minor victory and start cheering when Sunrise’s wrists start bending back. The face-painted fighter’s look of desperate effort is almost comical as she’s forced to one knee. In contrast, Cassandra’s is a stone mask of neutrality, the rookie has power but she isn’t paid to make the talent look good before they sob a submission.
A jerking shove puts FS on two bent gams, but like Vale before, she
won’t retreat further. She seems oddly happy, “Appears I’m mistaken. You still have some steel, Nimrod!” Cassandra has nothing to prove to this roided-out rainbow, but the insulation still pisses her off, squeezing Sunrise’s fists so hard she can feel the bones in her hands grind, Cassandra grunts “I never lost any steel. And my name’s Cassandra.”
FS laughs off the career crusher’s brusqueness, “Haha!” and starts to tremble like her whole body is vibrating. Cassandra’s ears pick up a tell-tale rhythmic CLAP-CLAP-CLAP, and she mutters a “goddamnit,” under her breath. She knows what’s coming. Feeding off the crowd’s support to a supernatural degree Fallout gets one foot under her, and then the other, to Vale’s dismay, she rushes to her full height with a pop of the crowd. Cassandra bites the inside of her cheek to stop flinching when her wrists start to bend back once again. In the bombastic tone Fallout always speaks in, she offers a conciliatory platitude, “Kneeling in this manner is no blow against your dignity. It is just the will of the universe.”
Cassandra’s done with this whole thing. She shakes her head, “Nope.” And slides her left leg behind the rookie’s, shoving forward instead of down Cassandra trips Fallout as she breaks the handholds, the Warrior’s back slaps against the canvas, “Aarh!” In a flash, Cassandra raises an elbow and drops it hard into Fallout’s breast. The Gatlin grappler shifts her feet past Fallout’s hair and slides up the Cosmic Warrior’s body to cinch in North-South Choke, briefly pressing in to make sure her chest trailed across Sunrise’s features. Vale’s arm is about to close the loop when Sunrise shows some technical ability, grabbing the Merc’s hand and rolling out of the hold. With the veteran’s limb captured, Fallout shifts behind Vale to force her flat with a hammerlock, but Cassandra pops to a seat and rolls to the side, yanking her wrist free. Like they’re magnetically charged, they come together again in an Elbow and Collar and ride to their feet together.
Making full use of her height and weight advantage, Fallout forces Vale backwards step by step at a surprising pace. Grinding her forehead against the Chaos Consultant’s, Fallout remains infuriatingly complementary, speaking far too loud given they’re close enough to kiss, ”Ha-ha! Very clever, Nimrod. I did not expect such trickery!” For a second, Vale thinks the woman is calling her stupid with backhand praise. The woman with a handprint on her face. Then Vale recalls a day at The Hellhole (how wrestlers refer to Sydney Deschain’s training school, much to her chagrin) where Emily West complained about America dumbing down a topic till it’s unrecognizable.
Cassandra huffs “You’re calling me a hunter, right?” She bears down and halts the Destroyer’s progress, and stomp by stomp bullies Sunrise on a route to the nearest set of buckles, “That’s not bad. Betcha had to go to the second page of search results to find a good reference.” Fallout plants her feet to halt their progress, but her boots skid against the canvas. Cassandra maintains her public image and personal standards as the stronger woman in any match by bulldozing this blazing beauty into the corn- “Eeh!”
A few feet from the buckles, Sunrise violently twists to the right and charges ahead. Vale awkwardly back peddles on her heels till her back hits rubber encased steel cables; Sunrise bodies up on the surprised breaker for hire, letting the more petite woman feel her weight. Trapping a resistant Vale between the ropes and her hard yet curvy body till Sunrise deigns to move. The Ref counts "One… two… three…." Fallout breaks cleanly at three, backing away letting Cassandra lightly recoil off her heels onto flat feet. Fallout waves Cassandra out of the ropes bidding for another Elbow and Collar, “Come Nimrod! I think the weights of peace are finally off your limbs, come at me!”
Cassandra calmly readjusts her slightly askew top and smoothes out her hair, taking advantage of the brief pause in the action to reassess her battle plan. The Chaos Consultant gingerly steps closer with arms ready to accept Sunrise in another grapple. The two women get in close, their arms brushing against each other as they embrace- Vale’s head shoots forward, thunking Fallout on the bridge of the nose! “Rargh!”
Fallout staggers back with eyes watering, hands wrapped around her hurting beak. Shockingly fast, Cassandra gets low, takes the multicoloured monster by the thighs, and upends Fallout with a Double Leg Takedown. The Warrior’s back and head slap against the covered plywood before Vale straddles her in a Mercy Ellis-style mount, and starts dropping bombs on Fallout’s face and chest. The overwhelmed rookie’s head whips side to side with Vale’s punches a few times before she raises a competent guard. The blonde’s fists ricochet off Sunrise’s forearms more than the Monster of Gatlin would like, but that’s more of her personal standard than reality; far more hits land than those that do not. Peppering in elbows and forearms to keep Worthington quiet about closed fists, Vale talks to the rookie she’s pasting.
“I think you’re smarter than you let on(bambambam), and this 80’s glazing and persona is an act(bambambam), and you know you’re taking shots at me. I admire that unusual strategy, but I got to steamroll your ass for trying that comedy shit with me.”
On that note, Cassandra shoves Sunrise’s guard apart and cracks her forehead against painted nose for the second time tonight, getting an audible cringe from the fans. Sunrise looks a little stunned as Cassandra quickly pulls up by the ears and guts her5 with a broadside kneelift. The mercenary turns away while taking Fallout in a grinding Side Headlock. Vale’s sinewy arms bulge trying to pop this wild clown’s head like bubblegum, Fallout’s legs tremble, and her face reddens, contrasting with the white face paint in an iconic camera shot. Cassandra pumps the headlock putting a kink in Fallout’s neck before smoothly switching to a Cravate style headlock. She walks with the strange Destroyer in tow, gruffly ordering, “Come ‘ere,” Picking up speed as she nears the far corner, Cassandra hurls Fallout frontward, banging her forehead against the top turnbuckle. The towering rookie staggers back, holding her head, probably suffering from a loss of some IQ points. Irritated that her opponent’s still vertical, Cassandra backs up a couple of steps and charges the razzled rainbow, raming Fallout’s front against the buckles with a mini Splash.
