Post by hawkeye on Aug 8, 2022 23:52:51 GMT
With Katy Perry’s California Gurls blasting from the arena’s speakers, the crowd rises as one to show their support for the Greater Good’s greatest goodiest grappler ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=F57P9C4SAW4 )
Her eye-blink reign as World Champion receding in the rearview mirror, marks and casuals still erupt in a cascade of cheers, knowing their beloved auburn-haired favorite will be joining them from Seventh Heaven.
Having adopted the enduring Golden State Wrestling icon back into the FAWN fold, the Angel’s Choir lets their adoration flow freely when the redhead emerges and takes a jaunty stance on the upper stage, hands on hips, deferential to the ovation.
COLLEEN O’NEAL
Though O’Neal hadn’t blossomed into a star until she left for the LA-based fed, she’s now a shining light in the organization that originally chewed her up and spat her out. And though it might be twilight for the long-time vet, she’s run with her Orlando opportunity and is finishing near the top of her game.
The Bay Area native enters her classic sprint to the ring, the long-time face of the Golden State dashing to the squared circle. She slides in under the bottom rope and pops to her feet, absorbing the ovation. The Angel claps and waves in return, excited for her next foray.
The redheaded veteran beams from ear to ear, garbed in her iconic tight spandex one-piece, halved in pink and sky blue with pink boots to mid-thigh and silver fingerless gloves.
Gear: ( www.dollskill.com/halloween-sexy-wrestling-champ-costume-set-pink-turquoise.html?gclid=Cj0KCQiAt_PuBRDcARIsAMNlBdr_8wE5qC_kyeTo6lFLvIAIVfi-oFHrA_YlWbDRyxEebaPXuRlroFIaAmIzEALw_wcB without the ‘belt’ ) .
The ring announcer waits for the music to fade to break through the ovation.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a 20-minute time limit! Standing 5’ 3” inches tall and weighing in at 114 pounds. From San Francisco, the auburn-haired artist, the Ginger Genius, the California Angel…Colleen O’Neal!”
The beloved Colleen bows to her reborn Choir, face flushing with excitement, the GSW icon ready to continue writing another of her glorious FAWN chapters at Red, White and Bruised.
With the treasured Angel floating amidst a sea of adoring fans, Richter scale rumbles immediately prompt a turn, the ovation changing to an earthquake-sized round of boos from the sellout throng, the masses knowing all too well what the tremor means.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’. A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
The ill-mannered, ass-kicking blonde Brat moves to center stage with a shit-eating ‘I’m the biggest bytch in town’ grin. Braddock settles and lets the animosity wash over her, hazel eyes shut, smile widening.
KAT BRADDOCK:
The buxom Brat’s peepers pop open and she strides down the ramp, casting an occasional glance from side to side, chuckling at the mob who make their presence known in increasingly animated fashion.
The curvy Quake strides toward Greater Goodness in her new booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece accentuating her curves both bottom and topside, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks, her boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
Kat’s gear (
and ( 
).
Dawdling ringside, Kat moves toward the announcer’s table as he provides Braddock’s introduction.
“And her opponent. From Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. The Brat. KAT BRADDOCK!”
The arena echoes with enmity, the vocal and virulent distaste impressive for someone relatively early in her career.
Braddock snatches the amplifier from the man’s hand and draws it to parted lips.
“Now that I’m done silencing the Fake Quakes, it’s time to get back to retiring these has-beens and, in the case of this bytch, the never-should-have-beens. Red. I [air-quote] convinced [air-quote] Emily West into taking Social Security a couple years early. You ain’t nothin’ compared to the Black Queen. But tell you what. I’ll treat you as shabby!”
Kat drops the microphone and races to the apron’s edge, sliding in underneath and popping to her feet. The blonde makes sure to direct Craig Long to keep her foe back, even though O’Neal hasn’t made a move. The Brat climbs her corner, spreads her arms high and wide, reveling in the reverberating boos, at least until the bell rings.
Kat drops to the canvas, turns, and beckons the Angel forward.
O’Neal doesn’t shirk, striding toward the Cali Quake and meeting her on the blonde’s side of the ring in a collar-and-elbow. Braddock quickly twists out of the lock-up, spinning through to a tight side headlock where she grinds the redhead’s noggin against her side.
The veteran shows her bona fides soon after, dipping and backpedaling out of the grip. Colleen catches a wrist on the way and tugs the limb behind, then ratchets the arm high in a hammerlock that has Kat wincing and rising to tiptoes to lessen the pressure.
Braddock tries to wriggle loose but is unable, so she throws a pointed elbow behind her. The GSW icon and former FAWN World Champion slips under the blow, catching the twisting off-balance blonde in a front bearhug. O’Neal immediately launches Braddock up and over with a belly-to-belly, but Kat lands on her feet, like her feline namesake.
