Post by hawkeye on May 9, 2022 22:57:26 GMT
Having come up short in a shot to wrest the tag titles from Cosmic Noir, Cynthia Mitchell, FAWN royalty by any measure, prepares to step back into singles action.
The brunette discusses the opportunity with her long-time partner in crime with Belle’s Hellions, Ivy Armstrong. The saucy Southern redhead offers to accompany but the most prolific of the Mitchell clan turns down the offer.
She’s fighting against an ingenue some consider the next Girl Scout version of Kylie Sanders and everyone, particularly Ivy, knows how she dominated the Iowan and all the other versions of the Pleasant Valley Princess.
Cyn moves to the ‘go’ position hands clenching in excitement, the din of the thousands-strong spectators on the other side of the curtain filling her ears.
CYNTHIA MITCHELL
IVY ARMSTRONG
“You got this,” Ivy assures in her soft Southern drawl.
“Shit yeah I do,” comes the reply.
“Beat this little rookie poser and start your way back to the top,” Armstrong adds, massaging her partner’s shoulders.
Mitchell’s baby blues close as she moves into her zone, breathing deeply, her eyes popping open at the sound of a voice piercing above the cacophony over the arena’s public address system.
“Our next match is scheduled for one fall and has a 20-minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from the Queen City of the South, Charlotte, North Carolina...standing five feet and seven inches, and weighing one hundred and twenty-one pounds...CYNTHIAAAAAAA MMMMMMMITCHELLLLLLLLL!"
Demi Lovato's "Confident" hits and as the curtain tears open (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwLRQn61oUY), the crowd showing its approval with a solid if unspectacular round of applause, a smattering of boos interspersing, drawing the hint of a sneer from the FAWN original.
Mitchell strides purposefully to the ring, focused on the battleground. She pays no heed to the outstretched hands reaching for her.
Mitchell is clad in a familiar ‘one-piece’--said outfit a deep purple number with a plunging 'V' neckline that goes all the way to her navel, and a backside that generously puts her fabled derriere on ample display. She wears matching purple ankle books.
Reaching ringside, Cynthia ascends the metal steps and slips between the ropes, moving to the center, ready for business.
She gives a perfunctory raise of her right arm to acknowledge the fans, but it remains clear her thoughts are elsewhere, namely on rekindling the smoldering singles portion of a career that may be entering its twilight.
Before Mitchell can lower her salute, the power pop of Tones and I’s Dance Monkey has people swaying in anticipation of the Yellow Rose.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q )
From stage right, a flaxen-haired fighter who’s been making some waves, including a PPV win over Cosette LeBlanc and some heavy dark match rotation, cheerily moves to center stage. What she lacks in experience, the fresh-faced grappler has in the energy of youth and a sweet disposition to which members of the audience are drawn.
HEATHER CROFTON
Vibrating with excitement over having a shot at a living embodiment of the legendary Mitchell family, the babyface blonde struts to center stage in time with the catchy ditty.
She spins through a pirouette and vogues for the delighted devotees, a vision in yellow.
The two-piece gear includes spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offers a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns are small caliber. She prances down the aisle, bouncing from side to side, slapping hands, joyous with a further opportunity to show the fans what she can do.
In the last several strides, the Texan takes off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and chest. She pushes to her feet and waggles through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly fades.
The Lone Star Girl approaches her adversary and offers a handshake. Cynthia stares at the proffered palm and declines, telling Heather she’s here for a fight, not a tea party.
Disappointed but accepting, Heather backpedals to the opposite buckles as the ring announcer takes the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“And her opponent. Fighting out of Grapevine, Texas. Standing 5’4” and weighing in at 122 pounds…Miss Mustang…Heather Crofton!”
The bubbly blonde leaps into the air, dropping into a set of splits. She pumps her first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grows when she shifts to a tiny ball, kips to her feet, and climbs to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Whaddya say, y’all?!”
The throng responds with a feisty endorsement until the bell sounds the match to order and Crofton spins and drops from her perch, hands raised for the approaching Cynthia, ready for a collar-and-elbow.
Mitchell responds with an extended right hand, offering the next gen, would-be star a shake with a real OG. The Yellow Rose is taken aback but lowers her arms and clasps the hand enthusiastically.
“This so aweSAHHH”
Crofton howls in pain as Cynthia uses the grip to pull Heather into an eye poke with the opposite thumb.
Heather wheels away, rubbing furiously at her injured orb, half-blinded, Mitchell chuckling at the jeers from the FAWNatics.
“What?” she shouts. “I’m just teaching the kid a lesson. And I’ve got a few more for her.”
The Hellion grabs Heather by a shoulder and spins the blonde to face her, then PLOWS a forearm shiver into Crofton’s jaw under her newly created blind spot. The Texan is staggered, arms pinwheeling to remain upright. Mitchell lays into her with another and another until Crofton is sagging into a set of buckles.
The Mitchell clan’s most famous member mounts the middle ropes, a leg on either side, and pulls Heather’s head back with a tight grip in her dirty golden locks. The Carolina Hurricane raises a balled fist high then pounds it into Heather’s pate, the crowd reflexively counting along for the full ten-spot before the veteran dismounts.
Mitchell draws Heather halfway down the ropes, latching onto a wrist and shoulder. Off Crofton goes with an Irish Whip. Or at least that was the plan. Instead, the plucky youngster, plants and pivots, reversing the whip. Instead, it’s Cynthia sprinting across the canvas, Heather moving to the middle to meet the returning Cynful One.
