Post by alyadmirer on Aug 21, 2015 1:24:37 GMT
As the crowd waits for the next FAWNtastic encounter…the lights go out...
They stuttered at first, the power flickering, the staggered illumination casting excessively long shadows where there should be none. Just as it seemed the moment passed, they shut off entirely, some manner of breaker slamming closed and, with an ominous THUNK plunged the vast crowd into darkness.
Long seconds pass. As puzzlement turns to worry, a dial tone began ringing, one that was disturbingly old school. A hollow tone echoes over the arenas sound system, a puzzling ultimatum, before Local H’s remake of Toxic...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8XK0AZZlug
...crashes over the crowd.
The squeals and jarring guitar riff erupt, a deafening drum beat combining to create an attraction that could not be ignored, and a single beam of illumination appears.
The reaction, once both jeers and cheers upon her initial return, is now only negative, The three, four years Alessandra Bianchi had been forced from FAWN now seemed like the good ole days to those who’d come to see the light on a changed-for-the-better Cromwell.
ALESSANDRA BIANCHI
The Gorgeous Geek appears in the beam but doesn’t tarry, heading to the ring with a laser focus. Black leather her friend, her stems covered from hip to mid-thigh in the curve hugging material whilst buckled boots encased themselves upwards past her calves. Her taunt little tummy remained bare, unprotected by her jacket that only reached down to beneath her bosom, her cut off shirt doing likewise and her unflinching gaze was obscured by the oversized lenses of her dark tinted shades.
In one hand Alessandra holds her iphone, holding it upwards towards the ring she fast approaches at an otherwise casual saunter, one dexterous thumb tweeting furiously as, much to the shock of those watching, they all found themselves ‘followers’ of without asking. It’s then, as Bianchi puts her phone away, slipping it securely inside her jacket, that she ‘allows’ the house lights to come back up, the Gorgeous Geek ascending the steel steps before ducking inside the ring.
With a sharp tilt of her head, the bridge of her oversized shades slip down to the tip of her nose, the Tantalising Tweeter peering contemptuously over the top at the fans. Imperiously, she calls for a microphone.
“As I’m sure you all know, I could take both of the World’s Worst Brits singlehanded, but I’m not a greedy woman. I’m going to chew up and spit out Crommie, but someone else will be bogarting dear little Miss Sammie Sunshine.”
Slinking off her jacket and moving it to arm’s length, she drops the garment into a crumpled heap in the corner.
All eyes, including Bianchi’s, turn to the upper stage, a loud ‘OH’ emerging from the assembled when Cypress Hill’s ‘Insane in the Brain’ begins to infectiously pump through the arena. The straightedge in the crowd and, hell, most everyone responds with a chorus of boos, the noise growing louder when, from behind the curtain, looking like she’s just awoken from a nap that didn’t quite take, is reprobate and controlled substance expert Jewell Keith.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=RijB8wnJCN0&ob=av2n )
JEWELL KEITH
Slowly, and apparently uninterestedly, the brunette saunters toward the ring, seemingly unaware of anyone until one fan reaches out a hand. The touch of her arm starts a bout of paranoia. She leaps away, brushing off some invisible beetle out of her hair wildly, then settles back into apathetic meandering toward the squared circle.
The pale beauty has long, straight, dark hair with gray-green eyes that already seem a bit glassy. Jewell coughs and a plume of whitish-gray vapour escapes from between her lips, Keith brushing the smoke one way then the other with a waving hand. Clad in a green hemp two-piece affair, totally legal bro, a halter top with tied bottoms and white boots and pads, Jewell snickers as the cloud dissipates.
Walking along the side of the ring, a man with hot dog catches her eye and, a case of the munchies getting the better of her, Keith wrests the ‘dog’ from its owner and scarfs it down. She burps unashamedly after dropping the meaty tube down her gullet in record time and quickly malaise has broken out once more, Jewell trudging up the ring steps and joining a curious and perhaps concerned Alessandra who suddenly seems unsure of her choice as the ring announcer makes the first team official.
“Tonight’s next contest is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. From Palo Alto and Humboldt County California respectively…the Silicon Valley Siren…Alessandra Bianchi…the Smokin Tokin Ditchweed Darling… Jewell Keith. They are California Streamin’”
There reception as a duo was no more positive than it had been as singles, and neither showed the slightest hint of concern, Jewell sparing the front row with a withering glare for the unnecessary noise and Bianchi, with predatory intensity, had eyes only for the curtains. She did not have to wait long before...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrRcHVSV79w
...burst into life over the live speakers, heralding the arrival of the World’s Best Brits! While the impromptu tag team alliance didn’t officially fall under the banner of the Upstart Nation, the Legionnaire’s did not hesitate in letting themselves be heard, not as the Upstart Supreme, Samantha Sinclair, and ‘reformed’ Upstart-In-Law, Elizabeth Cromwell swept aside the curtains and emerged on stage with considerable swagger and an eruption of pyrokenetics, said explosion timed to precision with ‘Light ‘em Up!!’ blasting out from the speakers.
SAMANTHA SINCLAIR
ELIZABETH CROMWELL
The brunette was predictably a step or two ahead in embracing the sold out audience, standing as tall as her perfectly petite mass would allow her, catching the light in all the right places as she whipped both her arms up high and waved. Five foot four and one hundred and ten pounds of athletically sculptured, miniature might, Sammie Sinclair was every inch the People’s Princess as she cheered back, shimmering in her golden/yellow attire and blushing fiercely with her dimple, freckled cheeks flushing a delightful crimson.
Despite the speculation that her new, in ring partnership would herald some manner of change in outfit, her attire remained the same, her sports bra smoothly curved about her small, proud bosom, leaving her softly sculptured tummy bare and her upraised arms the same way. Her boy cut shorts remained absent, replaced instead by a short skirt which, with a generous slit running up the right side, revealed a wonderful shot of her firm thigh as the baby brown eyed darling hopped up onto her tip toes and spiralled. Her boots were similarly altered, still bright blue and reaching upwards to just beneath her kneecaps, they were now tanned from firm leather and sported lacing right up the front.
With hands on hips she paused, a smirk in place as she waited for her partner to catch up, Cromwell quickening her pace as the former World’s Brattiest Brit was still adapting to the positive reinforcement from the audience. The moment she arrived by the side of Sinclair, the confidence of the Boarding School Princess appeared to sore, a strut doubling in her stride as the two lasses from the English Isle took off towards the ring, the two young women, in the eyes of many, representing the cream of the crop of their Generation from the United Kingdom.
