Post by SammieSinclair on Nov 9, 2014 15:48:46 GMT
The chill left by the previous tale of terror was still lingering on the collective spine of the FAWNatics when a pair of techs came through the curtain wheeling a gleaming wooden casket before them. Such an occurrence could only mean one thing and sure enough, the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Wheel of Destiny has decided the following contest will be a Casket Match! That means the only way to win is for one woman to incapacitate her opponent enough to lock her inside the casket! With that said, allow me to bring out the competitors. Introducing first…”
The sound of ‘How You Like Me Now' from Heavy, the drumbeating clarion call of FAWN’s infamous socialite and ne’er-do-well pulsated through the Madhouse like a set of gold knux to the jaw.
HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM
And with it an enormous, eardrum-injuring cascade of jeers roared through the confines like a jet engine, the crowd not waiting for the sight of Baby. When the CEO of VanBuren & Associates appeared without said Associates, the hatred of Portia VanBuren was not tempered by her solitary appearance.
PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN THE FOURTH:
Portia reveled in the hatred she could and had drawn from the legion of FAWNatics for over ten years, wearing it like a custom-fit Armani.
The sinewy blonde sported an arrogant smirk, Baby looking not at all affected by the absence of her team. The Trust Fund Terror offered a familiar toss of her flaxen mane from one side to the other. Portia was striking in a chromatically inverted version of her battle fatigues.
Her customary scant black string bikini and green sequin dollar sign was gloriously stood on its head with the blonde in a daring emerald green two-piece with black dollar sign on her infamous and flawless derriere. Baby’s uva-nourished, ivory skin glowed next to the bright green swatches, her attire completed with black pads but green boots, the footwear containing the black outline of the state of New Jersey, an iconic red circle with a slash superimposed atop the Garden State.
Walking the ramp and aisle, Portia settled into her familiar hip-swiveling sashay, shark-like grin on her flawless patrician features as she focused on the ever annoying masses. VanBuren returns scowls and insults at every turn while the Announcer tried to introduce her for the second time.
“Coming down the aisle, hailing from Manhattan and Easthampton, New York and Monaco City Monaco, NOT Accompanied to the ring by her fellow partners in VanBuren & Associates….”
The assembled cheered loudly while VanBuren bared her snarling teeth and her temper, complaining bitterly to anyone who’ll listen she’s being attacked by the socialists who run FAWN.
“…standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and twenty-three pounds, she is Lyle VanBuren’s baby girl and the former TWO TIME FAWN World Champion… Portia VanBuren!”
Baby traipsed up the steps, but halted when she reaches the apron, waiting for the official to open the top and middle ropes wide. The slender socialite slipped through and sets center stage. She called for a microphone, snatching it out of the air when it’s thrown to her. She raised it to her lips and waited for the crowd to quiet.
“There’s a woman out there who thinks she may have been the greatest World Champion FAWN has ever seen,” VanBuren growled. “First. She’s from England. So that’s clearly not true. Second, she’s not me, so that makes it even more so.”
Portia reached into her right boot and pulled out a folded slip of paper, raising it to reading level.
“I have here a list of the top twenty-five reasons why I am the best World Champion this place has EVER known.”
The FAWNatics groan as they prepared for the reading.
“Number One, I am…”
Baby was cut off, as the accompaniment of a certain Brit stops VanBuren in her verbal tracks.
2WICKY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dppcuKJrqbE
Appropriately thunderous cheers filled the Madhouse basement when the speakers kicked into the sultry drumbeat of Hooverphonic’s ‘2Wicky’. Shortly thereafter the Daredevil brushed through the curtain and raised an index finger overhead to properly greet the Storm Chasers, a sigil that was repeated hundreds, if not thousands of times all over the arena.
While Portia railed about her interrupted recitation, the Announcer went on. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Richmond, England, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and fifteen pounds. She is the Oncoming Storm, this is… OLIVIA DARE!"
OLIVIA DARE:
For this latest installment of an intensely personal rivalry, the lithe British import sported stormy black bikini briefs edged with silver trim and cut high enough to give the throng a tantalizing view of her sculpted hips, thighs and calves. Her equally exquisite midriff sheathed in a matching black bustier and the rest of her ensemble was finished with short black wrestling shoes and silver knee and elbow pads.
Eager to build on the bytch-busting momentum she’d built coming off ‘Mania, Dare strolled down the ramp, her dark eyes locked on the woman she was genetically predisposed to disrespect at every opportunity. Baby sensed it even at long range so she marched to the corner nearest the steps, mounted the ropes and started barking taunts in machinegun bursts. Smiling the tiniest bit wider, Olivia didn’t respond with words, rather she angled to her left and plucked a sign from a wide-eyed supporter. Turning to Portia, Dare traced a finger under the message.
ALL OF BABY’S HORROR STORIES END WITH
‘AND THEN DADDY CUT ME OFF!’
Handing the sign back with a wink and a thanks, Olivia strutted over to the steps and hurried up despite the fact that Portia was still glaring down at her. “That’s a rather large coffin they provided, Portia. Would you like to see if I can bury Cricket alongside or is it Rachel who’s your security blanket these days?”
“Kiss my ass you Limey piece of Jersey trash.” Portia spat. “The only thing going in there tonight is your scrawny little scarecrow body… after I’ve broken it into kindling.”
It would’ve gone on in that vein if the referee hadn’t hustled over and shooed Portia back to her corner, thus allowing the Briton her proper entrance. Turning her back to the former World Champion with a confidence that made Portia grind her teeth, Olivia laid her arms over the top rope, then dipped her knees and tumbled into a graceful landing on the other side. Hands raised in a high, jaunty ‘V’, Dare made a circuit of the ring and made sure to blow Baby a kiss before heading back to her corner for final inspection.
Satisfied that neither lady had secreted a weapon away in her pads or boots, the referee turned to the Timekeeper and froze in mid-signal when the speakers cut loose with an electronic scream. A clearly audible ‘Oh No She Din’t’ murmur ran through those assembled and it grew into a full on roar as soon as ‘Crown on the Ground’ kicked in in earnest.
CROWN ON THE GROUND:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPoIznBujEA
Never one to keep her public waiting, Susannah Burlingame brushed through the curtain and stretched her arms in a wide ‘T’ that called down a ‘BOOM’ of cold blue pyro from overhead. Wearing a black T-shirt emblazoned with a leering jack o’ lantern and the phrase ’Trick and Treat’ and her standard black boots with matching gold-trimmed pads, the Ace of the Black Court produced a mic so that she could properly address her adoringly hateful fans.
SUE BURLINGAME:
“Ya know it occurs to me that the last two parties I’ve crashed have connections to the both of you brittle bimbos. In the first I slapped around Baby’s prize protégé and that little chick she needed a whole goddamned army to beat. In the second I put down the wannabe Fiona Waterford and that off key anchor Dare calls a tag team partner. Now don’t get me wrong, putting boots to those throats and asses to those noses was great, but now that I’ve disposed of the rest it’s time to humiliate the best… relatively speaking of course. Both of you are distant seconds as long as I’m in the same building, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of… yet.” Susan lowered the mic like she was about to start forward, only to stop and raise it again. “One other thing. Don’t worry about having to share a single casket. I’ve got enough for the both of you.” With she waved a hand to the curtain and a second coffin-wielding tech started down to ringside.
With all the necessary arrangements made, Sue dropped the mic, then grabbed the bottom edge of her tee-shirt in both hands and peeled it up over her head to reveal the dark blue two-piece with gold trim. Taking it slow because they sure as hell weren’t going to start without her, the Rainmaker avoided all hands friendly or otherwise until broke into a full on sprint, dove under the bottom rope and sprang to her feet. Positioned directly between the transatlantic blondes, Burlingame offered them both matching smirks before she went to an empty corner for a totally unnecessary inspection.
“All right, lets just get this out of the way now so there’s no confusion later.” Susan called to her pair of adversaries after the bell CLANGED. “I know we’re all former World Champions here and that makes us equals in the eyes of some, but the fact of the matter is that YOU--” she pointed to Portia, who answered with a disgusted snarl, “--are a shadow of the woman you used to be. And YOU--” Burlingame shifted focus to Olivia, who arched an eyebrow. “--only had a record-breaking title reign because I wasn’t around to point your skinny ass at the lights. Good as you two are, even at your best and even working together it wouldn’t be enough to get the job done.” The Ace took a few steps out of the corner, raised her hands and beckoned both blondes forward. “So come at me one at a time or put aside your A-Cup bickering and bring it all at once. Doesn’t matter to me, you’re both gonna end up in those boxes one way or the other.”
Olivia glanced at Baby, then tilted her head toward Sue. “What do you say, luv? Just this once?”
Portia snorted. “Don’t make me laugh, Jersey. I don’t need you to whoop her--”
“Yes you do.” Burlingame interrupted. “You needed a whole team to help you beat down that half pint lifeguard, I’m surprised you don’t have a riot squad backing your play tonight. Dare might be a skinny piece of crap, but she wrestles better than she looks… which is more than I can say about you, Jersey.”
VanBuren snarled, started toward the Rainmaker, then drew back when Susan sank into a tense martial arts stance. Torn between an alliance with a woman she loathed and a victory over a bytch that would almost certainly give her a title shot, Portia looked over her shoulder at Olivia and said, “Just this once, Dare. And when she’s helpless, I do the honors. Are we clear?”
Olivia smirked. Let’s just pretend I agree. Shall we?”
The Trust Fund Terror nodded, then advanced on Burlingame, though both Olivia and Sue noted that she didn’t really pick up her pace until the Brit was right alongside. Watching them come with a small smile, Susan lunged and banged a jab off Portia’s chin only to double over when Olivia went low and slammed a shoulder into her belly. Wrapping her arms around Burlingame’s hips, the Oncoming Storm drove her opponent into the buckles and unloaded a half dozen Shoulderblocks in rapid succession.
“Anytime (THUMP!) you wanna (THUMP!) lend a hand (THUMP!) would be fine,(THUMP!) VanBuren!”(THUMP!) Dare shouted between rude impacts.
“Well if you’d control her a little better, I could--” Portia swatted Susan’s warding hand aside, then plowed in with a hard Forearm Smash across opposing rack. “Oh yeah, that’s good. That’s real good, Jersey.” Baby purred after scuffing Susan’s juggs several times. “Still think you’re a match for both of us? Hell, you’re barely a match for Dare and I’ve whipped her bony ass UUNNNNGGGHHH!”
Susan drove her forehead between the Sinister Socialite’s eyes and followed it up with a straight jab that sent POV rocking back on her heels. That left Olivia, so she coiled an arm around the Brit’s head and squeezed tight while thumping quick Kneelifts into her modest bosom. Groaning, but not about to ease up while she and VanBuren were a united front, Olivia put a little more ‘oomph’ into a final Shoulderblock, then backed out of the corner with Burlingame in tow.
“Stupid plan, Dare.” the brunette grunted. “You keep your head down there and I can hit it from every sidDWOOAHHHHNNNGGH!”
Perfectly aware of that fact, Olivia crouched down and popped her hips to take the heiress up, over and down onto her back with a BOOMING Northern Lights Suplex. Pushing up on her toes in an absolutely gorgeous bridge, Dare bridged up on instinct alone and took a double slap to her tummy from the heiress as a result.
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QK0M17VnaMg
She’d just regained her feet when Portia snagged a handful of waistband and reeled her into a THWHAPPING Forearm Smash across the small of the back. Sue hissed and froze in place only to find herself spun around for a teeth-clacking European Uppercut courtesy of the VB&A CEO. “I thought we had an understanding, Dare.” Portia spat as Burlingame stumbled away. “I end her. Then you and I can finish what we started.”
Olivia didn’t answer immediately. Instead she reached out with her left hand and cupped the American’s chin to hold her in place. Then she twisted her hips and THWHAPPED her right forearm up across the back of Sue’s skull in a European Uppercut of her own.
Immediately dismissing Dare when she noticed the Ace’s lowered head, Portia circled around and raced in from her foe’s left. Catching Susan’s shin in both hands as she passed, Baby hopped and laid out on her back to THWHUNK Burlingame’s noggin into the canvas with a Swinging Neckbreaker. Sue’s head bounced hard enough to sit her up so Portia palmed both shoulders and pushed her down and pounded a miniature Knee Drop into the hollow of her right shoulder.
SWINGING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhFWW4MLYa4
Burlingame jolted, then sat up and swiped blindly in Portia’s direction. “Are you fucking kidding me? You really think you’ll win that NNNNGGGGHH!” Olivia dove in with her right arm extended and THWHACKED it across Susan’s chest to return her to the canvas.
LOW LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qlru9v2Q7KA
“Tie up her head.” the Brit commanded even as she circled around to the Ace’s right side. “I’ll get her waist.”
“Don’t ever presume to tell me what to do!” Portia sniped at once. She might’ve said more if Dare hadn’t slipped her legs around Burlingame’s waist and started to squeeze. Sensing an opportunity to steal the spotlight, Portia strode into place above the thrashing heiress and dropped to a seat. Lifting Susan’s head in both hands like it was nothing more than a basketball, VanBuren snuggled her crotch against the back of Burlingame’s neck, then curled her right leg around the brunette’s throat and stuffed that ankle into the pit of her left knee, thus securing the Figure Four Headscissors. “Hey Dare, wanna make a wager?” Portia put her palms against the canvas and pushed up, adding more pressure to the gammy vise.
Olivia, who’d been pouring pressure across Burlingame’s tummy while trying to control the Ace’s slashing claws. “Kinda busy here, Baby.” she answered. “But I’m always interested in hearing how to take your money.”
Portia rolled her eyes and rocked her hips. “I’ll bet you a grand that when this Jersey begs for mercy it’s my thighs she’s afraid of and not yours.”