Sunrise lets out a wheeze as she’s crushed between leather padded steel and Vale’s hardbody. Her arms hanging over the top cables, she tries to pull them back and shove off the corner but gets flattened by another Splash from Vale, who compounds the offence by reaching past Fallout to grab the middle rope and heave herself forward to ram her whole body against the Sunrise, one, two, three times. Referee Worthington makes his presence known, “Let’s take it out of the corner now, Miss Vale.”
Vale answers flatly without looking at him, “Uh-huh.” She lowers her shoulder and drives it into the small of Sunrise’s spine, making her go from limp ragdoll to seizing muscles and arched back. Vale snags an arm and takes a step back, sending Sunrise away to the far corner with a big Irish Whip. On instinct, Fallout turns to take the crash with her back but that may have been a mistake, Fallout bounces off the buckles with a bwung and grimace. The Chaos Consultant may be targeting Sunshine’s back tonight.
Cassandra keeps the ball rolling with Running Splash, her breasts briefly colliding with Fallout’s face before she’s sandwiched once again. As payback for earlier, Vale presses close, letting the rookie feel the weight of her mistakes through a count of four. Cassandra presses her chest against Fallout while she takes her by the wrist, speaking low, “Still think my blades are dull?” She steps away and pulls a more compressed Fallout out of the buckles and flinging her away with an Irish Whip, but Fallout drops her hips and holds on to Cassandra. Grasping the blonde’s wrist tightly with both hands, Fallout nearly pulls Vale’s arm out of its socket when reversing the whip, angling to send the vaunted veteran to the leftward ropes. Cassandra speeds towards the coils and guts herself on the shoulder of a bent-over Fallout on the return trip. She straightens like a sprung trap flinging Cassandra in the air with a Back Body Drop.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=btmIF9O4AR8
The Chaos Consultant rarely leaves her feet; it’s a sign of the apocalypse that she’s thrown into a full 360 degrees and faceplants on the canvas. The FAWNatics become unglued, seeing the woman that the most decorated stars fear to cross thrown for a loop. Vale pops to her knees on the first bounce and immediately gets up, shrugging off any pain from the fall to focus on bringing misery to Fallout Sunrise. Vale whirls back and fires a jaw-breaking right hook that Fallout deftly ducks, then latches onto the wayward arm to throw Cassandra back into the coils. On the rebound Fallout pivots as she throws a brawny arm under the Nebraskan’s, taking her off her feet planting her in the canvas with a ring shaking Hiptoss. Again Vale’s quick to get up but just a mite slower, the moment she turns around Sunrise has her shoulder against Vale’s abdominals and sends the blonde into her second Back Body Drop and third flip of the night in less than a minute.
youtu.be/KN3J2s-k618?t=338
The Orlando crowd and EVERYONE in the back is alarmed and elated to see Vale so easily and quickly tossed. The mercenary’s gathered a good and loyal fanbase in recent years, but that doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy seeing Gatlin Hammer get a little roughed up by an out-and-out babyface. They shower the young, hot-blooded Warrior with loud praise, and Fallout seems to feed off it, violently shaking the ropes with both hands and whipping her head up and down, roaring wordlessly, “Rraaahhh!!” Pushing off the canvas Cassandra shakes her head, trying to get her vision straight and use her aches and pains to focus on ending this foolishness. Fallout sees Cassandra collecting her wits and leaves the rope to shake wildly on its hinges to greet the mighty hunter with a running clothesline.
Mentally judging Sunrise harshly for not ending her while she was down, Vale turns in time for the Rainbow Ravager’s arm to audibly slap against her sternum, the blow rattling the blonde’s skeleton and innards. Vale wobbles but doesn’t reside a single step, regaining her Antaeus-like ability to remain unmoved by her foe’s offence. Fallout sees a challenge laid down makes a quick retreat; throwing herself into the coils, Fallout Sunrise rebounds into a sprint and nearly smacks the mercenary’s jubblies out of their cups with another clothesline, Cassandra stumbles back a few feet but does not fall to the larger babe. Seeing the Chaos Consultant unconquered, Fallout makes a speedy retreat to the ropes and comes back with another clothesline. The second hit harder than the first; a SMACK! echoes through the air, and Cassandra wobbles, gnashes her teeth and makes a sound like she stepped on a nail, but she does not fall. Despite her throbbing chest, Vale feels more like herself. Withstanding a foe’s offence with little regard is a return to the norm. The Walking Weapon points over Fallout’s shoulder to the ropes; Cassandra speaks authoritatively with just a hit of rasp from the deluge of offence just endured, “Give it another try. Let’s see what happens.”
The brilliant behemoth’s lips curl back in a threatening manner, emitting a low purring snarl like a panther. Fallout gets nose to nose with the smaller, no doubt more dangerous woman and shares an intense gaze. The air is tense and silent for a moment, the fans prepare for the match to step up a gear…. Then burst out laughing seeing Fallout wrap Cassandra in another hug!
Fallout tilts Cassandra side to side like distant family members at a reunion, “Nimrod! I see the fire burns still!” Cassandra has no response to this, her face carries a look of dumbfoundedness she had during the first showing of Sunrise’s overfamiliarity, “You will be an important weapon to the forces of justice! Even if only brought out sparingly.” Sunrise claps Vale on the shoulders and gives her smile so wide it borders on threatening, teeth as bright as the handprint on Fallout’s face, “Get ready!” The Cosmic Warrior heads to the ropes with long, swift strides and launches into them with her whole body. Fallout springs back, running at full speed. The tassels on each tricep make the wrestler a streaking comet of colour when she unfolds her left arm like a scythe.
THWAM!