Lizzie’s blue bikini bottoms are tied at each hip, ‘BSP’ emblazoned in bold white strokes across her backside. Above that is a sports bra containing a twisting blend of the colours of her UK with a black outline of the British flag on her right breast. Her one-time strawberry blonde pixie crop has grown longer, more luxurious and indeed darker than before, a shade closer to auburn.
As they approached the squared circle, Cromwell moved to make her way up the steel steps before a not so gentle nudge from Sinclair’s shoulder diverted her journey. As Sammie took her route around one side of the ring, clapping the outstretched hands of the Legionnaires in welcome, Lizzie found herself ‘forced’ to do likewise down the other. It didn’t take too long for them to meet again and, in unison, their approached the apron and hopped up. Turning their shoulders to the ropes they leaned backwards, flipping up and over with a spiral of beautifully athletic limbs that took them smartly down onto the canvas.
With a renewal of the crowd’s applause, the World’s Best Brits had returned to the ring...
With both freshly formed partnerships in their corners, Alessandra directs her makeshift team member. Jewell's laisez-faire attitude much more than her success, or lack of it, is presumably what made for the decision to add her to the team. There is a distinct feeling in the air from the FAWN media the ganga grappler is a placeholder for Bianchi to get her hold on either, or both of Cromwell and Sinclair. In interviews, Alessandra's hatred of and wish to remove Elizabeth from FAWN comp has grown to include Sammie, and no one is surprised when the Geek Goddess ushers her toking teammate through the ropes.
"Hold down the fort," Alessandra says, turning her attention to which so-called Best Brit awaits.
"No problem," comes the half hearted reply, Jewell ready to laze with the best of them, it not outright track down the 'nacho guy' should munchies strike mid-match.
Bianchi calls over to the opposite corner. "Gimme Red. She might as well take her beating like the grown woman she isn't."
When Elizabeth Cromwell had first exploded into the FAWN arena, indecision was not a character trait that she had harboured, bloody minded focus had earned the rising star and self professed Heel the Lightweight Title in impressive time and turned the division clean onto its head. That success, however, had proven to be a prelude to a sharp decline in fortunes, and it was only with the aid of her fellow Best Brit, and frequent Rival, that her confidence was being rebuilt. Bianchi, however, was proving to be the living, breathing embodiment of all her doubt.
The Ghost of Christmas Past returning to kick her head off.
With a white knuckled grip, the red headed Hellcat grasped the top rope and scowled openly, instincts demanding that she dive into the ring and yet... and yet her knees appeared to be betraying her. Her tummy tumbled and her nerve, her nerve was fragile. She growled, Lizzie’s anger at herself threatening to push her into a mistake...
Sammie dipped into the ring, slipping beneath the top rope to the appreciative cheer of the FAWN Faithful, the People’s Princess spinning with a wave as she smiled sweetly and, in a moment of eye contact, offered a wink to her tag team partner. When the brunette twirled about to meet the features of Bianchi, her button nose was sent to scrunching, Babyface dander brought straight to the fore as she moved toe to toe with the Digital Damsel.
“Lizzie will be right with you,” the Upstart Supreme kept back just far enough to prevent the duo from bumping bosom to bosom, “for now I seem to remember you dropping me on my head at Spring Break. Didn’t like it. Very rude. You might want Cromwell, but for that, first you get my undivided attention.”
Bianchi's seemingly ever-present smirk grows as she shakes her head. "Should have known that redheaded stepchild wouldn't want what's coming to her." Alessandra peeks over Sammie's shoulder, not hard to do, and gives a wink to Cromwell. "But as they say, all good things come to those who wait...BUT NOT FOR TOO LONG," Bianchi adds with a shout to said redhead.
Turning her glance to the infuriatingly sweet Sinclair, Alessandra stares Sammie down. The People's Princess returns the gaze as good as she gets. Sinclair starts to speak but Bianchi holds up a hand, stopping her.
"I did drop you on your head, and it seems to have fractured your common sense. But then tagging with a treacherous bytch like Cromwell already shows you're not too bright. Don't make her mad. Don't disappoint her. She has a habit of taking things out on her partners." Alessandra cocks to turn away and head back to her corner, but speaks over her shoulder. "And if you wanted my undivided attention, you've got it."
The raven-haired grappler turns with right palm slightly cupped and sends speeding toward Sammie's left cheek to show just how much!
The CRACK!! was undeniable in its intensity, echoing off the walls and picked up by just about every camera directed towards the squared circle. Sammie’s head was sent on a swivel to the sound of the Loyalist Legionnaires gasping in indignation, the slap stinging the Sparrow’s cheek and flushing it crimson, starkly highlighting her freckles as she momentarily stood wide eyed. Samantha, however, for all of her lack of stature, had been her Father’s Daughter long before she had been the People’s Princess, and if there was to be one response to be expected from the legendary Rick ‘Golden Goliath’ Sinclair, it was not lacking with the tiny mass of girl who now flew the family colours.
With a (not entirely intimidating) war worthy shout, the English Export of Perfectly Petite Proportions turned about sharply, intending to repay the slap with a flurrying fist of fury!
But Bianchi is prepared for the predictable show of emotion from the furious Upstart. Alessandra raises a left forearm to block the blow and responds with a right of her own that rocks the Golden Girl. Sammie returns with a fist that Bianchi blocks and the Digital Damsel nails Sinclair again.
The flummoxed official, knowing he won't be able to regain order, calls for the bell just as a determined Sammie throws a third time only to have her little set of balled fingers stopped from Bianchi's cheek one more time. Alessandra, more than happy to continue when her haymakers are finding the mark, tosses again, but this time it's Sammie's turn to show some defence....
And the Legionnaires yip with delight when Sinclair feigns yet another right, only to send a popping left jab to her foe's chin!!
Head snapping back, a growly Bianchi loads a right but the lightning jabs from Sammie are flowing freely now...pik...pak...pik. Each one sending Bianchi's head snapping until Alessandra's arms lower slightly and Sammie follows with a wind up and a right cross that spins Bianchi in place, Alessandra staggering back to her corner where she's hugged tight by Jewell.