Dare finally captured one of Susan’s wrists and yanked it away from her torso so she could PWAAAK a few flat-knuckled shots in just above the demarcation of her Scissors. “Please. When she begs it’ll be to keep her ribs from crumpling like a wet paper sack. But if you’re looking to give me money, I won’t say no.”
Baby returned her backside to the mat so she could brush some sweaty hair off Susan’s forehead. “Hope you’re proud of what you accomplished tonight, Jersey.” she cooed. “Because of you I’ll get a title shot AND steal Dare’s rent monEEYYERRGGH!”
Susan twisted her head and chomped down on the inside of POV’s right thigh. Portia shrieked and tried to maintain the Scissors, but Burlingame kept right on gnawing and she had to break away after several more seconds. Breathing better despite the velvet-sheathed steel locked around her ribs, Burlingame pushed onto her elbows and smirked at the Brit. “I’ll take half of that grand.” she said following a few ragged breaths. “Not that I’ll be submitting to these pipecleaners eithHEERRRGGGHHH!”
Olivia squeezed all the harder, the musculature in her thighs and calves shredding into sharp relief as she tried to cut the American in half. “You don’t have to submit, luv.” Dare said cheerily enough. “I just want you nice and winded before I roll your arse into that caskUUUNNNNNGGGHH!”
Susan leaned forward and smashed a Hammer Fist down on Olivia’s crotch as hard as she could.
The blow broke Olivia’s legs open like Burlingame uttered the magic word and Dare rolled away from her lost Scissors with a moan, the Brit curling into a ball, hands deep between slender sinewy stems. With the Englishwoman in agony, a seated Susan winced away some of the remaining pain from her ribs. She failed to notice Portia was ignoring the reddened bite imprint on an alabaster thigh and hit the ropes in front of Burlingame. Portia sprinted back at the Ace and kept things simple, nailing Burlingame with a Running Knee.
RUNNING KNEE @ 00:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLpruXxh1sM
VanBuren THUMPED the bony joint into the chin of the Black Courtier and laid out the interloper, the tawny terror spread into a brown-eyed starfish, Baby skidding to a stop a few steps beyond. Portia turned and looked at Susan then Olivia. She shook her head at the anguished Dare.
“Are you kidding me?” the lead Associate shouted at a teary-eyed Olivia who managed to snarl at her ‘ally’ but couldn’t provide any verbalization at the moment.
Baby could manage more. She stepped to Burlingame, plucking Susan off the canvas. The slender socialite slipped behind the Ace, yanking Susan’s left arm between the brunette’s own legs. Slipping her lithe frame under Burlingame’s opposite arm, she stretched her torso across Susan’s back, apparently looking to taffy pull the fellow 1-percenter’s abs. But the blonde didn’t head in that direction, instead offering the FAWNatics a rare glimpse of her limited power. Vaulting Susan off the deck with the Pumphandle, Portia didn’t get the brunette all the way overhead, but she didn’t have to deliver a nasty Gutbuster across bended knee that left Susan on the mat gasping for air while hugging her impaled tummy.
PUMPHANDLE GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbFqgI6XCz4
With Susan occupied, Portia rose and looked to her ‘partner’. Olivia’s made it to her knees, butt on her haunches. “And when do you start becoming an asset instead of an ass?” Portia posed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be kicking hers and yours soon enough,” Olivia answered.
As if to prove it, Dare struggled to her feet despite the bolts of pain from below, but VanBuren waved her off, capturing a rising Burlingame, pulling her close into a chest-to-chest Bear Hug.
“Feel more like A-,” Susan grunted as Baby cinched her embrace tight, drawing a heavy exhale from the Ace.
Portia lifted Susan off the deck and dropped to one knee again, this time dissecting the Black Courtier’s thighs rather than gutting her, the Inverted Atomic Drop sending Susan bouncing off Portia’s pointed knee, Susan landing pigeon-toed in front of Fortune’s Favorite. Jaw dropping from the pain emanating from her crotch, Susan was frozen in place. A rising Baby took a step back and twirled into a Discus Clothesline that nearly removed Susan’s head from her shoulders, decking the brunette with surprising force.
DISCUS CLOTHESLINE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=95kh2tQSElE
Standing nearby, Olivia gave the combination a shrugging seal of approval and plucked Susan off the canvas, arranging the gobsmacked Burlingame into a Full Nelson. Furious, Portia blocked the path to the stereo caskets.
“What in THE hell?” VanBuren shouted. “I believe I’m the undertaker here.”
“I’m just trying to get her in the box. That was the agreement, was it not? While you’re doing a pirouette, I’m using the seconds you’re wasting.”
And while the ‘allies’ chatted, Susan broke an arm free of Olivia’s grip and NAILED her with an elbow to the temple that staggered the Oncoming Storm. In front of Burlingame, Baby shot a Toe Kick toward the navel of the brunette, but the quick hands of the Ace intercepted Portia’s effort and Susan lifted the leg high, leaving VanBuren bouncing on her grounded boot.
Knowing time was limited, Burlingame tossed the limb to the left, spinning Portia in a tight circle and when it reaches a 360 it’s Susan who gutted the socialite with a Toe Kick of her own. Leaping into the air next to a stooped Portia, Susan swung her right leg high and brought it CRASHING down across the back of Baby’s skull. The Manhattanite was sent to the mat face-first, her patrician features SMASHING into the canvas.
AXE KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dU44vaOrO1o
Feeling the clock ticking in her head, the Ace turned and, charging with big boot high, was Dare. Susan shifted her head underneath and caught Olivia, Dare’s raised right leg draped over the Black Courtier’s shoulder. With no grounding to speak of, Olivia was an easy mark for a Capture Suplex, Susan flipping Dare up and over, the Brit THUMPING to the canvas on her head and shoulders and sliding to an aching stop no more than a couple feet from Portia, the Oncoming Storm face-up and Baby facedown the body-boxes seemingly calling their names.
CAPTURE SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cu9gclB-ks
A winded Burlingame surveyed the damage, Portia and Olivia spread out before her, a sight which fueled the handicapped Ace. She grabbed a handful of Dare’s flaxen locks and a wrist and hauled the woman who could claim FAWN’s longest World Title reign to her feet. She ran Olivia toward one casket and attempted to heave her over. Dare cleared the ropes but held onto the top strand spinning herself back toward the ring, face to face with the Ace. She lifted a right cross, but Susan blocked with a left forearm and sent a following, gutting knee through the ropes and deep into Olivia’s midriff.
“If you insist on not be buried quite yet, why don’t you come back in?” Burlingame barked.
Susan broke the Brit’s weakened grip and tugged Olivia’s head into a Front Facelock over the uppermost cable. Reaching over to grab some of The Storm’s trunks on her hip, Susan lifted Olivia off the apron and into a stalled Suplex position.
It’s then a risen Portia sent a Double Axhandle between Burlingame’s shoulders. The blow rocked the brunette enough for her to lose her grip, which didn’t end up being a good thing for the airborne Englishwoman, Olivia ending laid out to dry like a piece of laundry across the top strand, Olivia’s belly taking another beating as she teetered atop the rope, finally falling into the squared circle.
Meanwhile, Baby spun Susan to face her. Grabbing a wrist, the candidate for Most Hated whipped Burlingame across the canvas and Susannah turned into a violent collision with the buckles. She melted into the corner, arms thrown over the top ropes on either side to remain upright.
VanBuren took that as her cue and she raced toward the blasted Susan, launching as she closes in, SPLASHING the Black Courtier with as much avalanche as her slender frame could muster. It’s enough to make Susan appear as haggard as she had all night and convinced Portia it’s time to test the Market and see if it’s bullish or bearish.
Turning to face away from Susan, Portia rose to the middle ropes. Baby peeled her green bottoms, dollar sign disappearing, to show FAWN’s most glorious ivory glutes. Susan’s expressive, brown eyes suddenly showed awareness of the situation she’s in. She spit out half a ‘nuuh’ before Portia pressed her Bare Ass Market into Burlingame’s mug, swooshing the bare derriere tight to Susan’s face. Burlingame flailed wildly, her head shaking back and forth. But with Portia’s palms gripping tightly around the top cable on either side, Susan’s buried under the pale moon for several long seconds until the official started his count, giving Baby four more seconds of humiliation to pile on the Ace.
Portia hopped down and ‘flicked’ her togs back into place in the same movement, thus ensuring the undeserving masses don’t get any more of her than was absolutely necessary. She’d just swung back to get her hands on Burlingame when Dare limped up beside her, one arm pressed tight over her aching midsection. “Crude as ever, but undeniably effective.” the brunette wheezed. “Think she’s ready to go?”
“In a moment.” Baby replied. “Grab a wrist and follow my lead.” Dare stepped forward to comply and that’s when VanBuren snatched her at waistband and nape. Summoning as much speed as she could over a short distance, the two-time former World Champ tossed her ‘partner’ into Susan’s gulping tummy with an involuntary Shoulderblock cum Spear.
Portia, knowing the Brit was too dull to understand the genius of her plan, sought to mitigate the other blonde’s inevitable irritation by spiking a vicious right hand in above Olivia’s right hip. The Blackbird sobbed and her knees buckled but Baby didn’t let crumple, not by a long shot. Looping an arm around the bendy-back’s midsection, POV pulled her out of the corner and spun her into a short little Toe Kick. “Yeah, that’s exactly where you belong, Jersey. Examining the canvas while preparing to kiss my feet.” Portia reached down to claim the Brit’s left wrist in her left hand and vice versa. Then she crossed one over the other in a tight ‘X’ and swung around so she and Dare were back to back, with the other woman’s forearms snugged across her throat in an unpleasant Straightjacket. Even more boos than usual as VanBuren kicked a leg up and laid out on her back, thus obliterating any alliance by THWHUNKING the Oncoming Storm on the back of her head and shoulders with a Straightjacket Neckbreaker.
STRAIGHTJACKET NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfpRwwM5QWU
Shoving the shuddering battler aside without a second thought, Baby returned to verticality and strutted over to the corner where Burlingame had one arm draped across her abs and the other hooked over the top rope. “Pardon for the delay, I had to deal with some dead weight.” She lunged in and CRAAACKED Sue’s cheek, the spiteful mood of the Bytch Slap at sharp contrast to the blonde’s rather pleasant tone.
Susan’s head snapped to the side in a cloud of sweaty locks, but when she turned back to her attacker she was actually smiling. “Shouldn’t have double crossed her, Portia.” the Ace chuckled. “Working with her was the only chance you had of beating MEERRGH!”
Already short tempered from dealing with Dare’s prattle, the Trust Fund Terror dug her nails into Sue’s forehead and raaaaaaaked all the way down to the point of her chin. “Time you learned something, New Money.” VanBuren curled an arm around the back of the brunette’s head and pulled her off the buckles. “I don’t work with ANYONE if they’re not one of my associates. And considering my vetting process, neither you or that waste of skin would even prove worthy of an interview” Susan’s only answer was an unpleasant grunt, so Portia picked up the pace and jabbed a finger at the ref waiting by one of the caskets. “Open it up, Jersey! I’ve got one ready for Hart Island!”
The ref lifted the lid with an appropriately gothic shriek and Portia picked up her pace, getting out in front of the Ace so she could dispose of her overrated ass one hand-- “OOOFFFFHH!”
Burlingame smacked an open palm into VanBuren’s tummy, then reached up and caught her by the scruff of the neck. Stepping out into the lead, Susan angled Portia toward the ropes to the right of the waiting caskets and simply slung her into the strands with everything she could muster. VanBuren recovered at the last instant, swinging her back to the rubber-coated steel to avoid an unpleasant chest-first meeting. What she did NOT avoid was the Rainmaker, who’d thrown herself into a wickedly smooth rotation the instant Portia left her clutches. They swung around on one another at the same moment and it was Sue striking first with a Rolling Elbow that THWHACKED off Baby’s left temple. Portia’s noggin whiplashed to the right and the rest of her soon followed in a classic Flair Flop that had the All Hallows Evil crowd cheering wildly in spite of their disdain for the Courtiers.
ROLLING ELBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=d516ZxwnQ_w
Susan herself was more than happy to bask in it, the suddenly resurgent Party Crasher dramatically dropping to one knee and stretching her arms wide. “WALKIN’ BETWEEN THE RAINDROPS, PEOPLE! WALKIN’ BETWEEN THE GODDAMNED RAINDROPS!”
A shift in the crowd noise told Burlingame something was amiss and she tumbled to safety a heartbeat before Olivia would’ve taken her head off with a Low Super Kick. “Now, now, now.” Sue looked rather nonplussed as she regained her feet. “Is that any way to thank the woman who flattened that double crossing bytch of a partner?”
Dare shook her head in disgust. “I was foolish to believe VanBuren would let something so foolish as sound strategy trump her own ego. But don’t think for a moment that my desire to humiliate her will lead to an alliance with you. You may very well be the single most untrustworthy woman on this roster, Susannah Burlingame.”
The heiress put a hand on her chest. “Words hurt, you know. I can’t stand it that a fellow WOLF alum would think so poorly of me, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to scrape Portia up, then tee off on her knobbly little skull. If I’m as good as I think I am (and I’m actually better), she’ll timber in your direction. If you’re as good as I think you are, you’ll knock her right back to me and so the game goes. Call it Portia Ping-Pong. Or Brat Bounce. I like--”
“All right, all right, all right!” Olivia backed up and pointed a finger at Baby, who was starting to move. “Just shut up and do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
Susan gave her a little bow. “But of course. Your bytch will be ready shortly.”
