Post by alyadmirer on Jul 15, 2015 22:35:38 GMT
As surreal as it was to have her hapless cousin the World Title holder, so it was for Kristy Sanders to be relegated to the house show circuit. But apparently the bigwigs believed there was only room for one headlining Sanders anymore. Again, Kylie was the star and she fought for scraps, even after being a singles and tag champion and having more athletic ability in her little finger than that farm-raised asshat could ever hope for.
Kristy fidgeted nervously behind the curtain as the house lights blinked to inky blackness. The dark was replaced with twisting, twirling strobes, an inspired swirl of golden spotlights interspersed with leopard spots that filled the arena. A feline, feral growl roared over the speakers. Following quickly behind came the opening strains of Velvet Revolver’s cover of ‘Psycho Killer’
PSYCHO KILLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCZFjZCPC0Y
As opposed to the echoing boos her cousin now received, the reaction was mixed, the crowd cheering with a mixture of catcalls. When FAWN’s Black Sheep in leopard’s clothing appeared, the volume increased on both sides, the crowd torn. Sanders Part Deux accepted both in kind, simply happy to be back on a PPV and against an opponent whose tears could force the front office to take notice.
“The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Eden Prairie, Minnesota, she stands five feet six inches and weighs in at one hundred and twenty-five pounds, THE REAL DEAL, KRISTY SANDERS!”
KRISTY SANDERS:
The hardbody brunette focused on the ring, ignoring the FAWNatics as if second nature. Sanders was clad in her familiar skin-tight leopard print one-piece, the material seemingly painted on. Below the ‘skirtish’ bum-hugging bottoms of the strapless onesy was a flash of similarly spotted panties, and, not that many noticed, the ‘jungle cat’ concluded her attire with black pads and boots.
Keeping to the middle, burning holes in anyone who met her gaze or rode her about being a FORMER champion, Kristy reached the squared circle and headed for the steps. Before reaching them, she caught sight of some FAWNatics that didn’t seem to hold her in high regard. One in particular held a sign aloft that stated:
We hate Kylie, but she’s still relevant
Kristy feigned boredom long enough to shoot a lightning snatch and tug the sign away, ripping it in half and throwing it at the fan. “Give it time, jerk. Cream rises.”
Kristy offered a double bicep pose to the nearest lens then nodded in the direction of either gun, mouthing the words “LEGEND” and “KILLER”. She kissed each flexed arm. “and they’ll kill my cousin if given the chance.”
Turning away from the placards and the crowd, Kristy strode up the steps, slid through the ropes, and claimed a spot dead center.
“Where you at, Rainmaker? I’m feeling a bit parched.”
As if in response to her demand, the Announcer raised his microphone. And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Stovington, Vermont, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty pounds. She is the Bankable Bombshell, the Rainmaker, THE ACE, she is SUSANNAH BURLINGAME!”
CROWN ON THE GROUND:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPoIznBujEA
The speakers cut loose with an electronic scream and those assembled countered with more of the throat-born variety, such was always the reaction when the Ace made her presence felt. Always happiest when she was the center of attention, Sue Burlingame strutted through the curtain and stretched her arms in a wide ‘T’ that called down a ‘BOOM’ of cold blue pyro from overhead. At the moment the tawny brunette hardbody wore her storm gray ’Rainaker’ tee-shirt. It’d come off soon enough, but Sue was of the mind that she’d blow a lot of stupid little brains out of twice as many stupid little ears if she simply stormed the ring in full battle regalia. Oh, she meant to play with their minds all right, but it’d happen at her pace. Also visible were her usual black boots with matching gold-trimmed pads that completed the outfit.
SUE BURLINGAME:
For a moment it looked like Burlingame had something to say to the camera, then she changed her mind and grabbed the bottom edge of her tee-shirt in both hands. Peeling it off to a roar of slightly guilty cheers, the Ace tossed it over one shoulder so everyone could take in her dark blue two-piece with gold trim. Taking it slow because she goddamned well could, the Rainmaker avoided all hands friendly or otherwise until she broke into a full on sprint, dove under the bottom rope and sprang to her feet. Positioned directly in the center of the ring, she tipped a wink to the referee and started toward Kristy only to back off when the black & white attempted to hold her back. “He’s given you a few more seconds, Kristy.” Sue chided as she made her way to the opposite corner. “Try to make the most of it, won’t you?”
The bell sounded and Kristy came off the buckles with all of her usual swagger, but none of the usual mouth, at least not until she got closer to the center of the ring. “Let me guess.” she said to the Rainmaker. “Emily’s still smarting about how cuz snuck into her trunks and stole the World Title, but she can’t invoke her rematch with Kylie hiding behind Portia’s lawyers, so she sent you to lay a hurtin’ on the Sanders who’s never hid behind anything.”
The Black Sheep pursed her lips in a knowing little smirk and nodded. “It’s a pretty good plan, actually. Problem is, the big brain seems to have forgotten how I’ve already whipped your ass, Susie. Me and that Iowa bytch might not have much in common, but if we share one thing other than blood, it’s this. We’re poison for all you Black Court douche nozzles.”
Burlingame didn’t bother to respond immediately, rather she waited until she’d pushed off the corner and started to circle. “You Sanders share another common trait.” the brunette murmured. “You’re both masters of self-delusion and creative forgetting. Emily could go through Portia’s lawyers like a buzz saw through a teddy bear if she wanted to, and your win over me has gotta have the biggest asterisk in FAWN history. HOWEVER, Em’s has an idea about how Ky’s little stint at the top of the mountain is going to play out and she doesn’t want to spoil it for the rest of us by interjecting herself in the mix. As for you and I… I’m just in the mood to slap a no-talent bytch face.”
The smirk faded from Kristy’s lips. “Watch your mouth rich girl or I’ll do your face like you did Eliza’s hand.”
Susan snorted at the threat. “You and what army, pussycat?”
Sanders rolled her shoulders and beckoned the brunette forward. “Step up and you’ll meet her.”
Love her or hate her, Burlingame never shied from a challenge and tonight proved no exception. Closing the gap in three long strides, she met Kristy in a Collar & Elbow Lock-Up that got the crowd cheering the instant they started shoving. Neither woman was afraid to pull hair to gain an advantage but this initial clench proved aboveboard as each relied on grip and leg strength to march the other around the ring. March might’ve been too strong a word though, more like angry little circles, with the brunettes switching control of the lead every few steps or so.
Eventually Kristy got tired of the stalemate and forced the former World Champion clear with a hard shove.
What’s the matter, off brand Kylie? Not feeling as strong as you thou--”
Sanders Part Deux stepped in and CRAAACKED her antagonist across the mouth with a shot that put the ‘bytch’ in Bytch Slap. “I said watch your mouth, rich girl. Or I’ll wash it out with soap… after I scrub it with my ass of cou--”
Burlingame set like she was thinking Super Kick but when Sanders raised her hands to catch it the Ace lunged low and PWAAAKED a straight right hand into Kristy’s tummy. The Minnesotan ‘ooofffhed’, tumbled forward and kept her balance by wrapping both arms around Susan’s upper arms in a boxing-style clinch. Sanders pounded a few Kneelifts into her opponent as well -- she’d aimed for the other brunette’s thighs or tummy, but Burlingame deflected most of the efforts off her hips.
Still wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences and Sue squirmed hard until she was able to wrench both arms free of the loop. She would’ve unleashed hell on Kristy’s head if FAWN’s resident leopardess hadn’t cinched that Bear Hug a lot tighter and drew her foe a lot closer. Sensing a Belly to Belly in her very near future, Burlingame slipped an ankle behind Sanders’s left ankle and tensed it tight.
Kristy grunted and tried to extricate her leg before coming to understand it couldn’t be done without toppling to the mat. Possessed of a willingness and ability to change her plans at a moment’s notice, Sanders stopped trying to toss and squeezed for all she was worth, those strong Midwestern biceps crushing tight against Susan’s tawny torso. The Bear Hug extricated Burlingame’s encroaching leg but Kristy didn’t go for the Suplex again. Happy to squeeze, she hupped the Rainmaker onto her tiptoes and shook her back n’ forth.
“Ask her!” Sanders demanded of Nick after several seconds of strong pressure. “Ask this pampered quitter if she’s done!”
Burlingame was already shaking her head ‘no’ when Castle turned to check. “Don’t think so, Nick.” she said shortly. “Why would I want to give? Kristy’s almost got the kink out of my NNNNGGGGHHHHHH!”
The Black Sheep hoisted her up a little higher, forcing Sue to brace her knees against opposing thighs to alleviate some of the pressure. “Like I said, Black Court poison!” Kristy huffed happily. “You idiots just don’t know how to ERGH!”
Susan raised both hands high and brought them down in a sharp ‘V’ the point of which converged at the base of Sanders’s neck on either side. Kristy staggered, then twisted her head to one side and pressed it against Burlingame’s chest, thus negating any attempt at another Mongolian Chop.
“Oooooohhh, heart’s already beating pretty fast, Susie.” she taunted. “Are you worried about how I might crack a few ribs? Or excited about how I might ride your facGUUUFHHHUUHHHCCCK!”
A counter Hug was out of the question so Burlingame extended her oh so dangerous stems, locked ‘em around Kristy’s waist and bore down in a gut-churning Scissors.
“Ask her, Nick!” Susan snickered. “I can already feel the corn pudding in there starting to swell. Ask her if she wants to give before she pops like a WHOOOOAAAAAOOOOFFFFFHHH!”
Both Suplex and Atomic Drop were negated by those damned Scissors, so Sanders swung toward the nearest corner, charged and BWUUUNGED her foe against the turnbuckles. Susan’s legs went loose on the first taste, so Kristy hammered her home again, then boosted the heiress into a seat on the top turnbuckle when the Scissors disintegrated. She’d just grabbed hold of the brunette’s hair when Sue reared back and CRAAACKED her across the cheek with a Palm Strike stiff enough to make her eyes water.
Kristy almost went to one knee, but Burlingame grabbed her by the hair and reeled her into a Front Facelock. Feet set against the middle rope, she pushed off and swung around in a wide circle that should’ve ended with Kristy’s skull spiked against the mat. Alas, the Minnesota Mauler wrapped her arms around Sue’s upper thighs and kept on spinning. Burlingame ended up right back where she’d started and got a hard punch to the ribs for her troubles.