Sammie steps back, smirking like the little cat that could, resisting the urge to test the fresh tenderness of her lip before she raised her hands up high. The FAWNatics were ready, immediately clapping along with Sinclair in the rapid, three beat rhythm that was the Upstart Nations march to war and, clearly, an open challenge. She smirked further, leaning forwards and swishing her taunt little toosh as though she was ready to pounce, palms on her knees and baby browns focused.
“It’s ok Bianchi, send in your friend,” the Bright Eyed Wonder teased, “you’ll probably do better if my back is turned right?”
Alessandra glares at Sinclair, face flushed, but she does indeed demand Jewell take her place and Keith slides through languidly. She circles around Sammie in the middle, appearing as though she could go into a trance that would go on for minutes. But suddenly she thrusts forward into a collar-and-elbow lockup with Sammie.
Both women struggle for control, seeking leverage on the other and the bigger brunette finds it, noticeably driving Sinclair toward an awaiting Alessandra.
Before she gets stuck there, Sammie slams on the brakes and turns Jewell's back toward her partner. She tries to shove Keith back for another go but the Toker isn't moved. Instead, she draws the Brit into a side headlock and wrenches away on Sinclair's noggin.
Sammie spins out and tries to reverse but Jewell reverses the reversal into a cobra clutch grip, using Sammie's own trapped limb to block off her brain's blood supply. Jewell has more in mind than draining Sammie's gray matter of corpuscles, the NoCal girl accustomed to using the Clutch to lift her foe up for an unwelcome Atomic Drop.
With pretty peepers fluttering, the Upstart attempted to inhale deeply without successes; the petite battler forced by her taller counterpart to teeter up onto her tiptoes, the small brunette momentarily at the mercy of a new rival as her slender throat was throttled by her own arm. The young women attempted to pull down upon the modest bicep of the traitorous limb to little effect, shuffling slightly from left to right on unsteady tootsies before Jewel fully utilised her own free hand, grasping Sinclair by the belt of her short skirt and, seemingly without a great deal of required effort, muscled the unbalanced featherweight clean off the canvas to the audible worry of the watching FAWNatics!
As Samantha was brought rapidly back down, Keith dropped to one knee also, the weaponised joint utilised as a landing pad for the tailbone of Sinclair! The smaller brunette cried out as her athletic stems were cleaning split and recoiled from the savage landing as though jolted with electricity. She shot away with an (obviously) PG rated curse and she tumbled to the canvas, right hand cupping the base of her pained back as she resisted the urge to turtle.
Jewell looks down at the aching Sinclair with satisfaction. "You people think I'm here to just to get wasted," she shouts at the audience. "Well, maybe so. But I'm going to waste these two losers first."
Digging her nails into Sammie's scalp, Keith drags the Golden Girl to her feet and bullies her into the ropes behind them. She bounces out and flings Sammie with an Irish Whip across the canvas, the little Upstart flies across the mat and into the opposite cables where she rebounds toward the waiting Jewell. The Toker dips to collect Sammie under her arms and vault the Brit far into the atmosphere above, only to mega slam her back to earth with her Sky High bomb...
SKY HIGH BOMB
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Wc6zJDQ8CM
As Sinclair’s featherweight frame was hupped skywards, her trim tummy was gripped by a giddiness that was not pleasant, a half panicked breadth escaping her small body as she was soon recollected by Keith and expertly driven back first towards the canvas. The Bomb earned its name and then some, positively PLANTING the Little Sparrow into the mat across her shoulders, rattling the ring ropes and rippling a sympathetic moan across the watching masses. Sammie herself recoiled with a pained grunt and would have bucked away from the empathic impact, had Jewel not retained her grip about the younger women’s lower limbs and crunched the petite brunette between her own legs up into a tight ball.
ONE!
TWO!!
Sammie kicked out with a fresh shout, this one defiant as she refused to concede this early in the contest.
Jewell looks at the Upstart with a scowl. "Little brats that keep me from my buds are not appreciated," Keith scolds. She sinks a set of nails into Sinclair's scalp and drags a yipping Sammie to her feet as she rises. The bigger brunette sends a flurry of headbutts into the noggin of the Golden Girl that rocks the Brit. Jewell shakes her head banging results off, but Sammie is left both wibbly and wobbly, her bright eyes glazed from the barrage.
From the ravenous look on her face, its clear Keith is getting a signature case of the 'Munchies' and the Toker leans forward to take a bite from Sammie's button nose.
An ill conceived effort by all accounts, as it appeared as though Sinclair had no intention of being anyone’s desert. Kylie Sanders had may have stolen a much converted nibble of the People’s Princess at Summer Swelter, but there was to be no freebies tonight’s as Sammie quickly swept her arms about as Keith leaned in close, and SLAPPED her palms down hard across the back of the taller brunettes noggin. Allowing gravity to lend a hand, Sinclair suddenly moved to drop down sharply to her knees, aiming to yank Jewel forwards into an impromptu Jawbreaker!
Sammie drops to her knees with Keith's chin strapped tightly to the crown of her head. It's Sinclair's turn to use her braincase as a battering ram, the quick stop for Jewell sending her jawbone blasting upward, forcing the rest of her skull with it. The head of the Humboldt County denizen snaps back and she staggers away from the impact without the usual cloud of smoke accompanying her staggering.
After a few stoned steps, Jewell drops to one knee to get her bearings. With Sammie approaching, she slips something surreptitiously out of her lower togs and stuffs it in her mouth, biting down. As Sinclair starts to tug Jewell to her feet, Keith draws her head back to let loose with a signature spray of Sticky Green Mist into the face of the Upstart.
The former Lightweight Champion released a startled yelp as her baby browns were quickly blinded by the rapidly expanding cloud of toxic looking mist. With pain searing her peepers, the petite Brit spun away into a short, blind spiral as her palms rubbed furiously in attempt to reclaim her vision, stumbling downwards onto one knee as the Legionnaires vocally protested. They were not alone in doing so.
“HEY!!” the suddenly irate Cromwell at ringside shouted, furiously leaning forwards over the top rope as she throttled it with her fists. Any reservations the red head had felt earlier were evaporating swiftly, burned away by the Hellcats temper as she barely resisted the urge to simply storm in. “YOU!!” she all but spat in the direction of the Official, demanding that he take action before she did it for him, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU IN HERE FOR? CUT THAT SH*T OUT!!”
