Post by SammieSinclair on May 10, 2015 21:42:07 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen,” begins our friendly neighbourhood ring announcer, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a 20 minute time limit. Introducing first, being accompanied by her tag team partner, Charlotte Dawson... Hailing from Charlotte, North Carolina, she stands five feet one inch tall, and weighs in this evening at one-hundred and fourteen pounds... ladies and gentlemen, please welcome... SKKKYYYLLLAAARRR MIIITTTCCCHHHEEELLLLLL!!!!!”
Skye Mitchell...
Charlie Dawson...
The FAWNatics do just that, turning things up to eleven even as the FAWN Arena’s sound system begins to pump out a not entirely familiar tune. That talent relations had sprung for an individual theme for the Li’lest Mitchell speaks volumes for the hopes they had in both Sweethearts. And even without yet recording a victory in Orlando, young Charlie and Skye had already made a considerable impression on the Orlando faithful.
“HOMEGROWN HONEY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIQlZVdCRfI
Just a couple of moments later, the stunning, bedimpled young blonde who had been generating such a buzz bursts through the curtains. Once the beaming Dawson arrives, however, the crowd remarkably manage to raise the decibel meter further still! And yet... despite outnumbering the FAWN Arena’s capacity dwarfing the left Turn by a factor of HUNDREDS to one, somehow their roar doesn’t feel QUITE as loud to Dawson. But that doesn’t stop the youngster from bringing her hands up to her ears, covering them as if the roar might be painful--but the smile that remained planted on Charlie’s lips illustrates just how much she’s enjoying the moment. Blushing, the blonde motioned downward with her hands...
But even in Orlando, the capacity crowd will have none of it--especially not with her partner standing behind her, waving her hands UPWARD frantically, beckoning the FAWNatics to keep the love coming. As frenetic as Skylar’s arms are moving, perhaps Charlie caught a bit of a blur out of the corner of her eye, prompting her to spin around...
The kid might be quick, but not quick enough. By the time she’s facing Skye, her fellow youngster’s hands are clasped behind her back, and she looks up toward the lights, whistling in pure innocence.
Charlie shakes her head at her partner, but then she quickly moves toward Mitchell. Placing one hand on the Tar Heel’s back and another on her bum, Dawson playfully shoves Skye forward. “This is YOUR match!” she says. “What are YOU doing back there???”
The Sweethearts make it a point to slap EVERY single hand offered her way--and ESPECIALLY the younger ones. Finally, the Darling of the Desert and the Lil’est Mitchell slide under the bottom rope, springing to their feet. The duo unzip their hot pink hoodies, Charlie slipping off hers to reveal a light blue fightin’ two piece that, in spite of its somewhat modest and innocent cut still manages to raise the blood pressure of quite a few spectators. For her part, Skye sports a royal purple lyrca bikini top and short shorts, with white pads and boots.
(Old school FAWN fans might note the distinct similarity in Skylar’s togs, and the gear worn by her older sister Cynthia at the beginning of her career...)
Charlotte takes a few moments to share some final words of encouragement and strategy with Skylar, then moves toward the ropes as the announcer steps back to centre ring. With the Sweetheart’s love fest not yet concluded, the house speakers interrupt with the pounding of Metallica’s “Don’t Tread on Me”.
“DON’T TREAD ON ME":
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPl2sTo_8-o
A few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ shoot to their feet, saluting crisply. The other 98 percent of the FAWNatics make themselves known in quite a different way.
While once upon a time this musical cue would spur a round of enthusiastic shouts and cheers for both her and the redhead in the ring, the crowd’s cascade of boos is deafening, the Young Americans’ Benedict Arnold being booed out of the building or more appropriately in this instance, into it.
The PA barely breaks through the jeers.
“And her opponent…the former Lightweight Champion…"
One word in the above has the power to transform boos into cheers, however briefly...
“Hailing from Buffalo, NY; standing five feet one inch tall, and tips the scales tonight at one hundred and eighteen scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome. Ladies and gentlemen, she is the one and only TRUE American... POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!”
Polly Lockwood...
The haters only get louder when the blonde hardbody strides confidently to centre stage, bringing a salute to her brow. When the hand, fashioned into a knife-edge, moves away from her forehead, Lockwood adds her own little twist, a middle finger remaining straight while the others recede.
Polly’s wardrobe remains worthy of flag waving. The tiny blonde hardbody sports the former Young Americans’ standard uniform of hot pants and bikini top. Polly alternates her country’s colours between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in just the right spots, and shimmering red and white stripes below; with white pads and boots capping off the ensemble.
The True American fails to wear Old Glory over her shoulders, Polly’s banner having been pilfered after last month’s humiliating post-match beat down from that Confederate bytch, Ivy Armstrong.
Instead, Lockwood opts for a flag with a rattlesnake and the old chestnut ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ in its place. She spreads her arms wide, showing off the dangerous serpent as she walks down the ramp and aisle. Lockwood growls at the moronic hordes, ignoring the insults and the jeers.
Reaching the ring, the patriot ascends the steel steps. Sliding through the ropes, Lockwood shrugs off her flag come cape, draping it over her corner. She angrily marches to the centre of the ring, getting right up in the announcers face and jabbing a finger into his chest. Even without reaching for his microphone, the “stick” picks up her words well enough for the FAWNatics to hear. “Where the HELL do YOU get off stressing that FORMER???”
The crowd erupts into loud cheers, which morphs into a chant of, “FOR-MER CHAM-PION!” Polly pulls away from the man, regarding the audience with a fleeting moment of genuine hurt in her eyes... but that soon gives way to anger.
“SHUT UP!!!!” the blonde screams, but the FAWNatics do just the opposite. With the chant growing louder, Lockwood brings her hands up to her ears, though the microphone makes it a little difficult to ‘muff’ one of them. “SHUT UUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!”
Still no dice.
Polly’s chest heaves with each deep breath she takes, the blonde trying to steady herself. With enough control of her emotions regained, Lockwood brings the mic back to her lips. “You know...” the TRUE American sighs, “I knew when that... that... you know, I STILL think Lily Burlingame was an imposter! The REAL Cherry Bomb was busted by Immigration before Bloody Valentine, and Lily posed in her place!”
Judging by the response of the crowd, and the scoffs of the Sweethearts, Polly is very much on her own island there.
“But after Cherry and Lily conspired to cheat me out of MY title, I figured I’d have to work my way back up from the bottom. Going THIS far BELOW the bottom...”
Lockwood nods in Skylar’s direction.
“... seems a bit much. And remind me, WHERE are these two coming from? NEW Mexico? You SURE we need that first word? Cause I’M NOT...!!!”
“Honey,” Skye responds, “I’m a Carolina girl, born and raised. But trust me, when tonight’s over, I’m gonna put YOUR ass on a slow boat to China!”
“Sweetie,” Polly sneers, “your night’s only gonna be over when I LET them wheel you out to the ambulance.” Without another word, Lockwood tosses the mic down to the canvas. The referee quickly kicks the stick toward the ropes, then calls for the bell. As the diminutive duo approach one another, the TRUE American mutters, “Hope you’re ready for a wrestling lesson tonight, little girl...”
Lockwood and Mitchell surge toward a lock-up... but, at the last moment, Skylar dips and goes behind. Polly lets out an almost comic yelp of surprise as Skye slaps on a waistlock, followed by a higher pitched cry when the Li’lest Mitchell uses that waistlock to take the former Lightweight champ. From there, Skylar puts on HER OWN wrestling clinic, getting in a little riding time floating over Lockwood in a 360 before popping back to her feet.
“Class dismissed,” Skye says with a wink and a smirk, prompting an embarrassed Polly to SLAM her palms against the mat.
“You gonna let that go???” the TRUE American demands to know of the referee.
“Let WHAT go?” he asks, confused.
“Bytch pulled my hair!” Polly screeches.