The ring quakes with the move’s force while the body takes a brutal and harsh impact. But the clothesline never connected. Like a switch was flipped, Cassandra pops up the Destroyer like she weighs nothing and slams Sunrise onto the mat with a Standing Spinebuster.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsJIm1TMsZs
In less than a second, Vale turns the match deeply in her favour and regains her mystique as The Walking Weapon. Vale stares down at her twitching prey with clearly restrained anger. “Alright, playtime is over, funny girl.” Fallout is too busy looking for the truck that hit her to answer. Fallout shakes her head clear and steadily pulls herself to a seat only for Vale to drag her up by the multicoloured hair and pull her into a Front Facelock. Throwing Sunrise’s right arm over her head, Cassandra reaches behind FS to take hold of her bottoms and give them a sharp tup upwards, baring nine-tenths of Fallout’s butt and earning the Merc back some fans. Green lycra surging into private places painfully focuses Sunrise, “Rah! Unhand my holy vestments, Nimrod!”
The Cosmic Warrior attempts to squirm out of the Suplex set up, so Cassandra pumps a couple of broadside kneelifts into her belly to settle Sunrise down. With a half-restrained bellow of effort, Cassandra lifts the more prominent woman in the air, getting a smattering of applause from the FAWNatics for the show of power and some hoots for showing off Sunrise’s nearly nude backside at a new angle. Holding Fallout straight in the air like she’s playing in the Caber Toss, Vale quickly sidesteps closer to a corner, gaining louder applause for this impressive feat. Rather than fall back for a Vertical Suplex, Cassandra hurls Fallout straight down while twisting to land on top of her victim for a ring rattling Power Plex. Also known as a....
JACKHAMMER
youtu.be/G3ZokbXzgX0?t=87
Sunrise finds herself breathless and squashed between the canvas and a mercenary; she utters a low groan as Cassandra hooks in the far leg for a lateral pin. Ref. Reginald drops for the count; One!... Two!... Fallout throws a shoulder up, turning on her side and grazing Vale’s face with a weak slap in the process. Most likely accidental, not that it matters to Vale. She cuffs FS on the back of the head with a disrespectful palm and knees her in the offered back, the behemoth cringes, her back flaring up as damage piled on. Fallout literally rolls with the hits, getting a few feet of distance to recover. Vale allows this and stands up to hastily retreat to the parallel corner, Fallout pulls herself to a seat against the buckles and adjusts her trunks to their proper placement with a wince.
Too distracted by undoing her improvised thong, Fallout doesn’t see Cassandra’s running knee till it blasts her cheek. The Merc’s force carries her to the ropes, her knee bursting under the second strand. Vale grabs a handful of Fallout’s hair and drags her near limp form to her feet, and walks the rookie deeper into the ring, Fallout’s eyes look unfocused, and she paws at Vale’s body on autopilot. The Gatlin Hammer slaps at a hand on her breast and moves behind the rookie, clinching on a Full Nelson. Sunrise gets an enviable look at her cleavage, with the price of Cassandra’s steel pythons putting ungodly pressure on her neck. Luckily, she doesn’t feel it for long, unluckily, that’s because the Merc lifts Fallout into the air like she’s a featherweight and rearranges her spine with a Full Nelson Slam!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYFqRspfo4E
Sunrise’s body seizes into a bridge, and her teeth clench tightly in a silent scream. That move hurt everything but especially her back; Cassandra’s battle strategy of targeting Sunrise’s vertebrae pays dividends. Cassandra lowers to shove FS flat and cover her in a BackPress pin; she hooks the far leg and pulls Fallout’s arm above and around her head by the wrist against the canvas. The official slides in for the count: One! Two! Thre- Fallout shifts onto her side, saving herself and putting Vale’s shoulders are on the mat! The Merc’s kicking wildly and swearing up a storm while Reginald restarts the count; One! Two! Thre- Cassandra flips free onto her knees and drops a trio of elbow strikes to the side of Fallout’s head, following up with a knee driven deep into the rookie’s belly. The brilliant behemoth lets out a bellow as she bends around the protruding joint. The Walking Weapon secures a tight Front Facelock and brings Sunshine up in stages, peppering her bent back with clubbing forearms. Cassandra tightens up on the hold and growls low in a wriggling Sunrise’s ear, “That was clever. You do have a brain.” She takes Sunrise’s bottoms in hand and stretches them to the middle of the Destroyer’s back. Smiling at the warbled whine Vale receives, she says, “Ditch the Rock n’ Wrestling outfit, and you might have a chance in this business.”
After a quick adjustment of Fallout’s arm, Cassandra lifts the big girl by Vertical Suplex with a big tug of crotch floss. The mercenary makes a display of power by keeping the soles of Fallout’s red boots pointed at the lights for a count of three before- Fallout gets loose! Enduring through the uncomfortably invasive jerk of her togs the escape required, Fallout slips out of the facelock and lands with a cat’s grace on Cassandra’s left with her right arm looped backward around the Nebraskan’s neck. Cassandra swipes at Sunrise’s ear, looking for a reversal, but the new blood grabs her forearm before it can find purchase. After cranking Vale’s neck back at an awkward angle, Fallout kicks up her legs to hurl herself onto her back, rattling The Walking Weapon’s brain in her skull with an Inverted DDT!
youtu.be/CsjLtz2W5HU?t=72
Biting back a cry of pain, Vale sits up, cradling the back of her head. FS moves with a speed and skill antithetical to her size and demeanour; she worms her arms under Vale’s and applies a Full Nelson of her own that makes the veteran’s eyes bulge at the power in Fallout’s betasseled arms. Cassandra feels herself being leaned back and tenses, preparing for a Bodyscissors into a Keister Bounce. Instead, Fallout’s long, luscious legs raise past her head, and the Full Nelson disintegrates, replaced by what the veteran would describe as a side saddle Lotus Lock. Sunrise’s left calf presses down on the back of Cassandra’s neck as it extends past her shoulder, where it crosses ankles with her right leg, threaded under the blonde’s arms and trapping Cassandra’s upper limbs behind her in a distressing hold.