Jewell is uninterested in Lizzie's complaints about the lax refereeing standards in FAWN. Anyone around as long as she, should have known. Instead, Keith wipes away some green spittle from her chlorophyll-coloured lips and approaches the blinded Brit from behind.
The Toker sweeps Sammie's feet out from under her, Sinclair landing on her back.
From the outside, Alessandra watches with increasing belief she's made an excellent choice in partners and this grows when Jewell secures Sammie's left arm, wrenching at her foe's elbow, and starts to turn Sinclair over, hoping to put the downgraded Upstart in her Roach Clip...
ROACH CLIP: @00:54
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NzuuxL48go
With the peepers of the blinded Bright Eyed Wonder still closed, Sinclair protests with a short grunt as her shoulder is twisted at an unnatural angle, that grunt soon becoming a protracted groooooan as Jewel begins to leverage the smaller women’s spine into a sharp arch. As flexible as she was, the body of the small brunette was only meant to go so far, and it was only with the biting of her bottom lip that the Brit was able to retain any semblance of silence.
Lizzie had no intention of biting her own tongue, standing on the apron and clapping, the red head shouting out encouragement that wasn’t entirely PG approved. It seemed to do the trick, the vision impaired half of the World’s Best Brits zeroing in on her partners siren calls, draaaaaaaaging herself slowly towards Cromwell and the only friendly corner in the squared circle.
Frustrated at Sammie's progress, Jewell gives up on her 'Clip', dismounts, and tugs Sinclair up by a wrist, dragging her away from the outstretched hand of her redheaded help. "Aw. So close," Keith purrs while leading Sammie to the opposite corner and a waiting, beaming Alessandra.
Jewell tags her partner, but doesn't leave for her replacement. Instead, she waits for Bianchi to enter and grab the opposite wrist of their foe. While, Cromwell protests, they move the sweet little Upstart halfway down the ropes and lean her into the cables. Simultaneously, they bound out and launch the People's Princess with a double heave. Clasping hands, the duo race toward a rebounding Sammie, determined to remove head from neck with a dual clothesline that might do just that.
As Sinclair was sent hurtling across the ring, the Legionnaires watched on with reserves of hope that often seemed boundless, hope that one of their beloved Upstarts would find a way to counter. What they didn’t quite expect to see was a frustrated Lizzie all but leaping away from her team’s corner, dashing down the apron and, using her own body weight for additional leverage, YANK!! down HARD!! on the top rope, just as the hurtling Sinclair was about to make contact.
With the coil forcibly removed from her path, the blinded Sammie yeeped somewhat unceremoniously as, instead of bouncing off the secure ropes, she instead tumbled clean right over the top. Up and over the brunette went, tumbling to the outside of the ring and relative safety, Lizzie releasing the coil almost immediately and allowing it to TAWNG!! back into place.
Dropping down to the barely padded concrete to join her fellow Best Brit, Lizzie hustled her partner towards the loyal spectators at ringside, helping herself to the closest beverage she could lay her hands on (he was going to volunteer it anyway), and began to hastily wash the gunk of her partners freckled features.
Thankfully, Cromwell uses water instead of Coke and Sammie turns from mini-Hulk to her usual pretty pink. In either color however, the official starts his count both on Jewell to get out of the ring and Sinclair to enter. Luckily for the Brits, Keith has only five and Sammie has ten, of which she uses nine to slide under the ropes near her corner, only to quickly turn and tag Elizabeth.
Having seen her partner take a pounding, Cromwell's jitters about facing Alessandra seem well behind her and she leaps over the ropes after the slap of hands.
Bianchi appears ready to let the woman she owes so much enter. But before Lizzie's boots can touch canvas, the Techie Terror is racing at the redhead, hands joined in a double axhandle blow headed straight for the crown of Cromwell's cranium.
With her baby browns clear, Sammie 'eeps' in concern for her partner. But when Elizabeth dips and somersaults out of the way, her partner safe, Alessandra turns her miss from lemons to lemonade by sending the blow into Sammie's chest, sending the Golden Girl spilling from the apron.
Bianchi spins with a smirk directed at Lizzie, but the redhead is both running and gunning for the raven-haired grappler with a dropkick directed at her foe's chin.
Bianchi pays for her pop to the Golden Girl's jaw as Cromwell lifts off and sends her boots careening into the point of Alessandra's chin. The legs of the raven-haired grappler fly out in front of her as her back and head THUMP against the canvas Bianchi scurries to her feet but Elizabeth is faster and NAILS HER AGAIN with a repeat performance that decks her former partner and now hated rival. The stubborn Bianchi rises again, though not as quickly, and is sent tumbling with a third dropkick, this time Alessandra making it to a seat before pausing to shake her coconut.
A sharp step from Lizzie, however, convinces the Gorgeous Geek to take immediate action, albeit one that emphasised the better part of valour. With a quick drop and roll, the raven haired tormentor of traitorous partners slipped outside the ring and beat a temporary retreat. Once vertical, Bianchi refused to take her eyes off Cromwell again as she marched back and forth, rubbing her chin and performing several fresh calculations.
When Lizzie took another insistent step forwards, Alessandra matched it with an equally urgent step backwards, the FAWNatics cheering at the display and applauding the sudden shift in the duos dynamic. “Keep her back!” Bianchi insisted, pointing Jewel in the appropriate direction with a sharp gesture, “you want to get paid, you keep her back!”
Keith, for her part, sighed wearily concerning their secret bargain, rolling her eyes at the unfairness of it all, having to rigidly maintain her side of it in order to gather her rewards. Never the less the taller brunette did indeed shift from her team’s corner, blocking the most immediate path between Cromwell and her target.
Cromwell looks at Jewell as if to say "really?" and Keith responds with a "yeah really" shrug.
Elizabeth takes one step away, as if to give Bianchi more room, but quickly spins back in the direction of the opposing team. With her dropkicking already on point, Cromwell skies into the air when she closes in, leading with her boots, hoping to send each into Jewell's chest and send her flying off the apron and into Bianchi below, Lizzie beginning to understand she'd have to be aggressive to stop Alessandra's aggression.
Satisfied that several fresh variables had been taken into account and easily rectified, Alessandra had halted her back and forth pacing and, after waving a dismissive hand in the direction of jeering sheep, turned back towards the ring. Grasping the bottom rope, the Digital Damsel prepared to haul herself up onto the apron when a shout went up from the FAWNatics. Immediately she knew that anything they considered cheerful would invariably be less so to her, but already it was too late as Cromwell unleashed yet another dropkick that sent her boots slamming into her Keith’s bosom!