The busty blonde hustles to the ropes in front of her and rebounds. She dips a shoulder to bury in the redhead’s chest, but O’Neal drops to the canvas and slinks her legs around an ankle of the advancing Quake. Kat stumbles to a teeth-rattling impact on her chin from an expertly applied drop toe hold.
Colleen dives atop her grounded adversary.
Ending in a forward-facing kneel over Braddock’s waist, O’Neal wraps her arms in front of Braddock’s flawless features, locking hands in a crossface grip then wrenching on the blonde’s neck. Kat grunts in pain and frustration as Colleen works her opponent.
Lead ref Nick Castle genuflects in front of the blonde and asks if Braddock wants to quit. He barely escapes an angry swipe from the woman who’s already secured a Lightweight Title match for Mania next month against Maria Alves. Losing the Pay-Per-View before, even against a former Worldie, wouldn’t be the best look.
Wriggling the little she can in the auburn-haired grappler’s control, Kat finally manages to lay an ankle on the bottom rope and Castle calls for the break. The California Angel releases promptly, pushing to her feet and pumping her fist, the crowd rallying behind the long-time veteran.
A snarling Braddock uses the ropes to climb to her feet and circles out of them. Far from humbled, she throws herself at O’Neal and is greeted with a raised knee from the redhead to her flat if spongy midriff.
Braddock gurgles from the bony cap impaled her, Kat’s boot soles leaving the canvas for a split-second as she folds. When The Brat’s earthbound, the Quake is bent and groaning. Colleen pivots away from the blonde, reaches over a shoulder, capturing Braddock in a ¾ facelock, and heaves Braddock in a front flip with a tight snap mare.
With her foe landing on her bountiful backside, the Angel follows with a swift kick to the base of Braddock’s spinal column. Kat lurches forward in an arch, her top pressed to contain its surging contents.
“Bytch,” Braddock mumbles, not completely under her breath, only just getting the words out before Colleen steps in front and delivers a side kick to the chin, putting Braddock flat to the canvas, massaging the impact point and blinking her dark eyes wide.
Showing the considerable athleticism remaining in her 40-something frame, the Angel rises to a handstand next to the splayed Kat. O’Neal rotates 180 degrees, so her knees are pointed inward to the curvy Quake, and she drops them, one into The Brat’s pneumatic chest, the other into Kat’s plush tummy.
A pained Braddock flinches, jackknifing slightly under O’Neal’s stabbing knees.
Colleen slides on her backside into a reverse straddle of Kat’s bruised bosom, snatching Braddock’s abbreviated stems and leaning back, folding the Brat in a matchbook for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Quake breaks free from the perilous grip, unfolding in time to shift a shoulder off the canvas.
O’Neal back somersaults off her lush cushioning, popping to her feet and surging to the nearby ropes at Braddock’s right side.
Colleen leaps into the middle ropes while grabbing the top. She springboards out of the rubber-coated steel, spinning as she takes to the air, her ivory-skinned legs outstretched for a legdrop across the chest and throat of the beleaguered Brat.
But Kat rolls clear, leaving the Ginger Genius to appear less than a Mensa member, PLANTING her tailbone into the canvas.
Colleen yelps, hands slipping beneath her aching derriere while a huffing Brat rises to her haunches. She rises to vertical and backpedals a couple steps into the cables behind her, rebounding from the ropes and aiming a punt at the redhead’s chin.
A grimacing Angel falls flat to the deck and Braddock’s boot comes up empty. She staggers past, collecting her balance in coming to a stop. Kat spins to a rising O’Neal, the Angel turning in the Quake’s direction before being nearly ripped in half with some Cali-on-Cali violence courtesy a malicious SPEAR.
The baby blue-bugeyed Colleen folds around the weaponized right shoulder of Braddock, Kat following through on her tackle, THUMPING the breathless redhead into the canvas.
In a kneeling straddle of the retching Angel, Braddock fashions her fingers into claws and digs them into the thin layer of spandex covering O’Neal’s chest. The Brat uses her kat-fighting prowess to rip and tear into the tender tissue, Colleen squealing as she breathlessly tries to rock the blonde off her while her palms wrap around Kat’s wrists. Desperately, she attempts to pull the talons off her bosom as Braddock squeeeezes for all she’s worth.
“Bytch,” she shouts in the pained visage of the Ginger Genius, “even with all the years you’ve been around, you ain’t never faced anyone like me.”
Releasing her right hand from around Braddock’s left wrist, the GSW icon realizing how fruitless the prying effort is, she instead balls a fist and RAMS it into Braddock’s jaw. The Brat’s head sways with each following blow, but it takes five before Kat’s sent rolling off the redhead.
O’Neal covers her gurls with a protective left arm while snapping her gear back in proper alignment with her right. A couple steps away, the beach blonde is on her feet, shaking the cobwebs.
Kat dips to grab a wrist and shoulder and yank the grimacing veteran to her feet. The Brat aims Colleen for the far buckles and flings the former World Champ with an Irish Whip that sends O’Neal racing and turning into a full-speed, back-first collision into buckles.