Circling around to the discombobulated socialite, Burlingame plunged both hands into her hair and tugged her into a rough Front Facelock. From there she jerked VanBuren to boot-leather, slung the near arm over across her shoulders and grabbed hold of some green waistband. Feet set wide, Susan ‘hupped’ Baby to roughly two o’clock, then let loose and stepped clear, letting the CEO of VB&A return to the canvas on her feet. Of course Susan was ready and waiting for her and as soon as the blonde touched down she whipped her right leg up n’ around to THWHACK a Flash Kick off Baby’s right cheek.
SUPLEX-LIFT TO FLASH KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RsOUwmCzgdU
Portia spun with the impact, stamped in half a dozen fencepost holes and was on the verge of another face-plant when Olivia seized her outstretched left wrist. “Brought this on yourself, VanBuren.” the wiry Briton sneered. “But then again, you always do.” This assessment was still rolling off her tongue when Dare stepped back and twisted the captured limb in a wide circle. Coming off the Arm Wringer she whipped up her right leg and stuffed a foot against the side of Baby’s face and laid out on her back. Portia got jerked along for the ride, a short but emphatic descent that ended with a heaping helping of tasty, tasty Sole Food.
SOLE FOOD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7XhIx-NIQQ
Sent reeling for the second time in as many minutes, the Trust Fund Terror almost made it to center ring before she doubled over to better assess her pulverized patrician mug. She’d just managed to determine everything was in the right place when Susan strolled over and braved both hands against her back. “Didn’t wanna get bored with the kicks.” Burlingame explained to Dare as she hopped into a seat atop her foe’s back. “Don’t worry though, You still got next.” With her legs hooked tight under VanBuren’s biceps, Sue stretched her arms wide, then corkscrewed hard to the right, a move that brought her down on her tush and THWHAMMED Portia onto her back in an interesting sideways variant of the Yoshi Tonic.
YOSHI TWIST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UutsI3scTFw
Since pins were pointless (and to a much lesser extent, because she’d promised Olivia) Susan pushed off of Baby’s upturned buns, somersaulting clear of the wreckage so the Blackbird could have her swing.
For whatever reason, perhaps because Portia wasn’t the athletic specimen Burlingame could rightly claim to be, the team of Susan and Olivia was working like a well-oiled machine compared to the stuttering, gear-grinding combination of Portia and Dare.
With Sue clearing space for the Blackbird, Olivia scraped VanBuren off the canvas, the socialite looking as though she’s long past the point of a normal Soho bender. Once on her feet, Baby wobbled in Olivia’s somewhat tender embrace, the Oncoming Storm lifting a knee into the pit of Portia’s ivory tummy, doubling her up with a heavy grunt. With Portia folded in front of her, Olivia slipped the lead Associate’s noggin between her thighs and wrapped her arms around Portia’s gulping tummy.
With relative ease, the slim but sinewy Dare flipped Portia up her body and over her shoulder, catching the blonde on the other side, VanBuren stationed back-to-back Olivia, the Blackbird making the Manhattanite her own personal backpack. After a few seconds of stretching out arms and back, Olivia released her grip of Portia’s upper body and sat out SLAMMING VanBuren to the deck with a ring-rattling Gory Special Faceplant.
GORY SPECIAL FACEPLANT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJIM_wCqioE
VanBuren shuddered and fell still. Olivia sat at her feet keeping a wary eye on Burlingame. But the tawny brunette only nodded appreciatively.
“It’s good that two warriors battle it out in the end,” Susan flattered. “This,” Burlingame motioned toward the splattered VanBuren as Dare pushed up and backs away, giving Susan another moment with their chew toy, “…was out of gas when we were in WOLF and she would have been eaten up there.”
Sue tugged the putty that was Portia to her feet and dragged Baby to the nearest corner. With not a little bit of effort, she got the stupefied VanBuren to the buckles then switched positions, the Black Courtier taking the inside. The Ace climbed to the middle ropes and pulled Portia’s arms wide to underhook them and placed Baby directly on Dream Street with the Burlingamebreaker.
But before Susan could launch off her perch and SPIKE the noggin of the socialite, Portia keenly slipped a leg through the ropes, grapevining it around a bottom cable. The official quickly stepped in and started his count to the disbelief of the Ace and the disappointment of both Olivia and the FAWNatics.
Burlingame dropped down from her seat and shrugged at Dare.
“She may be a bytch,” Olivia said, “but she’s not stupid. Well, not completely.”
“Apparently,” Susan replied, giving up her underhooks for a wrist as she tugged Baby away from the safety of the cables. But as Portia stumbled toward Burlingame, the ruby-tipped talons on her free hand flashed to Susan’s eyes, raking across the dark peepers and sending the Black Courtier stumbling away, alternating a shriek with some first-class cursing.
The Brit couldn’t help but let a smile loose at the sight, but instead of taking advantage of the blinded Susan, she headed for the panting Portia, who in turn, forced herself to chase after Burlingame instead of recovering. Baby sank her nails into the long dark locks of the Ace and gave the mane a healthy tug.
“You’re going to find out why I’m a future Hall of Famer, Jersey,” VanBuren grunted between deep breaths. But quickly behind it is a loud “AHHHHHH”.
Coming from behind, Olivia drove a boot into the back of the socialite’s left knee, sending Baby into a pained genuflection after releasing her hold on Susan’s follicles.
Portia’s face twisted in pain and she spun to meet Olivia’s glare.
“Why?” VanBuren spat.
“She’s much more dangerous than you,” Dare explained, “but you’re just too erratic and, frankly, she’s right, you don’t deserve it.”
Olivia used Portia’s raised knee as a platform for her left boot while her right swung around and CLAPPED VanBuren’s temple with a wicked Shining Wizard. The Trust Fund Terror-turned-Flop did just that ending on her face, splattered directly between Dare and Burlingame.
A snarling Susan added an emphatic stomp to the back of Baby’s head for good measure.
Not asking for her ‘turn’, Susan slung an arm around Baby’s braincase and tugged her up to rubbery stems and into a front Facelock. Portia’s hands rose to Burlingame’s hips, somehow VanBuren with enough sense remaining to try and push her way free. But those thoughts quickly came to an end when Susan sent a punt between Portia’s thighs, the right shin of the Ace CRAAACKING into emerald-covered crotch.The FAWN original’s legs snapped shut, knees knocking, as she squeaked pitifully, fully in Susan’s control.
Angered by VanBuren’s recovery (even if it had been quite brief) Susan shoved the crippled blonde around in a half circle, then hunkered forward and wrapped her arms around Baby’s thighs. A violent yank sent the former World Champ THUMPING onto her face and chest and more importantly, left her legs wrapped loose around Burlingame’s waist, Wheelbarrow-style. Looking to Olivia across an aching patrician landscape, the Ace asked, “You still use the Double Dare, right?”
Olivia nodded, though she kept her distance. Sue was a suitable enough partner now, but then again, so had Portia. “When the occasion calls for it. Why do you ask?”
Susan patted Portia’s tush, much to the CEO’s sputtered disgust. “I think the occasion is calling for it. You hook her up, I’ll make sure you get a little more momentum than usual.”
Dare blinked when she realized what the heiress had in mind. “That’s… bloody brilliant.”
“You’re welcome. Now get your polite British ass in gear, you and I can’t play nice all night.”
With that said she dipped her knees and hoisted VanBuren up until she floating slightly above the Rainmaker’s waist. Hopping to only because she was quite interested to see the result of this little experiment, Olivia swung around on the suspended socialite’s left side and reached over to grab her right wrist, which she folded between Baby’s shoulders in a Hammerlock. With her next breath she seized hold of POV’s left wrist and pulled the attached limb tight across Portia’s neck in a Cut-Throat.
The FAWNatics, just now getting the gist of what the mismatched pair had planned, let loose with a thunderous roar and broke into a chant of ‘DOUBLE DOG DARE! DOUBLE DOG DARE!” Burlingame rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. Give ‘em brilliance and they come up with the most painfully obvious label every single time. No wonder Em’s is depressed all the time. Whatever, you ready to do this thing?”
Olivia jerked up on both of Portia’s wrists, earning a gurgled squeal from the wriggling blonde. “Staaaaahhhhppp! Lemme go and fight NNNGGHHH!”
The Blackbird snapped a brisk Kneelift into the American’s forehead to cut off the wailing with mechanical precision. “Quite. Shall I count us off?”
“Please.”
“One. Two. Three!”
Susan dipped, then popped her hips and hoisted Portia all the way two o’clock. Olivia left her feet at the same time and when Burlingame released the Wheelbarrow she braced her shins against Baby’s back and laid out on her own to THAWHAMWHUNK her prey’s spine with an astoundingly powerful variation of her standard Double Dare. Lungs practically blown through her chest and into the rafters by the innovative double team, VanBuren bounced off the other blonde’s knees and managed a near full rotation before she hit the canvas hard on her right side.
DOUBLE DARE: (solo)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6bRRgcrxks
Hands on her hips, Susan nodded appreciatively. “I gotta admit, that worked better than I thought. Would you like to do the honors?”
The joy Dare felt at treating Portia so shabbily immediately curdled into wariness. “And have you try to dump me into the casket with her as soon as my back as turned? I think not. You’re more than welcome to take out this particular bag of trash.”
Sue shrugged, bent down and buried her one hand in Baby’s hair. She was still crouched when she locked eyes with Olivia. “Fair warning, girl. You even try what you just accused me of planning and I PROMISE that whatever satisfaction you reap in October will be nothing compared to the hell I rain down for the rest of the year.”
Olivia didn’t so much as blink. “Believe of me what you like, Susannah Burlingame, but know this. When you submit to me, our eyes will be locked just as they are now.”
The Ace smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Nor her hands apparently, as they yanked Portia’s noggin off the mat and BWUNKED it down just as quickly. “You aren’t the only one who’s been waiting, sweetie. But if you can wait just the tiniest bit longer, I’ll be with you shortly.”
Olivia gestured to the coffin in a ‘get on with it’ sort of way, so Burlingame did exactly that, scraping the remains of Portia Ophelia VanBuren off the mat in a series of fits and starts. “Good lord,” Sue wrapped one arm around the tamed Terror’s waist and held her as best she could. “Who knew a chick who survives on Mojitos and Splenda could carry so much deadweight?” Finally starting toward the edge of the ring, she demanded, “Open it up!” to the nameless tech drafted into funereal duty. He did and Susan picked up speed, the Rainmaker managing something close to a shambling trot by the time she reached the ropes and slung her burden over.
Somehow, someway, Portia grabbed hold of the top rope and used it to pull herself into a ramshackle landing on the apron. Balanced on legs that would give way at any moment, VanBuren darted out her free hand and squeezed the heiress’s throat as hard as she could. “I’ll… get you…. for this.” she promised in a sibilant hiss. “No one humiliates me like NNNGGGGHH!”
Burlingame chopped the Stranglehold away, twisted on one foot and brought the other whipping up in a Rockette’s worthy kick that THWHACKED off Portia’s forehead. Baby’s tenuous hold on the ropes gave way and she tumbled bonelessly into one of the silk-lined receptacles crowding the apron. Leaning over the ropes to grab hold of the lid, Susan blew Portia a kiss and said, “Emily sends her love.”
Then she slammed it shut.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Portia VanBuren has been eliminated!” the Announcer confirmed for all those unlucky souls foolish enough to take a bathroom break in the last few minutes.
“Hey, keep your hands off that!” the Ace snapped when several more techs started wheeling the casket away. “I’ve arranged for special handling of that precious cargo.” She looked to the stage and cupped both hands around her mouth. “SHE’S ALL YOURS, LADIES!”
The curtains parted and the crowd voiced their disapproval as Lenore Lemarchand, Pandora, Ashley Locke and Adrianna Papadopoulos started down the aisle.
Olivia, who was more than willing to take on Susan but not about to wrangle with the combined might of the Court, took a few defensive steps back. “What the hell is this, Burlingame?”
Susan looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Just pallbearers. Relax, Dare. You’re too tasty for me to wanna share.” That was small comfort to the Brit, but true to Susan’s word the Raven and the Three each claimed a corner of Portia’s casket and wheeled her away without comment, though Olivia couldn’t help notice the long look Lenore shot her on the way out. “Now then.” Susan clapped her hands once and rounded on the remaining blonde. “Truce is over. Rules change. Ready to get your pert little ass whipped on FAWN’s grandest stage?”
Olivia stepped forward, planted her toes on the canvas and drew an invisible line between them. “Good as you are, you’re just a Rainmaker, Susannah Burlingame. I however, am the Oncoming Storm. Step across this line and I promise the only pert little ass getting whipped is the one stuffed inside those tawdry trunks of yours.”
Susan looked the woman up and down with a smirk.
My, we are quick with the grand pronouncements,” Susan snickered. “Here’s one for you without the flowery language. You just helped me get rid of the only chance you had to win this match.”
Burlingame started to circle and Olivia joined her in a waltz around the ring.
“The only way you had was two-on-one and neither one of you could understand that.”
Sensing the stirring of anger in Dare’s eyes, Susan motioned the Storm to ‘oncome’, ready to stick a boot in her gut when she did. As if on cue, the Blackbird came to her call and Susan’s boot shot to the Brit’s slender midriff. But Dare snatched the foot before it impaled her gut.
Olivia whipped the leg away before Burlingame could even think of lifting an Enzugiri to her foe’s temple and, with Sue turned away after a 180 spin, Olivia drew the Ace into a tight Waistlock from behind. She gave a Heimlich thrust of joined fists into Susan’s navel, drawing a breathy gasp, then lifted the Black Courtier off the mat. Olivia genuflected beneath her, thrusting her raised knee between Susan’s thighs. The Atomic Drop sent Burlingame hopping into the air, hands plunged between her thighs. She waddled in a turn toward the risen Dare and ATE a perfectly timed Super Kick to the chin that spread the Ace out like butter on toast.