Free of the Ace’s grip, Kristy climbed to the second rope and slapped on a Front Facelock of her own. Then she slung Sue’s near arm across her shoulders, grabbed a handful of waistband and pulled-- Susan snatched the top rope as an anchor and used her other hand to pound shots into her attacker’s tummy. Sanders grunted, worked to hold on, but Burlingame slipped her head loose and promptly caught her between the eyes with a Headbutt.
“Don’t go anywhere now.” Sue stubbornly reapplied the Front Facelock when the Black Sheep dropped to the mat. “I’ve got something fun in mind.” She pushed off for the second time in as many minutes and AGAIN Susan swung in a full circle, only now it was of her own volition. Rather than drop down in a standard DDT, she floated out over the ropes and dropped onto the apron to ‘twang!’
Kristy’s windpipe against the rubber-coated steel in a modified Hot Shot. Kristy snapped up and back, both hands flying to her throat as she staggered away with her back to the ropes. Alas, distance provided no protection as Burlingame leapt onto the top rope and soared after the retreating brunette. Twisted slightly to one side, the heiress pulled her knees up to chest level before pistoning her legs to full extension. Her boots caught Kristy square between the shoulders and knocked her sprawling, the Springboard Missile Dropkick acting more like a Facebuster in the way it THWHUMPED Kristy down on her face and chest.
Sanders’ features clunked off the canvas, her head snapping back with the ferocity of the impact. Kristy’s hands flew to the bridge of her nose, making sure her proboscis didn’t look like a set of hairpin curves.
Rising to her knees, cursing a blue streak, the Minnesota Mauler soon found her wrists collected, arms stretched out behind her, Burlingame pressing a boot sole in between, making it appear she wished to remove Kristy’s arms at the sockets.
Sanders bit her lower lip, squelching most of a mewl, but unable to do much else. Susan raised said boot and THUMPED it several times into the back of Kristy’s head before returning it to the location dissecting the brunette’s shoulderblades.
“It’s funny,” Susan said, “the one with the physical gifts is the one struggling to stay afloat while the one that stole your spotlight by being loved is now doing it by being hated.”
A motivated Kristy growled and ripped her right wrist free. She turned to scoop the free arm behind Susan’s legs and trip her to the canvas, but Burlingame brought a pointed elbow down onto the crown of Kristy’s head that stopped Sanders in her tracks. With the Real Deal stupefied, Susan drew the dazed brunette to her feet and reeled Kristy into a tight Front Facelock, throwing a limp arm of the World Champ’s cousin over her shoulders and RIPPING Part Deux down with a lightning fast Snap Suplex the result of which has Kristy arching her back and reaching for the base of her spine.
“Impressive, right?” Burlingame asked.
Not waiting for an answer, she tugged Kristy to her feet and did it again…AND AGAIN, Sanders unable to contain a loud yelp on the trifecta. The hardbody rose to a seat and slid on those apple-shaped cheeks, trying to make an escape to the outside before the Black Courtier decides if an even ‘ten’ might not be a worthwhile goal.
Before Kristy could find a way through, Susan grabbe a handful of dark locks and yanked Sanders to her feet from behind. She ate a blind elbow to the jaw for her trouble, but Burlingame shrugged it off with a scowl and wrapped an arm around Kristy’s throat, not trying to hide a blatant choke.
She wringed Sanders’s neck, swinging the brunette from side to side, Kristy’s face grew rosy quickly, her tongue poking out as she gasped and wheezed. Finally, the official started his count when Kristy reached out and grabbed the top rope, apparently forgetting he should break strangulations whether in the ropes or not.
Susan released at four-and-a-half, throwing her arms up for show more than any concern over what the ref or FAWNatics might think. As the flushed face of Sanders drew in rasping breaths, Susan delivered a boot to the back of Kristy’s knee, forcing her to genuflect. A sweeping kick to the chest sent the Real Deal sprawling to her back and almost immediately Burlingame was springboarding off the cables again, the tawny beauty gaining substantial height to drop a leg across the throat of Sanders Part Deux and send her into another spell of doleful coughs and spasms, Kristy snatching at her neck, dark eyes wide.
SPRINGBOARD LEG DROP @ 00:11
www.youtube.com/watch?v=egns00pIpGA
Susan imperiously kept her leg across the shoulders and throat for ONE…TWO…before Sanders threw it off to break the count.
“So you have a tiny bit of heart in there, do you tin man?” Susan inquired.
As the words seeped in with a couple deep inhalations, a screaming Kristy scrambled to her feet only a tick behind Burlingame reaching vertical. But when she did, Susan leapt high and sent her somersaulting back down with a perfect Dropsault to Kristy’s chest.
DROPSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=asE9za5gpkQ
Sanders rolled through and back up to her feet before stumbling into a backpedal to the corner behind her. She slung an arm over the top rope on either side to keep herself on the vertical plane and, when Susan charged her, Kristy waited for Burlingame to leap for her splash. Kristy threw herself out of the corner and into a shoulder-dipping counter of a spear that RIPPED nearly THROUGH Susan’s golden-brown tummy.
Folded across Kristy’s left shoulder, Sanders showed the strength she could match with any lightweight and not a few above that designation, carrying Burlingame all the way to the opposite corner at a good clip before DRIVING Susan’s spine into the buckles and sending a ripple through the Rainmaker.
Not one to pass up a chance to brawl, Kristy stuffed Susan in deep, pressed her forehead into Susan’s gurls, and slugged away into the meat of Burlingame’s belly, ribs and kidneys, quickly drawing unhappy huffs from the Black Courtier.
With Susan taking a seat on the middle buckle, her body giving way to the bombardment, Kristy relented, but only to dip and send an arm between the lithe legs of the former World Champion. Sanders hupped Susan to a spot horizontal across her chest, Susan wriggling futilely in her foe’s control. But Kristy did plenty more, the Black Sheep of the Sanders clan (perhaps gray now with Kylie getting darker each day) climbing with her cargo first to the bottom ropes and then the middle. From there, Kristy showed the power Kylie would never be able to match, tossing Susan violently over her shoulders with a Fallaway Slam that, with the added height, proved a ring rattler when Susan hit home. Burlingame barrel rolled to an aching stop, the Rainmaker looking drought-stricken, her face twisted in pain.
SECOND ROPE FALLAWAY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zi_D81Mg86g
Kristy, who somehow managed to land on her feet, turned and strode toward the Ace of the Court, her face growing long when she saw Susan rise.
“Unlike cuz, my moves are meant to knock you down and keep you there,” Kristy hissed, apparently not liking Sue reaching her feet so quickly. But Susan had more in mind than rising, suddenly surging at Kristy with a Clothesline. The wide-eyed Sanders barely ducked under, but duck she did.
Quickly countering, Sanders locked one elbow, then the other with the turned Burlingame. The dark-maned hardbody shrugged Susan off her feet. Leaning forward, she stretched the upper limbs of the Ace while Susan’s lower set were drawn around Sanders’s waist to relieve some pressure from Susan’s spine. It proved a significant mistake for the squirming Sue. Trapped in a Gory Lock, Kristy quickly worked her magic, changing her grip to a reverse Side Headlock.
The crowd, showing mostly love for the Black Sheep, (being turned on their heads regarding the Sanders’ cousins), watched with growing anticipation as Sanders leaned farther forward, ready to throw her weight in reverse, lay out and bust the beautiful face of the Ace with her Twin Cities Tumbler.
TWIN CITIES TUMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUnS9XJdtxo
Susan SLAMMED facedown and chest first into the deck, unable to protect her mush. Rocked, the Black Courtier shuddered and fell still as a satisfied seated Sanders turned to face the wonderful wreckage she’d made of the former World Champion.
She roughly shoved the splayed, dazed Burlingame to her back, the golden-brown Burlingame spreading into a demolished starfish. The crowd roared as it counted along with the slaps on the canvas…
ONE…
TWO…
Susan shot a shoulder off the mat just after ‘TWO!’ a strong reminder that she was far from finished.
Unperturbed by this show of resolve, Kristy stood up, spread her arms wide and circled around to the heiress’s six. Careful to stay in Sue’s blind spot as she started to rise, Sanders waited until she was almost vertical before storming in and slapping a Half Nelson on the Ace’s left arm. In the same instant she crooked her right arm around Burlingame’s neck and clamped down tight to secure the Katahajime.
KATAHAJIME @ 1:21
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgPUgSba8lE
“I’d been using this for a long time,” Kristy purred in Susan’s ear while yanking her back n’ forth. “But when Amanda Jane signed on at the Madhouse I sought her out and asked for a few pointers.” Burlingame gurgled and made a lunge for the ropes, but the Black Sheep twisted her around and THWHUMPED a Kneelift into the base of her spine to discourage any future jailbreaks. “That was one of them.” Sanders continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Here’s another I like.”
Using the choke as a lead, she forced Susan between her and the official, then slotted a leg between the former World Champion’s thighs and gouged her undercarriage smartly. Burlingame blurted out garbled hurt and would’ve taken a knee if she hadn’t coiled her shin behind Kristy’s calf. “That’s fine, go on and fight it all you want.” the Minnesota Mauler tugged up on the Nelson and back on the Sleeper to force another wheeze from her opponent. “That disgusting little gurgle tells me your face is going from dark red to purple. And that means you’re going to tap or nap in the next few NNNNNNGGGGGGHH!”
Not without some tricks of her own, Burlingame cheeped “HAIR!” and when the official moved to investigate she pivoted with him, all the better to disguise the vicious Mule Kick she slammed into the other brunette’s junk. Sanders Part Deux yowled as her knees went wobbly and the Katahajime went loose, but she didn’t relinquish it entirely.
That made Susan want to kick her all the harder, unfortunately such a tactic would’ve brought a stern warning or even a disqualification from the referee. Rather than risk it she sucked in as deep a breath she could manage before charging toward the nearest corner with Kristy trailing along behind. Under normal conditions she would’ve jumped from the mat to the top floor without even blinking, but since these were far from normal conditions the Rainmaker settled for ‘stepping’ onto the middle rope and bending her knees all the way to her chest. Then she pushed off full force, launching both ladies back the way they’d came.
Legs still rubbery after the Low Blow, Kristy lost her balance and went down flat with Burlingame landing back-first on her chest. The collision with the canvas finally broke Sanders’s grip on her throat, so Sue reached down, hooked Kristy behind the knees and pulled ‘em tight while leaaaaaaaaaning all her weight against the flattened fighter. Kristy knew this predicament wasn’t good, but she didn’t realize she’d been stacked on her shoulders until the ref dove in and counted…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
She pistoned her legs forward to shove Susan clear and flopped onto her belly with half a heartbeat to spare.