Skylar rolls her eyes. “Her hands weren’t anywhere near your hair, Polly,” the zebra snaps.
“Damn liberals,” Lockwood mutters, not quite under her breath, as she pushes back to her feet. But once there, the blonde suddenly rushes toward another attempt at a lock-up. But again, Skye proves quick, slipping around Polly and securing a waistlock. This time, however, with the blonde’s momentum carrying her toward the ropes, Mitchell’s legs churn to propel them there that much quicker. When Lockwood’s belly and bosom meet the rubber coated steel, Skye rocks back, stacking the former Lightweight champ on her shoulders with Mitchell seated atop her thighs--but only momentarily. The Li’lest Mitchell bridges back into a handstand as the ref slaps off the...
ROLLING BACK BRIDGE @2:38:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgCcKowooOM
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO?
??
Polly manages to kick out, but was it in time? The TRUE American is clearly fearful enough that she’s already chastising the official as an ISIS plant and DEMANDING to know where he stands on Benghazi. But when he holds up only two fingers, Lockwood lets out a sigh of relief...
... but it doesn’t last long.
Gripping a handful of flaxen tresses, Skylar yanks the TRUE American to her feet before attempting to whip her into the far corner. Alas, apparently Polly has finally had enough, for she reverses the whip and sends Skye hurtling off. Barely waiting a second, Lockwood takes off in a sprint after her...
Only when Mitchell reaches the corner, she grabs hold of the top rope with both hands, lifting her lower body into the air. She effectively catches the charging Polly with her shins, before using that scissors to send the diminutive blonde crashing face first into the middle turnbuckle. The Li’lest Mitchell’s knees rest atop Polly shoulderblades, keeping the former Lightweight champ pressed in deep, the FAWNatics voicing considerable support, even as the official has to start a five count for the duo being in the corner.
Skye dismounts just before his toll reaches “THREE!” Tugging the reeling blonde up with another helping of hair, Mitchell sends Polly on her way with another Irish whip, and this one is NOT reversed. Just as Lockwood’s back is about to meet the cables, Skylar starts to launch herself into a dropkick...
Only Polly grabs a tight hold of the top rope, preventing her from being shot back toward her opponent. The smug blonde gives a self-satisfied chuckle as she regards both the crowd and Charlie, but Dawson’s smile seems... wrong. Turning back to the ring, Lockwood quickly sees why: Mitchell had been able to abort her dropkick quickly enough to allow her to land harmlessly on her feet. And as soon as the TRUE American saw that, Skylar begins to charge toward her. Polly drops to the mat, quickly rolling under the bottom rope to the safety of the floor.
The FAWNatics are positively rocking the house, delighted to see this rookie taking the former Lightweight champion to school. Polly tells them all to shut up, then gives Charlie Dawson a middle finger salute. But as she turns back to the ring, Lockwood once again finds Skye’s gams locked around her head, the Desert Diva catching the TRUE American with her baseball slide headscissors. Pushing up with her hands from the apron, Mitchell launches herself away from the ring, sending Lockwood crashing to the floor at the end of a less than graceful flip.
BASEBALL SLIDE HEADSCISSORS @4:22:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zv04TxSRby8
Scrambling back to her feet, Skylar can’t help but beam as the FAWNatics shower the ingénue with love. “Gotta tell ya,” Mitchell grins toward Charlie, “a girl could get used to this.”
“I’ll always be an A-B-Q girl,” Dawson replies with a wink, “but this? Definitely doesn’t suck.”
Hair hauling Lockwood off the floor, the Li’lest Mitchell leads Polly back to the ring before slamming her forehead down into the edge of the apron. Pushing the blonde under the bottom rope, Skye climbs back onto the apron and clutches at the top rope. Rocking back, Skylar vaults to the top rope, then propels herself even higher, SOARING toward the lights with her elbow cocked. Mitchell’s elbow ‘THWACK’s into the cleft of Lockwood’s bosom, sending the blonde’s legs flying upward. Skye captures them as she applies the cover...
ONE...
TWO...
TNOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The TRUE American kicks free.
Pushing to her feet, Skye scrapes Polly up... only this time, Lockwood’s curled digits flash toward Mitchell’s eyes, raking them and drawing a piercing shriek from the rookie. The Li’lest Mitchell spins away, her hands flying toward her enflamed peepers...
... which suits Polly just fine. Dropping to her knees behind Mitchell, Lockwood swings a VICIOUS uppercut between Skye’s thighs. Mitchell’s wail from her eyes stops, just as if the TRUE American had pressed a mute button, her opponent sinking to her knees. Intent on a little more payback, Polly snatches a handful of hair and SLAMS Skylar’s face into the mat, leaving the Desert Diva squirming and writhing on her belly.
The resurgent blonde climbs astride Skye’s back, this time claiming two handfuls of hair. Only instead of pulling, Polly PUSHES down, smooooshing Skylar’s face into the canvas. She then proceeds to wipe the mat with the Li’lest Mitchell’s face, swishing Skye’s features side to side, up and down. “Hands out of her hair, Polly!” the ref barks, but Lockwood merely laughs.
“ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!”
The TRUE American pulls her hands away--but just for a moment, before reclaiming her dual handholds and griiiiiiiiinding Skye’s mug into the mat once more.
“DAMMIT, POLLY! ONE!!!
TWO!!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!”
“CHILL!” Polly shouts, RIPPING her hands out of Skye’s tresses--taking a couple of locks with her. “Geeze, I’m starting to understand why you work as a referee. Only way your Al Franken-looking face can get to hang around babes as hawt as me.” Climbing to her feet, Lockwood waits for the auburn haired cutie to roll over to her back...
The TRUE American then steps over Skye’s torso, residing in standing straddle of the moaning rookie. “You think you’re just going to waltz in here and beat ME?” Lockwood asks... then hops into the air, landing a brutal double stomp to Mitchell’s gurls. “NEVER gonna happen!”
Stooping down, the TRUE American peels her prey off the mat, Skylar’s legs looking a little wobbly as she regains her footing. But, in spite of both that and Lockwood’s pronouncements, Skye starts firing forearms into Polly’s chest. With each blow, the FAWNatics cheer a little louder, Mitchell connecting with three before drawing her arm back for a hook...
Unfortunately, that proves to be a swing and a miss for the novice. Polly rises back to her full height before Skye can pull back her arm, keeping the wing trapped against the back of her head as Lockwood reaches across Mitchell’s chest. Muscling the youngster off her feet, Polly gives Skylar a little taste of her Constitutional Powers.
CONSTITUTIONAL POWERS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7O6tqQGUV-4
The TRUE American promptly goes for the cover, hooking Skylar’s outside leg...
ONE...
TWO...
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Li’lest Mitchell kicks out.
Polly tugs the dazed youngster up with another helping of hair, and to her credit, Skye tries to fire one more punch--only this one is considerably more slappy than the forearms and hooks she had attempted before. And it’s easily caught by the TRUE American. Ensnaring that arm, Polly wraps her other arm around Skye’ neck, and once her grip is secure, she kicks out a leg, her Bull Run neckbreaker very much threatening to snap Mitchell’s spine.
BULL RUN NECKBREAKER @0:47:[/b]
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UesufvLjUpE
The impact sends Skylar flopping over to her belly, one leg weakly kicking at the mat. Meanwhile, Polly rolls under the bottom rope and out to the apron. As the TRUE American rises, Charlie Dawson slaps the apron with both hands, the FAWNatics clapping along in time, attempting to rally the Li’lest Mitchell. Surprising, Polly too starts to stomp a boot along with the claps, adding an unexpected voice to those pleading with the novice.
Eventually, Mitchell begins to respond, awkwardly pulling herself up, swaying with her back to the former Lightweight champion. A whistle from Polly causes Skylar to turn, and as she locates the blonde, Mitchell takes a lumbering step in her direction... just as Polly THROWS herself through the ropes, BLASTING her shoulder into Skye’s midriff and connecting with her Lockwood Lunge.