The toss from the short but power-packed blonde creates such force in the impact Colleen bounces out in a drunken stagger, right into the greedy embrace of the one remaining California Quake mid-ring.
Kat collects Colleen under the curve of her glute on one side and her back on the other, scooping the wide-eyed, auburn-haired grappler off her feet then pivoting to a ring-rattling Spinebuster that elicits a sympathetic ‘OOOOH’ from the FAWNatics.
Spinebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=-9yXZ6Y9kvo&t=115s ) 2:12
The vertically-challenged fireplug stares down at her slighter flyweight foe, predatory grin seeping into view.
“You’re joining the rest of them, Red,” Braddock informs. “They face me, they KNOW it’s time to head off to pasture. They’re tired, old sheep and I’m a God damn wolf.”
A hovering Braddock puts the boot to O’Neal until she turtles into a fetal ball, the mudhole stomping of the Angel silencing the crowd, Colleen left whimpering from the simple, brutal assault.
A sneering Kat presses a sole against O’Neal’s hip and disdainfully shoves her foe. She motions to the battered veteran.
“Get your ass up!”
Colleen pushes to hands and knees and crawls toward the ropes.
“Nah, nah, nah. No time outs.”
The Brat latches onto an ankle and pulls Colleen back to dead center. Lifting the limb, she exposes the midriff of the overturned O’Neal and thrusts a punt into the pink-n-blue encased tummy of the one-time Queen of the FAWN Mountain.
Twisting the redhead to her back with left leg still raised, The Brat grabs Colleen’s right ankle, making for a threatening pair. She spread the slender stems wide and raises her stompin’ foot above the juncture her adversary’s thighs.
“Beg!” Braddock shouts. “Beg for mercy!”
The Ginger Genius gives Kat a one-fingered salute instead, sealing her fate as The Brat trudges upon O’Neil’s crotch, grinding it in for good measure.
Colleen shrieks in anguish, waves of pain throbbing to all bodily locations from below. A smirking Kat throws the limbs aside scornfully, a gurgling, moaning O’Neal collapsing in upon herself, surrounding her tenderized center.
The cheery Kat strolls around her foe, playing to the jeering horde. She motions for more hate from the throng…and gets it.
Finally returning to Colleen when the Golden State Warrior reaches her knocking knees, Braddock tugs O’Neal up the rest of the way. Realizing the redhead is essentially frozen in place by the after-effects of the crotch shot, Braddock starts to pop left jabs into O’Neil’s chin amidst her best Ali shuffle impersonation. After a half-dozen, she kisses her balled right hand and throws the exclamation point, only to have it blocked by a raised forearm from the redhead.
Flabbergasted, the Cali Quake barely reacts when Colleen fires back with a right of her own, Kat’s golden locks sent flying when her head snaps from the impact.
Snarling, Braddock responds with another volley, but it’s blocked again and O’Neal POUNDS a right cross into Kat’s jaw, Braddock’s braincase whipping in the opposite direction.
When it returns, the stubborn Braddock throws again, only for a third successive block, the Ginger Genius finishing the firing line with an uppercut blast to the chin that knocks The Brat on her ass to the raucous delight of the FAWNatics.
A glassy-eyed Braddock, propping on her palms, ass on the deck, looks up in bewilderment. A wincing, limping O’Neal, still suffering from the low blow, isn’t done with her.
The San Fran native sinks a set of fingers into the long flaxen waves of the beach blonde, pulling the dipped head of The Brat into a front facelock. The redhead throws her left leg back as far as the pain allows, then swings the lower limb forward for added momentum as she lays out and delivers a patented Spike DDT, PLANTING the crown of Kat’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Spike DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=P13SzZjauNs )
A semiconscious Brat ends seated on her plush cheeks in a stupor, staring blankly into the roaring crowd. From behind, the Ginger Genius pulls her foe flat and dives across in a lateral press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
NO!
Braddock throws a shoulder up with a second to spare, flopping to her right hip and shoulder, O’Neal showing a hint of disappointment but more excited about having wrested control from Kat’s claws.
Surrounding Braddock’s head in her hands, O’Neal’s moves more smoothly to her feet, pulling a rubbery Brat to vertical with her. But not all verticals are equal and O’Neal slips behind the curvy blonde fireplug.
The GSW icon wraps her arms around the plush waistline of the Cali Quake and, from Kat’s six, squeezes tight, lifting Braddock off the canvas a few inches in a belly-to-back bearhug.
The Angel’s Choir knows what’s coming next and they’re not disappointed when the airborne Kat is sent dropping face and chest-first to the canvas with Colleen on top of her in a readymade splash position, squashing the Brat with her Golden Bear.