Olivia, apparently unwilling to fill the second casket quite yet, rolled Susan to her chest and dove atop her, looking for a little ‘riding time’. The dirty blonde grapevined her legs around the tawny stems of her foe and opened them wide. With Burlingame’s base taken from her, Olivia slapped a Crossface around Susan’s noggin, locking her hands together in front of the Black Courtier’s features.
With Susan trapped in a Dare Snare, Olivia twisted violently testing the Rainmaker’s neck. Burlingame dug her fingers into the canvas, trying to move the duo but with Olivia’s bodyweight on top, to say it is difficult without her legs to help, was an understatement.
“You’re right,” Olivia grunted, seemingly trying to remove Susan’s head from her shoulders with the brutal twists. “Actions do always speak louder than any words.”
Dare rode Susan ragged in her Snare, giving up inches begrudgingly until Burlingame finally wrapped a palm around the bottom rope, sweat pouring off the tawny-skinned warrior. The Ace demanded her release in a howl, Olivia giving one final twist before untying herself from the Black Courtier.
Olivia used the back of Burlingame’s head as a base from which to push up and the wincing Susan didn’t take kindly to it, reaching behind to blindly shove Dare off. The Brit used the proffered wrist as a handle and she dragged a squawking Susan to her feet and away from the safety of the cable, pulling the stumbling Susan toward the ropes nearest the remaining open casket.
Lifting a leg, the Oncoming Storm kept her ‘educated feet’ theme continuing by lifting her right boot, snugly tucking it under the jaw of the Ace. Maintaining her grip on Susan’s arm, Dare laid out and, when her back hit canvas, Olivia’s Sole Food was delivered, Susan whiplashing away from the impact with enough force, the sinewy brunette flew up and halfway over the ropes.
Susan tottered on the top cable, teetering above her internment. Olivia scrambled to her feet and started to shove Burlingame over, but the Ace coiled her arms and legs tightly around the rope, hanging on like the most shapely spider monkey ever seen.
The ref tried to intervene, but he’s quickly shoved aside by Olivia. Still, in the second it took to move the zebra out of the way, Susan slipped from over the top rope to below it and swung back inside the squared circle. Landing on her knees at Dare’s feet, the frazzled, anxious brunette had a handful of her locks collected by the Blackbird. But before Olivia could consider what will need to be done to make the next trip toward the casket Burlingame’s final ride, the desperate Ace swung an Uppercut of a forearm between Olivia’s legs, pounding her point home.
Olivia was sent to ‘eeping’ tiptoes, her features twisting in pain. She waddled away from the shameful, literally underhanded attack and, while she did, Susan managed little more than settling on her haunches and shaking cobwebs.
After long seconds, Susan found her feet and tracked Dare from behind, taking care to keep in her foe’s blind spot as the aching Olivia walked off the low blow. As the Brit spun to find her foe, she’s met with a gutting kick to the midriff. Susan swallowed her up in a tight Front Facelock.
“Where were we, bytch?” Susan growled, raising a hand high to the loud displeasure of the FAWNatics.
Burlingame turned, giving up an overhand grip of Olivia’s neck for an underhand with the opposite arm, ready to cash in Dare’s chances for the night with the signature Ka-ching.
But before the Ace of the Black Court could spike Olivia’s chin into the thinly-covered plywood, Dare got her hands up and pushed out of Burlingame’s grip. Susan stumbled forward a couple steps, angrily turning to beat down the Blackbird.
She found Dare charging, the Brit’s cupped hands moving for the back of her neck as the Brit’s body tucked into a ball, Olivia’s knees pressing tight to the chest of the Ace. Ripping the Black Courtier from her boot leather, the Blackbird hit the deck, pulling Burlingame along for the short and violent ride, Sue’s bounty flattened by a ring-rattling and body-bruising Inverted Lungblower. Susan buggywhipped away from the impact, gaining some altitude before ending in a demolished spreadeagle, not more than a Hip Toss over the ropes from eternal rest.
INVERTED LUNGBLOWER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVlOAY1wN_w
Experienced veteran though she was, Dare still felt a giddy little thrill at the prospect of disposing of a world class braggart like Susannah Burlingame. Even so, she didn’t quite believe the brunette was ready for the box, so she scrambled to her feet, crossed the canvas and buried both hands in her foe’s hair. Scraping her from the mat with several hard tugs, Olivia welcomed Sue into a Front Facelock, then grabbed the Ace’s right arm and pulled it tight across her own midsection. With arm and head both under control, the Oncoming Storm hooked her right leg behind Burlingame’s right ankle and let out a sharp curse when the other woman pulled her foot clear.
“None of that now,” Dare wrenched up on the Front Facelock, earning a choked grunt from her opposition, “it’s time for Last Rites and we both NNNGGHHH!”
Susan planted her right foot for a split second, then whipped it up n’ over in a move very reminiscent in the sting of a scorpion’s tail. The sole of her foot caught Olivia square between the eyes and she stumbled backward, hooks promptly forgotten. Burlingame on the other hand had a very definite course of action mapped out, one that started by reeling Dare into a Front Facelock of her own. Oh so aware of the strands looming on her six, the heiress actually backed into them and boosted herself into a seat on the top rope. Adding to Dare’s discomfort with several mean little punches to the ribs, Susan taunted, “You were a great World Champ, ‘Liv. But you’ll never be the GREATEST, not while I’m arounDEEERRRGGGHHH!”
Olivia replied with a punch of her own, one that hooked the Rainmaker a little above and behind her right hip. Caught in the grip of gut-shot agony after the blow to her liver, Burlingame couldn’t stop Dare from pulling loose of the Facelock but she did jolt back to life when the blonde curled her right hand into a ‘C’ shaped prong and jammed it between her lips. “Don’t think this is over when that lid slams shut, luv.” Olivia snarked in the midst of crushing down on the Cleft Note. “Tonight is just the beginning of a long series wherein I dominate your arrogant, overrated arse!”
Perched precariously on the rubber-coated steel, Burlingame leaned into the Englishwoman in hopes of hopping down, unfortunately Dare set her feet and simply would not be moved. Denied an easy escape she set about prizing at Olivia’s clawin’ wrist and slapping, punching or clawing at her attacker’s head. The former was utterly ineffective, the latter a little more so, but it was clear that the former World Champion had aced Eliza’s advanced course because she managed to twist away from any real harm and never once eased the pressure on Susan’s soft palette. Touched by an uncharacteristic burst of fear as her limbs grew steadily more leaden, Burlingame devoted both hands to securing her seat, though she did continue to lean heavily against the Blackbird.
“Mmmmrpppghhhhh…” she slobbered around the other woman’s claw.
Olivia thought it would make a lovely ring-tone. “Yes dearie, I know you want to sleep. Don’t fret, there’s a nice long nap coming very soon now ooops! I see, you’ve just about reached that sludgy pliable stage, haven’t you?”
Indeed Susan looked on the verge of total collapse, dark hair hanging sweaty and dank in her face, legs hanging listlessly, shoulders stooped, tummy fluttering, she was a beautiful study in inevitable defeat. When a singularly hard squeeze brought little more than a moan from Bankable Bombshell, Olivia looked over Sue’s shoulder and told the tech, “Open it up, please. I’ve got some trash in need of a dumpster.”
They obliged her quickly so Olivia gathered her strength and shoved forward to-- Burlingame seized the Briton’s wrist and kicked her legs almost straight up as she started to fall. Angling the former so Dare’s right bicep was wedged against the hollow of her throat while locking the latter around the blonde’s noggin in a brutal Figure Four, Susan came to a stop suspended upside down mere inches above the casket, the only thing keeping her in the match the Triangle Choke she’d secured around Olivia’s head.
“CHOKE ON THAT, YOU SKINNY BYTCH!” Susan shrieked as soon as the pressure of her counter allowed her to spit the blonde’s talon from her gullet. Ankles locked in a death-grip, she bounced, jounced and craaaaaaaaaaaaanked the Triangle as much as her depleted oxygen would allow.
Meanwhile Olivia was dealing with a sudden oxygen shortage herself as Burlingame’s vile reversal left her jerked tight against the ropes with almost nothing in the way of leverage. Still cogent enough to know that Sue would never release the hold of her own accord despite being in the ropes, Dare bypassed all formal rules of decorum and sank her free hand into the American’s crotch
“AAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAAHHHHK!” Susan screamed in absolute anguish as the Oncoming Storm devastated her undercarriage with white-knuckled ferocity. And yet the Ace didn’t relinquish her Triangle. Because she knew that Dare needed oxygen to power her Claw and if she could just hold out the bytch would start to “RRRRRGGHHHH GAAAAAAHHHDDD DAMMMIT!”
Olivia actually had the temerity to go under Burlingame’s trunks and Sue felt tears tracking her cheeks as the Crotch Claw reached a whole new level. Truly desperate for the first time in a very long time, the Black Courtier undid the long part of her Figure Four, raised that leg as high as she could and THONKED her heel into the crown of Dare’s skull. She felt the shudder run through both of them, but more importantly the firestorm between her thighs started to fade, so Susan piled on five more, one right after the other. By the end Olivia’s pretty features were flushed a distressing shade of purple and her once whip-like frame was hanging dishrag limp against the ropes.
“Ooohh….open…. the fucking box.” Susan rasped after the Triangle was complete again. Unbeknownst to her the techs had never closed it, so there was no delay in meeting her demand. Trusting them to have done their jobs, Susan shifted from the Figure Four to a standard Scissors and torqued her hips just enough to send Olivia tumbling over the top in sloppy slow motion ‘Rana. Burlingame landed awkwardly on the apron while Dare landed inside the casket with a weary ‘THWHUMP!’
Too exhausted for words, the Ace reeeeeeeeeeaaaached out, grabbed the edge of the lid and slammed it closed. Rolling atop the casket as soon as the bell CLANGED, Susan looked up at the lights and raised a weary fist in response to the Announcer’s confirmation. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match…. SUSANNAH BURLINGAME!”
“You vicious, evil shrew of a fuck.” Susan growled to the insensate beauty beneath her. “Couldn’t just go quietly, could you? Had to spit in my eye right before I sent you to hell. Well you’ve made your bed, now you’re going to lie in it… but not for long.”
Sliding off the polished wood with a painfully sweaty squeak, Susan had to brace herself against the casket to keep from falling over, as her usually sturdy legs felt more like overcooked spaghetti. After several seconds, she shooed the FAWN techs away, grabbed hold of the cart and started trudging her defeated foe up the ramp. Usually mouthy to a fault, Susan stayed deathly silent until she reached the top of the stage and wheeled it toward the far edge and the near twelve foot drop beyond. “THE GOOD NEWS IS,” she bellowed to the horror-struck FAWNatics, “THE BYTCH IS ALREADY BOXED UP! ANYONE WANNA SAY A FEW WORDS? NOW WOULD BE A GOOD OOOFFFFHHHH!”
A figure exploded through the curtains, grabbed a double handful of Susan’s hair and THWUNKED her forehead against the casket. Staggered by the sneak attack, Burlingame offered no resistance when the intruder jerked her up and tossed her down flat against the steel stage floor. A heartbeat later she’d been straddled, the crotch of her attacker’s inky black denim suspended inches above her nose.
ELIZA BLISS:
“Hello, understudy.” Eliza Bliss purred down at the pinned brunette. “It’s time for the curtain to rise on Act Two. We open on a pathetic, smothered trollop.” ‘Trollop’ was still on her lips when she slid forward and sealed Susan’s mug against her womanhood. Drawing an almost sublime pleasure from each and every of the Rainmaker’s wailings, Eliza rolled her hips and murmured, “Go ahead Suzie, shriek out your aria. I’ll accompany youEERRGGHHHH YOU RUTHLESS CUNT!”
Burlingame chomped down on whatever she could, then put her hands against Bliss’s backside and shoved forward, sending the other Blackbird sprawling onto all fours. Kipping up in a ramshackle parody of her usual self, Susan fixed Eliza with a look of genuine disbelief mixed with utter loathing. “You stupid bytch.” she said softly. “You no idea what I’m going to do to you.”
Eliza tucked some hair behind her ears and smiled nastily. “Well I know exactly what’s going to happen to you, sweet Susan. Would you like to know? You’re going a song in three parts. Domination. Ruination. Humiliation. And you’ll sing them all directly into my arse.”
Burlingame shook her head, she still couldn’t believe this washout thought she could hang. “All right, Bliss. If that’s the way you want it. I did just polish off two Hall of Famers, but I’ve got plenty left to--”
Sue and Eliza pounced at the same time, their questing claws sinking deep into the other’s dark mane. Alas, a sudden tide of black & white pulled them apart before they could do more than start to tug. “YOU’RE MINE, BLISS!” Susan screamed over the demands of the referees. “I’LL GRIND MY NAME INTO YOUR SLUTTY LITTLE FACE!”
“I’M RIGHT HERE, RICH GIRL!” Eliza spread her arms wide, daring Burlingame to break her bonds. “DON’T LET THESE PEONS HOLD YOU BACK! UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPARE YOUR MYSTIQUE ANOTHER NIGHT!”
To her credit Susan did try to get loose, but she was too tired and the refs too numerous. She was still kicking and cursing when they dragged her through the curtains shortly thereafter. Calming almost the instant Sue was out of sight, Eliza shook free of the ref’s and hurried over to the casket. Lifting the lid with an effortful grunt, she leaned in and pulled a gasping Olivia Dare to a seat.
“Duuuhhh…. did I hear you battling that disgusting harpy?” she coughed.
“You did. She was going to push you off the stage, ‘Liv.”
“That bytch. I’m going to tie her in so many knots she’ll--”
Bliss interrupted with a shake of her head. “She’s mine, luv. I need this. I need HER. I don’t make it a habit to beg, but--”
“All right. She’s yours. Tell me though, is there going to be anything left?”
“Not if I have any say in the matter.”