ARJUNA’S BOW
youtu.be/yi-NXHk_rdQ?t=63
Vale can feel her face reddening under the weight and power of Fallout’s stems bearing on her neck. Experience tells her to bridge in a Lotus Lock to pin the user. Still, this side application places most of Cassandra’s weight on her left hip, making the necessary foot placement nigh impossible. And even if she did, Sunrise has a firm grip on her forearm that stops the Nebraskan from clawing her way out and keeps Sunrise’s shoulder elevated, preventing a sneak pin. This submission “is some Deschain bullshit,” Cassandra grumbles under her breath.
Fallout flexes her legs, getting a restrained growl of frustration and pain out of the captured grappler. She tugs harder on Cassandra’s wrist and calls out, “Mighty Nimrod! This is Arjuna’s bow, I shall use your agony and all of those entangled in its string to forge an arrow that will pierce the Heart of Darkness.”
Cassandra has no energy to waste protesting this insanity, grunting a placative, “Good to know!” while shuffling her feet closer to the ropes. The leather of her boots scraps against the canvas as she drags her weight and that of the rainbow rookie inch by crucial inch. A long, excruciating trek with the veteran’s shoulders burning and extremities feeling numb, Cassandra lets loose a yell that’s equal parts frustration and relief when she places a heel on the bottom strand.
“Break!”
Sunrise disengages without any coaxing from the Ref; she quickly rolls away from ‘Nimrod’ who collapses on the mat panting. Sunrise kips up like she’s fresh as a daisy, raises her fists and lets loose a triumphant shout. The FAWNatics shower the towering, bombastic rookie with echoing praise, she’s going toe to toe with a vaunted veteran who’s one of the most dangerous women in the history of the sport. Seeming to feed off the crowd's energy, FS begins running the ropes, bodily throwing herself into the strands a scant two feet from Cassandra as she slowly gets up. The mercenary gets to a knee and wipes the sweat from her forehead, and she rolls her neck and shoulders to ease some of the abused rubber sensation taking over her muscles. Sunrise is almost to the far ropes when she hops onto the second strand and rebounds to mid-ring in a big crouch, the softer parts of battle-ready body jiggling. her chest, she whips up straight and throws her arms out wide, yelling “Justice!!!” The crowd neither understands nor cares; they love the energy and yell back thousands multiplied “JUSTICE!!!”
Cassandra stares back and licks her teeth in menacing contemplation. That Arjuna shit really drained her batteries; if the clown kept on the offensive, even The Walking Weapon would have to admit turning it around would have been a real hurdle. The face-painted rook chose to play to the crowd instead. Until that submission, Sunrise’s attacks had been power moves taught in every wrestling class. So she may have more moves like that and chose not to use them, going ‘easy’ and extending the match. This bitch is making a spectacle of Cassandra Vale for buzz. These summations cause a slow, cold boil of rage to bubble in Vale’s soul, increased further by scattered pockets of fans in the arena cheering for Vale, thinking she needed the support. Some of them using Fallout’s new moniker for the Merc.
“You can do it, Nimrod!”
“Nimrod!! Wooo!”
Fallout waves Vale closer to her when the Merc walks to meet at center-canvas; she speaks excitedly to Cassandra’s stonefaced and silent form. “Come, Mighty Nimrod! The apex of battle calls!”
The brilliant berzerker touches her left shoulder with her right arm and wobbles Vale’s bust with a series of Knife-edge Chop, the blonde sways on her feet, and the FAWNatics yell a Pavlovian “WOOO!!!” at each blow.
Chop!
“WOOO!!!”
Chop!
“WOOO!!!”
Chop!
“WOOO!!!”
Sunrise’s hand whiffs above Cassandra’s mane on the fourth chop; the Chaos Consultant ducks the blow and wraps around the toned rookie with a Gutwrench hold. Cassandra coils down then explodes upright, flipping Fallout so she’s balanced on the ball of her right shoulder. The Chaos consultant swiftly turns as she shoves Fallout away, sending the Cosmic Warrior twirling before she indents the mat with a nasty fall.
HIRED GUN
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-UKjcp4sBo
The audience is a little astonished at seeing such a quick yet ferocious move and done in response to standard chops, no less. They go quiet, watching the match with rapt attention. Vale likes it when they’re silent, which means she’s doing her job well. She raises her boot and stops it on Sunrise’s chest for a dominating pin, right where the clown’s heart should be. Vale grinds the boot against glistening flesh as Reginald slaps the One! Two! Thre- Fallout shoves the boot off! Turning away on her side, Fallout saves herself to a big reaction from the Orlando ticket buyers. The Walking Weapon’s lips briefly curl in irritation; with an exasperated huff, she takes a handful of Sunrise’s polychromatic lock and pulls the rookie to her feet. Working silently, Cassandra moves behind Fallout and lowers a shoulder to take a clawing grip of her inner thigh and chin. Hoisting the sweaty bundle face-up across her shoulders, Cassandra puts all her substantial strength into snapping Fallout’s spine in two. All those attacks to the Cosmic Warrior’s back have just been place-setting for the most Torturous of Racks Vale applies to Fallout, who shrieks and flails in the Hired Gun’s clutches.
Fallout Sunrise is a tad heavier than most women in FAWN(in a most lovely, perfectly proportioned way). Still, you would never know it from the ease with which Vale carries the indie mystery around the ring, walking with jerky, jarring steps to give FS the most uncomfortable ride possible. After a complete circuit of the mat, Cassandra walks to the middle of the canvas; she provides a llloooonnng, powerful crank of Sunrise’s chin and leg, bending the screaming rookie into an upside-down U. The entire time, Vale stares right into the hard camera with sadistic determination. A warning to any woman in the back or abroad that thinks Vale has gotten soft. Bytches get broke. Referee Reginald Worthington stands by Fallout’s upturned head, asking if the brilliant behemoth submits to the torture rack, and gets desperate, shrieking rejections in response, “AIE! AAIIEE! NONONO-NIVERRR!!!!”