The redhead rolls the demolished Braddock to her back and mounts in a full-body pin, Kat’s arms fastened to the canvas above her head for the pin and the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Kat lifts a shoulder off the canvas only for O’Neal to press it back down for…
ONE…
TWO…
The Brat shoves the blade from the mat again, shifting her hips in the same direction and rocking the slightly smaller, auburn-haired grappler off her. Colleen uses the opportunity to grab Kat’s golden locks and pull the supposed Legend Killer to her feet.
O’Neal shifts her grip to a wrist and shoulder and Irish Whips Braddock to the far buckles, Kat spinning into a nasty back-first connection only magnified when the redhead follows her in and BLASTS Kat with an Angelic Splash.
Remaining tight to the flaccid blonde to keep Braddock from collapsing, O’Neal snaps her foe’s head with a European Uppercut then circles behind the pacified Brat, climbing to a stance on the outside of the middle ropes. With a dazed Braddock in front of her, the Ginger Genius reaches for the Quake’s noggin to knock off the soon-to-be lightweight title challenger with her devastating California Dreamin’.
California Dreamin’ ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SqoXOORyrQ ) :51
But before Colleen can launch and knock Kat into next week, she wraps her arms tightly around the top rope on either side of the corner and when O’Neal launches she makes the trip alone. The off-balance redhead lands awkwardly, CRASHING to earth on the base of her spine.
Momentum leaving her in a slumped seated position, the grimacing Angel is unaware how eager Braddock is to turn the tables. Surging forward, the curvy blonde leaps in a front flip over Colleen’s right shoulder, snatching O’Neal’s head on the fly-by and PLANTING her foe’s face into the deck between her outstretched legs.
Neck Snap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjJAfo_-NuQ )
The demolished Angel absently flops to her back and a huffing Kat isn’t about to look past the opportunity to end this war. She flops across the redhead’s frame in a lateral press, hooking the far leg for good measure, garnering the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Golden State Warrior kicks loose of the attempted pinfall, ending on her side, baby blues blinking wide as she reflexively reaches for the ropes, not far removed from her wriggling fingers.
A snarling Kat uses the raised arm as a handle at the wrist, pulling the limb wide and mounting it. The curvy blonde hops in the air and SLAMS her abundant backside against O’Neal’s shoulder joint, drawing a yelp from her adversary.
Perking up from the sound, Braddock repeats the maneuver a second and third time before stepping over the captured limb and pulling the veteran to her feet. Shifting her braincase back, the Brat swings it forward, DRIVING her forehead into the cleft of O’Neal’s bosom. The thump from Kat’s distinctive Heart Butt has Colleen on rubbery legs, O’Neal’s head bobbling and jaw slack as the redhead’s blood pumper skips out of rhythm for a beat or two.
With a glassy-eyed Angel swaying in front of her, Kat takes off for the ropes behind her, rebounding at full speed into a running hip check that finishes the job, Colleen sent flying to the canvas, ending in a wide spreadeagle.
But The Brat’s not done wielding her ass. She pulls a shellshocked O’Neal to a seat, grabs a handful of auburn locks to keep her in place and delivers a set of Bratty Butt Bumpers, knocking the senses from her foe while also upping the humiliation factor. Never a bad thing in Braddock’s estimation.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
Finally relenting after a half dozen, and with the redhead laid out, Colleen rests on her right hip and shoulder, baby blues staring blankly.
Kat collects one of the redhead’s ankles and lifts the limb high, surrounding the joint with both hands. She moves a boot sole to the opposite ankle to pin it in place and, with a predatory grin, drops to her back, delivering a Wishbone attack that leaves Colleen howling. O’Neal grasps at her overextended groin muscles, curdling into a fetal ball.
Next to her foe, on all fours, The Brat looks gleeful.
Kat latches onto the Angel’s auburn locks with both hands and tugs a whimpering O’Neal to her feet. She yanks Colleen into a front facelock, sweeping the redhead’s limp left arm over the back of her neck. With a swift ‘hup’ of her adversary, Braddock elevates Colleen into a cradle position against her chest, right arm curled around the pit of O’Neal’s left knee.
The FAWNatics plead for an escape from their favorite but none is forthcoming, Kat laying out and SPIKING the crown of Colleen’s skull into the canvas with her Kat Nap, the California Angel out cold before she comes to rest in a motionless starfish.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYABwz8Xi44 )
The crowd falls silent as a seated Braddock drapes herself in a back press across the comatose Colleen for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
A grinning Brat gazes to the rafters, lifting her arms high as she lounges, enjoying the tolling of the bell and the confirmation from the ring announcer.
“Your winner, by pinfall, Kat Braddock!”
The curvy blonde rises off the vanquished Angel and rolls to her haunches. She lifts the unconscious Ginger Genius to a slumped seat and points her slack face to the nearest lens.
“This is your fate, your majesty,” Kat chuckles. “On the biggest stage in FAWN the King will be dethroned and it will only be the beginning. The California Quake will leave the rest of the roster rubble, like Emily West and this sad decrepit woman.”
Braddock tosses Colleen aside, O’Neal ending in a crumpled pile.