As Heather goes for a clothesline, Cynthia snatches the proffered limb and uses it to spin around the startled blonde, catching Heather in a front facelock as she moves to the opposite side. Before Crofton can consider any defense, she’s headed down, Mitchell floating over to a DDT, Miss Mustang’s skull PLANTED into the deck.
Floatover DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=68FSRxPLrjY ) :07
Heather ends in a dazed seated position after a somersault, eyes glassy. Instead of scrambling to a cover, a smirking Cyn rises to a seat of her own, casting a glance over her shoulder as Heather collapses to a shoulder and hip. Mitchell chuckles and pushes to her feet.
Cynthia bows gracefully to the unhappy audience and turns into a soccer lick to the base of Crofton’s spine, the pain waking Heather from her stupor as the Lone Star Girl’s back arches forward.
Mitchell steps her right leg over a stooped shoulder of her seated foe, then does likewise with the left and clamps on a standing headscissors, locking her stems at the ankles and flexing her sinewy thighs. Cynthia drops to her side, continuing to work the scissors on the canvas, Heather’s face growing rosier by the second as the Hurricane playfully stifles a yawn.
The Yellow Rose from Grapevine pries fruitlessly at Cynthia’s constricting legs, Mitchell’s perfect pearlies grinding as she gets every ounce of pressure from her lower limbs possible, Heather’s head in a vice. Panicking, the babyfaced blonde flails wildly, Cyn enjoying showing every second of her foe’s inexperience. In desperation, Miss Mustang pivots along the mat, moving her legs in the direction of the nearest set of ropes.
After a couple dozen seconds of strife, she manages to lay one over the bottom cable and Carpenter calls for the break.
Mitchell takes her sweet time, only releasing her pressurizing stems at the back end of ‘FOUR’. She slides away from the softly groaning Crofton and pushes to her feet, hovering over Heather. The brunette waits ‘patiently’, for a second or two, before putting the boots to the overmatched youngster, stomping a Carolina mudhole out of the traumatized Texan until Al puts an end to the beatdown with his count to ‘FOUR’.
Mitchell gives a final STOMP that sends the bruised Heather rolling under the ropes and plopping to the cement below. Not interested in giving Crofton time to recover, Cynthia follows her out and rips her off the arena floor by her hair.
The Hellion grabs a wrist and whips Heather the brief distance to the steel railing, Crofton with just enough time to turn into a spine-first collision, the Lone Star Girl’s features twisting in pain. Cynthia turns the forlorn blonde to face her fans and squeezes her cheeks into a fish-face.
“This is what’s to come?” Cyn shouts. “I weep for the youth. Or better yet…I make them weep!”
Mitchell turns Heather back to the ring and heaves her into a headlong collision with the ring post, Heather’s head snapping back from the disturbing collision.
With Carpenter at a ‘patient eight’ on his count, the Hurricane scrapes what’s left of the puddled Crofton and throws her back in under the bottom rope. Cynthia hops to the apron and slides between the top and middle cable.
Mitchell moves to Heather’s side, waiting for her prey to rise, the Yellow Rose slowly pushing from hands and knees toward vertical. As she does, the Hellion springs into action, leaping and snatching Heather’s braincase in one fluid motion then POUNDING her face into the thinly-sheathed plywood, finishing off a sterling performance with her Carolina Blues.
Carolina Blues ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tXjmTPxmUo )
Cynthia crawls to the splayed Lone Star Girl and drops in am unconcerned crossbody pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Heather kicks a shoulder off the canvas to the pleasure of the crowd and the annoyance of the veteran shitkicker.
Cynthia piefacecs Crofton to her back, rises and drives a boot deep into the blonde’s solar plexus. But the punishment isn’t about to end there.
Mitchell strides to the nearest corner and clambers topside, turning and facing her target from the uppermost buckle. She raises an arm and twirls an imaginary lasso, mocking Miss Mustang then settles into a crouch and launches HIGH into the Orlando airspace.
At the top of her travels, Cynthia’s frame tucks in a tight ball before opening wide, Mitchell descending in a breathtaking frog splash THAT FINDS HEATHER’S KNEES.
The Cynful One impales herself on the lifted kneecaps and flops away, spasming and swaddling her roiling tummy, the majority of the crowd finally getting a chance to cheer, the outnumbered Old Schoolers in the audience silenced.
A hurting Heather takes a peek at the cursing Cyn and, seemingly encouraged by the sight, wearily pushes to vertical and strides to her veteran foe.
Crofton tugs Mitchell to her feet by a wrist and moves snugly chest to chest, wrapping her arms around the brunette’s back. Showing she can go with a legend, at least for now, the Lone Star Girl launches Cynthia up and over with a belly to belly suplex, the Hellion’s lids pinching shut over her baby blues when Cyn’s spine CRASHES against the canvas.
Belly to belly suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HYdCwrUYXQ ) :03
The veteran uses the momentum of her landing to roll to her feet and turn to find her young foe, but Mitchell finds all too much of Miss Mustang, getting levelled by a clothesline once and then a second time, Cynthia not rising after the last impact.
Heather passes on a pin, instead forcing Mitchell up for more. The Yellow Rose heaves Cynthia off to the far ropes and moves to the middle steadying for her return, the adrenaline flowing freely.
Crofton steps to Cynthia before she’s quite ready for the face to face, Heather pushing her hands upward into the Hellion’s arm pits and thrusting her foe off the canvas for a pop-up elbow smash.