LOCKWOOD LUNGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bX4B0_6k_rM
Polly immediately throws herself across Skylar’s impaled tummy, not bothering to hook a leg as she goes for the pin.
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
Mitchell kicks out, barely.
“You were born in Kenya, weren’t you?” Polly snaps at the official, who can only stammer as Lockwood pushes to her feet. Tugging Skye up as well, the TRUE American sends Mitchell darting toward the far corner with as massive an Irish whip as her five foot one frame could manage. In her current condition, Skylar JUST has enough wherewithal to turn her back into the buckles--but her present state also means the impact is far too strong for her legs, sending the Li’lest Mitchell plopping to her rump.
Polly retreats to the opposite corner, then sprints toward the fallen rookie. Leaping into the air, Lockwood’s taut tush SLAMS down atop Skye’s sternum, the TRUE American taking a two-handing grip of the top rope before ramming her pelvis, time and time and time again, into Skylar’s face. A baker’s dozen of thrusts leaving the Li’lest Mitchell well and truly busted in her mind, so Lockwood rolls away, leaving Skylar to puddle in the corner.
Pulling the Desert Diva away from the ropes, Polly stoops and scoops her up. Her arms around Skye’s waist, Lockwood allows her foe to hang in the gutwrench for a moment, but then swings Mitchell up so that she is astride the former Lightweight champ’s shoulders. The TRUE American then abruptly swings Skylar down, powerbombing her to the canvas. Still holding a secure grip on Mitchell’s thighs, Polly floats over, folding the Li’lest Mitchell into a matchbook.
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Skye weakly kicks loose.
Mitchell had managed to avoid defeat, but the boneless starfish that she remains in proves an all too inviting target for the TRUE American to pass up. Turning to the near corner, Lockwood climbs to the top turnbuckle, snapping off a mocking salute toward the FAWNatics before launching into a textbook moonsault...
... that finds only canvas!!!
Just as Polly came out of her final rotation, the Li’lest Mitchell manages to find the strength to roll to the side, clearing the path for Lockwood to experience a landing considerably more unpleasant than the one she had expected. Both women struggle to rise, the rookie getting there narrowly ahead of her more experienced foe, and she staggers the TRUE American back into the ropes with a forearm smash. Taking Polly by the wrist, Skye sets her feet and starts to launch Polly with an Irish whip, but the former Lightweight champ still has enough in spite of her top rope misadventure to manage a reversal. Marching out to centre ring, the diminutive blonde prepares to scoop Skylar up...
... only for Mitchell to snake an arm around her neck. The Li’lest Mitchell shows some surprisingly veteran savvy, transforming Lockwood’s tilt-a-whirl whatever-she-had-planned into a beautiful Satellite DDT!
SATELLITE DDT @3:16:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgCcKowooOM
Skye rocks back onto her shoulders, bringing the crowd to its feet as she returns to hers with a kip up. As Lockwood tries to follow suit, albeit in a far less athletic way, Mitchell sprints past her and toward the ropes. Leaping onto the middle cable, the Li’lest Mitchell springboards back toward the stooped Polly, capturing her noggin and DRIVING the blonde’s mug into the mat with a bulldog. Skylar immediately rolls the TRUE American to her back before hooking a leg...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Polly kicks out, with about a half second to spare.
Unlike Lockwood, Mitchell doesn’t protest the referee’s count--disappointed though she might be. Tugging Polly up with a handful of hair, Skye applies a wristlock to the TRUE American’s left arm--one which she deftly uses to draw the limb across Lockwood’s own throat, cobra clutch style--only with Mitchell standing off to the blonde’s side, facing her. Slipping her left leg behind Polly’s left stem, Skylar leans forward, then VIOLENTLY throws it into reverse, sending Polly on a violent ride down Tobacco Road.
TOBACCA ROAD @3:48:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgCcKowooOM
Skye sits up, nodding her head along as the FAWNatics chant, “SKY-LAR! SKY-LAR!” Lockwood, meanwhile, struggles to her hands and knees and drags herself into the near corner. Reaching there, the TRUE American tumbles to a seat, reclining against the buckles, breathing deeply. Meanwhile, the Li’lest Mitchell pulls herself up, Lockwood pleadingly raising her hands as the Desert Diva advances on her.
“You wanna claim,” Skye pants, “that YOU... that YOUR qualities... that THAT’S what makes a TRUE American? Well, honey, I’m gonna tell you something that I’m sure ALL THESE FANS would line up to tell you... and it’s something my momma used to say: honey, you can KISS MY GRITS!!!”
In a blur of motion, the Li’lest Mitchell wheels away from her opponent. And while the quotation may have come from her mother, Skye’s actions come directly from the playbook of one of her older sisters. Thrusting her hips backward, Skylar brings her glutes into tight contact with Polly’s face, giving Lockwood a good buffeting with her hindquarters.
Mitchell waits until the ref’s count reaches “FOUR!” but the crowd hardly seems to hold it against her, the masses ROARING as Polly’s greasy face returns to view. Pulling the gasping blonde back to verticality, Skye sends her sprinting toward the opposite corner with another Irish whip. This time, Lockwood’s legs manage to continue supporting her--possibly with a little help from her arms over the top rope. The Li’lest Mitchell charges in after her...
As the rookie homes in, Polly’s fingers coil around the top rope, the diminutive blonde’s legs swinging upward, her soles meeting Skye’s chin in a vicious collision. Lockwood pushes herself a little higher into the air as Mitchell pivots away. But before she can stagger back toward centre ring, the TRUE American captures Skylar’s head with her shins. Using her feet to push Mitchell’s noggin a little closer to her crotch, Polly CLAMPS her knees tightly against Skylar’s ears before throwing herself over the top rope, trapping the Li’lest Mitchell in her hanging figure four necklock.
HANGING FIGURE FOUR NECKLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAWnw81ZK84
The TRUE American milks every last possible millisecond out of the official’s count before relenting, flipping away from the scissors and sticking the landing perfectly on the floor. Reaching underneath the bottom rope, Polly clutches both of Skye’s ankles, yanking the rookie’s feet out from underneath her and forced the dazed blonde to eat a faceful of canvas. As Mitchell checks to make sure her jaw is still in its proper alignment, Lockwood climbs onto the apron, licking her lips as the Li’lest Mitchell begins to rise. Launching herself onto the top rope, Polly vaults off the taut, rubber coated steel just as Skylar begins to turn around...
“SKYE, WATCH OUT!!!!!” Charlie shouts from the floor, but to no avail. When Mitchell completes her turn, Polly reaches out, clamping an arm around Mitchell’s skull and pinning it to her hip. Kicking her legs high over both her head AND Skylar’s, the TRUE American plummets to the mat, SPIKING the crown of Mitchell’s skull with her Polly Rocket. The Desert Diva tumbles into a jellied spread eagle, motionless save for the occasional spasm, her uprising squashed in the blink of an eye. Crawling over to the insensate rookie, Lockwood drapes herself across Mitchell’s chest. She doesn’t reach for a leg, but one hand does slide into Skye’s hair...
POLLY ROCKET:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKWI-rr-T7I
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Polly sits up--and thanks to her handful of hair, Skye is pulled up with her. The youngster sags against Lockwood’s chest, cheek against bosom, her lips parted ever so slightly. “Polly, don’t...” the referee chides her, the crowd voicing its displeasure in considerably harsher terms.
The TRUE American shakes her head. “Bytch came in here and tried to HUMILIATE me,” Polly snaps, rising and pulling Skylar to rubbery legs. “That shyt’s not gonna fly. Not in MY America.” Thrusting Skye’s head between her thighs, Lockwood clamps on a tight standing headscissors, wrapping her arms around Mitchell’s gulping tummy. Swinging the Li’lest Mitchell up onto her shoulders, Polly then slings her cargo downward, seemingly for a powerbomb. Only as Skye goes down, Lockwood’s gams go up, her knees DRIVING into the base of Skylar’s spine as she Plants the Flag.