Much reinvigorated after her daring escape, Burlingame kipped to boot-leather and wasted no time collecting Sanders’s left wrist in both hands. Once the other woman was on her feet, Sue took a giant step back, dropped into a crouch and sent Kristy into the strands with an Irish NO!
Apparently Kristy wasn’t quite as discombobulated as the Rainmaker thought because she dug in her heels and reversed the momentum to send Susan to the strands in her place. Burlingame raced back like a house afire only to get doused in a deluge of destruction when Sanders slipped an arm though her legs and scooped her up as neat as you please. A Power Slam would’ve worked just fine but the Black Sheep wanted to treat her rival to a taste of home which was why she caught Sue’s noggin in a Front Facelock and laid out on her side. There was a THWHUNK, followed by a sympathetic groan from the crowd as the Northern Lights Bomb spiked Susan flush on the back of her head and shoulders. The tent-peg stiffness melted away in a heartbeat, leaving Burlingame puddled on the mat for Sanders to cover with nothing more than a casual knee across the chest.
NORTHERN LIGHTS BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZZJYRknCr0
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Susan pushed loose, albeit with a lack of strength that Kristy found most telling. “Aaawwwww, is cutie getting tired?” Sanders mussed Burlingame’s sweat damp hair with obvious enthusiasm. “Why don’t you stay here and TRY to get some beauty rest. I’ll be back in just a second.”
With that she pushed up and went not to the corner, but to the ropes, where she slipped out onto the apron. Never afraid to go for the cheap pop, Sanders Part Deux ‘snapped’ the edges of that barely existent skirt down over the curves of her sturdy buns and waggled her hips a few times for good measure. Seemed to do the trick, a noticeable ‘CRUSH HER KRIS-TEE!’ chant rose from that side of the arena in the wake of a rather prurient round of cheers.
Holding the top rope in both hands, Kristy crouched a little lower and continued to swing her hips. “C’mon you louse.” she demanded of the slowly recovering Ace. “Get your overrated, spray-tanned ass up so I can use it as a stepping stone.”
As of yet unaware of her opponent’s intentions, Burlingame pushed off one knee and shook off the worst of her headache. Aware that Sanders wasn’t in her line of sight, Burlingame whirled in response to a cheer from the crowd and had just enough time to watch Kristy launch herself from the ropes in a flawless springboard. Striking with a swiftness and a confidence few could imagine and even less could match, the Rainmaker lunged *toward* her somersaulting adversary and whipped an arm around the back of Kristy’s neck at the exact moment she passed overhead. The unexpected touch of the Black Courtier threw off Sanders’s game for half a heartbeat, more than enough time for Sue to dart out her free hand and snatch hold of some leopard print waistband. Hooks set, she kicked a leg forward and dropped almost straight down to THWHONK Kristy’s skull into the mat courtesy of Snap Brainbuster from way, waaaaaay out in left field.
The Minnesota Mauler rose to a slumped seat and might’ve stayed there if left to her own devices, but Susan wasn’t feeling nearly that generous when she grabbed opposing shoulder and pulled her down flat. While not necessarily known for her JMD capabilities, Burlingame made sure to press her chest flush against Kristy’s gaping face when she hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Sanders kicked her off and sat up, both arms immediately employed to swaddle the back of her aching head. “Go ahead and try to keep your brains from leaking out.” Sue smirked as she knelt behind the woozy warrior. “I know how to keep myself entertained.” To do so she snatched Kristy’s right ankle and folded that leg over her left thigh to create a grounded Figure Four, which Sue kept in place via the careful positioning of her own left ankle. From there she leaned around on Sanders’s right side and snaked her left arm under Kristy’s left bicep. A simple craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank hooked the Abdominal Stretch in but good and gave the Ace of the Black Court unfettered access to her rival’s midsection.
GROUNDED ABDOMINAL STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=seAR8XN5EXM
“Been a long time since I took a big game trophy.” Sue mused as she ran three fingers up n’ down the length of Kristy’s spotted flank. “And while you might not have the cache of that corn-fed fraud cousin, I’m still gonna love to hear you meow.”
Kristy shook her head ‘no’ whether it be in response to the ref or Sue, neither knew. “It’s not the meow you have to worry about, bytch. It’s the purr when I’m riding your AAAAAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAHHHHK!”
Burlingame curled that free hand into a spade and plunged it into Midwestern belly with white-knuckle intensity. “We can worry about the purr later, cutie. Right now it’s all about how many lives you’ve got left.”
Sanders’s roiling abdomen prevented a proper response, Kristy unable to manage more than desperate grunts and mewls as Burlingame tried not only to shred her abs with the stretch but churn them into butter with her delving digits.
With her dark eyes half-lidded, features twisted in pain from the Ace’s handiwork, the official asked the Black Sheep if she’s had enough. An unconvincing chirp of ‘no’ revved up Susan, her claw digging deeper into tummy until it drew a shriek from Sanders. But when no surrender followed, Burlingame pulled her tines lose and offered a stinging slap instead, unknotting herself from the Stretch as well.
The Black Courtier rose behind a slumped, seated Kristy, one of Sanders’ arms curled around her tummy. Burlingame sank a set of nails into Kristy’s scalp and tugged the aching brunette to her feet. Susan spun a kick around Sanders’s side and BURIED it into Kristy’s gut, doubling her foe over with a guttural groan.
“I’m playing with you, Sanders,” Susan assured as she released her grip and backed away a couple steps. “You know the feeling when you’re in with a girl who doesn’t have half the answers she needs?”
Susan stomped a left boot on the canvas, once, twice, thrice, loading it up.
“I’m getting that feeling.”
When the bobbling head of Kristy finally rose from her chest as she straightened, Burlingame let loose with a well-named Super Kick that caught Kristy’s chin flush, sending her vaulting into the air, spreading out in a starfish even before she hit the deck with an unceremonious THUD.
Susan offered a knowing nod that elicited a chorus of boos. She stood in a domineering straddle of the semiconscious Kristy and planted a boot on her foe’s chest for...
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Sanders showed the fight characterizing her family name in FAWN, the former IC and tag champ rolling a shoulder up, sending Susan stumbling back on her heels. Burlingame lifted her brow and gave a slight shrug, apparently expecting cornpone’s cuz not to know when to say when.
Taking a quick survey of the situation, the Rainmaker turned to the ropes and leapt onto the middle cable, grasping the top with both hands. With a practiced ease, Burlingame launches in a 180 spin back toward the splayed Sanders, intent on delivering a Springboard Spinning Leg Drop.
But instead of coming down across Kristy’s throat, the Minnesota Mauler rolled clear and Burlingame landed on her sinewy rump, a shockwave sent screaming up and down her spine via her tailbone. Susan reached for said coccyx with both hands, massaging, to the great relief and mirth of the FAWNatics.
Next to her, Kristy was slow to take advantage, her senses attempting to return but unable to do so at the required pace. Instead, a livid Burlingame pushed to her feet.
“Only one Sanders gets lucky enough to beat the Black Court in a lifetime.”
Susan sank a claw into the right trapezius of Kristy, who’d managed to make her knees. Sanders reflexively arched her back from the invasive massage technique, her face etched in anguish.
“Only one Sanders needs luck,” Kristy grunted. She shot an elbow back blindly, delivering it into Susan’s ribs. Burlingame folded around the intrusion, but kept her grip. She balled the opposite hand for payback, but the Black Sheep delivered another that convinced the Ace to stumble away, hunched toward her aching side.
With a look mixing disbelief and disdain, Susan chargeed back at the risen Kristy. Sanders ducked a clothesline, grabbing the wrist. With a little do-si-so straight out of a square dance, Kristy drew Susan’s captured arm across her throat and, with Susan bug-eyed, Sanders dropped to the canvas and blew the bytch’s lungs out in spectacular fashion, instantly drawing the FAWNatics back into her corner.
CUT-THROAT LUNGBLOWER @ 1:47
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HYmQ5nxPIM
With the ‘OH’s of the crowd slow to fade, a blasted Susan rolled off Kristy’s folded knees and into a shattered shambles at Sanders’s side. Adrenaline coursing, the Real Deal kipped to her feet and tore into Susan’s scalp, forcing her to a seat in front of her.
Sweeping one leg at a time over each of the golden-brown shoulders of the Ace, Kristy corralled both wrists then spun to her right, each woman ending on their knees but with Sanders propped by her palms, a Scissors around Susan’s skull.
After having beaten Burlingame, it seemed a little humiliation is in order as a delighted Kristy doles out thee humility in the form of a set of Push-Up Facebusters that DROVE Susan’s face into the deck time and time again, Kristy reaching a full ‘TEN’ before deciding to end the display.
PUSH-UP FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_x3OfF4bQU
With the a couple signature Mauler moves leaving Burlingame a wreck, the crowd roared as Sanders played to Kylie’s former Corps. She earned a solid response, one much more positive than her turncoat cousin.
Knowing she couldn’t let up against a woman that many believed to be FAWN’s total package, Sanders passed on a pin attempt and grabbed a wrist. She ripped Susan to her feet and aimed her at the far buckles, letting loose with an Irish Whip that sent Susan scurrying across the canvas, turning into an explosive collision with the corner.
Throwing her arms over the ropes on either side to remain upright, Burlingame watched, seemingly without the ability to retort, as the leopardess bore down on her prey, rushing across the canvas, preparing to splash the Ace into a Deuce.
But as Kristy closed in, Burlingame lifted a big boot toward the charging brunette’s chin. One problem. Sanders put on the brakes and took the proffered stem. Susan threw up her palms, ‘washing windows’ at Sanders, bleating out a worried “whoa…whoa…whoa”.
Part Deux threw the lovely limb to the side, forcing Susan to spin through a pirouette that ended violently with a clubbing Clothesline from Kristy. Burlingame crashed back into the corner, dazed. Working quickly, Sanders lifted the Rainmaker to a seat on the top buckle.
Kristy snuggled in close, turning to face away from her foe while encircling Susan’s thighs and lifting the bewildered Burlingame onto her shoulders. One arm quickly moved from Susan’s left leg to curl around the back of the Black Courtier’s neck and, with the crowd showing their approval, Sanders staggered away from the corner, twisting and tumbling to the deck with a trapped Susan strapped. The resulting explosion rattled the ring as Susan SLAMMED to the deck courtesy Kristy’s signature FUPV.