Pop-up Elbow Smash ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YleegSvlGI )
The veteran crashes to the deck from the vicious impact, ending splayed in a spreadeagle at the fan favorite’s feet.
Heather leaps into a senton blast to Cynthia’s midriff and remains in a back press for the pin, collecting both legs to roll Mitchell into a cradle for the…
ONE…
TWO…
NOOO!
The Hellion shows she’s got more to burn, shoving the Texan to a seated position next to her then rolling to her chest to make certain she can’t be immediately pinned again.
Not appearing flustered in the least, Heather has other ideas than another near fall.
The blonde grabs Cynthia with a two-hand snatch of her foe’s noggin and yanks the suddenly struggling Cyn to wobbly feet. Securing a ¾ facelock over a shoulder, the Girl Scout of the next generation races to the nearest corner with Mitchell in tow.
Heather climbs the buckles, middle to top, then pushes away in a backflip, but instead of buttering Mitchell with her Texas Toast, midway through the maneuver, Cynthia counters. Having done her homework, the Hellion pivots with Crofton at her most vulnerable and sends her foe CRASHING to the canvas with a makeshift sidewalk slam.
Texas Toast www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoyDE-F5lO4 00:14 (countered at :18)
Sidewalk Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Znr7yWifeCw )
From the pain in the blonde’s eyes and the ragged arch in her backbone, the impact and anguish seem no less significant from the improvised nature of Cynthia’s genius.
Mitchell moves to the limp legs of the Lone Star Girl and rolls Heather into a cradle pin, leaning her torso atop Crofton’s upturned thighs in a rather suggestive pinfall that gets a…
ONE…
TWO…
And no more. Heather’s able to unfold from beneath the haughty predicament in which the veteran placed her. Crofton back somersaults and ends on her haunches, her chin drooping, the blonde feeling the effects of Mitchell’s ring-rattling counter.
Cynthia scurries to her feet and NAILS Heather with a super kick to the forehead of the kneeling Crofton, leaving the Yellow Rose in a stunned starfish, ripe for the picking. But instead of going for another pin, she hustles to the nearest corner, apparently choosing to go to the penthouse from the outside, as she slips through the ropes.
On the apron and noticing the stubborn Texan is starting to rise, Mitchell forgoes heading to the top, instead grabbing the uppermost cable with both hands. Showing her agility remains, the Carolina Hurricane leaps to the top rope and bounds off, nearly knocking a risen Heather’s head from her body with a Springboard Flying Forearm.
Springboard Flying Forearm (ref -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojhq-trYSUc
A grinning Cynthia wipes her hands dramatically, knowing her job tonight is done and she has reawakened her singles career. She crawls to the gobsmacked Crofton and drops atop her in a back press, raising an arm and lifting her fingers in time with the slaps of the mat at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Heather shoves a shoulder up and Cyn is in a state of shock seated next to her foe. She stares up at Carpenter demanding an explanation but gets only his two raised fingers to her three.
“Girl,” Mitchell says, not bothering to turn and look at the wreckage, “you might have a career here, but you’re not putting a roadblock in mine.”
Cynthia pushes to her feet and heads for the same corner as her last venture, this time deciding to climb the buckles from the inside. The brunette scales the corner and turns to face the Lone Star Girl, Heather determined to fight on against a superior foe.
Crofton pushes to her feet wearily and, blurry-eyed, tries to find her adversary, turning directly into a launching Cynthia. Mitchell’s boots lead the way toward Heather’s chest, the Hellion ready to blow Miss Mustang to smithereens with a missile drop kick.
But a wide-eyed Heather has reflexes enough to throw herself out of the flight path and Cynthia finds nothing but air then canvas-sheathed plywood, landing with a ring-rattling THUMP that draws a hearty celebration from much of the audience.
Both women are down for long seconds, Al starting a count for each. But these competitors aren’t about to be counted out and they struggle to vertical in unison.
While up together, Heather is quicker into action, surging toward her veteran foe with a clothesline that connects with clavicle and Mitchell is floored.
Standing at the feet of her foe, Heather quickly reaches down, collecting Mitchell’s legs behind the knees and locking her fingers. The blonde steps over and secures a Boston Crab on the Hellion, dropping her ass to the base of Cynthia’s spine, Mitchell grimacing and groaning from the pressure on her vertebrae.
“Give it up,” Heather demands, but Cynthia shakes her head, denying Crofton the upset win.
Turning up the strain, the Lone Star Girl drops into a bridge with Mitchell’s legs still in her possession, creating an ungodly curvature to Cynthia’s spine, an impressed crowd ‘WOAHING’ in response.
“How about now?” Crofton grunts, the crown of her head balancing precariously on the canvas.
Boston Crab ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrOPWEL7NCc )
Mitchell shows why she’s been at this for a generation, pressing her palms against the canvas, pushing up and slipping out the backside. Cynthia ends seated on a bridging Heather’s midriff and flattens her foe with a forearm to the chest.
Crofton gets her arms under a straddling Cynthia’s thighs and heaves her overhead before more damage can accumulate, Mitchell landing on hands and knees above the blonde’s braincase.
Each woman scrambles to her feet and the younger woman is quicker again, able to BLAST Mitchell with her signature Love Tap, a blistering double-barreled overhand slap to the brunette’s cleavage that stops the Hellion in her tracks.
Wincing from the searing smacks, Cynthia fails to prevent Heather from grabbing her noggin with a ¾ facelock and racing to the corner. Crofton successfully scales the buckles with Mitchell in tow and backflips to the successful conclusion of this slice of Texas Toast, RAMMING the back of Cyn’s skull into the deck.