PLANT THE FLAG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDo0fR5N8cc
Skylar shoots up to her backside, her back arched as she cries out. Climbing to her feet, Lockwood grabs Mitchell’s left wrist, pulling her arm away from her body. Swinging a leg over Skye’s suspended arm, the TRUE American doesn’t waste any more time in scissoring the limb and cinching in her First Amendment.
FIRST ARMENDMENT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x049it0FWHI
Skylar can’t keep her scream trapped within, the rookie HOWLING in excruciating pain. But she still shakes her head when the referee asks about a submission. Both her free hand and her boots strain to find the ropes, but in the middle of the ring, there’s no prayer of them finding sanctuary. After about ten seconds of torture, the Li’lest Mitchell has little choice but to start slapping the mat.
As the bell sounds, the announcer declares, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, by submission... POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!”
The FAWNatics continue to boo and jeer... but their protests strain to be heard over the continuing shrieks of Skylar Mitchell, who REMAINS TRAPPED IN THE FIRST ARMENDMENT! Her other hand continues to slap the canvas, harder, louder, more frantically... but with no response from the merciless blonde, other than for Polly to crank on her left arm a little more savagely. “THAT’S ENOUGH, POLLY!” the ref barks. “LET IT GO!”
“F*CK YOU!” Polly shouts, shaking her head. “THIS LEFT WING LOSER THOUGHT SHE COULD EMBARRASS ME? WELL, I’M TAKING HER LEFT WING HOME WITH ME TONIGHT!!!”
“DAMMIT, REF,” Charlie Dawson pleads from the floor. “GET IN THERE!”
“POLLY,” the official snaps. “I’LL REVERSE THE DECISION IF YOU DON’T LET GO RIGHT NOW!”
“SO F*CKING WHAT???” the TRUE American challenges him. “YOU DQ ME, SHE GETS A WIN. BIG WHOOP. LAST WIN SHE’LL EVEN GET, CONSIDERING THIS’LL BE HER LAST *MATCH*!!!”
“POLLY...” the ref begins, but Lockwood is through listening to him. Instead, she directs her next words at the wailing Skylar Mitchell.
“SAY ‘I’M A WORTHLESS, PINKO COMMIE LOSER’!!!!”
“*POLLY*...!!!”
“*SAY IT!!!!!*”
“REF!!!!!” Charlie implores him...
“IMAWORTHLESSPINKOCOMMIELOSERPLEEEEAAAASSSSEEEEGGGUUUAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“ONE!” the zebra at long last begins to count...
“TWO!
THREE!”
“Nyyyuuuuunnnhhhhhh...”
Unable to endure watching for any long, Charlie Dawson has entered the ring, the Darling of the Desert sending boot after boot after boot to Polly’s head, shoulders and chest. It takes a few seconds, but before long, the barrage proves enough to force the TRUE American to relent, and the referee immediately drops down to the mat, rolling poor Skylar clear of the battlefield.
Claiming a handful of hair, Dawson starts to pull Polly up... only this time, Lockwood doesn’t waste any time in splitting the younger blonde’s wickets with an uppercut. Her fingers falling away from Polly’s tresses, Charlie sinks to her knees, hands wedged between her thighs. Rising, the TRUE American backs into a corner, the referee turning away from Skylar...
... just in time to watch as Lockwood connects to Dawson’s skull with a punt kick!
And the former Lightweight champion is not even remotely satisfied. The only thing that saves Charlie from further abuse is the referee throwing himself between the standing and sprawled blondes. “ENOUGH!” he commands, Lockwood initially simply staring him down. But then, she draws back, turning away and allowing the official to tend to the fallen Dawson.
In the blink of an eye, Lockwood reverses course, sprinting back to the fallen Desert Diva, and this time DRIVING a punt kick into the side of the REFEREE’S skull!!! The zebra is sent into a face down sprawl, just a few feet away from Charlie, the blonde laid out on her back. There’s no one left to stop the TRUE American from retrieving a chair from ringside and sliding it into the ring, just a few feet away from Dawson’s head.
As Polly Lockwood stands outside the ring, stomping the apron, the crowd has only two choices: implore Charlie Dawson to stay down, or plead with someone to rescue her. That someone would NOT be her tag team partner; Skye Mitchell remains laid out in one of the far corner, clutching an arm that might very well be broken considering the amount of time she had spent in Lockwood’s First Amendment.
Maybe the Upstarts could be counted on to play the cavalry? Plenty of buzz had been generated among FAWN’s Internet fanbase with the amount of time young Charlie had spent hanging out with Sammie Sinclair while in Orlando. But one thing was certain: following the punt kick, if the Polly Rocket spiked young Charlie’s head into that steel chair, a promising FAWN career might be over before it ever started...
... and dammit, the blonde from the desert--in spite of that head trauma--is drunkenly beginning to rise. Of course she was. The kid’s never-say-die attitude, as much as her good looks and charming personality, was a key reason she was already so beloved--even if it soon might be a reason she is prematurely retired. Polly’s smirk grows a little more wicked as Dawson struggles to straighten up... but it fades away entirely when the arena’s speakers begin pumping out a surprising bit of music.
“TESTIFY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_zyb-XXWz0
“Testify” is a song that had not been heard in this building since the night Polly Lockwood won the Lightweight belt for a second time... and almost as soon as Zack de la Rocha’s scream fills the air, the woman that the TRUE American had defeated to become Lightweight champion a second time CHARGES through those curtains, stepping onto the stage for the first time since Lockwood’s actions had lead to her being carted out.
Nyssa Bloodwind...
The Nubile Navajo comes sprinting down the aisle, paying absolutely zero attention to the fans who were losing their collective minds at her return. Nyssa dives under the bottom rope, practically springing back to her feet and charging toward the pint sized blonde on the apron. She hardly even slows down as she scoops the chair off the canvas, but Polly Lockwood has already made it clear that she wants no part of Bloodwind. The turncoat hops down to the floor, backpedaling her way around ringside, almost tripping over her own feet but managing to right herself as she reaches the aisle. Nyssa takes one swing with the chair, just to discourage her successor from doubling back.
But Lockwood has no interest. She starts retreating up the aisle, prompting Bloodwind to drop the chair and call for a mic. “Hey, where you goin’?” Nyssa calls after the departing Polly. “Don’t you wanna stay and welcome me back? Cause I wanted to say hi to you. But, more importantly, I DAMN SURE WASN’T GONNA JUST SIT BACK AND WATCH YOU TRY TO DO TO THESE TWO KIDS WHAT YOU TRIED TO DO TO ME!”
Polly starts to say something, even without a microphone, but the Nubile Navajo will have none of it.
“These two kids,” the Nubile Navajo, “have more heart than you’ll ever know. They’ve got a bright, bright future... which is A LOT MORE than I can say for you.”
Nyssa’s pronouncement is met with widespread support from the sold out FAWN Arena.
“Don’t think for one second I’ve forgotten Kylie’s role in my little... vacation,” Bloodwind snarls. “And don’t think she’s not gonna get hers for what she did to me. But YOU... you took something from me, and you didn’t even have the common decency to KEEP it until I got back! Soooooooo... since I can’t take MY Lightweight title back from you, I’ll have to settle for whipping your ass raw! That is, if you’ve got the guts to face me, fully healthy...?”
“You wanna face me?” the TRUE American calls back. “Fine. I’ll face you...”
The FAWNatics go absolutely apesh!t...
“... once INS is through determining your status as a legal citizen! And not one single, solitary second before!”