“Then I suppose I shall have to live vicariously through you. Hurt her, Eliza. Hurt her like she’s never been hurt before.”
The Songbird nodded once, solemnly. “And then some. I promise you this, my friend. Susannah Burlingame is going to rue the day she thought she could force me from the spotlight.”
The sound of ‘How You Like Me Now' from Heavy, the drumbeating clarion call of FAWN’s infamous socialite and ne’er-do-well pulsated through the Madhouse like a set of gold knux to the jaw.
HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM
And with it an enormous, eardrum-injuring cascade of jeers roared through the confines like a jet engine, the crowd not waiting for the sight of Baby. When the CEO of VanBuren & Associates appeared without said Associates, the hatred of Portia VanBuren was not tempered by her solitary appearance.
PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN THE FOURTH:
Portia reveled in the hatred she could and had drawn from the legion of FAWNatics for over ten years, wearing it like a custom-fit Armani.
The sinewy blonde sported an arrogant smirk, Baby looking not at all affected by the absence of her team. The Trust Fund Terror offered a familiar toss of her flaxen mane from one side to the other. Portia was striking in a chromatically inverted version of her battle fatigues.
Her customary scant black string bikini and green sequin dollar sign was gloriously stood on its head with the blonde in a daring emerald green two-piece with black dollar sign on her infamous and flawless derriere. Baby’s uva-nourished, ivory skin glowed next to the bright green swatches, her attire completed with black pads but green boots, the footwear containing the black outline of the state of New Jersey, an iconic red circle with a slash superimposed atop the Garden State.
Walking the ramp and aisle, Portia settled into her familiar hip-swiveling sashay, shark-like grin on her flawless patrician features as she focused on the ever annoying masses. VanBuren returns scowls and insults at every turn while the Announcer tried to introduce her for the second time.
“Coming down the aisle, hailing from Manhattan and Easthampton, New York and Monaco City Monaco, NOT Accompanied to the ring by her fellow partners in VanBuren & Associates….”
The assembled cheered loudly while VanBuren bared her snarling teeth and her temper, complaining bitterly to anyone who’ll listen she’s being attacked by the socialists who run FAWN.
“…standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and twenty-three pounds, she is Lyle VanBuren’s baby girl and the former TWO TIME FAWN World Champion… Portia VanBuren!”
Baby traipsed up the steps, but halted when she reaches the apron, waiting for the official to open the top and middle ropes wide. The slender socialite slipped through and sets center stage. She called for a microphone, snatching it out of the air when it’s thrown to her. She raised it to her lips and waited for the crowd to quiet.
“There’s a woman out there who thinks she may have been the greatest World Champion FAWN has ever seen,” VanBuren growled. “First. She’s from England. So that’s clearly not true. Second, she’s not me, so that makes it even more so.”
Portia reached into her right boot and pulled out a folded slip of paper, raising it to reading level.
“I have here a list of the top twenty-five reasons why I am the best World Champion this place has EVER known.”
The FAWNatics groan as they prepared for the reading.
“Number One, I am…”
Baby was cut off, as the accompaniment of a certain Brit stops VanBuren in her verbal tracks.
2WICKY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dppcuKJrqbE
Appropriately thunderous cheers filled the Madhouse basement when the speakers kicked into the sultry drumbeat of Hooverphonic’s ‘2Wicky’. Shortly thereafter the Daredevil brushed through the curtain and raised an index finger overhead to properly greet the Storm Chasers, a sigil that was repeated hundreds, if not thousands of times all over the arena.
While Portia railed about her interrupted recitation, the Announcer went on. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Richmond, England, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and fifteen pounds. She is the Oncoming Storm, this is… OLIVIA DARE!"
OLIVIA DARE:
For this latest installment of an intensely personal rivalry, the lithe British import sported stormy black bikini briefs edged with silver trim and cut high enough to give the throng a tantalizing view of her sculpted hips, thighs and calves. Her equally exquisite midriff sheathed in a matching black bustier and the rest of her ensemble was finished with short black wrestling shoes and silver knee and elbow pads.
Eager to build on the bytch-busting momentum she’d built coming off ‘Mania, Dare strolled down the ramp, her dark eyes locked on the woman she was genetically predisposed to disrespect at every opportunity. Baby sensed it even at long range so she marched to the corner nearest the steps, mounted the ropes and started barking taunts in machinegun bursts. Smiling the tiniest bit wider, Olivia didn’t respond with words, rather she angled to her left and plucked a sign from a wide-eyed supporter. Turning to Portia, Dare traced a finger under the message.
ALL OF BABY’S HORROR STORIES END WITH
‘AND THEN DADDY CUT ME OFF!’
Handing the sign back with a wink and a thanks, Olivia strutted over to the steps and hurried up despite the fact that Portia was still glaring down at her. “That’s a rather large coffin they provided, Portia. Would you like to see if I can bury Cricket alongside or is it Rachel who’s your security blanket these days?”
“Kiss my ass you Limey piece of Jersey trash.” Portia spat. “The only thing going in there tonight is your scrawny little scarecrow body… after I’ve broken it into kindling.”
It would’ve gone on in that vein if the referee hadn’t hustled over and shooed Portia back to her corner, thus allowing the Briton her proper entrance. Turning her back to the former World Champion with a confidence that made Portia grind her teeth, Olivia laid her arms over the top rope, then dipped her knees and tumbled into a graceful landing on the other side. Hands raised in a high, jaunty ‘V’, Dare made a circuit of the ring and made sure to blow Baby a kiss before heading back to her corner for final inspection.
Satisfied that neither lady had secreted a weapon away in her pads or boots, the referee turned to the Timekeeper and froze in mid-signal when the speakers cut loose with an electronic scream. A clearly audible ‘Oh No She Din’t’ murmur ran through those assembled and it grew into a full on roar as soon as ‘Crown on the Ground’ kicked in in earnest.
CROWN ON THE GROUND:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPoIznBujEA
Never one to keep her public waiting, Susannah Burlingame brushed through the curtain and stretched her arms in a wide ‘T’ that called down a ‘BOOM’ of cold blue pyro from overhead. Wearing a black T-shirt emblazoned with a leering jack o’ lantern and the phrase ’Trick and Treat’ and her standard black boots with matching gold-trimmed pads, the Ace of the Black Court produced a mic so that she could properly address her adoringly hateful fans.
SUE BURLINGAME:
“Ya know it occurs to me that the last two parties I’ve crashed have connections to the both of you brittle bimbos. In the first I slapped around Baby’s prize protégé and that little chick she needed a whole goddamned army to beat. In the second I put down the wannabe Fiona Waterford and that off key anchor Dare calls a tag team partner. Now don’t get me wrong, putting boots to those throats and asses to those noses was great, but now that I’ve disposed of the rest it’s time to humiliate the best… relatively speaking of course. Both of you are distant seconds as long as I’m in the same building, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of… yet.” Susan lowered the mic like she was about to start forward, only to stop and raise it again. “One other thing. Don’t worry about having to share a single casket. I’ve got enough for the both of you.” With she waved a hand to the curtain and a second coffin-wielding tech started down to ringside.
With all the necessary arrangements made, Sue dropped the mic, then grabbed the bottom edge of her tee-shirt in both hands and peeled it up over her head to reveal the dark blue two-piece with gold trim. Taking it slow because they sure as hell weren’t going to start without her, the Rainmaker avoided all hands friendly or otherwise until broke into a full on sprint, dove under the bottom rope and sprang to her feet. Positioned directly between the transatlantic blondes, Burlingame offered them both matching smirks before she went to an empty corner for a totally unnecessary inspection.
“All right, lets just get this out of the way now so there’s no confusion later.” Susan called to her pair of adversaries after the bell CLANGED. “I know we’re all former World Champions here and that makes us equals in the eyes of some, but the fact of the matter is that YOU--” she pointed to Portia, who answered with a disgusted snarl, “--are a shadow of the woman you used to be. And YOU--” Burlingame shifted focus to Olivia, who arched an eyebrow. “--only had a record-breaking title reign because I wasn’t around to point your skinny ass at the lights. Good as you two are, even at your best and even working together it wouldn’t be enough to get the job done.” The Ace took a few steps out of the corner, raised her hands and beckoned both blondes forward. “So come at me one at a time or put aside your A-Cup bickering and bring it all at once. Doesn’t matter to me, you’re both gonna end up in those boxes one way or the other.”
Olivia glanced at Baby, then tilted her head toward Sue. “What do you say, luv? Just this once?”
Portia snorted. “Don’t make me laugh, Jersey. I don’t need you to whoop her--”
“Yes you do.” Burlingame interrupted. “You needed a whole team to help you beat down that half pint lifeguard, I’m surprised you don’t have a riot squad backing your play tonight. Dare might be a skinny piece of crap, but she wrestles better than she looks… which is more than I can say about you, Jersey.”
VanBuren snarled, started toward the Rainmaker, then drew back when Susan sank into a tense martial arts stance. Torn between an alliance with a woman she loathed and a victory over a bytch that would almost certainly give her a title shot, Portia looked over her shoulder at Olivia and said, “Just this once, Dare. And when she’s helpless, I do the honors. Are we clear?”
Olivia smirked. Let’s just pretend I agree. Shall we?”
The Trust Fund Terror nodded, then advanced on Burlingame, though both Olivia and Sue noted that she didn’t really pick up her pace until the Brit was right alongside. Watching them come with a small smile, Susan lunged and banged a jab off Portia’s chin only to double over when Olivia went low and slammed a shoulder into her belly. Wrapping her arms around Burlingame’s hips, the Oncoming Storm drove her opponent into the buckles and unloaded a half dozen Shoulderblocks in rapid succession.
“Anytime (THUMP!) you wanna (THUMP!) lend a hand (THUMP!) would be fine,(THUMP!) VanBuren!”(THUMP!) Dare shouted between rude impacts.
“Well if you’d control her a little better, I could--” Portia swatted Susan’s warding hand aside, then plowed in with a hard Forearm Smash across opposing rack. “Oh yeah, that’s good. That’s real good, Jersey.” Baby purred after scuffing Susan’s juggs several times. “Still think you’re a match for both of us? Hell, you’re barely a match for Dare and I’ve whipped her bony ass UUNNNNGGGHHH!”
Susan drove her forehead between the Sinister Socialite’s eyes and followed it up with a straight jab that sent POV rocking back on her heels. That left Olivia, so she coiled an arm around the Brit’s head and squeezed tight while thumping quick Kneelifts into her modest bosom. Groaning, but not about to ease up while she and VanBuren were a united front, Olivia put a little more ‘oomph’ into a final Shoulderblock, then backed out of the corner with Burlingame in tow.
“Stupid plan, Dare.” the brunette grunted. “You keep your head down there and I can hit it from every sidDWOOAHHHHNNNGGH!”
Perfectly aware of that fact, Olivia crouched down and popped her hips to take the heiress up, over and down onto her back with a BOOMING Northern Lights Suplex. Pushing up on her toes in an absolutely gorgeous bridge, Dare bridged up on instinct alone and took a double slap to her tummy from the heiress as a result.
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QK0M17VnaMg
She’d just regained her feet when Portia snagged a handful of waistband and reeled her into a THWHAPPING Forearm Smash across the small of the back. Sue hissed and froze in place only to find herself spun around for a teeth-clacking European Uppercut courtesy of the VB&A CEO. “I thought we had an understanding, Dare.” Portia spat as Burlingame stumbled away. “I end her. Then you and I can finish what we started.”
Olivia didn’t answer immediately. Instead she reached out with her left hand and cupped the American’s chin to hold her in place. Then she twisted her hips and THWHAPPED her right forearm up across the back of Sue’s skull in a European Uppercut of her own.
Immediately dismissing Dare when she noticed the Ace’s lowered head, Portia circled around and raced in from her foe’s left. Catching Susan’s shin in both hands as she passed, Baby hopped and laid out on her back to THWHUNK Burlingame’s noggin into the canvas with a Swinging Neckbreaker. Sue’s head bounced hard enough to sit her up so Portia palmed both shoulders and pushed her down and pounded a miniature Knee Drop into the hollow of her right shoulder.
SWINGING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhFWW4MLYa4
Burlingame jolted, then sat up and swiped blindly in Portia’s direction. “Are you fucking kidding me? You really think you’ll win that NNNNGGGGHH!” Olivia dove in with her right arm extended and THWHACKED it across Susan’s chest to return her to the canvas.
LOW LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qlru9v2Q7KA
“Tie up her head.” the Brit commanded even as she circled around to the Ace’s right side. “I’ll get her waist.”
“Don’t ever presume to tell me what to do!” Portia sniped at once. She might’ve said more if Dare hadn’t slipped her legs around Burlingame’s waist and started to squeeze. Sensing an opportunity to steal the spotlight, Portia strode into place above the thrashing heiress and dropped to a seat. Lifting Susan’s head in both hands like it was nothing more than a basketball, VanBuren snuggled her crotch against the back of Burlingame’s neck, then curled her right leg around the brunette’s throat and stuffed that ankle into the pit of her left knee, thus securing the Figure Four Headscissors. “Hey Dare, wanna make a wager?” Portia put her palms against the canvas and pushed up, adding more pressure to the gammy vise.
Olivia, who’d been pouring pressure across Burlingame’s tummy while trying to control the Ace’s slashing claws. “Kinda busy here, Baby.” she answered. “But I’m always interested in hearing how to take your money.”
Portia rolled her eyes and rocked her hips. “I’ll bet you a grand that when this Jersey begs for mercy it’s my thighs she’s afraid of and not yours.”
Dare finally captured one of Susan’s wrists and yanked it away from her torso so she could PWAAAK a few flat-knuckled shots in just above the demarcation of her Scissors. “Please. When she begs it’ll be to keep her ribs from crumpling like a wet paper sack. But if you’re looking to give me money, I won’t say no.”