Texas Toast www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoyDE-F5lO4 00:14
Miss Mustang scurries to a lateral press of the splattered Cynthia, hooking a leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Mitchell kicks loose, ending on a shoulder and hip, a look of frustration growing on Crofton’s features. She runs both sets of fingers through her flaxen locks, wondering what she must do to get what would be a signature win.
Crofton grabs Mitchell by a wrist and the scruff of her neck and pulls the veteran up with her, seemingly ready to send Cynthia for the ride, when Mitchell’s talons fly to her foe’s face and rake across the eyes of the blonde. Heather shrieks in pain, releasing her grip and blindly stumbling away from her foe, rubbing furiously at her eyes.
A huffing Cynthia, being pushed to the limit by the upstart, trails after, flushed in a fury about nearly losing. Grabbing a shoulder of the blinded blonde, Mitchell spins Heather to face her and delivers a delving toe kick to the tummy that doubles Crofton at the waist, Heather sucking air.
Cynthia pulls the lowered head between her legs and collects each limp arm in a hammerlock, but then releases them, opting for a swaddling grip around Heather’s gulping tummy.
Mitchell ‘hups’ the legs of the Yellow Rose off the canvas with a heave, Crofton moved to vertical, her head pointed dangerously toward the mat in piledriver position. The crowd groans in expectation and Cynthia does not disappoint, dropping to a seat and SPIKING Heather’s skull into the mat.
Double Hammerlock Piledriver ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYtE-nGatyM )
Cynthia scrambles to a back press pin of the flaccid remains of her foe, hooking the near leg for the inevitable result…
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOO!
With Carpenter’s palm no more than an inch from the mat, Heather slips a shoulder about that same distance off the canvas, Al shouting to the back row it’s only ‘TWO’.
A whimsical look crosses Mitchell’s baby blues, Cynthia joining Heather in being momentarily unsure how to put an end to her opponent. The difference is Mitchell knows what will end Crofton as it has any number of foes throughout the years.
A weary Cynthia pulls a rubbery Heather up with her, first to her knees and, after a bit of rest to regain some strength and balance, hauls the flaccid Yellow Rose up the rest of the way. With a sagging Lone Star Girl already stooped from exhaustion, Mitchell pulls her foe’s head between her ivory-skinned stems, readying a Drop Out to pluck the Yellow Rose once and for all.
Drop Out ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=34UOY9Tjejo ) :10
But before Mitchell can underhook Heather’s arms and drop to Crofton’s destruction, the Texan has a burst of energy, her arms encircling Cyn’s thighs. With a loud grunt of effort, the blonde hauls Cynthia off the canvas with a back body drop.
But the Hellion adjusts on her way up and over, countering the counter and managing to land on her feet.
As the combatants turn and stagger toward each other, Mitchell reaches for a front facelock, but Heather shifts to Mitchell’s side, grabbing Cynthia’s near leg. Miss Mustang hauls it back and swings it forward with incredible force, the limb acting like a pendulum that sweeps Cynthia off her feet, the Carolina Hurricane CRASHING to the canvas with an enormous impact, Heather’s Texas Tornado having claimed a casualty.
Texas Tornado ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2GIgmtiovI ) 2:02
The force of the blow sends Cynthia tumbling over in a back somersault, the veteran ending face down and unmoving. Heather shoves the slack Cyn to her back and dives atop in a crossbody pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
There isn’t a hint of movement from the comatose Mitchell and the FAWNatics erupt in exultation.
Heather is too spent to join them for long seconds, only able to roll to her back and lift her arms in triumph as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner, by pinfall, Heather Crofton!”
The proclamation seems to provide an adrenaline boost to the young woman. She kips to her feet, barely sticking the landing. The Yellow Rose from Grapevine staggers to the nearest corner and ascends, better to celebrate with her many admirers, pumping her fist with the knowledge she’s just had the biggest win of her career.
Delighting in the roar of the crowd and the enormity of the occasion, Crofton makes the rounds to the other corners, reaching the final one with as much joy and exuberance as the first.
But by the fourth, an extremely agitated Mitchell is recovered enough to reach the celebration from Heather’s six, sneaking under her elevated stems, and pulling the blonde off into an electronic chair position atop her shoulders.
The Hellion walks the startled, wide-eyed blonde to the middle where she lays out, SLAMMING Heather to the deck, Crofton THUMPING down across skull and spine.
But the wrath isn’t gone from the veteran. She rolls a semi-aware Heather to her chest and drops to a seat in front of her. Reaching forward, Mitchell grabs Heather’s left leg and pulls it toward her while slinking her legs around the Lone Star Girl’s head and neck with a figure-four head scissors.
Having secured the cruel Mortal Cyn submission on the victor, Cynthia punishes the awakening Crofton, wrenching leg and back while the vise on Heather’s head begins sending Heather to Dreamland.
Mortal Cyn ( i.imgur.com/uKOjadR.jpg )
As the crowd bellows its disapproval, a stirring sound moves through the FAWNatics that immediately tweaks the veteran’s senses and Mitchell can see Princess Giselle streaking down the aisle to the rescue.
Princess Giselle
![]()
Having made her point, Cynthia releases her hold and slides out the opposite side from Giselle’s entry. The Disney-adjacent royalty hovers protectively over the young blonde as a sneering Cynthia departs.
She checks on a wincing Miss Mustang, congratulating Heather on her win, but making sure this lesson has sunk in.