The suddenly breathless stoner flew backwards from the apron and COLLIDED with the wide eyed Bianchi, both winded beauties plummeting to the concrete with a tangling of limbs and several repeated curses.
Elizabeth kips to her feet perfectly, turning to Sammie and winking as she swipes a classic maneuver from her partner.
Not satisfied with seeing the tangle Bianchi and Jewell are in, Elizabeth slides through the ropes and drops her boots to the canvas next to both foes. Sinking her nails into Alessandra and Jewell's manes, she drags both yelping foes to their feet. With the teammates facing each other, a snarly Lizzie draws their heads back, the eyes of both women going wide with the knowledge of what the brat has in mind, namely to knock their noggins together and make herself a headache for each with one big meeting of the minds.
Bianchi was rarely one for a meeting of minds, hers alone was sufficient enough, and it was with wide eyes that she observed the impending collision. No amount of mental arithmetic could prevent the impact, and it was with an annoyed snarl that her forehead was CLUNCKED!! into that of her cherry picked partner with a skull rattling force, a snarl that became a yip as she snapped her eyes shut and both young women spiralled haphazardly away in a daze.
Even with her equilibrium shot (a momentary hurdle), the terrorising techie refused to start panicking, even stumbling as she was with her eyes shut. With one palm pressed hard across her peepers and the other grasping the steel railing, the raven haired manipulator wobbled away quickly in order to create distance. At the first opportunity she spied an ideal equaliser, opening her dark eyes long enough to snatch a steel chair, slamming it shut with obvious venom as she turned sharply to ward off Cromwell.
Elizabeth, feeling more comfortable by the second, revels in the noggin knocker, enjoying it with the FAWNatics. She moves to the barricade and shares a high five or two with the fans before turning to reclaim her former partner. Seeing the folded furniture, the dark eyes of the redhead turn to saucers and Cromwell stops in her tracks, not so silly as to advance on Alessandra when she has a weapon.
Unfortunately, the Boarding School Princess fails to account for the wincing stoner behind her. A vertical Jewell shoves Cromwell in the shoulder blades and Elizabeth stumbles toward Bianchi. With Lizzie's arms raised in protection against a swatting bat-like blow, the Terrible Techie brandishes her steel with the rim of the chair back pointed toward Cromwell.
She DRIVES!! the top of the metal chair into Lizzie's tummy like a blade, gutting Sammie's partner. Elizabeth doubles over with a deep groan, leaving her back lowered, an inviting target for a girl with revenge against the Brit still foremost on her mind.
“Do you feel that Cromwell?” Bianchi growled, a smile creeping across her features for the first time in minutes, her breathing sharp with denied pleasure. “That twist in your gut? That’s the sense of my satisfaction!” Alessandria could barely contain herself with the hated red head folded before her, years of pent up aggression slipping through the cracks of her calm facade, equations discarded for pure, raw data and the sensation of experience. With a deep breath she lifted her weapon high, preparing to smash Cromwell’s newly beloved noggin across the concrete...
Only Sinclair was running, dashing across the apron with the balance of a chipmunk, the Tiny Titan a blur of sapphire and gold as she ran to her partner’s aid. As the Legionnaires whooped a great cheer, the distracted Bianchi barely had time to look sideways before the sprinting brunette leapt and took flight, Sammie spreading into a highflying splash that caught the horrified Geek by surprise!
With a terrific collision, the lithe frames of both young women went tumbling; chairs sent clattering to the concrete whilst bodies went flying up and over railings, landing head over heels amongst the front rows of the audience!
Bianchi and Sinclair try to untangle themselves from the crowd while Jewell plucks the freckled redhead up from kneeling. As Sammie and Alessandra start to climb over the barricade, the Toker grabs some of Cromwell's red-white-and-blue togs and bum rushes her toward the feisty duo. Lizzie tumbles over the top, spilling into both Sammie and the gorgeous geek, all three ending in laps.
Delighting in being the only one left standing, Jewell slides into the ring and hops around the squared circle in a happy dance that is met by a cascade of boos from the FAWNatics.
Outside, the frantic threesome push and shove at each other as they tumble over the steel newly separating them from the crowd. In their mounting panic, Cromwell and Bianchi scurry under the bottom rope to beat the count.
With the behaviour of the four young women rapidly exploding into a free for all, the Official was perhaps as baffled as the next man as he had only reached a count of ‘Six!!’ as Elizabeth and Alessandria dashed back into the ring, Keith still parading around inside the squared circle and only adding to his disorientation. Stuck between deciding whether or not he should start with banishing someone from the ring and demanding that others remain inside of it, he was the only resident on the canvas to remain idle.
Cromwell was swift to find her feet, but not quickly enough to match her former tag team partner, the Gorgeous Geek beating the Boarding School Princess to vertical and, with a swift kick, efficiently GUTTED the red head with a venomous blow. The toes of her up swinging boot buried themselves deep into the trim tummy of Lizzie, the midriff of the brawler already tenderised from an all too recent chair shot, the freckled (new) fan favourite folding forwards with a heavy groan of pain.
“Always hasty,” Alessandria scolded, reaching forwards to yank the winded Brit into a firm front headlock, twisting the girls head to make her point. “And still tardy. No wonder your credit score around here is in the toilet!” she further drove her point home, the dark haired Digital Damsel slipping her free arm beneath a limp limb of Lizzie to secure and underhook whilst preparing to pop her knees, looking to end this mayhem with a decisive Blue Screen of Death!!
BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH: @1:20
www.youtube.com/watch?v=l32Gt1ThjWw
But as Alessandra lifts her former partner off the deck to send Elizabeth's CPU crashing to the canvas, a fourth person re-joined the party, namely a certain Golden Girl, one who catches Cromwell's legs on the way up.
Sammie sends them back down with a helpful tug, and the surprised Bianchi fails to keep control of Cromwell's captured limbs when her foe returns safely to the canvas.
The redhead's arms surround Alessandra's thighs and, with a startled yelp, she is back body dropped to the canvas. Bianchi lands on her backside, a tremor of pain moving up from her tailbone. Realizing Sinclair stopped Cromwell's date with obliteration, an intensely irritated Alessandra pulls one of the hands from massaging her bum to take a swing at Sammie.