FUPV
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Dth-OgCNN4
The demolished Burlingame remained in a boneless Matchbook, Kristy leaning over the pits of her foe’s knees with Susan’s incomparable copper-skinned cheeks pointed to the rafters for the...
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The heiress slid out of the pinning predicament to slop onto one side, her continued involvement in the match more an act of involuntary muscle relaxation than any show of cogent defiance. Sanders Part Deux brandished a threatening fist at the official, realized it would do no good and hammered it into her opponent’s ribs instead. “Think you’re gonna outlast me, rich bytch?” Kristy’s voice had a rough, feral edge as she dragged the woozy brunette to verticality. “Well it ain’t gonna happen. Your pampered ass is about to go bankrupt.”
Quick to enact that change of fortune, she laced her hands across the back of Sue’s neck, wrenched her head sideways and jerked the Rainmaker down until she was almost doubled over. After that came the Kneelifts, a trio of gaudy, THWONKING shots that had the FAWNatics groaning each time kneecap connected with pate. The coup de grace came when Kristy kicked a leg forward and laid out on her back, all the better to THWHUMP Sue down on the back of her head and shoulders with a Swinging Neckbreaker.
EDEN PRAIRIE HANGOVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GB3toaxqVm0
Burlingame was far removed from any chance of draping a foot over the bottom rope, yet Sanders made no move to cover. Rather she hurried up, strode over to the ropes behind her prey and hopped out onto the apron. Momentarily conflicted about the next idea that crossed her mind, the Black Sheep shrugged and muttered, “Oh, what the hell.” She raised both hands overhead and started to clap, a simple beat that was soon joined by most every free set of hands in the arena. Kristy told herself this wasn’t to muster support, she merely wanted the noise to keep Burlingame distracted while she unleashed the match killer.
Said unleashing came a moment later when Susan struggled to her feet and lurched around to find the missing Minnesotan. Springing up and around, Kristy landed on the top rope with her back to the Ace, then pushed off and twisted again to she bore down on her rival in a headfirst dive. Arm extended to secure the Facelock that’d power the DDT that’d dent Burlingame’s forehead, Sanders let out a bellow of triumph that turned into an ‘eep!’ of surprise when Susan pivoted beneath her and transformed the potentially match-ending head drop into a standard issue Fireman’s Carry. Wobbling for less than a second, Sue straightened up and twisted her hips to the left in the same motion. Then she snapped right, slung Kristy off her shoulders like a glorious Midwestern banner and promptly dropped to one knee to THWONK her foe square between the eyes.
FIREMAN'S CARRY FACEBREAKER @ 00:23
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j53ygI28ZM8
Sanders Part Deux tumbled across the mat like a puppet with cut strings but somehow made it to her feet within seconds of everything going sideways. This proved unfortunate as it meant the rampaging Ace didn’t have to waste time jerking her prey to boot leather. She simply stormed up behind her, slapped on a Full Nelson and stuffed her against the ropes chest-first.
“Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Sanders.” Sue hissed in the other brunette’s ear. “You. (THUMP!) Can’t. (THUMP!) Hang. (THUMP!) With. (THUMP!) Me. (THUMP!) EVER!” Burlingame stopped punctuating with Kneelifts to the lower back and started Spamming them instead, landing almost another full dozen before the official bustled over to demand they vacate the strands. This brought no complaint from the Black Courtier, she only dragged her burden out by a few paces and sank into a deep crouch. Striking with none of her usual theatrics, Burlingame popped her hips and bridged backward, ripping Kristy off her feet and flipping her up, over and down into a BOOMING chest and tummy-first landing.
RELEASE DRAGON SLEEPER @ 2:00
www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3E9TCAVPv0
Practically cindered by the huge Dragon Suplex, Kristy bounced to her knees, took a single deep breath and went down flat on her face again. Seated on her tush after the explosion of offense, Burlingame raked a hand through her sweat-soaked hair before offering the crowd a smile they knew all too well.
“Did you think she was gonna beat me? Kristy sure thought so.” The Rainmaker looked at the smoldering wreckage on her six, then returned her attention to the fans. “She doesn’t think that now. She’s probably not thinking much of anything. Know what I’M thinking? It’s time to end this bytch.”
On her feet faster than she had any right to be, Burlingame stomped over to the immobilized Mauler, buried both hands in her hair and stood her upright. True verticality didn’t last very long as Sue was quick to get behind Sanders and curl her right arm around opposing neck. Forcing Kristy’s chin into her armpit to complete the Inverted Facelock, Susan hooked a handful of tights with her free hand, then lifted Sanders off the mat and started to spin. Those expecting a single rotation were both surprised and slightly terrified when they realized Burlingame had no intention of slowing down. She pulled off half a dozen rotations in all, each an ingenious design in centrifugal torture that put ghastly pressure on Kristy’s head and neck.
SWINGING DRAGON SLEEPER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6SAF6IjQyk
Finally setting the bikini meat down when she got too heavy, Susan unhooked the Dragon Sleeper only to immediately capture the brunette’s right arm in a Chickenwing. In the next instant she placed her free hand on the back of Sanders’s neck and pressed forward and down to turn the Real Deal around into a snug Front Facelock. Burlingame reached down with her left arm, caught Kristy’s right leg behind the knee and lifted it off the canvas in an unpleasant cradle. Walking between the raindrops now, the Ace of the Black Court boosted Sanders upside down, letting her rest against one hip even as the former FAWN World Champion kicked off a second spin cycle. began to spin. Susan had twirled Kristy around half a dozen times in the Dragon Sleeper, this time she managed ten before she pushed onto her toes and sat out to PLANT Kristy on the back of her head.
SPIRIT CRUSHER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOMWRvdJ7Og
Transformed into a boneless, glassy-eyed echo of her usually ferocious self by the Spirit Crusher, Sanders made no comment when Susan slipped free and she only offered the slightest of moans when the heiress mounted her mug in a nose-mashing Reverse Face Sit. Tucking her feet against the sides of Kristy’s skull strictly for form’s sake, Burlingame braced her hands against the other woman’s belly and timed the sweep of her hips to coincide with the ref’s count…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Susan stopped grinding when the bell sounded, though she made no move to leave her perch. “I should glaze your stupid face for pissing me off.” Burlingame told her new seat. “But the truth is, I’d rather save it for Kylie. Unfortunately cuz isn’t returning my calls these days, so I’ll have to get her attention another way.”
The ref was closing in, no doubt to tell the Ace that she should get up and let Kristy breathe clean air. Susan did so without his having to ask, although the FAWNatics quickly discovered it was only so she could clip the poor dope under the chin with a snappy Super Kick. Dismissing the zebra as soon as he hit the mat, Susan sauntered to the ropes, hopped out to the floor and walked over to the Timekeeper.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to tell you,” she said in her breathiest come hither voice, “to get out of that f*cking chair.”
She swatted him upside the head to make sure he complied, then scooped up the chair and forced it shut with an ominous clank. Kristy was still down and out when Burlingame returned to the squared circle, meaning she was denied some of the fun in showing Sanders exactly what she had in mind. Playing to the fans instead, she set the chair down and opened it just enough to slip the oblivious battler’s left arm through all the way to the elbow.
“I know that sawed off rat isn’t coming to your rescue.” Sue admitted as she folded the chair *almost* shut again. “But if she doesn’t at least come looking for me after the fact, it’s going to make the Sanders annual Christmas letter a REAL awkward read.”
Snickering at the thought, the Rainmaker turned to the nearest corner and padded to it. She wanted a clean break and that meant she needed to come off the second rope, if not the top.
As Burlingame was on her way up, a commotion ran through the crowd as they reacted to a blur racing down the aisle, a single member cavalry charge. Having reached a stance on the middle ropes but yet to turn to end Kristy Sanders’ career, Susan’s ears perked to the noise. She shook her head when the interloper came into view.
“Death wish,” she mumbled.
FAWN’s Superlative Soprano slide under the bottom rope, quickly popping to her feet.
ELIZA BLISS:
Susan turned her stance to face inward but remained elevated, the Rainmaker looking down on the still waylaid Sanders and now Eliza Bliss, the latter clad in a red tank top and blue jeans.
Apparently determining the diva would take up a defensive posture in front of Sanders, Burlingame’s dark eyes widened as Blissy charged her instead. Susan kicked a boot into a shoulder of the Brit when she rushed into range, spinning Eliza in a pirouette. Burlingame leapt out of the corner, hands interlocked and raised, ready to bring the curtain down with a sledgehammer blow, but Eliza turned back in time, her right hand thrust forward, surrounding and clenching Susan’s throat.
Quickly grabbing a piece of material at the Ace’s hip, Eliza launched Susan into the air, apparently for a Choke Slam, but instead of thumping her to the deck, she tossed the Black Courtier so her spine BWUNGED into the buckles behind her.
Rocked by the impact, a wobbly Susan stumbled out of the corner and back into a more secure grasp of Blissy, namely one where Eliza fashioned her right hand into a curved hook and jammed it into Susan‘s maw, clamping the claw hard and strong around the Rainmaker’s mandible. The Cleft Note deftly applied, Susan flailed wildly, arms swinging with abandon, panic clear on her face, gurgles bubbling from between her lips.
Bliss reached her opposite hand to curl it behind Burlingame’s braincase and secure sleepy time for the Ace, but before she could, Susan backed her way to the ropes and tumbled through between top and middle, in so doing, escaping the Cleft Note and falling into a heap on the floor below.
Eliza hovered over the gagging Susan, white-knuckling the top rope, apparently ready to fly over, when a clatter from behind distracted her. She watched as Kristy pulled her arm free of the chair and struggled to a seat on the canvas. Eliza quickly returned her attention to Burlingame, a good thing since Susan was up and preparing for a counterattack.
But several FAWN officials, already on the way when Susan marked Sanders for roster elimination, reached the ring and grabbed Sue around the arms, holding her back.
Burlingame pointed both literally and verbally at the slender soprano, leveling a raft of threats at Eliza. Above, Blissy responded in kind, though in more controlled fashion as she shrugged off an official’s grip, assuring him she’s fine. She backed toward a rising Kristy.
“You good?” Eliza asked, stealing a glance at Sanders before wrapping an arm around the unsteady brunette’s shoulders.
“Thanks,” the Black Sheep coughed in return. “I’m not sure why, but thanks.”
Eliza nodded and gives her a pat, but the shared moment was broken by the screech of static, Susan having acquired a microphone.
“This ends, bytch,” the Rainmaker shouted. “On the biggest stage there is, I’m going to make Mania your final performance. No encores. Guaranteed.”