Never turn your back on those only out for themselves.
Crofton, massaging her aching back, assures the message has been received.
The brunette discusses the opportunity with her long-time partner in crime with Belle’s Hellions, Ivy Armstrong. The saucy Southern redhead offers to accompany but the most prolific of the Mitchell clan turns down the offer.
She’s fighting against an ingenue some consider the next Girl Scout version of Kylie Sanders and everyone, particularly Ivy, knows how she dominated the Iowan and all the other versions of the Pleasant Valley Princess.
Cyn moves to the ‘go’ position hands clenching in excitement, the din of the thousands-strong spectators on the other side of the curtain filling her ears.
CYNTHIA MITCHELL
IVY ARMSTRONG
“You got this,” Ivy assures in her soft Southern drawl.
“Shit yeah I do,” comes the reply.
“Beat this little rookie poser and start your way back to the top,” Armstrong adds, massaging her partner’s shoulders.
Mitchell’s baby blues close as she moves into her zone, breathing deeply, her eyes popping open at the sound of a voice piercing above the cacophony over the arena’s public address system.
“Our next match is scheduled for one fall and has a 20-minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from the Queen City of the South, Charlotte, North Carolina...standing five feet and seven inches, and weighing one hundred and twenty-one pounds...CYNTHIAAAAAAA MMMMMMMITCHELLLLLLLLL!"
Demi Lovato's "Confident" hits and as the curtain tears open (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwLRQn61oUY), the crowd showing its approval with a solid if unspectacular round of applause, a smattering of boos interspersing, drawing the hint of a sneer from the FAWN original.
Mitchell strides purposefully to the ring, focused on the battleground. She pays no heed to the outstretched hands reaching for her.
Mitchell is clad in a familiar ‘one-piece’--said outfit a deep purple number with a plunging 'V' neckline that goes all the way to her navel, and a backside that generously puts her fabled derriere on ample display. She wears matching purple ankle books.
Reaching ringside, Cynthia ascends the metal steps and slips between the ropes, moving to the center, ready for business.
She gives a perfunctory raise of her right arm to acknowledge the fans, but it remains clear her thoughts are elsewhere, namely on rekindling the smoldering singles portion of a career that may be entering its twilight.
Before Mitchell can lower her salute, the power pop of Tones and I’s Dance Monkey has people swaying in anticipation of the Yellow Rose.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q )
From stage right, a flaxen-haired fighter who’s been making some waves, including a PPV win over Cosette LeBlanc and some heavy dark match rotation, cheerily moves to center stage. What she lacks in experience, the fresh-faced grappler has in the energy of youth and a sweet disposition to which members of the audience are drawn.
HEATHER CROFTON
Vibrating with excitement over having a shot at a living embodiment of the legendary Mitchell family, the babyface blonde struts to center stage in time with the catchy ditty.
She spins through a pirouette and vogues for the delighted devotees, a vision in yellow.
The two-piece gear includes spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offers a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns are small caliber. She prances down the aisle, bouncing from side to side, slapping hands, joyous with a further opportunity to show the fans what she can do.
In the last several strides, the Texan takes off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and chest. She pushes to her feet and waggles through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly fades.
The Lone Star Girl approaches her adversary and offers a handshake. Cynthia stares at the proffered palm and declines, telling Heather she’s here for a fight, not a tea party.
Disappointed but accepting, Heather backpedals to the opposite buckles as the ring announcer takes the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“And her opponent. Fighting out of Grapevine, Texas. Standing 5’4” and weighing in at 122 pounds…Miss Mustang…Heather Crofton!”
The bubbly blonde leaps into the air, dropping into a set of splits. She pumps her first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grows when she shifts to a tiny ball, kips to her feet, and climbs to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Whaddya say, y’all?!”
The throng responds with a feisty endorsement until the bell sounds the match to order and Crofton spins and drops from her perch, hands raised for the approaching Cynthia, ready for a collar-and-elbow.
Mitchell responds with an extended right hand, offering the next gen, would-be star a shake with a real OG. The Yellow Rose is taken aback but lowers her arms and clasps the hand enthusiastically.
“This so aweSAHHH”
Crofton howls in pain as Cynthia uses the grip to pull Heather into an eye poke with the opposite thumb.
Heather wheels away, rubbing furiously at her injured orb, half-blinded, Mitchell chuckling at the jeers from the FAWNatics.
“What?” she shouts. “I’m just teaching the kid a lesson. And I’ve got a few more for her.”
The Hellion grabs Heather by a shoulder and spins the blonde to face her, then PLOWS a forearm shiver into Crofton’s jaw under her newly created blind spot. The Texan is staggered, arms pinwheeling to remain upright. Mitchell lays into her with another and another until Crofton is sagging into a set of buckles.
The Mitchell clan’s most famous member mounts the middle ropes, a leg on either side, and pulls Heather’s head back with a tight grip in her dirty golden locks. The Carolina Hurricane raises a balled fist high then pounds it into Heather’s pate, the crowd reflexively counting along for the full ten-spot before the veteran dismounts.
Mitchell draws Heather halfway down the ropes, latching onto a wrist and shoulder. Off Crofton goes with an Irish Whip. Or at least that was the plan. Instead, the plucky youngster, plants and pivots, reversing the whip. Instead, it’s Cynthia sprinting across the canvas, Heather moving to the middle to meet the returning Cynful One.