Baby returned her backside to the mat so she could brush some sweaty hair off Susan’s forehead. “Hope you’re proud of what you accomplished tonight, Jersey.” she cooed. “Because of you I’ll get a title shot AND steal Dare’s rent monEEYYERRGGH!”
Susan twisted her head and chomped down on the inside of POV’s right thigh. Portia shrieked and tried to maintain the Scissors, but Burlingame kept right on gnawing and she had to break away after several more seconds. Breathing better despite the velvet-sheathed steel locked around her ribs, Burlingame pushed onto her elbows and smirked at the Brit. “I’ll take half of that grand.” she said following a few ragged breaths. “Not that I’ll be submitting to these pipecleaners eithHEERRRGGGHHH!”
Olivia squeezed all the harder, the musculature in her thighs and calves shredding into sharp relief as she tried to cut the American in half. “You don’t have to submit, luv.” Dare said cheerily enough. “I just want you nice and winded before I roll your arse into that caskUUUNNNNNGGGHH!”
Susan leaned forward and smashed a Hammer Fist down on Olivia’s crotch as hard as she could.
The blow broke Olivia’s legs open like Burlingame uttered the magic word and Dare rolled away from her lost Scissors with a moan, the Brit curling into a ball, hands deep between slender sinewy stems. With the Englishwoman in agony, a seated Susan winced away some of the remaining pain from her ribs. She failed to notice Portia was ignoring the reddened bite imprint on an alabaster thigh and hit the ropes in front of Burlingame. Portia sprinted back at the Ace and kept things simple, nailing Burlingame with a Running Knee.
RUNNING KNEE @ 00:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLpruXxh1sM
VanBuren THUMPED the bony joint into the chin of the Black Courtier and laid out the interloper, the tawny terror spread into a brown-eyed starfish, Baby skidding to a stop a few steps beyond. Portia turned and looked at Susan then Olivia. She shook her head at the anguished Dare.
“Are you kidding me?” the lead Associate shouted at a teary-eyed Olivia who managed to snarl at her ‘ally’ but couldn’t provide any verbalization at the moment.
Baby could manage more. She stepped to Burlingame, plucking Susan off the canvas. The slender socialite slipped behind the Ace, yanking Susan’s left arm between the brunette’s own legs. Slipping her lithe frame under Burlingame’s opposite arm, she stretched her torso across Susan’s back, apparently looking to taffy pull the fellow 1-percenter’s abs. But the blonde didn’t head in that direction, instead offering the FAWNatics a rare glimpse of her limited power. Vaulting Susan off the deck with the Pumphandle, Portia didn’t get the brunette all the way overhead, but she didn’t have to deliver a nasty Gutbuster across bended knee that left Susan on the mat gasping for air while hugging her impaled tummy.
PUMPHANDLE GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbFqgI6XCz4
With Susan occupied, Portia rose and looked to her ‘partner’. Olivia’s made it to her knees, butt on her haunches. “And when do you start becoming an asset instead of an ass?” Portia posed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be kicking hers and yours soon enough,” Olivia answered.
As if to prove it, Dare struggled to her feet despite the bolts of pain from below, but VanBuren waved her off, capturing a rising Burlingame, pulling her close into a chest-to-chest Bear Hug.
“Feel more like A-,” Susan grunted as Baby cinched her embrace tight, drawing a heavy exhale from the Ace.
Portia lifted Susan off the deck and dropped to one knee again, this time dissecting the Black Courtier’s thighs rather than gutting her, the Inverted Atomic Drop sending Susan bouncing off Portia’s pointed knee, Susan landing pigeon-toed in front of Fortune’s Favorite. Jaw dropping from the pain emanating from her crotch, Susan was frozen in place. A rising Baby took a step back and twirled into a Discus Clothesline that nearly removed Susan’s head from her shoulders, decking the brunette with surprising force.
DISCUS CLOTHESLINE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=95kh2tQSElE
Standing nearby, Olivia gave the combination a shrugging seal of approval and plucked Susan off the canvas, arranging the gobsmacked Burlingame into a Full Nelson. Furious, Portia blocked the path to the stereo caskets.
“What in THE hell?” VanBuren shouted. “I believe I’m the undertaker here.”
“I’m just trying to get her in the box. That was the agreement, was it not? While you’re doing a pirouette, I’m using the seconds you’re wasting.”
And while the ‘allies’ chatted, Susan broke an arm free of Olivia’s grip and NAILED her with an elbow to the temple that staggered the Oncoming Storm. In front of Burlingame, Baby shot a Toe Kick toward the navel of the brunette, but the quick hands of the Ace intercepted Portia’s effort and Susan lifted the leg high, leaving VanBuren bouncing on her grounded boot.
Knowing time was limited, Burlingame tossed the limb to the left, spinning Portia in a tight circle and when it reaches a 360 it’s Susan who gutted the socialite with a Toe Kick of her own. Leaping into the air next to a stooped Portia, Susan swung her right leg high and brought it CRASHING down across the back of Baby’s skull. The Manhattanite was sent to the mat face-first, her patrician features SMASHING into the canvas.
AXE KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dU44vaOrO1o
Feeling the clock ticking in her head, the Ace turned and, charging with big boot high, was Dare. Susan shifted her head underneath and caught Olivia, Dare’s raised right leg draped over the Black Courtier’s shoulder. With no grounding to speak of, Olivia was an easy mark for a Capture Suplex, Susan flipping Dare up and over, the Brit THUMPING to the canvas on her head and shoulders and sliding to an aching stop no more than a couple feet from Portia, the Oncoming Storm face-up and Baby facedown the body-boxes seemingly calling their names.
CAPTURE SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cu9gclB-ks
A winded Burlingame surveyed the damage, Portia and Olivia spread out before her, a sight which fueled the handicapped Ace. She grabbed a handful of Dare’s flaxen locks and a wrist and hauled the woman who could claim FAWN’s longest World Title reign to her feet. She ran Olivia toward one casket and attempted to heave her over. Dare cleared the ropes but held onto the top strand spinning herself back toward the ring, face to face with the Ace. She lifted a right cross, but Susan blocked with a left forearm and sent a following, gutting knee through the ropes and deep into Olivia’s midriff.
“If you insist on not be buried quite yet, why don’t you come back in?” Burlingame barked.
Susan broke the Brit’s weakened grip and tugged Olivia’s head into a Front Facelock over the uppermost cable. Reaching over to grab some of The Storm’s trunks on her hip, Susan lifted Olivia off the apron and into a stalled Suplex position.
It’s then a risen Portia sent a Double Axhandle between Burlingame’s shoulders. The blow rocked the brunette enough for her to lose her grip, which didn’t end up being a good thing for the airborne Englishwoman, Olivia ending laid out to dry like a piece of laundry across the top strand, Olivia’s belly taking another beating as she teetered atop the rope, finally falling into the squared circle.
Meanwhile, Baby spun Susan to face her. Grabbing a wrist, the candidate for Most Hated whipped Burlingame across the canvas and Susannah turned into a violent collision with the buckles. She melted into the corner, arms thrown over the top ropes on either side to remain upright.
VanBuren took that as her cue and she raced toward the blasted Susan, launching as she closes in, SPLASHING the Black Courtier with as much avalanche as her slender frame could muster. It’s enough to make Susan appear as haggard as she had all night and convinced Portia it’s time to test the Market and see if it’s bullish or bearish.
Turning to face away from Susan, Portia rose to the middle ropes. Baby peeled her green bottoms, dollar sign disappearing, to show FAWN’s most glorious ivory glutes. Susan’s expressive, brown eyes suddenly showed awareness of the situation she’s in. She spit out half a ‘nuuh’ before Portia pressed her Bare Ass Market into Burlingame’s mug, swooshing the bare derriere tight to Susan’s face. Burlingame flailed wildly, her head shaking back and forth. But with Portia’s palms gripping tightly around the top cable on either side, Susan’s buried under the pale moon for several long seconds until the official started his count, giving Baby four more seconds of humiliation to pile on the Ace.
Portia hopped down and ‘flicked’ her togs back into place in the same movement, thus ensuring the undeserving masses don’t get any more of her than was absolutely necessary. She’d just swung back to get her hands on Burlingame when Dare limped up beside her, one arm pressed tight over her aching midsection. “Crude as ever, but undeniably effective.” the brunette wheezed. “Think she’s ready to go?”
“In a moment.” Baby replied. “Grab a wrist and follow my lead.” Dare stepped forward to comply and that’s when VanBuren snatched her at waistband and nape. Summoning as much speed as she could over a short distance, the two-time former World Champ tossed her ‘partner’ into Susan’s gulping tummy with an involuntary Shoulderblock cum Spear.
Portia, knowing the Brit was too dull to understand the genius of her plan, sought to mitigate the other blonde’s inevitable irritation by spiking a vicious right hand in above Olivia’s right hip. The Blackbird sobbed and her knees buckled but Baby didn’t let crumple, not by a long shot. Looping an arm around the bendy-back’s midsection, POV pulled her out of the corner and spun her into a short little Toe Kick. “Yeah, that’s exactly where you belong, Jersey. Examining the canvas while preparing to kiss my feet.” Portia reached down to claim the Brit’s left wrist in her left hand and vice versa. Then she crossed one over the other in a tight ‘X’ and swung around so she and Dare were back to back, with the other woman’s forearms snugged across her throat in an unpleasant Straightjacket. Even more boos than usual as VanBuren kicked a leg up and laid out on her back, thus obliterating any alliance by THWHUNKING the Oncoming Storm on the back of her head and shoulders with a Straightjacket Neckbreaker.
STRAIGHTJACKET NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfpRwwM5QWU
Shoving the shuddering battler aside without a second thought, Baby returned to verticality and strutted over to the corner where Burlingame had one arm draped across her abs and the other hooked over the top rope. “Pardon for the delay, I had to deal with some dead weight.” She lunged in and CRAAACKED Sue’s cheek, the spiteful mood of the Bytch Slap at sharp contrast to the blonde’s rather pleasant tone.
Susan’s head snapped to the side in a cloud of sweaty locks, but when she turned back to her attacker she was actually smiling. “Shouldn’t have double crossed her, Portia.” the Ace chuckled. “Working with her was the only chance you had of beating MEERRGH!”
Already short tempered from dealing with Dare’s prattle, the Trust Fund Terror dug her nails into Sue’s forehead and raaaaaaaked all the way down to the point of her chin. “Time you learned something, New Money.” VanBuren curled an arm around the back of the brunette’s head and pulled her off the buckles. “I don’t work with ANYONE if they’re not one of my associates. And considering my vetting process, neither you or that waste of skin would even prove worthy of an interview” Susan’s only answer was an unpleasant grunt, so Portia picked up the pace and jabbed a finger at the ref waiting by one of the caskets. “Open it up, Jersey! I’ve got one ready for Hart Island!”
The ref lifted the lid with an appropriately gothic shriek and Portia picked up her pace, getting out in front of the Ace so she could dispose of her overrated ass one hand-- “OOOFFFFHH!”
Burlingame smacked an open palm into VanBuren’s tummy, then reached up and caught her by the scruff of the neck. Stepping out into the lead, Susan angled Portia toward the ropes to the right of the waiting caskets and simply slung her into the strands with everything she could muster. VanBuren recovered at the last instant, swinging her back to the rubber-coated steel to avoid an unpleasant chest-first meeting. What she did NOT avoid was the Rainmaker, who’d thrown herself into a wickedly smooth rotation the instant Portia left her clutches. They swung around on one another at the same moment and it was Sue striking first with a Rolling Elbow that THWHACKED off Baby’s left temple. Portia’s noggin whiplashed to the right and the rest of her soon followed in a classic Flair Flop that had the All Hallows Evil crowd cheering wildly in spite of their disdain for the Courtiers.
ROLLING ELBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=d516ZxwnQ_w
Susan herself was more than happy to bask in it, the suddenly resurgent Party Crasher dramatically dropping to one knee and stretching her arms wide. “WALKIN’ BETWEEN THE RAINDROPS, PEOPLE! WALKIN’ BETWEEN THE GODDAMNED RAINDROPS!”
A shift in the crowd noise told Burlingame something was amiss and she tumbled to safety a heartbeat before Olivia would’ve taken her head off with a Low Super Kick. “Now, now, now.” Sue looked rather nonplussed as she regained her feet. “Is that any way to thank the woman who flattened that double crossing bytch of a partner?”
Dare shook her head in disgust. “I was foolish to believe VanBuren would let something so foolish as sound strategy trump her own ego. But don’t think for a moment that my desire to humiliate her will lead to an alliance with you. You may very well be the single most untrustworthy woman on this roster, Susannah Burlingame.”
The heiress put a hand on her chest. “Words hurt, you know. I can’t stand it that a fellow WOLF alum would think so poorly of me, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to scrape Portia up, then tee off on her knobbly little skull. If I’m as good as I think I am (and I’m actually better), she’ll timber in your direction. If you’re as good as I think you are, you’ll knock her right back to me and so the game goes. Call it Portia Ping-Pong. Or Brat Bounce. I like--”
“All right, all right, all right!” Olivia backed up and pointed a finger at Baby, who was starting to move. “Just shut up and do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
Susan gave her a little bow. “But of course. Your bytch will be ready shortly.”
Circling around to the discombobulated socialite, Burlingame plunged both hands into her hair and tugged her into a rough Front Facelock. From there she jerked VanBuren to boot-leather, slung the near arm over across her shoulders and grabbed hold of some green waistband. Feet set wide, Susan ‘hupped’ Baby to roughly two o’clock, then let loose and stepped clear, letting the CEO of VB&A return to the canvas on her feet. Of course Susan was ready and waiting for her and as soon as the blonde touched down she whipped her right leg up n’ around to THWHACK a Flash Kick off Baby’s right cheek.