Bliss didn’t need any electronic amplification for her loud and clear response.
“You got it!”
A furious Susan dropped the mic and pushed off the security forces, turning and storming up the ramp.
“You know she means it, right?” Kristy asked.
“I do.”
Kristy fidgeted nervously behind the curtain as the house lights blinked to inky blackness. The dark was replaced with twisting, twirling strobes, an inspired swirl of golden spotlights interspersed with leopard spots that filled the arena. A feline, feral growl roared over the speakers. Following quickly behind came the opening strains of Velvet Revolver’s cover of ‘Psycho Killer’
PSYCHO KILLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCZFjZCPC0Y
As opposed to the echoing boos her cousin now received, the reaction was mixed, the crowd cheering with a mixture of catcalls. When FAWN’s Black Sheep in leopard’s clothing appeared, the volume increased on both sides, the crowd torn. Sanders Part Deux accepted both in kind, simply happy to be back on a PPV and against an opponent whose tears could force the front office to take notice.
“The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Eden Prairie, Minnesota, she stands five feet six inches and weighs in at one hundred and twenty-five pounds, THE REAL DEAL, KRISTY SANDERS!”
KRISTY SANDERS:
The hardbody brunette focused on the ring, ignoring the FAWNatics as if second nature. Sanders was clad in her familiar skin-tight leopard print one-piece, the material seemingly painted on. Below the ‘skirtish’ bum-hugging bottoms of the strapless onesy was a flash of similarly spotted panties, and, not that many noticed, the ‘jungle cat’ concluded her attire with black pads and boots.
Keeping to the middle, burning holes in anyone who met her gaze or rode her about being a FORMER champion, Kristy reached the squared circle and headed for the steps. Before reaching them, she caught sight of some FAWNatics that didn’t seem to hold her in high regard. One in particular held a sign aloft that stated:
We hate Kylie, but she’s still relevant
Kristy feigned boredom long enough to shoot a lightning snatch and tug the sign away, ripping it in half and throwing it at the fan. “Give it time, jerk. Cream rises.”
Kristy offered a double bicep pose to the nearest lens then nodded in the direction of either gun, mouthing the words “LEGEND” and “KILLER”. She kissed each flexed arm. “and they’ll kill my cousin if given the chance.”
Turning away from the placards and the crowd, Kristy strode up the steps, slid through the ropes, and claimed a spot dead center.
“Where you at, Rainmaker? I’m feeling a bit parched.”
As if in response to her demand, the Announcer raised his microphone. And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Stovington, Vermont, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty pounds. She is the Bankable Bombshell, the Rainmaker, THE ACE, she is SUSANNAH BURLINGAME!”
CROWN ON THE GROUND:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPoIznBujEA
The speakers cut loose with an electronic scream and those assembled countered with more of the throat-born variety, such was always the reaction when the Ace made her presence felt. Always happiest when she was the center of attention, Sue Burlingame strutted through the curtain and stretched her arms in a wide ‘T’ that called down a ‘BOOM’ of cold blue pyro from overhead. At the moment the tawny brunette hardbody wore her storm gray ’Rainaker’ tee-shirt. It’d come off soon enough, but Sue was of the mind that she’d blow a lot of stupid little brains out of twice as many stupid little ears if she simply stormed the ring in full battle regalia. Oh, she meant to play with their minds all right, but it’d happen at her pace. Also visible were her usual black boots with matching gold-trimmed pads that completed the outfit.
SUE BURLINGAME:
For a moment it looked like Burlingame had something to say to the camera, then she changed her mind and grabbed the bottom edge of her tee-shirt in both hands. Peeling it off to a roar of slightly guilty cheers, the Ace tossed it over one shoulder so everyone could take in her dark blue two-piece with gold trim. Taking it slow because she goddamned well could, the Rainmaker avoided all hands friendly or otherwise until she broke into a full on sprint, dove under the bottom rope and sprang to her feet. Positioned directly in the center of the ring, she tipped a wink to the referee and started toward Kristy only to back off when the black & white attempted to hold her back. “He’s given you a few more seconds, Kristy.” Sue chided as she made her way to the opposite corner. “Try to make the most of it, won’t you?”
The bell sounded and Kristy came off the buckles with all of her usual swagger, but none of the usual mouth, at least not until she got closer to the center of the ring. “Let me guess.” she said to the Rainmaker. “Emily’s still smarting about how cuz snuck into her trunks and stole the World Title, but she can’t invoke her rematch with Kylie hiding behind Portia’s lawyers, so she sent you to lay a hurtin’ on the Sanders who’s never hid behind anything.”
The Black Sheep pursed her lips in a knowing little smirk and nodded. “It’s a pretty good plan, actually. Problem is, the big brain seems to have forgotten how I’ve already whipped your ass, Susie. Me and that Iowa bytch might not have much in common, but if we share one thing other than blood, it’s this. We’re poison for all you Black Court douche nozzles.”
Burlingame didn’t bother to respond immediately, rather she waited until she’d pushed off the corner and started to circle. “You Sanders share another common trait.” the brunette murmured. “You’re both masters of self-delusion and creative forgetting. Emily could go through Portia’s lawyers like a buzz saw through a teddy bear if she wanted to, and your win over me has gotta have the biggest asterisk in FAWN history. HOWEVER, Em’s has an idea about how Ky’s little stint at the top of the mountain is going to play out and she doesn’t want to spoil it for the rest of us by interjecting herself in the mix. As for you and I… I’m just in the mood to slap a no-talent bytch face.”
The smirk faded from Kristy’s lips. “Watch your mouth rich girl or I’ll do your face like you did Eliza’s hand.”
Susan snorted at the threat. “You and what army, pussycat?”
Sanders rolled her shoulders and beckoned the brunette forward. “Step up and you’ll meet her.”
Love her or hate her, Burlingame never shied from a challenge and tonight proved no exception. Closing the gap in three long strides, she met Kristy in a Collar & Elbow Lock-Up that got the crowd cheering the instant they started shoving. Neither woman was afraid to pull hair to gain an advantage but this initial clench proved aboveboard as each relied on grip and leg strength to march the other around the ring. March might’ve been too strong a word though, more like angry little circles, with the brunettes switching control of the lead every few steps or so.
Eventually Kristy got tired of the stalemate and forced the former World Champion clear with a hard shove.
What’s the matter, off brand Kylie? Not feeling as strong as you thou--”
Sanders Part Deux stepped in and CRAAACKED her antagonist across the mouth with a shot that put the ‘bytch’ in Bytch Slap. “I said watch your mouth, rich girl. Or I’ll wash it out with soap… after I scrub it with my ass of cou--”
Burlingame set like she was thinking Super Kick but when Sanders raised her hands to catch it the Ace lunged low and PWAAAKED a straight right hand into Kristy’s tummy. The Minnesotan ‘ooofffhed’, tumbled forward and kept her balance by wrapping both arms around Susan’s upper arms in a boxing-style clinch. Sanders pounded a few Kneelifts into her opponent as well -- she’d aimed for the other brunette’s thighs or tummy, but Burlingame deflected most of the efforts off her hips.
Still wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences and Sue squirmed hard until she was able to wrench both arms free of the loop. She would’ve unleashed hell on Kristy’s head if FAWN’s resident leopardess hadn’t cinched that Bear Hug a lot tighter and drew her foe a lot closer. Sensing a Belly to Belly in her very near future, Burlingame slipped an ankle behind Sanders’s left ankle and tensed it tight.
Kristy grunted and tried to extricate her leg before coming to understand it couldn’t be done without toppling to the mat. Possessed of a willingness and ability to change her plans at a moment’s notice, Sanders stopped trying to toss and squeezed for all she was worth, those strong Midwestern biceps crushing tight against Susan’s tawny torso. The Bear Hug extricated Burlingame’s encroaching leg but Kristy didn’t go for the Suplex again. Happy to squeeze, she hupped the Rainmaker onto her tiptoes and shook her back n’ forth.
“Ask her!” Sanders demanded of Nick after several seconds of strong pressure. “Ask this pampered quitter if she’s done!”
Burlingame was already shaking her head ‘no’ when Castle turned to check. “Don’t think so, Nick.” she said shortly. “Why would I want to give? Kristy’s almost got the kink out of my NNNNGGGGHHHHHH!”
The Black Sheep hoisted her up a little higher, forcing Sue to brace her knees against opposing thighs to alleviate some of the pressure. “Like I said, Black Court poison!” Kristy huffed happily. “You idiots just don’t know how to ERGH!”
Susan raised both hands high and brought them down in a sharp ‘V’ the point of which converged at the base of Sanders’s neck on either side. Kristy staggered, then twisted her head to one side and pressed it against Burlingame’s chest, thus negating any attempt at another Mongolian Chop.
“Oooooohhh, heart’s already beating pretty fast, Susie.” she taunted. “Are you worried about how I might crack a few ribs? Or excited about how I might ride your facGUUUFHHHUUHHHCCCK!”
A counter Hug was out of the question so Burlingame extended her oh so dangerous stems, locked ‘em around Kristy’s waist and bore down in a gut-churning Scissors.
“Ask her, Nick!” Susan snickered. “I can already feel the corn pudding in there starting to swell. Ask her if she wants to give before she pops like a WHOOOOAAAAAOOOOFFFFFHHH!”
Both Suplex and Atomic Drop were negated by those damned Scissors, so Sanders swung toward the nearest corner, charged and BWUUUNGED her foe against the turnbuckles. Susan’s legs went loose on the first taste, so Kristy hammered her home again, then boosted the heiress into a seat on the top turnbuckle when the Scissors disintegrated. She’d just grabbed hold of the brunette’s hair when Sue reared back and CRAAACKED her across the cheek with a Palm Strike stiff enough to make her eyes water.
Kristy almost went to one knee, but Burlingame grabbed her by the hair and reeled her into a Front Facelock. Feet set against the middle rope, she pushed off and swung around in a wide circle that should’ve ended with Kristy’s skull spiked against the mat. Alas, the Minnesota Mauler wrapped her arms around Sue’s upper thighs and kept on spinning. Burlingame ended up right back where she’d started and got a hard punch to the ribs for her troubles.
Free of the Ace’s grip, Kristy climbed to the second rope and slapped on a Front Facelock of her own. Then she slung Sue’s near arm across her shoulders, grabbed a handful of waistband and pulled-- Susan snatched the top rope as an anchor and used her other hand to pound shots into her attacker’s tummy. Sanders grunted, worked to hold on, but Burlingame slipped her head loose and promptly caught her between the eyes with a Headbutt.