As Heather goes for a clothesline, Cynthia snatches the proffered limb and uses it to spin around the startled blonde, catching Heather in a front facelock as she moves to the opposite side. Before Crofton can consider any defense, she’s headed down, Mitchell floating over to a DDT, Miss Mustang’s skull PLANTED into the deck.
Floatover DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=68FSRxPLrjY ) :07
Heather ends in a dazed seated position after a somersault, eyes glassy. Instead of scrambling to a cover, a smirking Cyn rises to a seat of her own, casting a glance over her shoulder as Heather collapses to a shoulder and hip. Mitchell chuckles and pushes to her feet.
Cynthia bows gracefully to the unhappy audience and turns into a soccer lick to the base of Crofton’s spine, the pain waking Heather from her stupor as the Lone Star Girl’s back arches forward.
Mitchell steps her right leg over a stooped shoulder of her seated foe, then does likewise with the left and clamps on a standing headscissors, locking her stems at the ankles and flexing her sinewy thighs. Cynthia drops to her side, continuing to work the scissors on the canvas, Heather’s face growing rosier by the second as the Hurricane playfully stifles a yawn.
The Yellow Rose from Grapevine pries fruitlessly at Cynthia’s constricting legs, Mitchell’s perfect pearlies grinding as she gets every ounce of pressure from her lower limbs possible, Heather’s head in a vice. Panicking, the babyfaced blonde flails wildly, Cyn enjoying showing every second of her foe’s inexperience. In desperation, Miss Mustang pivots along the mat, moving her legs in the direction of the nearest set of ropes.
After a couple dozen seconds of strife, she manages to lay one over the bottom cable and Carpenter calls for the break.
Mitchell takes her sweet time, only releasing her pressurizing stems at the back end of ‘FOUR’. She slides away from the softly groaning Crofton and pushes to her feet, hovering over Heather. The brunette waits ‘patiently’, for a second or two, before putting the boots to the overmatched youngster, stomping a Carolina mudhole out of the traumatized Texan until Al puts an end to the beatdown with his count to ‘FOUR’.
Mitchell gives a final STOMP that sends the bruised Heather rolling under the ropes and plopping to the cement below. Not interested in giving Crofton time to recover, Cynthia follows her out and rips her off the arena floor by her hair.
The Hellion grabs a wrist and whips Heather the brief distance to the steel railing, Crofton with just enough time to turn into a spine-first collision, the Lone Star Girl’s features twisting in pain. Cynthia turns the forlorn blonde to face her fans and squeezes her cheeks into a fish-face.
“This is what’s to come?” Cyn shouts. “I weep for the youth. Or better yet…I make them weep!”
Mitchell turns Heather back to the ring and heaves her into a headlong collision with the ring post, Heather’s head snapping back from the disturbing collision.
With Carpenter at a ‘patient eight’ on his count, the Hurricane scrapes what’s left of the puddled Crofton and throws her back in under the bottom rope. Cynthia hops to the apron and slides between the top and middle cable.
Mitchell moves to Heather’s side, waiting for her prey to rise, the Yellow Rose slowly pushing from hands and knees toward vertical. As she does, the Hellion springs into action, leaping and snatching Heather’s braincase in one fluid motion then POUNDING her face into the thinly-sheathed plywood, finishing off a sterling performance with her Carolina Blues.
Carolina Blues ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tXjmTPxmUo )
Cynthia crawls to the splayed Lone Star Girl and drops in am unconcerned crossbody pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Heather kicks a shoulder off the canvas to the pleasure of the crowd and the annoyance of the veteran shitkicker.
Cynthia piefacecs Crofton to her back, rises and drives a boot deep into the blonde’s solar plexus. But the punishment isn’t about to end there.
Mitchell strides to the nearest corner and clambers topside, turning and facing her target from the uppermost buckle. She raises an arm and twirls an imaginary lasso, mocking Miss Mustang then settles into a crouch and launches HIGH into the Orlando airspace.
At the top of her travels, Cynthia’s frame tucks in a tight ball before opening wide, Mitchell descending in a breathtaking frog splash THAT FINDS HEATHER’S KNEES.
The Cynful One impales herself on the lifted kneecaps and flops away, spasming and swaddling her roiling tummy, the majority of the crowd finally getting a chance to cheer, the outnumbered Old Schoolers in the audience silenced.
A hurting Heather takes a peek at the cursing Cyn and, seemingly encouraged by the sight, wearily pushes to vertical and strides to her veteran foe.
Crofton tugs Mitchell to her feet by a wrist and moves snugly chest to chest, wrapping her arms around the brunette’s back. Showing she can go with a legend, at least for now, the Lone Star Girl launches Cynthia up and over with a belly to belly suplex, the Hellion’s lids pinching shut over her baby blues when Cyn’s spine CRASHES against the canvas.
Belly to belly suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HYdCwrUYXQ ) :03
The veteran uses the momentum of her landing to roll to her feet and turn to find her young foe, but Mitchell finds all too much of Miss Mustang, getting levelled by a clothesline once and then a second time, Cynthia not rising after the last impact.
Heather passes on a pin, instead forcing Mitchell up for more. The Yellow Rose heaves Cynthia off to the far ropes and moves to the middle steadying for her return, the adrenaline flowing freely.
Crofton steps to Cynthia before she’s quite ready for the face to face, Heather pushing her hands upward into the Hellion’s arm pits and thrusting her foe off the canvas for a pop-up elbow smash.
Pop-up Elbow Smash ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YleegSvlGI )
The veteran crashes to the deck from the vicious impact, ending splayed in a spreadeagle at the fan favorite’s feet.