SUPLEX-LIFT TO FLASH KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RsOUwmCzgdU
Portia spun with the impact, stamped in half a dozen fencepost holes and was on the verge of another face-plant when Olivia seized her outstretched left wrist. “Brought this on yourself, VanBuren.” the wiry Briton sneered. “But then again, you always do.” This assessment was still rolling off her tongue when Dare stepped back and twisted the captured limb in a wide circle. Coming off the Arm Wringer she whipped up her right leg and stuffed a foot against the side of Baby’s face and laid out on her back. Portia got jerked along for the ride, a short but emphatic descent that ended with a heaping helping of tasty, tasty Sole Food.
SOLE FOOD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7XhIx-NIQQ
Sent reeling for the second time in as many minutes, the Trust Fund Terror almost made it to center ring before she doubled over to better assess her pulverized patrician mug. She’d just managed to determine everything was in the right place when Susan strolled over and braved both hands against her back. “Didn’t wanna get bored with the kicks.” Burlingame explained to Dare as she hopped into a seat atop her foe’s back. “Don’t worry though, You still got next.” With her legs hooked tight under VanBuren’s biceps, Sue stretched her arms wide, then corkscrewed hard to the right, a move that brought her down on her tush and THWHAMMED Portia onto her back in an interesting sideways variant of the Yoshi Tonic.
YOSHI TWIST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UutsI3scTFw
Since pins were pointless (and to a much lesser extent, because she’d promised Olivia) Susan pushed off of Baby’s upturned buns, somersaulting clear of the wreckage so the Blackbird could have her swing.
For whatever reason, perhaps because Portia wasn’t the athletic specimen Burlingame could rightly claim to be, the team of Susan and Olivia was working like a well-oiled machine compared to the stuttering, gear-grinding combination of Portia and Dare.
With Sue clearing space for the Blackbird, Olivia scraped VanBuren off the canvas, the socialite looking as though she’s long past the point of a normal Soho bender. Once on her feet, Baby wobbled in Olivia’s somewhat tender embrace, the Oncoming Storm lifting a knee into the pit of Portia’s ivory tummy, doubling her up with a heavy grunt. With Portia folded in front of her, Olivia slipped the lead Associate’s noggin between her thighs and wrapped her arms around Portia’s gulping tummy.
With relative ease, the slim but sinewy Dare flipped Portia up her body and over her shoulder, catching the blonde on the other side, VanBuren stationed back-to-back Olivia, the Blackbird making the Manhattanite her own personal backpack. After a few seconds of stretching out arms and back, Olivia released her grip of Portia’s upper body and sat out SLAMMING VanBuren to the deck with a ring-rattling Gory Special Faceplant.
GORY SPECIAL FACEPLANT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJIM_wCqioE
VanBuren shuddered and fell still. Olivia sat at her feet keeping a wary eye on Burlingame. But the tawny brunette only nodded appreciatively.
“It’s good that two warriors battle it out in the end,” Susan flattered. “This,” Burlingame motioned toward the splattered VanBuren as Dare pushed up and backs away, giving Susan another moment with their chew toy, “…was out of gas when we were in WOLF and she would have been eaten up there.”
Sue tugged the putty that was Portia to her feet and dragged Baby to the nearest corner. With not a little bit of effort, she got the stupefied VanBuren to the buckles then switched positions, the Black Courtier taking the inside. The Ace climbed to the middle ropes and pulled Portia’s arms wide to underhook them and placed Baby directly on Dream Street with the Burlingamebreaker.
But before Susan could launch off her perch and SPIKE the noggin of the socialite, Portia keenly slipped a leg through the ropes, grapevining it around a bottom cable. The official quickly stepped in and started his count to the disbelief of the Ace and the disappointment of both Olivia and the FAWNatics.
Burlingame dropped down from her seat and shrugged at Dare.
“She may be a bytch,” Olivia said, “but she’s not stupid. Well, not completely.”
“Apparently,” Susan replied, giving up her underhooks for a wrist as she tugged Baby away from the safety of the cables. But as Portia stumbled toward Burlingame, the ruby-tipped talons on her free hand flashed to Susan’s eyes, raking across the dark peepers and sending the Black Courtier stumbling away, alternating a shriek with some first-class cursing.
The Brit couldn’t help but let a smile loose at the sight, but instead of taking advantage of the blinded Susan, she headed for the panting Portia, who in turn, forced herself to chase after Burlingame instead of recovering. Baby sank her nails into the long dark locks of the Ace and gave the mane a healthy tug.
“You’re going to find out why I’m a future Hall of Famer, Jersey,” VanBuren grunted between deep breaths. But quickly behind it is a loud “AHHHHHH”.
Coming from behind, Olivia drove a boot into the back of the socialite’s left knee, sending Baby into a pained genuflection after releasing her hold on Susan’s follicles.
Portia’s face twisted in pain and she spun to meet Olivia’s glare.
“Why?” VanBuren spat.
“She’s much more dangerous than you,” Dare explained, “but you’re just too erratic and, frankly, she’s right, you don’t deserve it.”
Olivia used Portia’s raised knee as a platform for her left boot while her right swung around and CLAPPED VanBuren’s temple with a wicked Shining Wizard. The Trust Fund Terror-turned-Flop did just that ending on her face, splattered directly between Dare and Burlingame.
A snarling Susan added an emphatic stomp to the back of Baby’s head for good measure.
Not asking for her ‘turn’, Susan slung an arm around Baby’s braincase and tugged her up to rubbery stems and into a front Facelock. Portia’s hands rose to Burlingame’s hips, somehow VanBuren with enough sense remaining to try and push her way free. But those thoughts quickly came to an end when Susan sent a punt between Portia’s thighs, the right shin of the Ace CRAAACKING into emerald-covered crotch.The FAWN original’s legs snapped shut, knees knocking, as she squeaked pitifully, fully in Susan’s control.
Angered by VanBuren’s recovery (even if it had been quite brief) Susan shoved the crippled blonde around in a half circle, then hunkered forward and wrapped her arms around Baby’s thighs. A violent yank sent the former World Champ THUMPING onto her face and chest and more importantly, left her legs wrapped loose around Burlingame’s waist, Wheelbarrow-style. Looking to Olivia across an aching patrician landscape, the Ace asked, “You still use the Double Dare, right?”
Olivia nodded, though she kept her distance. Sue was a suitable enough partner now, but then again, so had Portia. “When the occasion calls for it. Why do you ask?”
Susan patted Portia’s tush, much to the CEO’s sputtered disgust. “I think the occasion is calling for it. You hook her up, I’ll make sure you get a little more momentum than usual.”
Dare blinked when she realized what the heiress had in mind. “That’s… bloody brilliant.”
“You’re welcome. Now get your polite British ass in gear, you and I can’t play nice all night.”
With that said she dipped her knees and hoisted VanBuren up until she floating slightly above the Rainmaker’s waist. Hopping to only because she was quite interested to see the result of this little experiment, Olivia swung around on the suspended socialite’s left side and reached over to grab her right wrist, which she folded between Baby’s shoulders in a Hammerlock. With her next breath she seized hold of POV’s left wrist and pulled the attached limb tight across Portia’s neck in a Cut-Throat.
The FAWNatics, just now getting the gist of what the mismatched pair had planned, let loose with a thunderous roar and broke into a chant of ‘DOUBLE DOG DARE! DOUBLE DOG DARE!” Burlingame rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. Give ‘em brilliance and they come up with the most painfully obvious label every single time. No wonder Em’s is depressed all the time. Whatever, you ready to do this thing?”
Olivia jerked up on both of Portia’s wrists, earning a gurgled squeal from the wriggling blonde. “Staaaaahhhhppp! Lemme go and fight NNNGGHHH!”
The Blackbird snapped a brisk Kneelift into the American’s forehead to cut off the wailing with mechanical precision. “Quite. Shall I count us off?”
“Please.”
“One. Two. Three!”
Susan dipped, then popped her hips and hoisted Portia all the way two o’clock. Olivia left her feet at the same time and when Burlingame released the Wheelbarrow she braced her shins against Baby’s back and laid out on her own to THAWHAMWHUNK her prey’s spine with an astoundingly powerful variation of her standard Double Dare. Lungs practically blown through her chest and into the rafters by the innovative double team, VanBuren bounced off the other blonde’s knees and managed a near full rotation before she hit the canvas hard on her right side.
DOUBLE DARE: (solo)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6bRRgcrxks
Hands on her hips, Susan nodded appreciatively. “I gotta admit, that worked better than I thought. Would you like to do the honors?”
The joy Dare felt at treating Portia so shabbily immediately curdled into wariness. “And have you try to dump me into the casket with her as soon as my back as turned? I think not. You’re more than welcome to take out this particular bag of trash.”
Sue shrugged, bent down and buried her one hand in Baby’s hair. She was still crouched when she locked eyes with Olivia. “Fair warning, girl. You even try what you just accused me of planning and I PROMISE that whatever satisfaction you reap in October will be nothing compared to the hell I rain down for the rest of the year.”
Olivia didn’t so much as blink. “Believe of me what you like, Susannah Burlingame, but know this. When you submit to me, our eyes will be locked just as they are now.”
The Ace smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Nor her hands apparently, as they yanked Portia’s noggin off the mat and BWUNKED it down just as quickly. “You aren’t the only one who’s been waiting, sweetie. But if you can wait just the tiniest bit longer, I’ll be with you shortly.”
Olivia gestured to the coffin in a ‘get on with it’ sort of way, so Burlingame did exactly that, scraping the remains of Portia Ophelia VanBuren off the mat in a series of fits and starts. “Good lord,” Sue wrapped one arm around the tamed Terror’s waist and held her as best she could. “Who knew a chick who survives on Mojitos and Splenda could carry so much deadweight?” Finally starting toward the edge of the ring, she demanded, “Open it up!” to the nameless tech drafted into funereal duty. He did and Susan picked up speed, the Rainmaker managing something close to a shambling trot by the time she reached the ropes and slung her burden over.
Somehow, someway, Portia grabbed hold of the top rope and used it to pull herself into a ramshackle landing on the apron. Balanced on legs that would give way at any moment, VanBuren darted out her free hand and squeezed the heiress’s throat as hard as she could. “I’ll… get you…. for this.” she promised in a sibilant hiss. “No one humiliates me like NNNGGGGHH!”
Burlingame chopped the Stranglehold away, twisted on one foot and brought the other whipping up in a Rockette’s worthy kick that THWHACKED off Portia’s forehead. Baby’s tenuous hold on the ropes gave way and she tumbled bonelessly into one of the silk-lined receptacles crowding the apron. Leaning over the ropes to grab hold of the lid, Susan blew Portia a kiss and said, “Emily sends her love.”
Then she slammed it shut.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Portia VanBuren has been eliminated!” the Announcer confirmed for all those unlucky souls foolish enough to take a bathroom break in the last few minutes.
“Hey, keep your hands off that!” the Ace snapped when several more techs started wheeling the casket away. “I’ve arranged for special handling of that precious cargo.” She looked to the stage and cupped both hands around her mouth. “SHE’S ALL YOURS, LADIES!”
The curtains parted and the crowd voiced their disapproval as Lenore Lemarchand, Pandora, Ashley Locke and Adrianna Papadopoulos started down the aisle.
Olivia, who was more than willing to take on Susan but not about to wrangle with the combined might of the Court, took a few defensive steps back. “What the hell is this, Burlingame?”
Susan looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Just pallbearers. Relax, Dare. You’re too tasty for me to wanna share.” That was small comfort to the Brit, but true to Susan’s word the Raven and the Three each claimed a corner of Portia’s casket and wheeled her away without comment, though Olivia couldn’t help notice the long look Lenore shot her on the way out. “Now then.” Susan clapped her hands once and rounded on the remaining blonde. “Truce is over. Rules change. Ready to get your pert little ass whipped on FAWN’s grandest stage?”
Olivia stepped forward, planted her toes on the canvas and drew an invisible line between them. “Good as you are, you’re just a Rainmaker, Susannah Burlingame. I however, am the Oncoming Storm. Step across this line and I promise the only pert little ass getting whipped is the one stuffed inside those tawdry trunks of yours.”
Susan looked the woman up and down with a smirk.
My, we are quick with the grand pronouncements,” Susan snickered. “Here’s one for you without the flowery language. You just helped me get rid of the only chance you had to win this match.”
Burlingame started to circle and Olivia joined her in a waltz around the ring.
“The only way you had was two-on-one and neither one of you could understand that.”
Sensing the stirring of anger in Dare’s eyes, Susan motioned the Storm to ‘oncome’, ready to stick a boot in her gut when she did. As if on cue, the Blackbird came to her call and Susan’s boot shot to the Brit’s slender midriff. But Dare snatched the foot before it impaled her gut.
Olivia whipped the leg away before Burlingame could even think of lifting an Enzugiri to her foe’s temple and, with Sue turned away after a 180 spin, Olivia drew the Ace into a tight Waistlock from behind. She gave a Heimlich thrust of joined fists into Susan’s navel, drawing a breathy gasp, then lifted the Black Courtier off the mat. Olivia genuflected beneath her, thrusting her raised knee between Susan’s thighs. The Atomic Drop sent Burlingame hopping into the air, hands plunged between her thighs. She waddled in a turn toward the risen Dare and ATE a perfectly timed Super Kick to the chin that spread the Ace out like butter on toast.
Olivia, apparently unwilling to fill the second casket quite yet, rolled Susan to her chest and dove atop her, looking for a little ‘riding time’. The dirty blonde grapevined her legs around the tawny stems of her foe and opened them wide. With Burlingame’s base taken from her, Olivia slapped a Crossface around Susan’s noggin, locking her hands together in front of the Black Courtier’s features.