The Brat rises, places a boot on the redhead’s hip and motions across her midriff, the next home of FAWN’s lightweight championship.
Her eye-blink reign as World Champion receding in the rearview mirror, marks and casuals still erupt in a cascade of cheers, knowing their beloved auburn-haired favorite will be joining them from Seventh Heaven.
Having adopted the enduring Golden State Wrestling icon back into the FAWN fold, the Angel’s Choir lets their adoration flow freely when the redhead emerges and takes a jaunty stance on the upper stage, hands on hips, deferential to the ovation.
COLLEEN O’NEAL
Though O’Neal hadn’t blossomed into a star until she left for the LA-based fed, she’s now a shining light in the organization that originally chewed her up and spat her out. And though it might be twilight for the long-time vet, she’s run with her Orlando opportunity and is finishing near the top of her game.
The Bay Area native enters her classic sprint to the ring, the long-time face of the Golden State dashing to the squared circle. She slides in under the bottom rope and pops to her feet, absorbing the ovation. The Angel claps and waves in return, excited for her next foray.
The redheaded veteran beams from ear to ear, garbed in her iconic tight spandex one-piece, halved in pink and sky blue with pink boots to mid-thigh and silver fingerless gloves.
Gear: ( www.dollskill.com/halloween-sexy-wrestling-champ-costume-set-pink-turquoise.html?gclid=Cj0KCQiAt_PuBRDcARIsAMNlBdr_8wE5qC_kyeTo6lFLvIAIVfi-oFHrA_YlWbDRyxEebaPXuRlroFIaAmIzEALw_wcB without the ‘belt’ ) .
The ring announcer waits for the music to fade to break through the ovation.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a 20-minute time limit! Standing 5’ 3” inches tall and weighing in at 114 pounds. From San Francisco, the auburn-haired artist, the Ginger Genius, the California Angel…Colleen O’Neal!”
The beloved Colleen bows to her reborn Choir, face flushing with excitement, the GSW icon ready to continue writing another of her glorious FAWN chapters at Red, White and Bruised.
With the treasured Angel floating amidst a sea of adoring fans, Richter scale rumbles immediately prompt a turn, the ovation changing to an earthquake-sized round of boos from the sellout throng, the masses knowing all too well what the tremor means.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’. A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
The ill-mannered, ass-kicking blonde Brat moves to center stage with a shit-eating ‘I’m the biggest bytch in town’ grin. Braddock settles and lets the animosity wash over her, hazel eyes shut, smile widening.
KAT BRADDOCK:
The buxom Brat’s peepers pop open and she strides down the ramp, casting an occasional glance from side to side, chuckling at the mob who make their presence known in increasingly animated fashion.
The curvy Quake strides toward Greater Goodness in her new booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece accentuating her curves both bottom and topside, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks, her boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
Kat’s gear (
and ( ).Dawdling ringside, Kat moves toward the announcer’s table as he provides Braddock’s introduction.
“And her opponent. From Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. The Brat. KAT BRADDOCK!”
The arena echoes with enmity, the vocal and virulent distaste impressive for someone relatively early in her career.
Braddock snatches the amplifier from the man’s hand and draws it to parted lips.
“Now that I’m done silencing the Fake Quakes, it’s time to get back to retiring these has-beens and, in the case of this bytch, the never-should-have-beens. Red. I [air-quote] convinced [air-quote] Emily West into taking Social Security a couple years early. You ain’t nothin’ compared to the Black Queen. But tell you what. I’ll treat you as shabby!”
Kat drops the microphone and races to the apron’s edge, sliding in underneath and popping to her feet. The blonde makes sure to direct Craig Long to keep her foe back, even though O’Neal hasn’t made a move. The Brat climbs her corner, spreads her arms high and wide, reveling in the reverberating boos, at least until the bell rings.
Kat drops to the canvas, turns, and beckons the Angel forward.
O’Neal doesn’t shirk, striding toward the Cali Quake and meeting her on the blonde’s side of the ring in a collar-and-elbow. Braddock quickly twists out of the lock-up, spinning through to a tight side headlock where she grinds the redhead’s noggin against her side.
The veteran shows her bona fides soon after, dipping and backpedaling out of the grip. Colleen catches a wrist on the way and tugs the limb behind, then ratchets the arm high in a hammerlock that has Kat wincing and rising to tiptoes to lessen the pressure.
Braddock tries to wriggle loose but is unable, so she throws a pointed elbow behind her. The GSW icon and former FAWN World Champion slips under the blow, catching the twisting off-balance blonde in a front bearhug. O’Neal immediately launches Braddock up and over with a belly-to-belly, but Kat lands on her feet, like her feline namesake.
The busty blonde hustles to the ropes in front of her and rebounds. She dips a shoulder to bury in the redhead’s chest, but O’Neal drops to the canvas and slinks her legs around an ankle of the advancing Quake. Kat stumbles to a teeth-rattling impact on her chin from an expertly applied drop toe hold.