“Don’t go anywhere now.” Sue stubbornly reapplied the Front Facelock when the Black Sheep dropped to the mat. “I’ve got something fun in mind.” She pushed off for the second time in as many minutes and AGAIN Susan swung in a full circle, only now it was of her own volition. Rather than drop down in a standard DDT, she floated out over the ropes and dropped onto the apron to ‘twang!’
Kristy’s windpipe against the rubber-coated steel in a modified Hot Shot. Kristy snapped up and back, both hands flying to her throat as she staggered away with her back to the ropes. Alas, distance provided no protection as Burlingame leapt onto the top rope and soared after the retreating brunette. Twisted slightly to one side, the heiress pulled her knees up to chest level before pistoning her legs to full extension. Her boots caught Kristy square between the shoulders and knocked her sprawling, the Springboard Missile Dropkick acting more like a Facebuster in the way it THWHUMPED Kristy down on her face and chest.
Sanders’ features clunked off the canvas, her head snapping back with the ferocity of the impact. Kristy’s hands flew to the bridge of her nose, making sure her proboscis didn’t look like a set of hairpin curves.
Rising to her knees, cursing a blue streak, the Minnesota Mauler soon found her wrists collected, arms stretched out behind her, Burlingame pressing a boot sole in between, making it appear she wished to remove Kristy’s arms at the sockets.
Sanders bit her lower lip, squelching most of a mewl, but unable to do much else. Susan raised said boot and THUMPED it several times into the back of Kristy’s head before returning it to the location dissecting the brunette’s shoulderblades.
“It’s funny,” Susan said, “the one with the physical gifts is the one struggling to stay afloat while the one that stole your spotlight by being loved is now doing it by being hated.”
A motivated Kristy growled and ripped her right wrist free. She turned to scoop the free arm behind Susan’s legs and trip her to the canvas, but Burlingame brought a pointed elbow down onto the crown of Kristy’s head that stopped Sanders in her tracks. With the Real Deal stupefied, Susan drew the dazed brunette to her feet and reeled Kristy into a tight Front Facelock, throwing a limp arm of the World Champ’s cousin over her shoulders and RIPPING Part Deux down with a lightning fast Snap Suplex the result of which has Kristy arching her back and reaching for the base of her spine.
“Impressive, right?” Burlingame asked.
Not waiting for an answer, she tugged Kristy to her feet and did it again…AND AGAIN, Sanders unable to contain a loud yelp on the trifecta. The hardbody rose to a seat and slid on those apple-shaped cheeks, trying to make an escape to the outside before the Black Courtier decides if an even ‘ten’ might not be a worthwhile goal.
Before Kristy could find a way through, Susan grabbe a handful of dark locks and yanked Sanders to her feet from behind. She ate a blind elbow to the jaw for her trouble, but Burlingame shrugged it off with a scowl and wrapped an arm around Kristy’s throat, not trying to hide a blatant choke.
She wringed Sanders’s neck, swinging the brunette from side to side, Kristy’s face grew rosy quickly, her tongue poking out as she gasped and wheezed. Finally, the official started his count when Kristy reached out and grabbed the top rope, apparently forgetting he should break strangulations whether in the ropes or not.
Susan released at four-and-a-half, throwing her arms up for show more than any concern over what the ref or FAWNatics might think. As the flushed face of Sanders drew in rasping breaths, Susan delivered a boot to the back of Kristy’s knee, forcing her to genuflect. A sweeping kick to the chest sent the Real Deal sprawling to her back and almost immediately Burlingame was springboarding off the cables again, the tawny beauty gaining substantial height to drop a leg across the throat of Sanders Part Deux and send her into another spell of doleful coughs and spasms, Kristy snatching at her neck, dark eyes wide.
SPRINGBOARD LEG DROP @ 00:11
www.youtube.com/watch?v=egns00pIpGA
Susan imperiously kept her leg across the shoulders and throat for ONE…TWO…before Sanders threw it off to break the count.
“So you have a tiny bit of heart in there, do you tin man?” Susan inquired.
As the words seeped in with a couple deep inhalations, a screaming Kristy scrambled to her feet only a tick behind Burlingame reaching vertical. But when she did, Susan leapt high and sent her somersaulting back down with a perfect Dropsault to Kristy’s chest.
DROPSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=asE9za5gpkQ
Sanders rolled through and back up to her feet before stumbling into a backpedal to the corner behind her. She slung an arm over the top rope on either side to keep herself on the vertical plane and, when Susan charged her, Kristy waited for Burlingame to leap for her splash. Kristy threw herself out of the corner and into a shoulder-dipping counter of a spear that RIPPED nearly THROUGH Susan’s golden-brown tummy.
Folded across Kristy’s left shoulder, Sanders showed the strength she could match with any lightweight and not a few above that designation, carrying Burlingame all the way to the opposite corner at a good clip before DRIVING Susan’s spine into the buckles and sending a ripple through the Rainmaker.
Not one to pass up a chance to brawl, Kristy stuffed Susan in deep, pressed her forehead into Susan’s gurls, and slugged away into the meat of Burlingame’s belly, ribs and kidneys, quickly drawing unhappy huffs from the Black Courtier.
With Susan taking a seat on the middle buckle, her body giving way to the bombardment, Kristy relented, but only to dip and send an arm between the lithe legs of the former World Champion. Sanders hupped Susan to a spot horizontal across her chest, Susan wriggling futilely in her foe’s control. But Kristy did plenty more, the Black Sheep of the Sanders clan (perhaps gray now with Kylie getting darker each day) climbing with her cargo first to the bottom ropes and then the middle. From there, Kristy showed the power Kylie would never be able to match, tossing Susan violently over her shoulders with a Fallaway Slam that, with the added height, proved a ring rattler when Susan hit home. Burlingame barrel rolled to an aching stop, the Rainmaker looking drought-stricken, her face twisted in pain.
SECOND ROPE FALLAWAY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zi_D81Mg86g
Kristy, who somehow managed to land on her feet, turned and strode toward the Ace of the Court, her face growing long when she saw Susan rise.
“Unlike cuz, my moves are meant to knock you down and keep you there,” Kristy hissed, apparently not liking Sue reaching her feet so quickly. But Susan had more in mind than rising, suddenly surging at Kristy with a Clothesline. The wide-eyed Sanders barely ducked under, but duck she did.
Quickly countering, Sanders locked one elbow, then the other with the turned Burlingame. The dark-maned hardbody shrugged Susan off her feet. Leaning forward, she stretched the upper limbs of the Ace while Susan’s lower set were drawn around Sanders’s waist to relieve some pressure from Susan’s spine. It proved a significant mistake for the squirming Sue. Trapped in a Gory Lock, Kristy quickly worked her magic, changing her grip to a reverse Side Headlock.
The crowd, showing mostly love for the Black Sheep, (being turned on their heads regarding the Sanders’ cousins), watched with growing anticipation as Sanders leaned farther forward, ready to throw her weight in reverse, lay out and bust the beautiful face of the Ace with her Twin Cities Tumbler.
TWIN CITIES TUMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUnS9XJdtxo
Susan SLAMMED facedown and chest first into the deck, unable to protect her mush. Rocked, the Black Courtier shuddered and fell still as a satisfied seated Sanders turned to face the wonderful wreckage she’d made of the former World Champion.
She roughly shoved the splayed, dazed Burlingame to her back, the golden-brown Burlingame spreading into a demolished starfish. The crowd roared as it counted along with the slaps on the canvas…
ONE…
TWO…
Susan shot a shoulder off the mat just after ‘TWO!’ a strong reminder that she was far from finished.
Unperturbed by this show of resolve, Kristy stood up, spread her arms wide and circled around to the heiress’s six. Careful to stay in Sue’s blind spot as she started to rise, Sanders waited until she was almost vertical before storming in and slapping a Half Nelson on the Ace’s left arm. In the same instant she crooked her right arm around Burlingame’s neck and clamped down tight to secure the Katahajime.
KATAHAJIME @ 1:21
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgPUgSba8lE
“I’d been using this for a long time,” Kristy purred in Susan’s ear while yanking her back n’ forth. “But when Amanda Jane signed on at the Madhouse I sought her out and asked for a few pointers.” Burlingame gurgled and made a lunge for the ropes, but the Black Sheep twisted her around and THWHUMPED a Kneelift into the base of her spine to discourage any future jailbreaks. “That was one of them.” Sanders continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Here’s another I like.”
Using the choke as a lead, she forced Susan between her and the official, then slotted a leg between the former World Champion’s thighs and gouged her undercarriage smartly. Burlingame blurted out garbled hurt and would’ve taken a knee if she hadn’t coiled her shin behind Kristy’s calf. “That’s fine, go on and fight it all you want.” the Minnesota Mauler tugged up on the Nelson and back on the Sleeper to force another wheeze from her opponent. “That disgusting little gurgle tells me your face is going from dark red to purple. And that means you’re going to tap or nap in the next few NNNNNNGGGGGGHH!”
Not without some tricks of her own, Burlingame cheeped “HAIR!” and when the official moved to investigate she pivoted with him, all the better to disguise the vicious Mule Kick she slammed into the other brunette’s junk. Sanders Part Deux yowled as her knees went wobbly and the Katahajime went loose, but she didn’t relinquish it entirely.
That made Susan want to kick her all the harder, unfortunately such a tactic would’ve brought a stern warning or even a disqualification from the referee. Rather than risk it she sucked in as deep a breath she could manage before charging toward the nearest corner with Kristy trailing along behind. Under normal conditions she would’ve jumped from the mat to the top floor without even blinking, but since these were far from normal conditions the Rainmaker settled for ‘stepping’ onto the middle rope and bending her knees all the way to her chest. Then she pushed off full force, launching both ladies back the way they’d came.
Legs still rubbery after the Low Blow, Kristy lost her balance and went down flat with Burlingame landing back-first on her chest. The collision with the canvas finally broke Sanders’s grip on her throat, so Sue reached down, hooked Kristy behind the knees and pulled ‘em tight while leaaaaaaaaaning all her weight against the flattened fighter. Kristy knew this predicament wasn’t good, but she didn’t realize she’d been stacked on her shoulders until the ref dove in and counted…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
She pistoned her legs forward to shove Susan clear and flopped onto her belly with half a heartbeat to spare.
Much reinvigorated after her daring escape, Burlingame kipped to boot-leather and wasted no time collecting Sanders’s left wrist in both hands. Once the other woman was on her feet, Sue took a giant step back, dropped into a crouch and sent Kristy into the strands with an Irish NO!