As the crowd’s cheers shift into unrelenting boos, Polly laughs and starts to turn away... which becomes a much quicker turn and sprint toward the curtains when the Nubile Navajo races toward the ropes. Nyssa briefly considers giving full chase, but then opts against it. Lockwood’s time would come. In the meantime, she turns back to the fallen Sweethearts, joining the EMTs in appraising their condition.
Skye Mitchell...
Charlie Dawson...
The FAWNatics do just that, turning things up to eleven even as the FAWN Arena’s sound system begins to pump out a not entirely familiar tune. That talent relations had sprung for an individual theme for the Li’lest Mitchell speaks volumes for the hopes they had in both Sweethearts. And even without yet recording a victory in Orlando, young Charlie and Skye had already made a considerable impression on the Orlando faithful.
“HOMEGROWN HONEY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIQlZVdCRfI
Just a couple of moments later, the stunning, bedimpled young blonde who had been generating such a buzz bursts through the curtains. Once the beaming Dawson arrives, however, the crowd remarkably manage to raise the decibel meter further still! And yet... despite outnumbering the FAWN Arena’s capacity dwarfing the left Turn by a factor of HUNDREDS to one, somehow their roar doesn’t feel QUITE as loud to Dawson. But that doesn’t stop the youngster from bringing her hands up to her ears, covering them as if the roar might be painful--but the smile that remained planted on Charlie’s lips illustrates just how much she’s enjoying the moment. Blushing, the blonde motioned downward with her hands...
But even in Orlando, the capacity crowd will have none of it--especially not with her partner standing behind her, waving her hands UPWARD frantically, beckoning the FAWNatics to keep the love coming. As frenetic as Skylar’s arms are moving, perhaps Charlie caught a bit of a blur out of the corner of her eye, prompting her to spin around...
The kid might be quick, but not quick enough. By the time she’s facing Skye, her fellow youngster’s hands are clasped behind her back, and she looks up toward the lights, whistling in pure innocence.
Charlie shakes her head at her partner, but then she quickly moves toward Mitchell. Placing one hand on the Tar Heel’s back and another on her bum, Dawson playfully shoves Skye forward. “This is YOUR match!” she says. “What are YOU doing back there???”
The Sweethearts make it a point to slap EVERY single hand offered her way--and ESPECIALLY the younger ones. Finally, the Darling of the Desert and the Lil’est Mitchell slide under the bottom rope, springing to their feet. The duo unzip their hot pink hoodies, Charlie slipping off hers to reveal a light blue fightin’ two piece that, in spite of its somewhat modest and innocent cut still manages to raise the blood pressure of quite a few spectators. For her part, Skye sports a royal purple lyrca bikini top and short shorts, with white pads and boots.
(Old school FAWN fans might note the distinct similarity in Skylar’s togs, and the gear worn by her older sister Cynthia at the beginning of her career...)
Charlotte takes a few moments to share some final words of encouragement and strategy with Skylar, then moves toward the ropes as the announcer steps back to centre ring. With the Sweetheart’s love fest not yet concluded, the house speakers interrupt with the pounding of Metallica’s “Don’t Tread on Me”.
“DON’T TREAD ON ME":
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPl2sTo_8-o
A few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ shoot to their feet, saluting crisply. The other 98 percent of the FAWNatics make themselves known in quite a different way.
While once upon a time this musical cue would spur a round of enthusiastic shouts and cheers for both her and the redhead in the ring, the crowd’s cascade of boos is deafening, the Young Americans’ Benedict Arnold being booed out of the building or more appropriately in this instance, into it.
The PA barely breaks through the jeers.
“And her opponent…the former Lightweight Champion…"
One word in the above has the power to transform boos into cheers, however briefly...
“Hailing from Buffalo, NY; standing five feet one inch tall, and tips the scales tonight at one hundred and eighteen scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome. Ladies and gentlemen, she is the one and only TRUE American... POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!”
Polly Lockwood...
The haters only get louder when the blonde hardbody strides confidently to centre stage, bringing a salute to her brow. When the hand, fashioned into a knife-edge, moves away from her forehead, Lockwood adds her own little twist, a middle finger remaining straight while the others recede.
Polly’s wardrobe remains worthy of flag waving. The tiny blonde hardbody sports the former Young Americans’ standard uniform of hot pants and bikini top. Polly alternates her country’s colours between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in just the right spots, and shimmering red and white stripes below; with white pads and boots capping off the ensemble.
The True American fails to wear Old Glory over her shoulders, Polly’s banner having been pilfered after last month’s humiliating post-match beat down from that Confederate bytch, Ivy Armstrong.
Instead, Lockwood opts for a flag with a rattlesnake and the old chestnut ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ in its place. She spreads her arms wide, showing off the dangerous serpent as she walks down the ramp and aisle. Lockwood growls at the moronic hordes, ignoring the insults and the jeers.
Reaching the ring, the patriot ascends the steel steps. Sliding through the ropes, Lockwood shrugs off her flag come cape, draping it over her corner. She angrily marches to the centre of the ring, getting right up in the announcers face and jabbing a finger into his chest. Even without reaching for his microphone, the “stick” picks up her words well enough for the FAWNatics to hear. “Where the HELL do YOU get off stressing that FORMER???”
The crowd erupts into loud cheers, which morphs into a chant of, “FOR-MER CHAM-PION!” Polly pulls away from the man, regarding the audience with a fleeting moment of genuine hurt in her eyes... but that soon gives way to anger.
“SHUT UP!!!!” the blonde screams, but the FAWNatics do just the opposite. With the chant growing louder, Lockwood brings her hands up to her ears, though the microphone makes it a little difficult to ‘muff’ one of them. “SHUT UUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!”
Still no dice.
Polly’s chest heaves with each deep breath she takes, the blonde trying to steady herself. With enough control of her emotions regained, Lockwood brings the mic back to her lips. “You know...” the TRUE American sighs, “I knew when that... that... you know, I STILL think Lily Burlingame was an imposter! The REAL Cherry Bomb was busted by Immigration before Bloody Valentine, and Lily posed in her place!”
Judging by the response of the crowd, and the scoffs of the Sweethearts, Polly is very much on her own island there.
“But after Cherry and Lily conspired to cheat me out of MY title, I figured I’d have to work my way back up from the bottom. Going THIS far BELOW the bottom...”
Lockwood nods in Skylar’s direction.
“... seems a bit much. And remind me, WHERE are these two coming from? NEW Mexico? You SURE we need that first word? Cause I’M NOT...!!!”
“Honey,” Skye responds, “I’m a Carolina girl, born and raised. But trust me, when tonight’s over, I’m gonna put YOUR ass on a slow boat to China!”
“Sweetie,” Polly sneers, “your night’s only gonna be over when I LET them wheel you out to the ambulance.” Without another word, Lockwood tosses the mic down to the canvas. The referee quickly kicks the stick toward the ropes, then calls for the bell. As the diminutive duo approach one another, the TRUE American mutters, “Hope you’re ready for a wrestling lesson tonight, little girl...”
Lockwood and Mitchell surge toward a lock-up... but, at the last moment, Skylar dips and goes behind. Polly lets out an almost comic yelp of surprise as Skye slaps on a waistlock, followed by a higher pitched cry when the Li’lest Mitchell uses that waistlock to take the former Lightweight champ. From there, Skylar puts on HER OWN wrestling clinic, getting in a little riding time floating over Lockwood in a 360 before popping back to her feet.
“Class dismissed,” Skye says with a wink and a smirk, prompting an embarrassed Polly to SLAM her palms against the mat.
“You gonna let that go???” the TRUE American demands to know of the referee.
“Let WHAT go?” he asks, confused.
“Bytch pulled my hair!” Polly screeches.
Skylar rolls her eyes. “Her hands weren’t anywhere near your hair, Polly,” the zebra snaps.