Colleen dives atop her grounded adversary.
Ending in a forward-facing kneel over Braddock’s waist, O’Neal wraps her arms in front of Braddock’s flawless features, locking hands in a crossface grip then wrenching on the blonde’s neck. Kat grunts in pain and frustration as Colleen works her opponent.
Lead ref Nick Castle genuflects in front of the blonde and asks if Braddock wants to quit. He barely escapes an angry swipe from the woman who’s already secured a Lightweight Title match for Mania next month against Maria Alves. Losing the Pay-Per-View before, even against a former Worldie, wouldn’t be the best look.
Wriggling the little she can in the auburn-haired grappler’s control, Kat finally manages to lay an ankle on the bottom rope and Castle calls for the break. The California Angel releases promptly, pushing to her feet and pumping her fist, the crowd rallying behind the long-time veteran.
A snarling Braddock uses the ropes to climb to her feet and circles out of them. Far from humbled, she throws herself at O’Neal and is greeted with a raised knee from the redhead to her flat if spongy midriff.
Braddock gurgles from the bony cap impaled her, Kat’s boot soles leaving the canvas for a split-second as she folds. When The Brat’s earthbound, the Quake is bent and groaning. Colleen pivots away from the blonde, reaches over a shoulder, capturing Braddock in a ¾ facelock, and heaves Braddock in a front flip with a tight snap mare.
With her foe landing on her bountiful backside, the Angel follows with a swift kick to the base of Braddock’s spinal column. Kat lurches forward in an arch, her top pressed to contain its surging contents.
“Bytch,” Braddock mumbles, not completely under her breath, only just getting the words out before Colleen steps in front and delivers a side kick to the chin, putting Braddock flat to the canvas, massaging the impact point and blinking her dark eyes wide.
Showing the considerable athleticism remaining in her 40-something frame, the Angel rises to a handstand next to the splayed Kat. O’Neal rotates 180 degrees, so her knees are pointed inward to the curvy Quake, and she drops them, one into The Brat’s pneumatic chest, the other into Kat’s plush tummy.
A pained Braddock flinches, jackknifing slightly under O’Neal’s stabbing knees.
Colleen slides on her backside into a reverse straddle of Kat’s bruised bosom, snatching Braddock’s abbreviated stems and leaning back, folding the Brat in a matchbook for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Quake breaks free from the perilous grip, unfolding in time to shift a shoulder off the canvas.
O’Neal back somersaults off her lush cushioning, popping to her feet and surging to the nearby ropes at Braddock’s right side.
Colleen leaps into the middle ropes while grabbing the top. She springboards out of the rubber-coated steel, spinning as she takes to the air, her ivory-skinned legs outstretched for a legdrop across the chest and throat of the beleaguered Brat.
But Kat rolls clear, leaving the Ginger Genius to appear less than a Mensa member, PLANTING her tailbone into the canvas.
Colleen yelps, hands slipping beneath her aching derriere while a huffing Brat rises to her haunches. She rises to vertical and backpedals a couple steps into the cables behind her, rebounding from the ropes and aiming a punt at the redhead’s chin.
A grimacing Angel falls flat to the deck and Braddock’s boot comes up empty. She staggers past, collecting her balance in coming to a stop. Kat spins to a rising O’Neal, the Angel turning in the Quake’s direction before being nearly ripped in half with some Cali-on-Cali violence courtesy a malicious SPEAR.
The baby blue-bugeyed Colleen folds around the weaponized right shoulder of Braddock, Kat following through on her tackle, THUMPING the breathless redhead into the canvas.
In a kneeling straddle of the retching Angel, Braddock fashions her fingers into claws and digs them into the thin layer of spandex covering O’Neal’s chest. The Brat uses her kat-fighting prowess to rip and tear into the tender tissue, Colleen squealing as she breathlessly tries to rock the blonde off her while her palms wrap around Kat’s wrists. Desperately, she attempts to pull the talons off her bosom as Braddock squeeeezes for all she’s worth.
“Bytch,” she shouts in the pained visage of the Ginger Genius, “even with all the years you’ve been around, you ain’t never faced anyone like me.”
Releasing her right hand from around Braddock’s left wrist, the GSW icon realizing how fruitless the prying effort is, she instead balls a fist and RAMS it into Braddock’s jaw. The Brat’s head sways with each following blow, but it takes five before Kat’s sent rolling off the redhead.
O’Neal covers her gurls with a protective left arm while snapping her gear back in proper alignment with her right. A couple steps away, the beach blonde is on her feet, shaking the cobwebs.
Kat dips to grab a wrist and shoulder and yank the grimacing veteran to her feet. The Brat aims Colleen for the far buckles and flings the former World Champ with an Irish Whip that sends O’Neal racing and turning into a full-speed, back-first collision into buckles.