With Susan trapped in a Dare Snare, Olivia twisted violently testing the Rainmaker’s neck. Burlingame dug her fingers into the canvas, trying to move the duo but with Olivia’s bodyweight on top, to say it is difficult without her legs to help, was an understatement.
“You’re right,” Olivia grunted, seemingly trying to remove Susan’s head from her shoulders with the brutal twists. “Actions do always speak louder than any words.”
Dare rode Susan ragged in her Snare, giving up inches begrudgingly until Burlingame finally wrapped a palm around the bottom rope, sweat pouring off the tawny-skinned warrior. The Ace demanded her release in a howl, Olivia giving one final twist before untying herself from the Black Courtier.
Olivia used the back of Burlingame’s head as a base from which to push up and the wincing Susan didn’t take kindly to it, reaching behind to blindly shove Dare off. The Brit used the proffered wrist as a handle and she dragged a squawking Susan to her feet and away from the safety of the cable, pulling the stumbling Susan toward the ropes nearest the remaining open casket.
Lifting a leg, the Oncoming Storm kept her ‘educated feet’ theme continuing by lifting her right boot, snugly tucking it under the jaw of the Ace. Maintaining her grip on Susan’s arm, Dare laid out and, when her back hit canvas, Olivia’s Sole Food was delivered, Susan whiplashing away from the impact with enough force, the sinewy brunette flew up and halfway over the ropes.
Susan tottered on the top cable, teetering above her internment. Olivia scrambled to her feet and started to shove Burlingame over, but the Ace coiled her arms and legs tightly around the rope, hanging on like the most shapely spider monkey ever seen.
The ref tried to intervene, but he’s quickly shoved aside by Olivia. Still, in the second it took to move the zebra out of the way, Susan slipped from over the top rope to below it and swung back inside the squared circle. Landing on her knees at Dare’s feet, the frazzled, anxious brunette had a handful of her locks collected by the Blackbird. But before Olivia could consider what will need to be done to make the next trip toward the casket Burlingame’s final ride, the desperate Ace swung an Uppercut of a forearm between Olivia’s legs, pounding her point home.
Olivia was sent to ‘eeping’ tiptoes, her features twisting in pain. She waddled away from the shameful, literally underhanded attack and, while she did, Susan managed little more than settling on her haunches and shaking cobwebs.
After long seconds, Susan found her feet and tracked Dare from behind, taking care to keep in her foe’s blind spot as the aching Olivia walked off the low blow. As the Brit spun to find her foe, she’s met with a gutting kick to the midriff. Susan swallowed her up in a tight Front Facelock.
“Where were we, bytch?” Susan growled, raising a hand high to the loud displeasure of the FAWNatics.
Burlingame turned, giving up an overhand grip of Olivia’s neck for an underhand with the opposite arm, ready to cash in Dare’s chances for the night with the signature Ka-ching.
But before the Ace of the Black Court could spike Olivia’s chin into the thinly-covered plywood, Dare got her hands up and pushed out of Burlingame’s grip. Susan stumbled forward a couple steps, angrily turning to beat down the Blackbird.
She found Dare charging, the Brit’s cupped hands moving for the back of her neck as the Brit’s body tucked into a ball, Olivia’s knees pressing tight to the chest of the Ace. Ripping the Black Courtier from her boot leather, the Blackbird hit the deck, pulling Burlingame along for the short and violent ride, Sue’s bounty flattened by a ring-rattling and body-bruising Inverted Lungblower. Susan buggywhipped away from the impact, gaining some altitude before ending in a demolished spreadeagle, not more than a Hip Toss over the ropes from eternal rest.
INVERTED LUNGBLOWER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVlOAY1wN_w
Experienced veteran though she was, Dare still felt a giddy little thrill at the prospect of disposing of a world class braggart like Susannah Burlingame. Even so, she didn’t quite believe the brunette was ready for the box, so she scrambled to her feet, crossed the canvas and buried both hands in her foe’s hair. Scraping her from the mat with several hard tugs, Olivia welcomed Sue into a Front Facelock, then grabbed the Ace’s right arm and pulled it tight across her own midsection. With arm and head both under control, the Oncoming Storm hooked her right leg behind Burlingame’s right ankle and let out a sharp curse when the other woman pulled her foot clear.
“None of that now,” Dare wrenched up on the Front Facelock, earning a choked grunt from her opposition, “it’s time for Last Rites and we both NNNGGHHH!”
Susan planted her right foot for a split second, then whipped it up n’ over in a move very reminiscent in the sting of a scorpion’s tail. The sole of her foot caught Olivia square between the eyes and she stumbled backward, hooks promptly forgotten. Burlingame on the other hand had a very definite course of action mapped out, one that started by reeling Dare into a Front Facelock of her own. Oh so aware of the strands looming on her six, the heiress actually backed into them and boosted herself into a seat on the top rope. Adding to Dare’s discomfort with several mean little punches to the ribs, Susan taunted, “You were a great World Champ, ‘Liv. But you’ll never be the GREATEST, not while I’m arounDEEERRRGGGHHH!”
Olivia replied with a punch of her own, one that hooked the Rainmaker a little above and behind her right hip. Caught in the grip of gut-shot agony after the blow to her liver, Burlingame couldn’t stop Dare from pulling loose of the Facelock but she did jolt back to life when the blonde curled her right hand into a ‘C’ shaped prong and jammed it between her lips. “Don’t think this is over when that lid slams shut, luv.” Olivia snarked in the midst of crushing down on the Cleft Note. “Tonight is just the beginning of a long series wherein I dominate your arrogant, overrated arse!”
Perched precariously on the rubber-coated steel, Burlingame leaned into the Englishwoman in hopes of hopping down, unfortunately Dare set her feet and simply would not be moved. Denied an easy escape she set about prizing at Olivia’s clawin’ wrist and slapping, punching or clawing at her attacker’s head. The former was utterly ineffective, the latter a little more so, but it was clear that the former World Champion had aced Eliza’s advanced course because she managed to twist away from any real harm and never once eased the pressure on Susan’s soft palette. Touched by an uncharacteristic burst of fear as her limbs grew steadily more leaden, Burlingame devoted both hands to securing her seat, though she did continue to lean heavily against the Blackbird.
“Mmmmrpppghhhhh…” she slobbered around the other woman’s claw.
Olivia thought it would make a lovely ring-tone. “Yes dearie, I know you want to sleep. Don’t fret, there’s a nice long nap coming very soon now ooops! I see, you’ve just about reached that sludgy pliable stage, haven’t you?”
Indeed Susan looked on the verge of total collapse, dark hair hanging sweaty and dank in her face, legs hanging listlessly, shoulders stooped, tummy fluttering, she was a beautiful study in inevitable defeat. When a singularly hard squeeze brought little more than a moan from Bankable Bombshell, Olivia looked over Sue’s shoulder and told the tech, “Open it up, please. I’ve got some trash in need of a dumpster.”
They obliged her quickly so Olivia gathered her strength and shoved forward to-- Burlingame seized the Briton’s wrist and kicked her legs almost straight up as she started to fall. Angling the former so Dare’s right bicep was wedged against the hollow of her throat while locking the latter around the blonde’s noggin in a brutal Figure Four, Susan came to a stop suspended upside down mere inches above the casket, the only thing keeping her in the match the Triangle Choke she’d secured around Olivia’s head.
“CHOKE ON THAT, YOU SKINNY BYTCH!” Susan shrieked as soon as the pressure of her counter allowed her to spit the blonde’s talon from her gullet. Ankles locked in a death-grip, she bounced, jounced and craaaaaaaaaaaaanked the Triangle as much as her depleted oxygen would allow.
Meanwhile Olivia was dealing with a sudden oxygen shortage herself as Burlingame’s vile reversal left her jerked tight against the ropes with almost nothing in the way of leverage. Still cogent enough to know that Sue would never release the hold of her own accord despite being in the ropes, Dare bypassed all formal rules of decorum and sank her free hand into the American’s crotch
“AAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAAHHHHK!” Susan screamed in absolute anguish as the Oncoming Storm devastated her undercarriage with white-knuckled ferocity. And yet the Ace didn’t relinquish her Triangle. Because she knew that Dare needed oxygen to power her Claw and if she could just hold out the bytch would start to “RRRRRGGHHHH GAAAAAAHHHDDD DAMMMIT!”
Olivia actually had the temerity to go under Burlingame’s trunks and Sue felt tears tracking her cheeks as the Crotch Claw reached a whole new level. Truly desperate for the first time in a very long time, the Black Courtier undid the long part of her Figure Four, raised that leg as high as she could and THONKED her heel into the crown of Dare’s skull. She felt the shudder run through both of them, but more importantly the firestorm between her thighs started to fade, so Susan piled on five more, one right after the other. By the end Olivia’s pretty features were flushed a distressing shade of purple and her once whip-like frame was hanging dishrag limp against the ropes.
“Ooohh….open…. the fucking box.” Susan rasped after the Triangle was complete again. Unbeknownst to her the techs had never closed it, so there was no delay in meeting her demand. Trusting them to have done their jobs, Susan shifted from the Figure Four to a standard Scissors and torqued her hips just enough to send Olivia tumbling over the top in sloppy slow motion ‘Rana. Burlingame landed awkwardly on the apron while Dare landed inside the casket with a weary ‘THWHUMP!’
Too exhausted for words, the Ace reeeeeeeeeeaaaached out, grabbed the edge of the lid and slammed it closed. Rolling atop the casket as soon as the bell CLANGED, Susan looked up at the lights and raised a weary fist in response to the Announcer’s confirmation. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match…. SUSANNAH BURLINGAME!”
“You vicious, evil shrew of a fuck.” Susan growled to the insensate beauty beneath her. “Couldn’t just go quietly, could you? Had to spit in my eye right before I sent you to hell. Well you’ve made your bed, now you’re going to lie in it… but not for long.”
Sliding off the polished wood with a painfully sweaty squeak, Susan had to brace herself against the casket to keep from falling over, as her usually sturdy legs felt more like overcooked spaghetti. After several seconds, she shooed the FAWN techs away, grabbed hold of the cart and started trudging her defeated foe up the ramp. Usually mouthy to a fault, Susan stayed deathly silent until she reached the top of the stage and wheeled it toward the far edge and the near twelve foot drop beyond. “THE GOOD NEWS IS,” she bellowed to the horror-struck FAWNatics, “THE BYTCH IS ALREADY BOXED UP! ANYONE WANNA SAY A FEW WORDS? NOW WOULD BE A GOOD OOOFFFFHHHH!”
A figure exploded through the curtains, grabbed a double handful of Susan’s hair and THWUNKED her forehead against the casket. Staggered by the sneak attack, Burlingame offered no resistance when the intruder jerked her up and tossed her down flat against the steel stage floor. A heartbeat later she’d been straddled, the crotch of her attacker’s inky black denim suspended inches above her nose.
ELIZA BLISS:
“Hello, understudy.” Eliza Bliss purred down at the pinned brunette. “It’s time for the curtain to rise on Act Two. We open on a pathetic, smothered trollop.” ‘Trollop’ was still on her lips when she slid forward and sealed Susan’s mug against her womanhood. Drawing an almost sublime pleasure from each and every of the Rainmaker’s wailings, Eliza rolled her hips and murmured, “Go ahead Suzie, shriek out your aria. I’ll accompany youEERRGGHHHH YOU RUTHLESS CUNT!”
Burlingame chomped down on whatever she could, then put her hands against Bliss’s backside and shoved forward, sending the other Blackbird sprawling onto all fours. Kipping up in a ramshackle parody of her usual self, Susan fixed Eliza with a look of genuine disbelief mixed with utter loathing. “You stupid bytch.” she said softly. “You no idea what I’m going to do to you.”
Eliza tucked some hair behind her ears and smiled nastily. “Well I know exactly what’s going to happen to you, sweet Susan. Would you like to know? You’re going a song in three parts. Domination. Ruination. Humiliation. And you’ll sing them all directly into my arse.”
Burlingame shook her head, she still couldn’t believe this washout thought she could hang. “All right, Bliss. If that’s the way you want it. I did just polish off two Hall of Famers, but I’ve got plenty left to--”
Sue and Eliza pounced at the same time, their questing claws sinking deep into the other’s dark mane. Alas, a sudden tide of black & white pulled them apart before they could do more than start to tug. “YOU’RE MINE, BLISS!” Susan screamed over the demands of the referees. “I’LL GRIND MY NAME INTO YOUR SLUTTY LITTLE FACE!”
“I’M RIGHT HERE, RICH GIRL!” Eliza spread her arms wide, daring Burlingame to break her bonds. “DON’T LET THESE PEONS HOLD YOU BACK! UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPARE YOUR MYSTIQUE ANOTHER NIGHT!”
To her credit Susan did try to get loose, but she was too tired and the refs too numerous. She was still kicking and cursing when they dragged her through the curtains shortly thereafter. Calming almost the instant Sue was out of sight, Eliza shook free of the ref’s and hurried over to the casket. Lifting the lid with an effortful grunt, she leaned in and pulled a gasping Olivia Dare to a seat.
“Duuuhhh…. did I hear you battling that disgusting harpy?” she coughed.
“You did. She was going to push you off the stage, ‘Liv.”
“That bytch. I’m going to tie her in so many knots she’ll--”
Bliss interrupted with a shake of her head. “She’s mine, luv. I need this. I need HER. I don’t make it a habit to beg, but--”
“All right. She’s yours. Tell me though, is there going to be anything left?”
“Not if I have any say in the matter.”
“Then I suppose I shall have to live vicariously through you. Hurt her, Eliza. Hurt her like she’s never been hurt before.”
The Songbird nodded once, solemnly. “And then some. I promise you this, my friend. Susannah Burlingame is going to rue the day she thought she could force me from the spotlight.”