“Damn liberals,” Lockwood mutters, not quite under her breath, as she pushes back to her feet. But once there, the blonde suddenly rushes toward another attempt at a lock-up. But again, Skye proves quick, slipping around Polly and securing a waistlock. This time, however, with the blonde’s momentum carrying her toward the ropes, Mitchell’s legs churn to propel them there that much quicker. When Lockwood’s belly and bosom meet the rubber coated steel, Skye rocks back, stacking the former Lightweight champ on her shoulders with Mitchell seated atop her thighs--but only momentarily. The Li’lest Mitchell bridges back into a handstand as the ref slaps off the...
ROLLING BACK BRIDGE @2:38:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgCcKowooOM
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO?
??Polly manages to kick out, but was it in time? The TRUE American is clearly fearful enough that she’s already chastising the official as an ISIS plant and DEMANDING to know where he stands on Benghazi. But when he holds up only two fingers, Lockwood lets out a sigh of relief...
... but it doesn’t last long.
Gripping a handful of flaxen tresses, Skylar yanks the TRUE American to her feet before attempting to whip her into the far corner. Alas, apparently Polly has finally had enough, for she reverses the whip and sends Skye hurtling off. Barely waiting a second, Lockwood takes off in a sprint after her...
Only when Mitchell reaches the corner, she grabs hold of the top rope with both hands, lifting her lower body into the air. She effectively catches the charging Polly with her shins, before using that scissors to send the diminutive blonde crashing face first into the middle turnbuckle. The Li’lest Mitchell’s knees rest atop Polly shoulderblades, keeping the former Lightweight champ pressed in deep, the FAWNatics voicing considerable support, even as the official has to start a five count for the duo being in the corner.
Skye dismounts just before his toll reaches “THREE!” Tugging the reeling blonde up with another helping of hair, Mitchell sends Polly on her way with another Irish whip, and this one is NOT reversed. Just as Lockwood’s back is about to meet the cables, Skylar starts to launch herself into a dropkick...
Only Polly grabs a tight hold of the top rope, preventing her from being shot back toward her opponent. The smug blonde gives a self-satisfied chuckle as she regards both the crowd and Charlie, but Dawson’s smile seems... wrong. Turning back to the ring, Lockwood quickly sees why: Mitchell had been able to abort her dropkick quickly enough to allow her to land harmlessly on her feet. And as soon as the TRUE American saw that, Skylar begins to charge toward her. Polly drops to the mat, quickly rolling under the bottom rope to the safety of the floor.
The FAWNatics are positively rocking the house, delighted to see this rookie taking the former Lightweight champion to school. Polly tells them all to shut up, then gives Charlie Dawson a middle finger salute. But as she turns back to the ring, Lockwood once again finds Skye’s gams locked around her head, the Desert Diva catching the TRUE American with her baseball slide headscissors. Pushing up with her hands from the apron, Mitchell launches herself away from the ring, sending Lockwood crashing to the floor at the end of a less than graceful flip.
BASEBALL SLIDE HEADSCISSORS @4:22:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zv04TxSRby8
Scrambling back to her feet, Skylar can’t help but beam as the FAWNatics shower the ingénue with love. “Gotta tell ya,” Mitchell grins toward Charlie, “a girl could get used to this.”
“I’ll always be an A-B-Q girl,” Dawson replies with a wink, “but this? Definitely doesn’t suck.”
Hair hauling Lockwood off the floor, the Li’lest Mitchell leads Polly back to the ring before slamming her forehead down into the edge of the apron. Pushing the blonde under the bottom rope, Skye climbs back onto the apron and clutches at the top rope. Rocking back, Skylar vaults to the top rope, then propels herself even higher, SOARING toward the lights with her elbow cocked. Mitchell’s elbow ‘THWACK’s into the cleft of Lockwood’s bosom, sending the blonde’s legs flying upward. Skye captures them as she applies the cover...
ONE...
TWO...
TNOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The TRUE American kicks free.
Pushing to her feet, Skye scrapes Polly up... only this time, Lockwood’s curled digits flash toward Mitchell’s eyes, raking them and drawing a piercing shriek from the rookie. The Li’lest Mitchell spins away, her hands flying toward her enflamed peepers...
... which suits Polly just fine. Dropping to her knees behind Mitchell, Lockwood swings a VICIOUS uppercut between Skye’s thighs. Mitchell’s wail from her eyes stops, just as if the TRUE American had pressed a mute button, her opponent sinking to her knees. Intent on a little more payback, Polly snatches a handful of hair and SLAMS Skylar’s face into the mat, leaving the Desert Diva squirming and writhing on her belly.
The resurgent blonde climbs astride Skye’s back, this time claiming two handfuls of hair. Only instead of pulling, Polly PUSHES down, smooooshing Skylar’s face into the canvas. She then proceeds to wipe the mat with the Li’lest Mitchell’s face, swishing Skye’s features side to side, up and down. “Hands out of her hair, Polly!” the ref barks, but Lockwood merely laughs.
“ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!”
The TRUE American pulls her hands away--but just for a moment, before reclaiming her dual handholds and griiiiiiiiinding Skye’s mug into the mat once more.
“DAMMIT, POLLY! ONE!!!
TWO!!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!”
“CHILL!” Polly shouts, RIPPING her hands out of Skye’s tresses--taking a couple of locks with her. “Geeze, I’m starting to understand why you work as a referee. Only way your Al Franken-looking face can get to hang around babes as hawt as me.” Climbing to her feet, Lockwood waits for the auburn haired cutie to roll over to her back...
The TRUE American then steps over Skye’s torso, residing in standing straddle of the moaning rookie. “You think you’re just going to waltz in here and beat ME?” Lockwood asks... then hops into the air, landing a brutal double stomp to Mitchell’s gurls. “NEVER gonna happen!”
Stooping down, the TRUE American peels her prey off the mat, Skylar’s legs looking a little wobbly as she regains her footing. But, in spite of both that and Lockwood’s pronouncements, Skye starts firing forearms into Polly’s chest. With each blow, the FAWNatics cheer a little louder, Mitchell connecting with three before drawing her arm back for a hook...
Unfortunately, that proves to be a swing and a miss for the novice. Polly rises back to her full height before Skye can pull back her arm, keeping the wing trapped against the back of her head as Lockwood reaches across Mitchell’s chest. Muscling the youngster off her feet, Polly gives Skylar a little taste of her Constitutional Powers.
CONSTITUTIONAL POWERS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7O6tqQGUV-4
The TRUE American promptly goes for the cover, hooking Skylar’s outside leg...
ONE...
TWO...
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Li’lest Mitchell kicks out.
Polly tugs the dazed youngster up with another helping of hair, and to her credit, Skye tries to fire one more punch--only this one is considerably more slappy than the forearms and hooks she had attempted before. And it’s easily caught by the TRUE American. Ensnaring that arm, Polly wraps her other arm around Skye’ neck, and once her grip is secure, she kicks out a leg, her Bull Run neckbreaker very much threatening to snap Mitchell’s spine.
BULL RUN NECKBREAKER @0:47:[/b]
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UesufvLjUpE
The impact sends Skylar flopping over to her belly, one leg weakly kicking at the mat. Meanwhile, Polly rolls under the bottom rope and out to the apron. As the TRUE American rises, Charlie Dawson slaps the apron with both hands, the FAWNatics clapping along in time, attempting to rally the Li’lest Mitchell. Surprising, Polly too starts to stomp a boot along with the claps, adding an unexpected voice to those pleading with the novice.
Eventually, Mitchell begins to respond, awkwardly pulling herself up, swaying with her back to the former Lightweight champion. A whistle from Polly causes Skylar to turn, and as she locates the blonde, Mitchell takes a lumbering step in her direction... just as Polly THROWS herself through the ropes, BLASTING her shoulder into Skye’s midriff and connecting with her Lockwood Lunge.
LOCKWOOD LUNGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bX4B0_6k_rM
Polly immediately throws herself across Skylar’s impaled tummy, not bothering to hook a leg as she goes for the pin.