Vale’s face goes red and her arms burn with exhaustion, but Sunrise still isn’t giving up, it’s almost admirable, but Vale isn’t here to make friends. Dropping into a deep crouch and slowly stands back up pouring all she can in the rack, fans watching are worried Sunrise may leave the arena on a stretcher if she doesn’t tap soon! Throughout the enduring constriction, Fallout lets loose a long scream that dies into a low moan, then silence as the tension seems to leave Fallout’s body, her limbs and face going slack and ragdoll-like. Worthington quickly reaches for the Warrior’s wrist, but Cassnadra pulls her away before he can grasp it. Pushing off her toes, she lifts Sunrise off her shoulders and, in mid-air, shoves her into position for a Powerbomb. Grabbing the rookie by the legs, Cassandra throws Sunrise down while sitting out to make the ring shake with a Towerhacker bomb!
THE HARBINGER
youtu.be/ch-6teqX99Y?t=190
It’s a miracle there isn’t a Fallout-shaped crater in the ring with how hard she hit the thinly covered plywood. Her limo legs are held up by Vale, framing the Merc's tired but subtly relieved face as she stares into the camera as Ref. Reginald counts One! Two! Thre- Fallout breaks the count!!! At the absolute last moment before the three, Fallout flops to the side and out of Cassandra's hands. Seeing the eccentric Babyface still has life left in her, the crowd comes alive and gets even louder when Fallout bolts to her knees with wild eyes, clenched fists, and gritted teeth. She looks ahead with a maniacal stare and completely ignores Vale and the thousands around her; Fallout’s body is visibly vibrating, she’s like a volcano about to erupt at any moment!
Vale looked a little shook at Sunrise’s escape, then greatly annoyed at Rainbow Brite making a pair of disrespectful choices. Not keeping her eyes on Cassandra Vale the entire match, and this ‘Hulking up’ bullshit. Vale angrily gets to her feet and drops multiple, stiff overhead forearms onto Fallout’s head and shoulders. The multicoloured monster grimaces a bit but doesn’t break out of her stance or trance. Vale pours on the clubbing the blows, mixing in punches and elbow strikes to Sunrise’s back. Wet, smacking sounds of flesh hitting flesh eco in the arena, as it always does when the mercenary starts Breaking Out The Tire Iron. But while most opponents wilt under pressure, Fallout appears to be energized by Vale’s volley; her tremors increase as Fallout rises to her feet under the storm and starts walking around the ring. The pace of Cassandra’s hits slows but their intensity increases, the veteran winding up and taking her time to aim to maximize the hurt. But Fallout is undeterred, completing a half circuit of the ring before whirling to face Cassandra and roaring right in her face!
“Yyyoouuu!!!!”
Cassandra has no more patience for this, spitting, “Fuck off!” fires a right jab that Sunrise dodges by going low and behind Vale, then starts to commit a gross example of gimmick infringement. Picking up Cassandra by a loin and chin, Sunrise lifts the monster of Gatlin across her shoulders, reversing their roles from earlier in the match and contorting Cassandra in a torture rack. The arena comes alive seeing a challenge laid at Vale's kicking feet! The blonde in question claws at Fallout's arm and squirms for an escape from the brilliant behemoth's rack. Cassandra lets out barks of anguish as Fallout hops up and down while trying to snap Vale's spine like an extra-large Slim Jim. The Merc is pissed off at this turn of events and gets more enraged as Sunrise turns at the apex of every jump to face each side of the arena, ensuring everyone gets a good look at the freshly hunted prey. Silverlining from this predicament is the anger helps dull the fire running up and down her body and brings some feeling into her numbing fingers. Fallout’s power could make this move a match ender if Vale doesn’t escape quickly!
Vale dictates to Sunrise as threateningly as possible between yelps of pain, "Ugh! Going move for more is a bad ideauUgh!! Just ask Erway about our Splash match-ERgh! You're forcing me to make an example of-Don'tyoudoitbytch!!"
Still stuck in the mental state Sunrise will later reveal as 'Cosmic Awareness' Fallout ceases her hopping and starts to spin over and over in one spot, ramping up speed with each revolution. The FAWNatics get loud and rowdy at this crowdpleaser of a move and count each turn of this human propeller system.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!.....
The count gets all the way to “THIRTY!” before Sunrise’s spinning becomes too fast to track accurately, so the fans just cheer the spectacle of the bizarre rookie stuntin’ on the veteran. Perhaps a little ego starts to crack through Fallout’s Cosmic Warrior venear and she starts to show off a little; Fallout places her hands on her hips and keeps the mercenary perfectly balanced across her neck and shoulders through several rotations by momentum alone. Vale’s defiant and indignant yells turn into nauseated, oscillating screams after twenty or cycles, and her body goes from tense and coiled to flaccid and outstretched, Vale’s limbs unbending to make a swirling X from the centrifugal force. Fallout finally slings a spinning Cassandra away, the mercenary cycling another three times on her own before she splats chest-first on the canvas.
AIRPLANE SPIN
youtu.be/N5LqiZz24-w?t=32
Cassandra listlessly turns onto her back and crosses her arms over her flattened breasts; too dizzy to stand or speak, she lays there, head rolling, trying to find her sense of gravity. Meanwhile, Fallout backpedals unsteadily to the ropes, doe-si-doing a few steps before throwing herself to and diving atop a horizontal Cassandra and hooking her leg for a pinfall. Vale lies still with her legs spread wide for the camera.
ONE!
TWO!!
Cassandra gets a shoulder up!