The Upstart easily avoids it, much to the delight of the Loyalists, and she retaliates with a solid football kick into Bianchi's chest that THUMPS her to horizontal!
The frazzled ref has lost control. He tries to scold Sinclair out of the ring, but Jewell takes a more direct approach, charging in on the blind side of the Tiny Titan and jumping onto her back, circling the slim midriff of the People's Princess with her stems whilst swiftly capturing the Brit's arms with a Cobra Clutch, threatening to put Sammie into Dreamland with her own limbs for the second time tonight.
Lizzie, meanwhile, leaps over a splayed Bianchi, dropping a big leg across the throat of the woman she'd put on the shelf before being set straight by the button-nosed Upstart.
Alessandria’s eyes go wide as she struggles to form a fresh series of calculations to launch a useful counter, but all such mental arithmetic quickly proved to be moot as a deliciously sculptured stem SLAMMED home across her throat and shoulders! The Digital Damsel recoiled with a spasming of limbs, arms and legs bucking into the air before the scantily clad, leather wearing techie flopped into a heaving heap.
Fortune, however, was working both ways for the World’s Best Brits as a startled Sammie swiftly found herself incapable of supporting Keith’s full weight, the taller and stronger brunette dragging her petite and beloved counterpart to the canvas like an anaconda. Sinclair groaned heavily as a pair of powerful thighs tightened about her bare midriff, Jewel constricting ever further about the People’s Princess and adding a cobra clutch to the crowd favourites torment.
The English Export of Perfectly Petite Proportions attempted to wriggle free but it was to no avail, the Toker refusing to let go and wrenching her smaller, new rival from left to right to further wring the fight right out of her gold clad plaything. Sammie was fading swiftly, with no rope break to save her, and already her protests were turning leaden, pretty peepers fluttering as Keith squeezed her mercilessly towards slumber.
Torn between going for the pin on her bitter rival and keeping her newfound friend in the match, Cromwell decides on the latter. She rises and gives Bianchi a farewell boot before sprinting to Jewell and Sammie. Elizabeth climbs atop Keith and slips her arms around the brunette's head in a sleeper hold, but she adds a side-to-side wrench of Jewell's braincase to convince her to give up her grip on Sammie.
The effort is to no avail, at least as long as it takes a recovered Alessandra to add herself to the ever growing pile!
Slipping down behind Lizzie, she slides her ivory gams under and around the head of the Boarding School Princess and clamps down with a fresh head scissors!
The overcome official stares at the jumble of FAWN pulchritude tied together in a Chinese puzzle of torso and limbs. He dives into the scrum, valiantly trying to pry them free and restore order until Alessandra puts a headlock on him... and it's suddenly a five-way knot of humanity, the crowd roaring with delight at the unusual cluster.
With anarchy reigning and no sign of renewed control, it was perhaps a surprise to no-one to witness the curtains at the entrance parting and a new figure emerging. A second Official (dispatched by a despairing Bethany Christian), dashing down the aisle as though he was on fire and the ring was filled with water. Ironic cheers followed him every step of the way until he dived beneath the bottom rope, scampering directly to the puppy pile of feisty young women and setting to work on untangling their scrum.
Freeing his compatriot in black and white first, the original and flustered Official was quickly hustled outside of the ring, his replacement pushing, pulling and directing his stubborn charges to release their respective holds. Three of the four young ladies proved especially reluctant, whilst Sammie, on the wrong end of the tie up, was barely responsive. When the first link in the chain was finally broken, all of them seemed to rapidly unravel, and a great deal of renewed growling accompanied the rapid ascent of FAWN’s future as both teams fought to secure the first moment of advantage.
Bianchi zeroed in on the half conscience Sinclair, grabbing the People’s Princess by her full curls and the belt of her short skirt, pivoting violently to chuck the crowd sweetheart clean out of the squared circle. Sammie wasn’t quite having it, summoning a burst of vitality as the Upstart entangled herself about the Gorgeous Geek in a gesture of defiance, one that elicited a frustrated squeal from Alessandra and dragged both of the young women clean over the top rope and sent them both tumbling towards concrete together.
Remaining inside the squared circle, Jewell gains the upper hand, crashing a knee into one set of Cromwell's ribs. The freckled Brit doubles as she grunts. The Toker yanks Elizabeth's left arm between the redhead's legs to create her Pumphandle, Jewell ready to deliver her 'Up In Smoke' to finish off the World's Worst Brits...
UP IN SMOKE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4CPJfe8IDM
...but before Keith can lift and put out Lizzie's lights, Cromwell uses the elbow of her free, near arm as a weapon.
She slams it into Jewell's temple three, four, five times until the brunette's grip falls away. A furious and catty Lizzie grabs The Toker by her long dark locks and gives her an earful before drawing her foe's head back and pivoting to plant Jewell's face into the canvas with her signature Silver Spoon Buster!
SILVER SPOON BUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRXUkHPTKlc
Not so long ago the Loyalist Legionnaire’s would have felt despair at this very moment, only now with the reformed (yet still catty) Hellcat fighting for the side of Angels, the red headed brawler from England instead earned herself a hearty cheer as she took the filth spitting Toker to task. Pulling the sleepy eyed Keith’s head back with a sharp yank of her frazzled mane, Lizzie whipped them both forwards; SLAMMING Jewells shell shocked features DEEP into the canvas!
Nailed into the mat forehead first, Keith whiplashed away with a violent spasm, flipping over onto her back into a haphazard starfish, fingers and the toes of her boots twitching as the world was reminded just how devastating Cromwell could be when on game.
And Elizabeth seems very much that as she tugs Jewell to her feet, the ganga grappler looking as if she's had one pull too many on her weed. As the brunette wobbles in front of a fierce Cromwell, the Brit yanks her into a front facelock and tosses a limp arm of her foe over the back of her neck. The crowd roars as Elizabeth sweeps her free arm in front of Keith's midriff and, in a familiar sweeping motion, launches Jewell high, spinning her foe's noggin to face crown-down, Elizabeth ready to 'expel' Jewell from the match...