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
Mitchell kicks out, barely.
“You were born in Kenya, weren’t you?” Polly snaps at the official, who can only stammer as Lockwood pushes to her feet. Tugging Skye up as well, the TRUE American sends Mitchell darting toward the far corner with as massive an Irish whip as her five foot one frame could manage. In her current condition, Skylar JUST has enough wherewithal to turn her back into the buckles--but her present state also means the impact is far too strong for her legs, sending the Li’lest Mitchell plopping to her rump.
Polly retreats to the opposite corner, then sprints toward the fallen rookie. Leaping into the air, Lockwood’s taut tush SLAMS down atop Skye’s sternum, the TRUE American taking a two-handing grip of the top rope before ramming her pelvis, time and time and time again, into Skylar’s face. A baker’s dozen of thrusts leaving the Li’lest Mitchell well and truly busted in her mind, so Lockwood rolls away, leaving Skylar to puddle in the corner.
Pulling the Desert Diva away from the ropes, Polly stoops and scoops her up. Her arms around Skye’s waist, Lockwood allows her foe to hang in the gutwrench for a moment, but then swings Mitchell up so that she is astride the former Lightweight champ’s shoulders. The TRUE American then abruptly swings Skylar down, powerbombing her to the canvas. Still holding a secure grip on Mitchell’s thighs, Polly floats over, folding the Li’lest Mitchell into a matchbook.
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Skye weakly kicks loose.
Mitchell had managed to avoid defeat, but the boneless starfish that she remains in proves an all too inviting target for the TRUE American to pass up. Turning to the near corner, Lockwood climbs to the top turnbuckle, snapping off a mocking salute toward the FAWNatics before launching into a textbook moonsault...
... that finds only canvas!!!
Just as Polly came out of her final rotation, the Li’lest Mitchell manages to find the strength to roll to the side, clearing the path for Lockwood to experience a landing considerably more unpleasant than the one she had expected. Both women struggle to rise, the rookie getting there narrowly ahead of her more experienced foe, and she staggers the TRUE American back into the ropes with a forearm smash. Taking Polly by the wrist, Skye sets her feet and starts to launch Polly with an Irish whip, but the former Lightweight champ still has enough in spite of her top rope misadventure to manage a reversal. Marching out to centre ring, the diminutive blonde prepares to scoop Skylar up...
... only for Mitchell to snake an arm around her neck. The Li’lest Mitchell shows some surprisingly veteran savvy, transforming Lockwood’s tilt-a-whirl whatever-she-had-planned into a beautiful Satellite DDT!
SATELLITE DDT @3:16:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgCcKowooOM
Skye rocks back onto her shoulders, bringing the crowd to its feet as she returns to hers with a kip up. As Lockwood tries to follow suit, albeit in a far less athletic way, Mitchell sprints past her and toward the ropes. Leaping onto the middle cable, the Li’lest Mitchell springboards back toward the stooped Polly, capturing her noggin and DRIVING the blonde’s mug into the mat with a bulldog. Skylar immediately rolls the TRUE American to her back before hooking a leg...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Polly kicks out, with about a half second to spare.
Unlike Lockwood, Mitchell doesn’t protest the referee’s count--disappointed though she might be. Tugging Polly up with a handful of hair, Skye applies a wristlock to the TRUE American’s left arm--one which she deftly uses to draw the limb across Lockwood’s own throat, cobra clutch style--only with Mitchell standing off to the blonde’s side, facing her. Slipping her left leg behind Polly’s left stem, Skylar leans forward, then VIOLENTLY throws it into reverse, sending Polly on a violent ride down Tobacco Road.
TOBACCA ROAD @3:48:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgCcKowooOM
Skye sits up, nodding her head along as the FAWNatics chant, “SKY-LAR! SKY-LAR!” Lockwood, meanwhile, struggles to her hands and knees and drags herself into the near corner. Reaching there, the TRUE American tumbles to a seat, reclining against the buckles, breathing deeply. Meanwhile, the Li’lest Mitchell pulls herself up, Lockwood pleadingly raising her hands as the Desert Diva advances on her.
“You wanna claim,” Skye pants, “that YOU... that YOUR qualities... that THAT’S what makes a TRUE American? Well, honey, I’m gonna tell you something that I’m sure ALL THESE FANS would line up to tell you... and it’s something my momma used to say: honey, you can KISS MY GRITS!!!”
In a blur of motion, the Li’lest Mitchell wheels away from her opponent. And while the quotation may have come from her mother, Skye’s actions come directly from the playbook of one of her older sisters. Thrusting her hips backward, Skylar brings her glutes into tight contact with Polly’s face, giving Lockwood a good buffeting with her hindquarters.
Mitchell waits until the ref’s count reaches “FOUR!” but the crowd hardly seems to hold it against her, the masses ROARING as Polly’s greasy face returns to view. Pulling the gasping blonde back to verticality, Skye sends her sprinting toward the opposite corner with another Irish whip. This time, Lockwood’s legs manage to continue supporting her--possibly with a little help from her arms over the top rope. The Li’lest Mitchell charges in after her...
As the rookie homes in, Polly’s fingers coil around the top rope, the diminutive blonde’s legs swinging upward, her soles meeting Skye’s chin in a vicious collision. Lockwood pushes herself a little higher into the air as Mitchell pivots away. But before she can stagger back toward centre ring, the TRUE American captures Skylar’s head with her shins. Using her feet to push Mitchell’s noggin a little closer to her crotch, Polly CLAMPS her knees tightly against Skylar’s ears before throwing herself over the top rope, trapping the Li’lest Mitchell in her hanging figure four necklock.
HANGING FIGURE FOUR NECKLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAWnw81ZK84
The TRUE American milks every last possible millisecond out of the official’s count before relenting, flipping away from the scissors and sticking the landing perfectly on the floor. Reaching underneath the bottom rope, Polly clutches both of Skye’s ankles, yanking the rookie’s feet out from underneath her and forced the dazed blonde to eat a faceful of canvas. As Mitchell checks to make sure her jaw is still in its proper alignment, Lockwood climbs onto the apron, licking her lips as the Li’lest Mitchell begins to rise. Launching herself onto the top rope, Polly vaults off the taut, rubber coated steel just as Skylar begins to turn around...
“SKYE, WATCH OUT!!!!!” Charlie shouts from the floor, but to no avail. When Mitchell completes her turn, Polly reaches out, clamping an arm around Mitchell’s skull and pinning it to her hip. Kicking her legs high over both her head AND Skylar’s, the TRUE American plummets to the mat, SPIKING the crown of Mitchell’s skull with her Polly Rocket. The Desert Diva tumbles into a jellied spread eagle, motionless save for the occasional spasm, her uprising squashed in the blink of an eye. Crawling over to the insensate rookie, Lockwood drapes herself across Mitchell’s chest. She doesn’t reach for a leg, but one hand does slide into Skye’s hair...
POLLY ROCKET:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKWI-rr-T7I
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Polly sits up--and thanks to her handful of hair, Skye is pulled up with her. The youngster sags against Lockwood’s chest, cheek against bosom, her lips parted ever so slightly. “Polly, don’t...” the referee chides her, the crowd voicing its displeasure in considerably harsher terms.
The TRUE American shakes her head. “Bytch came in here and tried to HUMILIATE me,” Polly snaps, rising and pulling Skylar to rubbery legs. “That shyt’s not gonna fly. Not in MY America.” Thrusting Skye’s head between her thighs, Lockwood clamps on a tight standing headscissors, wrapping her arms around Mitchell’s gulping tummy. Swinging the Li’lest Mitchell up onto her shoulders, Polly then slings her cargo downward, seemingly for a powerbomb. Only as Skye goes down, Lockwood’s gams go up, her knees DRIVING into the base of Skylar’s spine as she Plants the Flag.