Heather leaps into a senton blast to Cynthia’s midriff and remains in a back press for the pin, collecting both legs to roll Mitchell into a cradle for the…
ONE…
TWO…
NOOO!
The Hellion shows she’s got more to burn, shoving the Texan to a seated position next to her then rolling to her chest to make certain she can’t be immediately pinned again.
Not appearing flustered in the least, Heather has other ideas than another near fall.
The blonde grabs Cynthia with a two-hand snatch of her foe’s noggin and yanks the suddenly struggling Cyn to wobbly feet. Securing a ¾ facelock over a shoulder, the Girl Scout of the next generation races to the nearest corner with Mitchell in tow.
Heather climbs the buckles, middle to top, then pushes away in a backflip, but instead of buttering Mitchell with her Texas Toast, midway through the maneuver, Cynthia counters. Having done her homework, the Hellion pivots with Crofton at her most vulnerable and sends her foe CRASHING to the canvas with a makeshift sidewalk slam.
Texas Toast www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoyDE-F5lO4 00:14 (countered at :18)
Sidewalk Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Znr7yWifeCw )
From the pain in the blonde’s eyes and the ragged arch in her backbone, the impact and anguish seem no less significant from the improvised nature of Cynthia’s genius.
Mitchell moves to the limp legs of the Lone Star Girl and rolls Heather into a cradle pin, leaning her torso atop Crofton’s upturned thighs in a rather suggestive pinfall that gets a…
ONE…
TWO…
And no more. Heather’s able to unfold from beneath the haughty predicament in which the veteran placed her. Crofton back somersaults and ends on her haunches, her chin drooping, the blonde feeling the effects of Mitchell’s ring-rattling counter.
Cynthia scurries to her feet and NAILS Heather with a super kick to the forehead of the kneeling Crofton, leaving the Yellow Rose in a stunned starfish, ripe for the picking. But instead of going for another pin, she hustles to the nearest corner, apparently choosing to go to the penthouse from the outside, as she slips through the ropes.
On the apron and noticing the stubborn Texan is starting to rise, Mitchell forgoes heading to the top, instead grabbing the uppermost cable with both hands. Showing her agility remains, the Carolina Hurricane leaps to the top rope and bounds off, nearly knocking a risen Heather’s head from her body with a Springboard Flying Forearm.
Springboard Flying Forearm (ref -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojhq-trYSUc
A grinning Cynthia wipes her hands dramatically, knowing her job tonight is done and she has reawakened her singles career. She crawls to the gobsmacked Crofton and drops atop her in a back press, raising an arm and lifting her fingers in time with the slaps of the mat at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Heather shoves a shoulder up and Cyn is in a state of shock seated next to her foe. She stares up at Carpenter demanding an explanation but gets only his two raised fingers to her three.
“Girl,” Mitchell says, not bothering to turn and look at the wreckage, “you might have a career here, but you’re not putting a roadblock in mine.”
Cynthia pushes to her feet and heads for the same corner as her last venture, this time deciding to climb the buckles from the inside. The brunette scales the corner and turns to face the Lone Star Girl, Heather determined to fight on against a superior foe.
Crofton pushes to her feet wearily and, blurry-eyed, tries to find her adversary, turning directly into a launching Cynthia. Mitchell’s boots lead the way toward Heather’s chest, the Hellion ready to blow Miss Mustang to smithereens with a missile drop kick.
But a wide-eyed Heather has reflexes enough to throw herself out of the flight path and Cynthia finds nothing but air then canvas-sheathed plywood, landing with a ring-rattling THUMP that draws a hearty celebration from much of the audience.
Both women are down for long seconds, Al starting a count for each. But these competitors aren’t about to be counted out and they struggle to vertical in unison.
While up together, Heather is quicker into action, surging toward her veteran foe with a clothesline that connects with clavicle and Mitchell is floored.
Standing at the feet of her foe, Heather quickly reaches down, collecting Mitchell’s legs behind the knees and locking her fingers. The blonde steps over and secures a Boston Crab on the Hellion, dropping her ass to the base of Cynthia’s spine, Mitchell grimacing and groaning from the pressure on her vertebrae.
“Give it up,” Heather demands, but Cynthia shakes her head, denying Crofton the upset win.
Turning up the strain, the Lone Star Girl drops into a bridge with Mitchell’s legs still in her possession, creating an ungodly curvature to Cynthia’s spine, an impressed crowd ‘WOAHING’ in response.
“How about now?” Crofton grunts, the crown of her head balancing precariously on the canvas.
Boston Crab ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrOPWEL7NCc )
Mitchell shows why she’s been at this for a generation, pressing her palms against the canvas, pushing up and slipping out the backside. Cynthia ends seated on a bridging Heather’s midriff and flattens her foe with a forearm to the chest.
Crofton gets her arms under a straddling Cynthia’s thighs and heaves her overhead before more damage can accumulate, Mitchell landing on hands and knees above the blonde’s braincase.
Each woman scrambles to her feet and the younger woman is quicker again, able to BLAST Mitchell with her signature Love Tap, a blistering double-barreled overhand slap to the brunette’s cleavage that stops the Hellion in her tracks.
Wincing from the searing smacks, Cynthia fails to prevent Heather from grabbing her noggin with a ¾ facelock and racing to the corner. Crofton successfully scales the buckles with Mitchell in tow and backflips to the successful conclusion of this slice of Texas Toast, RAMMING the back of Cyn’s skull into the deck.