PREP SCHOOL EXPULSION: @ 00:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ttqciIH5dA
Lizzie doesn’t drop immediately, smirking like a feral feline as she held Keith clean off the canvas as if holding a stalling suplex, as sure a sign of domination in a fiercely fought contest as one could ever find. The Loyalist ate it up, serenading the Upstart-In-Law with the three beat mantra of the Upstart Nation, and the freckled Brit appeared ravishing as she positively glowed beneath the FAWNatics praise, daring even to pivot about in a small circle, keeping her soon to be victim on show for all to witness.
Just as it seemed as though she might be about to push her luck too far, Cromwell pulled the trigger, embracing gravity and dropping to the canvas! Keith was brought along for the ride, and she was all but executed as the Boarding School Princess made a statement with the Prep School Expulsion. The crown of the stoner’s skull was NAILED!! into the mat with enough force to rock all four of the top turnbuckles, the plywood rattling as Jewel was obliterated in that one, swift motion.
She flopped to the canvas, all but lifeless, Cromwell pouncing without hesitation, sliding across the top of the unconscious Keith, the redhead grapevining her stems around those of her new rivals and seizing the other girl’s wrists. Possessively planting them above Jewel’s blank eyed noggin, she delivered a cheeky ‘kiss off’ reminiscent of Sinclair as the Official dropped down to the canvas beside them...
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
Jewell sleeps away her chances to keep the match going.
As the bell rings, from the outside, a frantic Alessandra pulls herself away from her brawling with Sammie, pushing Sinclair to her taut little backside. Bianchi SLAMS the apron. "I'm legal," she screams. "ME!"
The newly minted ref stares blankly at the raven-haired grappler for a moment and decides to ignore the protest.
With Lizzie still enjoying a front-facing straddling ride of the unconscious Jewell's midriff, the man grabs an already raised wrist of the redhead and tugs Cromwell to her feet and off the splayed Toker. He presents his 'winner' to the FAWNatics, delighted if confused at the result.
A likewise perplexed People's Princess slides into the ring and gives a big celebratory snug to Cromwell as the ring announcer makes the decision irreversible.
"Your winners...by pinfall...the World's Best Brits!!"
Lizzie wraps her arms around Sammie in reply to Sinclair's embrace, but remembering to keep one watchful eye in Bianchi's direction, leaving Alessandra furious and frustrated on the sidelines, unable to even sneak attack and get some satisfaction.
With a inarticulate shout of indignation, Bianchi balls up her fists as she burns holes into the red headed Brit that had not only tried to rob her of her career, but had stolen, STOLEN!! her victory tonight, oblivious to the shenanigans her own team had instigated to bring it all about. She marched away with a sneer, snatching her jacket from her a stage flunky and, after a short moment of consideration, reaching into the ring to grab Keith by her wrist and drag her outside of the squared circle as well.
“You didn’t beat me Cromwell!” Alessandria pointed in accusation, fuming from head to toe, “YOU DIDN’T WIN!!” she added with a stamping of her foot. Perhaps for the first time since her return, Bianchi had lost it, her ruthless composure discarded and the festering, distorted rage revealed for the world to see. “I’m not DONE Cromwell, you’ll see, at FAWNMANIA it is OVER!! You!! Me!! No more running, no more hiding, no more dodging, no more F***ING Upstarts!! I’m ENDING you Cromwell, you hear me... I’m ENDING you in a STEEL CAGE!!”
They stuttered at first, the power flickering, the staggered illumination casting excessively long shadows where there should be none. Just as it seemed the moment passed, they shut off entirely, some manner of breaker slamming closed and, with an ominous THUNK plunged the vast crowd into darkness.
Long seconds pass. As puzzlement turns to worry, a dial tone began ringing, one that was disturbingly old school. A hollow tone echoes over the arenas sound system, a puzzling ultimatum, before Local H’s remake of Toxic...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8XK0AZZlug
...crashes over the crowd.
The squeals and jarring guitar riff erupt, a deafening drum beat combining to create an attraction that could not be ignored, and a single beam of illumination appears.
The reaction, once both jeers and cheers upon her initial return, is now only negative, The three, four years Alessandra Bianchi had been forced from FAWN now seemed like the good ole days to those who’d come to see the light on a changed-for-the-better Cromwell.
ALESSANDRA BIANCHI
The Gorgeous Geek appears in the beam but doesn’t tarry, heading to the ring with a laser focus. Black leather her friend, her stems covered from hip to mid-thigh in the curve hugging material whilst buckled boots encased themselves upwards past her calves. Her taunt little tummy remained bare, unprotected by her jacket that only reached down to beneath her bosom, her cut off shirt doing likewise and her unflinching gaze was obscured by the oversized lenses of her dark tinted shades.
In one hand Alessandra holds her iphone, holding it upwards towards the ring she fast approaches at an otherwise casual saunter, one dexterous thumb tweeting furiously as, much to the shock of those watching, they all found themselves ‘followers’ of without asking. It’s then, as Bianchi puts her phone away, slipping it securely inside her jacket, that she ‘allows’ the house lights to come back up, the Gorgeous Geek ascending the steel steps before ducking inside the ring.
With a sharp tilt of her head, the bridge of her oversized shades slip down to the tip of her nose, the Tantalising Tweeter peering contemptuously over the top at the fans. Imperiously, she calls for a microphone.
“As I’m sure you all know, I could take both of the World’s Worst Brits singlehanded, but I’m not a greedy woman. I’m going to chew up and spit out Crommie, but someone else will be bogarting dear little Miss Sammie Sunshine.”
Slinking off her jacket and moving it to arm’s length, she drops the garment into a crumpled heap in the corner.
All eyes, including Bianchi’s, turn to the upper stage, a loud ‘OH’ emerging from the assembled when Cypress Hill’s ‘Insane in the Brain’ begins to infectiously pump through the arena. The straightedge in the crowd and, hell, most everyone responds with a chorus of boos, the noise growing louder when, from behind the curtain, looking like she’s just awoken from a nap that didn’t quite take, is reprobate and controlled substance expert Jewell Keith.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=RijB8wnJCN0&ob=av2n )
JEWELL KEITH
Slowly, and apparently uninterestedly, the brunette saunters toward the ring, seemingly unaware of anyone until one fan reaches out a hand. The touch of her arm starts a bout of paranoia. She leaps away, brushing off some invisible beetle out of her hair wildly, then settles back into apathetic meandering toward the squared circle.