Most women would be disheartened or frustrated at this outcome, but Fallout seems ecstatic. Smiling maniacally, she pulls a limp Vale up in stages by the hair, "Tremendous! We are lumps of steel beating each other into fine swords!" The Weapon’s vision is still a kaleidoscope, Vale goes on instinct and peppers Fallout's stomach with aimless punches, but her arms are rubbery and bounce off the Warrior's abs. Fallout backs Cassandra up, gives her some whiplash with a European Uppercut, and then spins around for a Discus Clothesline; Cassandra's teeth clack together, and she tastes blood. The familiar taste restores some sense and steel to the Chaos Consultant; she starts to lunge when Sunrise's arm thuds into the upper slopes of her breasts and turns Vale inside out! The veteran is blasted head over heels and lands hard on her shoulder. She lays in the shadow of the ropes wheezing, with a look of pained breathless.
youtu.be/0O7nC60mHas?t=91
With the energy of a dog breaking in a new toy, Fallout drops heavy stomps and kicks the prone Cassandra, using those electric red boots to shuffle the blonde under the ropes to the ring's apron. Cassandra stirs to life under the booting and pushes to her knees; Fallout steps through the top gap in the coils to join her. Cassandra balls up a fist and bludgeons the multicoloured monster on her pelvis! Not quite a low blow, but it’s cutting it close. A suddenly pale Fallout squawks pitifully, her jaw drops, and she hunches over, now looking like an ordinary woman hit in the privates and not a time-travelling acolyte as she claimed. Finding Fallout’s croak of pain invigorating, Cassandra fires another hard punch at the same spot, sending tremors through the oddity’s moaning form.
Vale takes a raking grip of Sunrise’s mane, ”You like that?” and turns her cheek with a forearm strike, then with a controlling grip of her hair pumps fist after into Sunrise's belly. The Cosmic Warrior sounds a guttural bleat with each body blow, "Guhh! Goahh! Urgh!" FS falls to her knees after Vale digs her knuckles against her liver with a piercing hook shot. With Fallout's locks still wrapped around her fingers, Cassandra gets to her feet, talking to her fascinatingly resilient foe like a delinquent teenager.
"Goddamit. Why couldn't you just tap? Now I have to make an example out of you!"
The Walking Weapon shoves Fallout's head between her legs and SQUEEZE a pitiful moan out the indie mystery with a crushing headscissors. Cassandra turns her head and looks a few feet away and down at the commentator’s table. Without a word spoken, the Merc gets an extra loud pop from the Orlando audience with the non-verbal message that someone’s going through a fuckin' table. Cassandra bends over and wraps her arms around Fallout’s middle and lifts her off the apron; Fallout bicycles her legs like she’s working a Peloton and lowers herself lowers back to the apron. Cassandra angrily bites her lip, clubs the doubled-over rookie on the back twice, and resets the waistlock to lift Fallout onto her shoulders. Before Vale’s arms tighten, Sunrise goes deadweight and drops to a knee; digging her fingers into the firm meat of Vale’s backside, Sunrise roughly pulls her head out from the vice of the Chaos Consultant’s gams. With a loud exhale of relief, Sunrise rears her head back and headbutts Vale’s mound with concrete cracking force!
“OOOHHH!!”
This time it’s a paling Cassandra Vale doubling over with an almost comical look of shock; the taciturn hired gun lets out a rasping croak and instinctively reaches for the afflicted area. Fallout latches onto Vale with a Headscissors faster than you can blink. The behemoth’s hot, silky thighs brace Vale’s ears and give a pulse that coaxes a moan from the blond, followed by an indigent, if muffled, shout when FS gives her rump a hard, two-handed spank that echoes in the air and ripples Vale’s cheeks. After that butt-battering, Fallout applies a tight waistlock and flips Cassandra up her body and onto her shoulders in a Powerbomb position. The fans are going NUTS as the Cosmic Warrior turns towards the now very anxious commentary team. Cassandra is visibly worried for the first in years, and raises a fist to halt the move with some rapid punches-but Sunrise’s already running down the apron.
Fallout streaks down the ring’s apron at top speed, her arm tassels flowing behind her like the tail of a colourful comet. She leaps off the edge and soars across the aisle amid a storm of flashbulbs. Fallout’s voice is a triumphant scream as she descends...
“Behold the Cosmic HHAAMMMERRR!!”
youtu.be/AlMYqxVJe4g?t=111
KKREERESHSHSH!!!!
The battling beauties shatter the table sending splinters flying everywhere. Fans dodge debris as they scream approval for the carnage. Cassandra and Fallout lie in the remains of the table; Cassandra’s twitching and spasming, emitting shuddering groans that clue in the audience of the level of pain the steadfast Merc is experiencing. Fallout is a bit more animated after a fashion, almost groggily sitting up and shoving away pieces of wood to stand up. She looks a little shaky and loses her balance, bracing a hand in front of her to keep from falling on her face, her mane of many colours cascading down and lightly grazing the padded concrete. Somewhere deep in Fallout’s soul, a reservoir of stamina is tapped, and she snaps to her full height. Arching her back and throwing her arms out wide, she booms throughout the arena “WRESTLING!!!” and clambers over the guardrail into a sea of FAWNatics. The weird, wild rookie is pulling random men and women into one-armed embraces and taking cups of beer from grateful hands, pouring them down her throat and face at an impressive rate. Early tomorrow morning, dozens of videos will upload of up-close shots of Sunrise’s beautiful beer and sweat-soaked cleavage recorded via smartphone will find its way online.
Back in the crash zone; Cassandra Vale rises from the wreckage not like some kind of horror movie monster she usually echoes but like a normal woman run ragged through the course of a match. With a great assist from the guardrail Cassandra drags herself up and throws an arm over the barrier to stay upright. She ignores supportive pats on the back and shoulders and pushes herself away into a shambling walk to the apron where Vale places her hands to catch her breath. The fact that the fans- people the Chaos Consultant rendered into an uncomfortable silence with how thoroughly she beats opponents time and time again- thought SHE needed support? This drives Vale up the wall!
Smoothing back her hair, she glances up at Ref. Worthington, still in the ring, the alpha zebra taps at his earpiece. The signal implies that Commissioner Bethany Christian says to hold off on the count until she gives the say-so. This makeshift match is going better than the HBIC hoped. An irate Vale snaps at Worthington, “Tell Bethany I’m charging extra for this bullshit!” He nods placatingly but has no intention of doing so, “Of course.”