Apparently Kristy wasn’t quite as discombobulated as the Rainmaker thought because she dug in her heels and reversed the momentum to send Susan to the strands in her place. Burlingame raced back like a house afire only to get doused in a deluge of destruction when Sanders slipped an arm though her legs and scooped her up as neat as you please. A Power Slam would’ve worked just fine but the Black Sheep wanted to treat her rival to a taste of home which was why she caught Sue’s noggin in a Front Facelock and laid out on her side. There was a THWHUNK, followed by a sympathetic groan from the crowd as the Northern Lights Bomb spiked Susan flush on the back of her head and shoulders. The tent-peg stiffness melted away in a heartbeat, leaving Burlingame puddled on the mat for Sanders to cover with nothing more than a casual knee across the chest.
NORTHERN LIGHTS BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZZJYRknCr0
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Susan pushed loose, albeit with a lack of strength that Kristy found most telling. “Aaawwwww, is cutie getting tired?” Sanders mussed Burlingame’s sweat damp hair with obvious enthusiasm. “Why don’t you stay here and TRY to get some beauty rest. I’ll be back in just a second.”
With that she pushed up and went not to the corner, but to the ropes, where she slipped out onto the apron. Never afraid to go for the cheap pop, Sanders Part Deux ‘snapped’ the edges of that barely existent skirt down over the curves of her sturdy buns and waggled her hips a few times for good measure. Seemed to do the trick, a noticeable ‘CRUSH HER KRIS-TEE!’ chant rose from that side of the arena in the wake of a rather prurient round of cheers.
Holding the top rope in both hands, Kristy crouched a little lower and continued to swing her hips. “C’mon you louse.” she demanded of the slowly recovering Ace. “Get your overrated, spray-tanned ass up so I can use it as a stepping stone.”
As of yet unaware of her opponent’s intentions, Burlingame pushed off one knee and shook off the worst of her headache. Aware that Sanders wasn’t in her line of sight, Burlingame whirled in response to a cheer from the crowd and had just enough time to watch Kristy launch herself from the ropes in a flawless springboard. Striking with a swiftness and a confidence few could imagine and even less could match, the Rainmaker lunged *toward* her somersaulting adversary and whipped an arm around the back of Kristy’s neck at the exact moment she passed overhead. The unexpected touch of the Black Courtier threw off Sanders’s game for half a heartbeat, more than enough time for Sue to dart out her free hand and snatch hold of some leopard print waistband. Hooks set, she kicked a leg forward and dropped almost straight down to THWHONK Kristy’s skull into the mat courtesy of Snap Brainbuster from way, waaaaaay out in left field.
The Minnesota Mauler rose to a slumped seat and might’ve stayed there if left to her own devices, but Susan wasn’t feeling nearly that generous when she grabbed opposing shoulder and pulled her down flat. While not necessarily known for her JMD capabilities, Burlingame made sure to press her chest flush against Kristy’s gaping face when she hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Sanders kicked her off and sat up, both arms immediately employed to swaddle the back of her aching head. “Go ahead and try to keep your brains from leaking out.” Sue smirked as she knelt behind the woozy warrior. “I know how to keep myself entertained.” To do so she snatched Kristy’s right ankle and folded that leg over her left thigh to create a grounded Figure Four, which Sue kept in place via the careful positioning of her own left ankle. From there she leaned around on Sanders’s right side and snaked her left arm under Kristy’s left bicep. A simple craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank hooked the Abdominal Stretch in but good and gave the Ace of the Black Court unfettered access to her rival’s midsection.
GROUNDED ABDOMINAL STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=seAR8XN5EXM
“Been a long time since I took a big game trophy.” Sue mused as she ran three fingers up n’ down the length of Kristy’s spotted flank. “And while you might not have the cache of that corn-fed fraud cousin, I’m still gonna love to hear you meow.”
Kristy shook her head ‘no’ whether it be in response to the ref or Sue, neither knew. “It’s not the meow you have to worry about, bytch. It’s the purr when I’m riding your AAAAAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAHHHHK!”
Burlingame curled that free hand into a spade and plunged it into Midwestern belly with white-knuckle intensity. “We can worry about the purr later, cutie. Right now it’s all about how many lives you’ve got left.”
Sanders’s roiling abdomen prevented a proper response, Kristy unable to manage more than desperate grunts and mewls as Burlingame tried not only to shred her abs with the stretch but churn them into butter with her delving digits.
With her dark eyes half-lidded, features twisted in pain from the Ace’s handiwork, the official asked the Black Sheep if she’s had enough. An unconvincing chirp of ‘no’ revved up Susan, her claw digging deeper into tummy until it drew a shriek from Sanders. But when no surrender followed, Burlingame pulled her tines lose and offered a stinging slap instead, unknotting herself from the Stretch as well.
The Black Courtier rose behind a slumped, seated Kristy, one of Sanders’ arms curled around her tummy. Burlingame sank a set of nails into Kristy’s scalp and tugged the aching brunette to her feet. Susan spun a kick around Sanders’s side and BURIED it into Kristy’s gut, doubling her foe over with a guttural groan.
“I’m playing with you, Sanders,” Susan assured as she released her grip and backed away a couple steps. “You know the feeling when you’re in with a girl who doesn’t have half the answers she needs?”
Susan stomped a left boot on the canvas, once, twice, thrice, loading it up.
“I’m getting that feeling.”
When the bobbling head of Kristy finally rose from her chest as she straightened, Burlingame let loose with a well-named Super Kick that caught Kristy’s chin flush, sending her vaulting into the air, spreading out in a starfish even before she hit the deck with an unceremonious THUD.
Susan offered a knowing nod that elicited a chorus of boos. She stood in a domineering straddle of the semiconscious Kristy and planted a boot on her foe’s chest for...
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Sanders showed the fight characterizing her family name in FAWN, the former IC and tag champ rolling a shoulder up, sending Susan stumbling back on her heels. Burlingame lifted her brow and gave a slight shrug, apparently expecting cornpone’s cuz not to know when to say when.
Taking a quick survey of the situation, the Rainmaker turned to the ropes and leapt onto the middle cable, grasping the top with both hands. With a practiced ease, Burlingame launches in a 180 spin back toward the splayed Sanders, intent on delivering a Springboard Spinning Leg Drop.
But instead of coming down across Kristy’s throat, the Minnesota Mauler rolled clear and Burlingame landed on her sinewy rump, a shockwave sent screaming up and down her spine via her tailbone. Susan reached for said coccyx with both hands, massaging, to the great relief and mirth of the FAWNatics.
Next to her, Kristy was slow to take advantage, her senses attempting to return but unable to do so at the required pace. Instead, a livid Burlingame pushed to her feet.
“Only one Sanders gets lucky enough to beat the Black Court in a lifetime.”
Susan sank a claw into the right trapezius of Kristy, who’d managed to make her knees. Sanders reflexively arched her back from the invasive massage technique, her face etched in anguish.
“Only one Sanders needs luck,” Kristy grunted. She shot an elbow back blindly, delivering it into Susan’s ribs. Burlingame folded around the intrusion, but kept her grip. She balled the opposite hand for payback, but the Black Sheep delivered another that convinced the Ace to stumble away, hunched toward her aching side.
With a look mixing disbelief and disdain, Susan chargeed back at the risen Kristy. Sanders ducked a clothesline, grabbing the wrist. With a little do-si-so straight out of a square dance, Kristy drew Susan’s captured arm across her throat and, with Susan bug-eyed, Sanders dropped to the canvas and blew the bytch’s lungs out in spectacular fashion, instantly drawing the FAWNatics back into her corner.
CUT-THROAT LUNGBLOWER @ 1:47
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HYmQ5nxPIM
With the ‘OH’s of the crowd slow to fade, a blasted Susan rolled off Kristy’s folded knees and into a shattered shambles at Sanders’s side. Adrenaline coursing, the Real Deal kipped to her feet and tore into Susan’s scalp, forcing her to a seat in front of her.
Sweeping one leg at a time over each of the golden-brown shoulders of the Ace, Kristy corralled both wrists then spun to her right, each woman ending on their knees but with Sanders propped by her palms, a Scissors around Susan’s skull.
After having beaten Burlingame, it seemed a little humiliation is in order as a delighted Kristy doles out thee humility in the form of a set of Push-Up Facebusters that DROVE Susan’s face into the deck time and time again, Kristy reaching a full ‘TEN’ before deciding to end the display.
PUSH-UP FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_x3OfF4bQU
With the a couple signature Mauler moves leaving Burlingame a wreck, the crowd roared as Sanders played to Kylie’s former Corps. She earned a solid response, one much more positive than her turncoat cousin.
Knowing she couldn’t let up against a woman that many believed to be FAWN’s total package, Sanders passed on a pin attempt and grabbed a wrist. She ripped Susan to her feet and aimed her at the far buckles, letting loose with an Irish Whip that sent Susan scurrying across the canvas, turning into an explosive collision with the corner.
Throwing her arms over the ropes on either side to remain upright, Burlingame watched, seemingly without the ability to retort, as the leopardess bore down on her prey, rushing across the canvas, preparing to splash the Ace into a Deuce.
But as Kristy closed in, Burlingame lifted a big boot toward the charging brunette’s chin. One problem. Sanders put on the brakes and took the proffered stem. Susan threw up her palms, ‘washing windows’ at Sanders, bleating out a worried “whoa…whoa…whoa”.
Part Deux threw the lovely limb to the side, forcing Susan to spin through a pirouette that ended violently with a clubbing Clothesline from Kristy. Burlingame crashed back into the corner, dazed. Working quickly, Sanders lifted the Rainmaker to a seat on the top buckle.
Kristy snuggled in close, turning to face away from her foe while encircling Susan’s thighs and lifting the bewildered Burlingame onto her shoulders. One arm quickly moved from Susan’s left leg to curl around the back of the Black Courtier’s neck and, with the crowd showing their approval, Sanders staggered away from the corner, twisting and tumbling to the deck with a trapped Susan strapped. The resulting explosion rattled the ring as Susan SLAMMED to the deck courtesy Kristy’s signature FUPV.
FUPV
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Dth-OgCNN4
The demolished Burlingame remained in a boneless Matchbook, Kristy leaning over the pits of her foe’s knees with Susan’s incomparable copper-skinned cheeks pointed to the rafters for the...