Texas Toast www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoyDE-F5lO4 00:14
Miss Mustang scurries to a lateral press of the splattered Cynthia, hooking a leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Mitchell kicks loose, ending on a shoulder and hip, a look of frustration growing on Crofton’s features. She runs both sets of fingers through her flaxen locks, wondering what she must do to get what would be a signature win.
Crofton grabs Mitchell by a wrist and the scruff of her neck and pulls the veteran up with her, seemingly ready to send Cynthia for the ride, when Mitchell’s talons fly to her foe’s face and rake across the eyes of the blonde. Heather shrieks in pain, releasing her grip and blindly stumbling away from her foe, rubbing furiously at her eyes.
A huffing Cynthia, being pushed to the limit by the upstart, trails after, flushed in a fury about nearly losing. Grabbing a shoulder of the blinded blonde, Mitchell spins Heather to face her and delivers a delving toe kick to the tummy that doubles Crofton at the waist, Heather sucking air.
Cynthia pulls the lowered head between her legs and collects each limp arm in a hammerlock, but then releases them, opting for a swaddling grip around Heather’s gulping tummy.
Mitchell ‘hups’ the legs of the Yellow Rose off the canvas with a heave, Crofton moved to vertical, her head pointed dangerously toward the mat in piledriver position. The crowd groans in expectation and Cynthia does not disappoint, dropping to a seat and SPIKING Heather’s skull into the mat.
Double Hammerlock Piledriver ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYtE-nGatyM )
Cynthia scrambles to a back press pin of the flaccid remains of her foe, hooking the near leg for the inevitable result…
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOO!
With Carpenter’s palm no more than an inch from the mat, Heather slips a shoulder about that same distance off the canvas, Al shouting to the back row it’s only ‘TWO’.
A whimsical look crosses Mitchell’s baby blues, Cynthia joining Heather in being momentarily unsure how to put an end to her opponent. The difference is Mitchell knows what will end Crofton as it has any number of foes throughout the years.
A weary Cynthia pulls a rubbery Heather up with her, first to her knees and, after a bit of rest to regain some strength and balance, hauls the flaccid Yellow Rose up the rest of the way. With a sagging Lone Star Girl already stooped from exhaustion, Mitchell pulls her foe’s head between her ivory-skinned stems, readying a Drop Out to pluck the Yellow Rose once and for all.
Drop Out ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=34UOY9Tjejo ) :10
But before Mitchell can underhook Heather’s arms and drop to Crofton’s destruction, the Texan has a burst of energy, her arms encircling Cyn’s thighs. With a loud grunt of effort, the blonde hauls Cynthia off the canvas with a back body drop.
But the Hellion adjusts on her way up and over, countering the counter and managing to land on her feet.
As the combatants turn and stagger toward each other, Mitchell reaches for a front facelock, but Heather shifts to Mitchell’s side, grabbing Cynthia’s near leg. Miss Mustang hauls it back and swings it forward with incredible force, the limb acting like a pendulum that sweeps Cynthia off her feet, the Carolina Hurricane CRASHING to the canvas with an enormous impact, Heather’s Texas Tornado having claimed a casualty.
Texas Tornado ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2GIgmtiovI ) 2:02
The force of the blow sends Cynthia tumbling over in a back somersault, the veteran ending face down and unmoving. Heather shoves the slack Cyn to her back and dives atop in a crossbody pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
There isn’t a hint of movement from the comatose Mitchell and the FAWNatics erupt in exultation.
Heather is too spent to join them for long seconds, only able to roll to her back and lift her arms in triumph as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner, by pinfall, Heather Crofton!”
The proclamation seems to provide an adrenaline boost to the young woman. She kips to her feet, barely sticking the landing. The Yellow Rose from Grapevine staggers to the nearest corner and ascends, better to celebrate with her many admirers, pumping her fist with the knowledge she’s just had the biggest win of her career.
Delighting in the roar of the crowd and the enormity of the occasion, Crofton makes the rounds to the other corners, reaching the final one with as much joy and exuberance as the first.
But by the fourth, an extremely agitated Mitchell is recovered enough to reach the celebration from Heather’s six, sneaking under her elevated stems, and pulling the blonde off into an electronic chair position atop her shoulders.
The Hellion walks the startled, wide-eyed blonde to the middle where she lays out, SLAMMING Heather to the deck, Crofton THUMPING down across skull and spine.
But the wrath isn’t gone from the veteran. She rolls a semi-aware Heather to her chest and drops to a seat in front of her. Reaching forward, Mitchell grabs Heather’s left leg and pulls it toward her while slinking her legs around the Lone Star Girl’s head and neck with a figure-four head scissors.
Having secured the cruel Mortal Cyn submission on the victor, Cynthia punishes the awakening Crofton, wrenching leg and back while the vise on Heather’s head begins sending Heather to Dreamland.
Mortal Cyn ( i.imgur.com/uKOjadR.jpg )
As the crowd bellows its disapproval, a stirring sound moves through the FAWNatics that immediately tweaks the veteran’s senses and Mitchell can see Princess Giselle streaking down the aisle to the rescue.
Princess Giselle
Having made her point, Cynthia releases her hold and slides out the opposite side from Giselle’s entry. The Disney-adjacent royalty hovers protectively over the young blonde as a sneering Cynthia departs.
She checks on a wincing Miss Mustang, congratulating Heather on her win, but making sure this lesson has sunk in.
Never turn your back on those only out for themselves.
Crofton, massaging her aching back, assures the message has been received.