Vale hears the din of raucous Floridians getting louder and assumes Fallout is making her way back. The Monster of Gatlin rolls her shoulders to pop something displaced back in position, going by the sickening cracks, she succeeds. Vale pounds the hard edge of the apron to hype herself up and swivels back to the crowd, seeing the sea of people beginning to part she screams over the collected voices.
“Get your tie-dye ass out here Fall! If you make me chase you this match gets becomes a fight-Whoa!”
FS leaps out of the crowd in a prismatic flash! Fallout perches on the guardrail briefly before jumping at Cassandra and near decapitates her with a flying clothesline! A bicep empowered by the stars(so claims FS) slams Cassandra in the throat and upends her into a matchbook, the back of Vale’s head smacking against the floor. Fallout is humming with energy; she heaves up the gagging blonde by the straps of her midnight blue top and shouts with glee into her coughing face, “Do you feel it!” She cracks her forehead against the bridge of Vale’s nose with a brutal headbutt. Vale hobbles back, eyes blinded by tears(purely instinctive). Fallout stays close to bury a fist in her gut, and right uppercut to the chin, and a left hook to the cheek and a- you get the idea.
Sunshine Breaks out the Tire Iron on Vale in front of an astonished audience; the Merc tries to give back as good as she’s getting, but that headbutt threw off her vision, and FS has a painful and robust headstart. Sunrise is landing four punches for every one of Vale’s, and as the barrage rolls on, the Warrior will not. Stop. Talking.”
“Do you feel it? The change begins! (Pek! Pow! Pek!) The gears of the universe turn, and the molten plasma of your future beings to cool and solidify! (Pow! Pow! Smack!) The shadow of your final form begins to encroach, and uRGH! Uuh!”
Vale lands a heavy right fist just below Sunrise’s eye and turns her head with a left forearm strike. Vale lands another, and another, and with each stiff smack of Fallout's bruising flesh Casandra regains her strength. Anger overriding her common sense, Cassandra rears back a fist to smash the rookie’s face in, “SHUT UP!”
Whiff!
The Chaos Consultant’s punch grazes Fallout’s cheek but doesn’t land; the Cosmic Warrior lunges close and pivots on a heel to get side to side with the mercenary and palm the back of Vale’s head. With a trip and a pivot, Fallout slams Vales face-first on the ring’s edge, the hardest part of the ring, with a thunk!. Sunrise continues her speechifying as she tries to beat the dents out of the squared circle with Cassandra’s skull, “Your thoughts and feelings alter your reality! (Thunk!) Your actions are the final act. Your signature is your soul’s contract with the cosmos! (Thunk!)”
The Brilliant Behemoth spins a much more docile Vale around and braces her against the apron. Taking a wrist, Sunrise takes a big step back and throws the mashed Merc away with a powerful Irish Whip. Cassandra tries to take the landing with her back but can't entirely turn in time and hits a junction of the guardrail hard with her shoulder. The barrier skids backward, banging into the legs of rich or lucky front seaters. Cassandra grips her wounded joint with a warbled cry and crumbles to the ground.
Back in the ring, the colloquially nicknamed "hot ref" is wringing his hands. Vale is getting ragdolled, but Bethany hasn't given clearance to start the count. -Smack!- Reginald winces seeing Sunrise flatten Vale with a Short-Arm clothesline and thinks, 'management be damned!'
He yells from the high ground as Fallout picks up Cassandra in a Suplex position and walks up a set of steel steps, " Miss Sunrise, I'm starting the count. If you two are not back in the ring, I will end this match."
Fallout nods at him, still in her state of manic glee, "We'll be there soon, Great Heracles!" The silence of a concerned and stunned crowd that Cassandra loves to bring coax out the masses has come again. But this time it's out of concern for her… In perhaps the most one-sided drubbing the Nebraskan has received going back to her rookie years, Vale's mind turns from punishment to escape, regroup, end the match. Sunrise pulls her into a front facelock and takes hold of her bottoms by the hip; Vale tenses and tries to take the rookie overhead with a Snap Suplex. Sunrise's red boots briefly leave the ground, but the Warrior chokes up on that facelock, and Cassandra's strength falters, returning Sunrise to the earth. A pacifying knee to the solar plexus later and Fallout guides the veteran to the plateau of the steel steps.
Fallout offers what she perceives as friendly advice and what Cassandra sees as nonsensical ramblings, "When fate gives you wings, enlightenment is in the landings, might Nimrod."
Cassandra shakes her head with irritation, "what the fuck are youuAAIE!"
The indie mystery pulls Cassandra's bottoms DEEP into Box Canyon baring a full buttcheek and breaking the silence with wolf whistles and laughter. Fallout lifts the Hired Guns boots to High Noon using that improvised lever and keeps her there till Reggie hits "Six!" On his count, giving the fans in the cheap seats a chance to see Cassandra's beautiful and rarely seen backside while letting the blood rush to the blonde's head. Next, FS hops back off the steps while hurling her burden back down, shifting Vale, so she concaves the steel crash pad with her spine.
Vertical Suplex Side Slam
youtu.be/r5F5hVoqIlk?t=72
"OOAAAIIEEHH!!!"
Vale spasms like she’s in the electric chair and lets out an earsplitting scream followed by dry heaves that makes the spectators and the referee uncomfortable. Reginald Worthington halts his count and steps out onto the apron to better understand Vale's condition. Fallout takes a few steps back with an arm outstretched in the air, swinging in a tight circle, yelling, "The final blow will be struck!" Ref. Worthington turns his head from a writhing Vale to demand they get back in the ring, but FS is already breaking into a run. The official decides to keep the count going rather than futile diplomacy.
"Seventeen!"
Sunrise gets those knees high with a rapid gait around the ring; the Cosmic Warrior's long hair of many colours flying behind her, rainbow tassels dancing with each pump of her arms and Sunrise's breasts jiggling in time to each piston of her legs. Sunrise is a blur as she rounds another corner en route to a-
PLANETARY COLLISION
youtu.be/F3kwHeMe4t4?t=98
Meanwhile, Cassandra gingerly scraps herself off the steel steps and braces a slightly shaking hand against it to steady herself. The Walking Weapon is a shell of the confident, composed monster that entered the ring.