PLANT THE FLAG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDo0fR5N8cc
Skylar shoots up to her backside, her back arched as she cries out. Climbing to her feet, Lockwood grabs Mitchell’s left wrist, pulling her arm away from her body. Swinging a leg over Skye’s suspended arm, the TRUE American doesn’t waste any more time in scissoring the limb and cinching in her First Amendment.
FIRST ARMENDMENT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x049it0FWHI
Skylar can’t keep her scream trapped within, the rookie HOWLING in excruciating pain. But she still shakes her head when the referee asks about a submission. Both her free hand and her boots strain to find the ropes, but in the middle of the ring, there’s no prayer of them finding sanctuary. After about ten seconds of torture, the Li’lest Mitchell has little choice but to start slapping the mat.
As the bell sounds, the announcer declares, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, by submission... POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!”
The FAWNatics continue to boo and jeer... but their protests strain to be heard over the continuing shrieks of Skylar Mitchell, who REMAINS TRAPPED IN THE FIRST ARMENDMENT! Her other hand continues to slap the canvas, harder, louder, more frantically... but with no response from the merciless blonde, other than for Polly to crank on her left arm a little more savagely. “THAT’S ENOUGH, POLLY!” the ref barks. “LET IT GO!”
“F*CK YOU!” Polly shouts, shaking her head. “THIS LEFT WING LOSER THOUGHT SHE COULD EMBARRASS ME? WELL, I’M TAKING HER LEFT WING HOME WITH ME TONIGHT!!!”
“DAMMIT, REF,” Charlie Dawson pleads from the floor. “GET IN THERE!”
“POLLY,” the official snaps. “I’LL REVERSE THE DECISION IF YOU DON’T LET GO RIGHT NOW!”
“SO F*CKING WHAT???” the TRUE American challenges him. “YOU DQ ME, SHE GETS A WIN. BIG WHOOP. LAST WIN SHE’LL EVEN GET, CONSIDERING THIS’LL BE HER LAST *MATCH*!!!”
“POLLY...” the ref begins, but Lockwood is through listening to him. Instead, she directs her next words at the wailing Skylar Mitchell.
“SAY ‘I’M A WORTHLESS, PINKO COMMIE LOSER’!!!!”
“*POLLY*...!!!”
“*SAY IT!!!!!*”
“REF!!!!!” Charlie implores him...
“IMAWORTHLESSPINKOCOMMIELOSERPLEEEEAAAASSSSEEEEGGGUUUAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“ONE!” the zebra at long last begins to count...
“TWO!
THREE!”
“Nyyyuuuuunnnhhhhhh...”
Unable to endure watching for any long, Charlie Dawson has entered the ring, the Darling of the Desert sending boot after boot after boot to Polly’s head, shoulders and chest. It takes a few seconds, but before long, the barrage proves enough to force the TRUE American to relent, and the referee immediately drops down to the mat, rolling poor Skylar clear of the battlefield.
Claiming a handful of hair, Dawson starts to pull Polly up... only this time, Lockwood doesn’t waste any time in splitting the younger blonde’s wickets with an uppercut. Her fingers falling away from Polly’s tresses, Charlie sinks to her knees, hands wedged between her thighs. Rising, the TRUE American backs into a corner, the referee turning away from Skylar...
... just in time to watch as Lockwood connects to Dawson’s skull with a punt kick!
And the former Lightweight champion is not even remotely satisfied. The only thing that saves Charlie from further abuse is the referee throwing himself between the standing and sprawled blondes. “ENOUGH!” he commands, Lockwood initially simply staring him down. But then, she draws back, turning away and allowing the official to tend to the fallen Dawson.
In the blink of an eye, Lockwood reverses course, sprinting back to the fallen Desert Diva, and this time DRIVING a punt kick into the side of the REFEREE’S skull!!! The zebra is sent into a face down sprawl, just a few feet away from Charlie, the blonde laid out on her back. There’s no one left to stop the TRUE American from retrieving a chair from ringside and sliding it into the ring, just a few feet away from Dawson’s head.
As Polly Lockwood stands outside the ring, stomping the apron, the crowd has only two choices: implore Charlie Dawson to stay down, or plead with someone to rescue her. That someone would NOT be her tag team partner; Skye Mitchell remains laid out in one of the far corner, clutching an arm that might very well be broken considering the amount of time she had spent in Lockwood’s First Amendment.
Maybe the Upstarts could be counted on to play the cavalry? Plenty of buzz had been generated among FAWN’s Internet fanbase with the amount of time young Charlie had spent hanging out with Sammie Sinclair while in Orlando. But one thing was certain: following the punt kick, if the Polly Rocket spiked young Charlie’s head into that steel chair, a promising FAWN career might be over before it ever started...
... and dammit, the blonde from the desert--in spite of that head trauma--is drunkenly beginning to rise. Of course she was. The kid’s never-say-die attitude, as much as her good looks and charming personality, was a key reason she was already so beloved--even if it soon might be a reason she is prematurely retired. Polly’s smirk grows a little more wicked as Dawson struggles to straighten up... but it fades away entirely when the arena’s speakers begin pumping out a surprising bit of music.
“TESTIFY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_zyb-XXWz0
“Testify” is a song that had not been heard in this building since the night Polly Lockwood won the Lightweight belt for a second time... and almost as soon as Zack de la Rocha’s scream fills the air, the woman that the TRUE American had defeated to become Lightweight champion a second time CHARGES through those curtains, stepping onto the stage for the first time since Lockwood’s actions had lead to her being carted out.
Nyssa Bloodwind...
The Nubile Navajo comes sprinting down the aisle, paying absolutely zero attention to the fans who were losing their collective minds at her return. Nyssa dives under the bottom rope, practically springing back to her feet and charging toward the pint sized blonde on the apron. She hardly even slows down as she scoops the chair off the canvas, but Polly Lockwood has already made it clear that she wants no part of Bloodwind. The turncoat hops down to the floor, backpedaling her way around ringside, almost tripping over her own feet but managing to right herself as she reaches the aisle. Nyssa takes one swing with the chair, just to discourage her successor from doubling back.
But Lockwood has no interest. She starts retreating up the aisle, prompting Bloodwind to drop the chair and call for a mic. “Hey, where you goin’?” Nyssa calls after the departing Polly. “Don’t you wanna stay and welcome me back? Cause I wanted to say hi to you. But, more importantly, I DAMN SURE WASN’T GONNA JUST SIT BACK AND WATCH YOU TRY TO DO TO THESE TWO KIDS WHAT YOU TRIED TO DO TO ME!”
Polly starts to say something, even without a microphone, but the Nubile Navajo will have none of it.
“These two kids,” the Nubile Navajo, “have more heart than you’ll ever know. They’ve got a bright, bright future... which is A LOT MORE than I can say for you.”
Nyssa’s pronouncement is met with widespread support from the sold out FAWN Arena.
“Don’t think for one second I’ve forgotten Kylie’s role in my little... vacation,” Bloodwind snarls. “And don’t think she’s not gonna get hers for what she did to me. But YOU... you took something from me, and you didn’t even have the common decency to KEEP it until I got back! Soooooooo... since I can’t take MY Lightweight title back from you, I’ll have to settle for whipping your ass raw! That is, if you’ve got the guts to face me, fully healthy...?”
“You wanna face me?” the TRUE American calls back. “Fine. I’ll face you...”
The FAWNatics go absolutely apesh!t...
“... once INS is through determining your status as a legal citizen! And not one single, solitary second before!”
As the crowd’s cheers shift into unrelenting boos, Polly laughs and starts to turn away... which becomes a much quicker turn and sprint toward the curtains when the Nubile Navajo races toward the ropes. Nyssa briefly considers giving full chase, but then opts against it. Lockwood’s time would come. In the meantime, she turns back to the fallen Sweethearts, joining the EMTs in appraising their condition.