The toss from the short but power-packed blonde creates such force in the impact Colleen bounces out in a drunken stagger, right into the greedy embrace of the one remaining California Quake mid-ring.
Kat collects Colleen under the curve of her glute on one side and her back on the other, scooping the wide-eyed, auburn-haired grappler off her feet then pivoting to a ring-rattling Spinebuster that elicits a sympathetic ‘OOOOH’ from the FAWNatics.
Spinebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=-9yXZ6Y9kvo&t=115s ) 2:12
The vertically-challenged fireplug stares down at her slighter flyweight foe, predatory grin seeping into view.
“You’re joining the rest of them, Red,” Braddock informs. “They face me, they KNOW it’s time to head off to pasture. They’re tired, old sheep and I’m a God damn wolf.”
A hovering Braddock puts the boot to O’Neal until she turtles into a fetal ball, the mudhole stomping of the Angel silencing the crowd, Colleen left whimpering from the simple, brutal assault.
A sneering Kat presses a sole against O’Neal’s hip and disdainfully shoves her foe. She motions to the battered veteran.
“Get your ass up!”
Colleen pushes to hands and knees and crawls toward the ropes.
“Nah, nah, nah. No time outs.”
The Brat latches onto an ankle and pulls Colleen back to dead center. Lifting the limb, she exposes the midriff of the overturned O’Neal and thrusts a punt into the pink-n-blue encased tummy of the one-time Queen of the FAWN Mountain.
Twisting the redhead to her back with left leg still raised, The Brat grabs Colleen’s right ankle, making for a threatening pair. She spread the slender stems wide and raises her stompin’ foot above the juncture her adversary’s thighs.
“Beg!” Braddock shouts. “Beg for mercy!”
The Ginger Genius gives Kat a one-fingered salute instead, sealing her fate as The Brat trudges upon O’Neil’s crotch, grinding it in for good measure.
Colleen shrieks in anguish, waves of pain throbbing to all bodily locations from below. A smirking Kat throws the limbs aside scornfully, a gurgling, moaning O’Neal collapsing in upon herself, surrounding her tenderized center.
The cheery Kat strolls around her foe, playing to the jeering horde. She motions for more hate from the throng…and gets it.
Finally returning to Colleen when the Golden State Warrior reaches her knocking knees, Braddock tugs O’Neal up the rest of the way. Realizing the redhead is essentially frozen in place by the after-effects of the crotch shot, Braddock starts to pop left jabs into O’Neil’s chin amidst her best Ali shuffle impersonation. After a half-dozen, she kisses her balled right hand and throws the exclamation point, only to have it blocked by a raised forearm from the redhead.
Flabbergasted, the Cali Quake barely reacts when Colleen fires back with a right of her own, Kat’s golden locks sent flying when her head snaps from the impact.
Snarling, Braddock responds with another volley, but it’s blocked again and O’Neal POUNDS a right cross into Kat’s jaw, Braddock’s braincase whipping in the opposite direction.
When it returns, the stubborn Braddock throws again, only for a third successive block, the Ginger Genius finishing the firing line with an uppercut blast to the chin that knocks The Brat on her ass to the raucous delight of the FAWNatics.
A glassy-eyed Braddock, propping on her palms, ass on the deck, looks up in bewilderment. A wincing, limping O’Neal, still suffering from the low blow, isn’t done with her.
The San Fran native sinks a set of fingers into the long flaxen waves of the beach blonde, pulling the dipped head of The Brat into a front facelock. The redhead throws her left leg back as far as the pain allows, then swings the lower limb forward for added momentum as she lays out and delivers a patented Spike DDT, PLANTING the crown of Kat’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Spike DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=P13SzZjauNs )
A semiconscious Brat ends seated on her plush cheeks in a stupor, staring blankly into the roaring crowd. From behind, the Ginger Genius pulls her foe flat and dives across in a lateral press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
NO!
Braddock throws a shoulder up with a second to spare, flopping to her right hip and shoulder, O’Neal showing a hint of disappointment but more excited about having wrested control from Kat’s claws.
Surrounding Braddock’s head in her hands, O’Neal’s moves more smoothly to her feet, pulling a rubbery Brat to vertical with her. But not all verticals are equal and O’Neal slips behind the curvy blonde fireplug.
The GSW icon wraps her arms around the plush waistline of the Cali Quake and, from Kat’s six, squeezes tight, lifting Braddock off the canvas a few inches in a belly-to-back bearhug.
The Angel’s Choir knows what’s coming next and they’re not disappointed when the airborne Kat is sent dropping face and chest-first to the canvas with Colleen on top of her in a readymade splash position, squashing the Brat with her Golden Bear.
The redhead rolls the demolished Braddock to her back and mounts in a full-body pin, Kat’s arms fastened to the canvas above her head for the pin and the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Kat lifts a shoulder off the canvas only for O’Neal to press it back down for…
ONE…
TWO…
The Brat shoves the blade from the mat again, shifting her hips in the same direction and rocking the slightly smaller, auburn-haired grappler off her. Colleen uses the opportunity to grab Kat’s golden locks and pull the supposed Legend Killer to her feet.