"Eighteen!"
A shrinking distance away a trembling Cassandra gets her breathing under control and has both feet on the floor, but the veteran seems far from capable of turning this fight around. Cassandra hunches over with dishevelled hair matted to her head with sweat. She stares at the black padding covering the concrete, willing her mind blank to focus on dulling the sensation of the fireworks going off throughout her body. Vale hears the masses’ growing echo giving away the charging Fallout. The blonde looks up and sees a -swiftly moving- about to leap forward and squash her against the steps. With pure, unchecked survival instinct Vale lurches into a slide under the bottom rope, dodging Fallout Sunshine and letting the rookie destroyer RAM into the steps!
"Nin-!"
KKERRASSH!!
Sunrise meets steel in a violent clash! The steps recoil off the post; the bottom half now askew and shifted a foot and half left, the top half tumbling through clumsy rotations till it bangs against the guard rail startling some fans. Fallout turns inside out at the impact, smacking her thighs against the bottom steps and twisting horrifically around the runaway top segment till she rolls onto her side in a heap.
“Twenty!”
DING!DING!DING!
The FAWNatics are on their feet and screaming before the announcer has hold of his mic, “Your winner via Count Out, Cassandra Vale!!”
A count-out on a regular show is usually seen as unsatisfying and for the biggest PPV of the year FAWNmania, unthinkable. But this out-of-nowhere, unorthodox ending fits perfectly with this oddity of a match-up; some fans cheer for Vale, some for Fallout, but most cheer for both. These Floridians came to the arena to be entertained, and they were with interest! Still lying on her belly, one cheek against the coarse material of the canvas Cassandra wearily pushes to her knees in stages. Unaware of the bell’s echoes, she mutters tiredly, “Come on...I’ll put you through the ring.… where are.…wait, what are you doing?
Referee Worthington outs a studly arm under Vale’s armpit and easily lifts her to her feet. Raising her wrist, the official keeps the teetering blonde vertical with a hand on her side(well above her hip), “Congratulations on your victory, miss. Well fought,”
Cassandra blinks uncomprehendingly then straightens up as the results dawned on her. She had won, with a Count Out, through sheer dumb luck. Cassandra catches a glimpse of herself and the stands behind her in the FAWNtron. Every hair out of place like Vale’s been caught in a wind tunnel, her top a gentle breeze away from flashing the goods to millions of spectators watching at home, half her ass hanging out and scrapes and bruises already starting pepper her exposed skin. What stood out the most were the legions of spectators cheering for the Monster of Gatlin, saying things like, “Great job, Vale!" "Way to grind it out!" You did it!"
This patter usually accompanies a real come-from-behind victory from the jaws of defeat, getting your ass kicked the whole match, but in the end, Babyface wins. The type of crowd response for a Shea London or Juliet Bloodwind type. Not Cassandra Vale, who spent most of her career destroying women like that, a depressing realization forms that will create a dark motivation.
I didn't win this match. I survived it.
Cassandra hears a growl at her six, "Grrr.. " and she whirls around, fists at the ready. There stands Fallout Sunrise, looking scuffed up from their bout but ready to go another hour. A cut centred in the palm of the Cadium white hand across Fallout's wild and wide-eyed face dribbles blood. A new shade of red on the rookie's ensemble makes a narrow river down the bridge of Fallout's nose and cheek, likely made from the hard edge of the steel steps.
The two women stand a foot apart, Fallout with an air of a barely restrained storm, shoulders heaving and breathing heavily through her nose. Fists clenched, Cassandra seems defensive. She can't seem to get a measure of this 80s oddity aside from the fresh, painful knowledge of what a "Sunrise Run" is like on the receiving end.
Fallout's vibrating she's about to reach Cosmic Awareness again. Vale knows she has to strike first or get run over! Cassandra lunges at her with a dagger strike aimed at Fallout’s throat- she’s too late! FS dashes under Cassandra’s flattened hand and wraps her powerful arms around her ribs- and lifts her into a hug!
Vale goes still with a blank yet surprised face as FAWNatics enthusiastically cheer this moment of sportsmanship. Fallout squeezes her preceived friend a touch too hard and speaks in her usual manner of loud and Gregorius over a rare whimper from Vale,"Excellent battle, mighty Nimrod. They shall sing songs of our rivalry till the ziggurats become dust."
This comment knocks Vale out of her stupor. She presses down on Fallout's brawny arms and tries to squirm out of the embrace, growling, "STOP. THAT.” If FS heard the Chaos Consultant's protests, she didn't show it, Fallout breaks the hug to raise an incredulous Vale's arm. Nowhere near the level of familiarity the rookie feels, Vale tries to pull her hand away, but Fallout's grip is undeniable. The multicoloured monster lowers Cassandra's hand and steps back with a slight bow, "Farewell, Nimrod! When we next meet, the skies shall turn red and rain holy oil!"
On that strange but fitting statement, Fallout Sunrise quickly rolls under the bottom rope, Vaults over the guard and leaves through the crowd. As she exits Fallout walks past a drunken man bothering a group of women and ensnares the lout in a skull-creaking headlock without breaking her stride, effortlessly dragging the flailing man out of the building to cheers. Vale watches this from a distance with hands on hips, walking back and forth a bit as she mulls over the events of the match. Won the match through count out? Not good enough. Got that Count Out by mostly luck? That’s some rookie shit. Getting Pounded to the point you’re getting sympathy cheers from the audience? Unacceptable. As the crew jogs down to clean up for the next match Vale looks into the crowd when a chant starts to grow, “VALE! VALE! VALE!...” Cassandra bites the inside of her cheek, realizing the biggest offence. That walking rainbow just worked her into a FAWNmania moment. This match will be brought up, referenced and analyzed when looking at Cassandra Vale’s career, forever tying her name to Fallout Sunrise. Cassandra sums up this understanding in one despondent breath.
“Fuck.”