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The heiress slid out of the pinning predicament to slop onto one side, her continued involvement in the match more an act of involuntary muscle relaxation than any show of cogent defiance. Sanders Part Deux brandished a threatening fist at the official, realized it would do no good and hammered it into her opponent’s ribs instead. “Think you’re gonna outlast me, rich bytch?” Kristy’s voice had a rough, feral edge as she dragged the woozy brunette to verticality. “Well it ain’t gonna happen. Your pampered ass is about to go bankrupt.”
Quick to enact that change of fortune, she laced her hands across the back of Sue’s neck, wrenched her head sideways and jerked the Rainmaker down until she was almost doubled over. After that came the Kneelifts, a trio of gaudy, THWONKING shots that had the FAWNatics groaning each time kneecap connected with pate. The coup de grace came when Kristy kicked a leg forward and laid out on her back, all the better to THWHUMP Sue down on the back of her head and shoulders with a Swinging Neckbreaker.
EDEN PRAIRIE HANGOVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GB3toaxqVm0
Burlingame was far removed from any chance of draping a foot over the bottom rope, yet Sanders made no move to cover. Rather she hurried up, strode over to the ropes behind her prey and hopped out onto the apron. Momentarily conflicted about the next idea that crossed her mind, the Black Sheep shrugged and muttered, “Oh, what the hell.” She raised both hands overhead and started to clap, a simple beat that was soon joined by most every free set of hands in the arena. Kristy told herself this wasn’t to muster support, she merely wanted the noise to keep Burlingame distracted while she unleashed the match killer.
Said unleashing came a moment later when Susan struggled to her feet and lurched around to find the missing Minnesotan. Springing up and around, Kristy landed on the top rope with her back to the Ace, then pushed off and twisted again to she bore down on her rival in a headfirst dive. Arm extended to secure the Facelock that’d power the DDT that’d dent Burlingame’s forehead, Sanders let out a bellow of triumph that turned into an ‘eep!’ of surprise when Susan pivoted beneath her and transformed the potentially match-ending head drop into a standard issue Fireman’s Carry. Wobbling for less than a second, Sue straightened up and twisted her hips to the left in the same motion. Then she snapped right, slung Kristy off her shoulders like a glorious Midwestern banner and promptly dropped to one knee to THWONK her foe square between the eyes.
FIREMAN'S CARRY FACEBREAKER @ 00:23
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j53ygI28ZM8
Sanders Part Deux tumbled across the mat like a puppet with cut strings but somehow made it to her feet within seconds of everything going sideways. This proved unfortunate as it meant the rampaging Ace didn’t have to waste time jerking her prey to boot leather. She simply stormed up behind her, slapped on a Full Nelson and stuffed her against the ropes chest-first.
“Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Sanders.” Sue hissed in the other brunette’s ear. “You. (THUMP!) Can’t. (THUMP!) Hang. (THUMP!) With. (THUMP!) Me. (THUMP!) EVER!” Burlingame stopped punctuating with Kneelifts to the lower back and started Spamming them instead, landing almost another full dozen before the official bustled over to demand they vacate the strands. This brought no complaint from the Black Courtier, she only dragged her burden out by a few paces and sank into a deep crouch. Striking with none of her usual theatrics, Burlingame popped her hips and bridged backward, ripping Kristy off her feet and flipping her up, over and down into a BOOMING chest and tummy-first landing.
RELEASE DRAGON SLEEPER @ 2:00
www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3E9TCAVPv0
Practically cindered by the huge Dragon Suplex, Kristy bounced to her knees, took a single deep breath and went down flat on her face again. Seated on her tush after the explosion of offense, Burlingame raked a hand through her sweat-soaked hair before offering the crowd a smile they knew all too well.
“Did you think she was gonna beat me? Kristy sure thought so.” The Rainmaker looked at the smoldering wreckage on her six, then returned her attention to the fans. “She doesn’t think that now. She’s probably not thinking much of anything. Know what I’M thinking? It’s time to end this bytch.”
On her feet faster than she had any right to be, Burlingame stomped over to the immobilized Mauler, buried both hands in her hair and stood her upright. True verticality didn’t last very long as Sue was quick to get behind Sanders and curl her right arm around opposing neck. Forcing Kristy’s chin into her armpit to complete the Inverted Facelock, Susan hooked a handful of tights with her free hand, then lifted Sanders off the mat and started to spin. Those expecting a single rotation were both surprised and slightly terrified when they realized Burlingame had no intention of slowing down. She pulled off half a dozen rotations in all, each an ingenious design in centrifugal torture that put ghastly pressure on Kristy’s head and neck.
SWINGING DRAGON SLEEPER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6SAF6IjQyk
Finally setting the bikini meat down when she got too heavy, Susan unhooked the Dragon Sleeper only to immediately capture the brunette’s right arm in a Chickenwing. In the next instant she placed her free hand on the back of Sanders’s neck and pressed forward and down to turn the Real Deal around into a snug Front Facelock. Burlingame reached down with her left arm, caught Kristy’s right leg behind the knee and lifted it off the canvas in an unpleasant cradle. Walking between the raindrops now, the Ace of the Black Court boosted Sanders upside down, letting her rest against one hip even as the former FAWN World Champion kicked off a second spin cycle. began to spin. Susan had twirled Kristy around half a dozen times in the Dragon Sleeper, this time she managed ten before she pushed onto her toes and sat out to PLANT Kristy on the back of her head.
SPIRIT CRUSHER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOMWRvdJ7Og
Transformed into a boneless, glassy-eyed echo of her usually ferocious self by the Spirit Crusher, Sanders made no comment when Susan slipped free and she only offered the slightest of moans when the heiress mounted her mug in a nose-mashing Reverse Face Sit. Tucking her feet against the sides of Kristy’s skull strictly for form’s sake, Burlingame braced her hands against the other woman’s belly and timed the sweep of her hips to coincide with the ref’s count…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Susan stopped grinding when the bell sounded, though she made no move to leave her perch. “I should glaze your stupid face for pissing me off.” Burlingame told her new seat. “But the truth is, I’d rather save it for Kylie. Unfortunately cuz isn’t returning my calls these days, so I’ll have to get her attention another way.”
The ref was closing in, no doubt to tell the Ace that she should get up and let Kristy breathe clean air. Susan did so without his having to ask, although the FAWNatics quickly discovered it was only so she could clip the poor dope under the chin with a snappy Super Kick. Dismissing the zebra as soon as he hit the mat, Susan sauntered to the ropes, hopped out to the floor and walked over to the Timekeeper.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to tell you,” she said in her breathiest come hither voice, “to get out of that f*cking chair.”
She swatted him upside the head to make sure he complied, then scooped up the chair and forced it shut with an ominous clank. Kristy was still down and out when Burlingame returned to the squared circle, meaning she was denied some of the fun in showing Sanders exactly what she had in mind. Playing to the fans instead, she set the chair down and opened it just enough to slip the oblivious battler’s left arm through all the way to the elbow.
“I know that sawed off rat isn’t coming to your rescue.” Sue admitted as she folded the chair *almost* shut again. “But if she doesn’t at least come looking for me after the fact, it’s going to make the Sanders annual Christmas letter a REAL awkward read.”
Snickering at the thought, the Rainmaker turned to the nearest corner and padded to it. She wanted a clean break and that meant she needed to come off the second rope, if not the top.
As Burlingame was on her way up, a commotion ran through the crowd as they reacted to a blur racing down the aisle, a single member cavalry charge. Having reached a stance on the middle ropes but yet to turn to end Kristy Sanders’ career, Susan’s ears perked to the noise. She shook her head when the interloper came into view.
“Death wish,” she mumbled.
FAWN’s Superlative Soprano slide under the bottom rope, quickly popping to her feet.
ELIZA BLISS:
Susan turned her stance to face inward but remained elevated, the Rainmaker looking down on the still waylaid Sanders and now Eliza Bliss, the latter clad in a red tank top and blue jeans.
Apparently determining the diva would take up a defensive posture in front of Sanders, Burlingame’s dark eyes widened as Blissy charged her instead. Susan kicked a boot into a shoulder of the Brit when she rushed into range, spinning Eliza in a pirouette. Burlingame leapt out of the corner, hands interlocked and raised, ready to bring the curtain down with a sledgehammer blow, but Eliza turned back in time, her right hand thrust forward, surrounding and clenching Susan’s throat.
Quickly grabbing a piece of material at the Ace’s hip, Eliza launched Susan into the air, apparently for a Choke Slam, but instead of thumping her to the deck, she tossed the Black Courtier so her spine BWUNGED into the buckles behind her.
Rocked by the impact, a wobbly Susan stumbled out of the corner and back into a more secure grasp of Blissy, namely one where Eliza fashioned her right hand into a curved hook and jammed it into Susan‘s maw, clamping the claw hard and strong around the Rainmaker’s mandible. The Cleft Note deftly applied, Susan flailed wildly, arms swinging with abandon, panic clear on her face, gurgles bubbling from between her lips.
Bliss reached her opposite hand to curl it behind Burlingame’s braincase and secure sleepy time for the Ace, but before she could, Susan backed her way to the ropes and tumbled through between top and middle, in so doing, escaping the Cleft Note and falling into a heap on the floor below.
Eliza hovered over the gagging Susan, white-knuckling the top rope, apparently ready to fly over, when a clatter from behind distracted her. She watched as Kristy pulled her arm free of the chair and struggled to a seat on the canvas. Eliza quickly returned her attention to Burlingame, a good thing since Susan was up and preparing for a counterattack.
But several FAWN officials, already on the way when Susan marked Sanders for roster elimination, reached the ring and grabbed Sue around the arms, holding her back.
Burlingame pointed both literally and verbally at the slender soprano, leveling a raft of threats at Eliza. Above, Blissy responded in kind, though in more controlled fashion as she shrugged off an official’s grip, assuring him she’s fine. She backed toward a rising Kristy.
“You good?” Eliza asked, stealing a glance at Sanders before wrapping an arm around the unsteady brunette’s shoulders.
“Thanks,” the Black Sheep coughed in return. “I’m not sure why, but thanks.”
Eliza nodded and gives her a pat, but the shared moment was broken by the screech of static, Susan having acquired a microphone.
“This ends, bytch,” the Rainmaker shouted. “On the biggest stage there is, I’m going to make Mania your final performance. No encores. Guaranteed.”
Bliss didn’t need any electronic amplification for her loud and clear response.
“You got it!”
A furious Susan dropped the mic and pushed off the security forces, turning and storming up the ramp.
“You know she means it, right?” Kristy asked.
“I do.”