O’Neal shifts her grip to a wrist and shoulder and Irish Whips Braddock to the far buckles, Kat spinning into a nasty back-first connection only magnified when the redhead follows her in and BLASTS Kat with an Angelic Splash.
Remaining tight to the flaccid blonde to keep Braddock from collapsing, O’Neal snaps her foe’s head with a European Uppercut then circles behind the pacified Brat, climbing to a stance on the outside of the middle ropes. With a dazed Braddock in front of her, the Ginger Genius reaches for the Quake’s noggin to knock off the soon-to-be lightweight title challenger with her devastating California Dreamin’.
California Dreamin’ ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SqoXOORyrQ ) :51
But before Colleen can launch and knock Kat into next week, she wraps her arms tightly around the top rope on either side of the corner and when O’Neal launches she makes the trip alone. The off-balance redhead lands awkwardly, CRASHING to earth on the base of her spine.
Momentum leaving her in a slumped seated position, the grimacing Angel is unaware how eager Braddock is to turn the tables. Surging forward, the curvy blonde leaps in a front flip over Colleen’s right shoulder, snatching O’Neal’s head on the fly-by and PLANTING her foe’s face into the deck between her outstretched legs.
Neck Snap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjJAfo_-NuQ )
The demolished Angel absently flops to her back and a huffing Kat isn’t about to look past the opportunity to end this war. She flops across the redhead’s frame in a lateral press, hooking the far leg for good measure, garnering the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Golden State Warrior kicks loose of the attempted pinfall, ending on her side, baby blues blinking wide as she reflexively reaches for the ropes, not far removed from her wriggling fingers.
A snarling Kat uses the raised arm as a handle at the wrist, pulling the limb wide and mounting it. The curvy blonde hops in the air and SLAMS her abundant backside against O’Neal’s shoulder joint, drawing a yelp from her adversary.
Perking up from the sound, Braddock repeats the maneuver a second and third time before stepping over the captured limb and pulling the veteran to her feet. Shifting her braincase back, the Brat swings it forward, DRIVING her forehead into the cleft of O’Neal’s bosom. The thump from Kat’s distinctive Heart Butt has Colleen on rubbery legs, O’Neal’s head bobbling and jaw slack as the redhead’s blood pumper skips out of rhythm for a beat or two.
With a glassy-eyed Angel swaying in front of her, Kat takes off for the ropes behind her, rebounding at full speed into a running hip check that finishes the job, Colleen sent flying to the canvas, ending in a wide spreadeagle.
But The Brat’s not done wielding her ass. She pulls a shellshocked O’Neal to a seat, grabs a handful of auburn locks to keep her in place and delivers a set of Bratty Butt Bumpers, knocking the senses from her foe while also upping the humiliation factor. Never a bad thing in Braddock’s estimation.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
Finally relenting after a half dozen, and with the redhead laid out, Colleen rests on her right hip and shoulder, baby blues staring blankly.
Kat collects one of the redhead’s ankles and lifts the limb high, surrounding the joint with both hands. She moves a boot sole to the opposite ankle to pin it in place and, with a predatory grin, drops to her back, delivering a Wishbone attack that leaves Colleen howling. O’Neal grasps at her overextended groin muscles, curdling into a fetal ball.
Next to her foe, on all fours, The Brat looks gleeful.
Kat latches onto the Angel’s auburn locks with both hands and tugs a whimpering O’Neal to her feet. She yanks Colleen into a front facelock, sweeping the redhead’s limp left arm over the back of her neck. With a swift ‘hup’ of her adversary, Braddock elevates Colleen into a cradle position against her chest, right arm curled around the pit of O’Neal’s left knee.
The FAWNatics plead for an escape from their favorite but none is forthcoming, Kat laying out and SPIKING the crown of Colleen’s skull into the canvas with her Kat Nap, the California Angel out cold before she comes to rest in a motionless starfish.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYABwz8Xi44 )
The crowd falls silent as a seated Braddock drapes herself in a back press across the comatose Colleen for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
A grinning Brat gazes to the rafters, lifting her arms high as she lounges, enjoying the tolling of the bell and the confirmation from the ring announcer.
“Your winner, by pinfall, Kat Braddock!”
The curvy blonde rises off the vanquished Angel and rolls to her haunches. She lifts the unconscious Ginger Genius to a slumped seat and points her slack face to the nearest lens.
“This is your fate, your majesty,” Kat chuckles. “On the biggest stage in FAWN the King will be dethroned and it will only be the beginning. The California Quake will leave the rest of the roster rubble, like Emily West and this sad decrepit woman.”
Braddock tosses Colleen aside, O’Neal ending in a crumpled pile.
The Brat rises, places a boot on the redhead’s hip and motions across her midriff, the next home of FAWN’s lightweight championship.