The pale beauty has long, straight, dark hair with gray-green eyes that already seem a bit glassy. Jewell coughs and a plume of whitish-gray vapour escapes from between her lips, Keith brushing the smoke one way then the other with a waving hand. Clad in a green hemp two-piece affair, totally legal bro, a halter top with tied bottoms and white boots and pads, Jewell snickers as the cloud dissipates.
Walking along the side of the ring, a man with hot dog catches her eye and, a case of the munchies getting the better of her, Keith wrests the ‘dog’ from its owner and scarfs it down. She burps unashamedly after dropping the meaty tube down her gullet in record time and quickly malaise has broken out once more, Jewell trudging up the ring steps and joining a curious and perhaps concerned Alessandra who suddenly seems unsure of her choice as the ring announcer makes the first team official.
“Tonight’s next contest is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. From Palo Alto and Humboldt County California respectively…the Silicon Valley Siren…Alessandra Bianchi…the Smokin Tokin Ditchweed Darling… Jewell Keith. They are California Streamin’”
There reception as a duo was no more positive than it had been as singles, and neither showed the slightest hint of concern, Jewell sparing the front row with a withering glare for the unnecessary noise and Bianchi, with predatory intensity, had eyes only for the curtains. She did not have to wait long before...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrRcHVSV79w
...burst into life over the live speakers, heralding the arrival of the World’s Best Brits! While the impromptu tag team alliance didn’t officially fall under the banner of the Upstart Nation, the Legionnaire’s did not hesitate in letting themselves be heard, not as the Upstart Supreme, Samantha Sinclair, and ‘reformed’ Upstart-In-Law, Elizabeth Cromwell swept aside the curtains and emerged on stage with considerable swagger and an eruption of pyrokenetics, said explosion timed to precision with ‘Light ‘em Up!!’ blasting out from the speakers.
SAMANTHA SINCLAIR
ELIZABETH CROMWELL
The brunette was predictably a step or two ahead in embracing the sold out audience, standing as tall as her perfectly petite mass would allow her, catching the light in all the right places as she whipped both her arms up high and waved. Five foot four and one hundred and ten pounds of athletically sculptured, miniature might, Sammie Sinclair was every inch the People’s Princess as she cheered back, shimmering in her golden/yellow attire and blushing fiercely with her dimple, freckled cheeks flushing a delightful crimson.
Despite the speculation that her new, in ring partnership would herald some manner of change in outfit, her attire remained the same, her sports bra smoothly curved about her small, proud bosom, leaving her softly sculptured tummy bare and her upraised arms the same way. Her boy cut shorts remained absent, replaced instead by a short skirt which, with a generous slit running up the right side, revealed a wonderful shot of her firm thigh as the baby brown eyed darling hopped up onto her tip toes and spiralled. Her boots were similarly altered, still bright blue and reaching upwards to just beneath her kneecaps, they were now tanned from firm leather and sported lacing right up the front.
With hands on hips she paused, a smirk in place as she waited for her partner to catch up, Cromwell quickening her pace as the former World’s Brattiest Brit was still adapting to the positive reinforcement from the audience. The moment she arrived by the side of Sinclair, the confidence of the Boarding School Princess appeared to sore, a strut doubling in her stride as the two lasses from the English Isle took off towards the ring, the two young women, in the eyes of many, representing the cream of the crop of their Generation from the United Kingdom.
Lizzie’s blue bikini bottoms are tied at each hip, ‘BSP’ emblazoned in bold white strokes across her backside. Above that is a sports bra containing a twisting blend of the colours of her UK with a black outline of the British flag on her right breast. Her one-time strawberry blonde pixie crop has grown longer, more luxurious and indeed darker than before, a shade closer to auburn.
As they approached the squared circle, Cromwell moved to make her way up the steel steps before a not so gentle nudge from Sinclair’s shoulder diverted her journey. As Sammie took her route around one side of the ring, clapping the outstretched hands of the Legionnaires in welcome, Lizzie found herself ‘forced’ to do likewise down the other. It didn’t take too long for them to meet again and, in unison, their approached the apron and hopped up. Turning their shoulders to the ropes they leaned backwards, flipping up and over with a spiral of beautifully athletic limbs that took them smartly down onto the canvas.
With a renewal of the crowd’s applause, the World’s Best Brits had returned to the ring...
With both freshly formed partnerships in their corners, Alessandra directs her makeshift team member. Jewell's laisez-faire attitude much more than her success, or lack of it, is presumably what made for the decision to add her to the team. There is a distinct feeling in the air from the FAWN media the ganga grappler is a placeholder for Bianchi to get her hold on either, or both of Cromwell and Sinclair. In interviews, Alessandra's hatred of and wish to remove Elizabeth from FAWN comp has grown to include Sammie, and no one is surprised when the Geek Goddess ushers her toking teammate through the ropes.
"Hold down the fort," Alessandra says, turning her attention to which so-called Best Brit awaits.
"No problem," comes the half hearted reply, Jewell ready to laze with the best of them, it not outright track down the 'nacho guy' should munchies strike mid-match.
Bianchi calls over to the opposite corner. "Gimme Red. She might as well take her beating like the grown woman she isn't."
When Elizabeth Cromwell had first exploded into the FAWN arena, indecision was not a character trait that she had harboured, bloody minded focus had earned the rising star and self professed Heel the Lightweight Title in impressive time and turned the division clean onto its head. That success, however, had proven to be a prelude to a sharp decline in fortunes, and it was only with the aid of her fellow Best Brit, and frequent Rival, that her confidence was being rebuilt. Bianchi, however, was proving to be the living, breathing embodiment of all her doubt.
The Ghost of Christmas Past returning to kick her head off.
With a white knuckled grip, the red headed Hellcat grasped the top rope and scowled openly, instincts demanding that she dive into the ring and yet... and yet her knees appeared to be betraying her. Her tummy tumbled and her nerve, her nerve was fragile. She growled, Lizzie’s anger at herself threatening to push her into a mistake...
Sammie dipped into the ring, slipping beneath the top rope to the appreciative cheer of the FAWN Faithful, the People’s Princess spinning with a wave as she smiled sweetly and, in a moment of eye contact, offered a wink to her tag team partner. When the brunette twirled about to meet the features of Bianchi, her button nose was sent to scrunching, Babyface dander brought straight to the fore as she moved toe to toe with the Digital Damsel.
“Lizzie will be right with you,” the Upstart Supreme kept back just far enough to prevent the duo from bumping bosom to bosom, “for now I seem to remember you dropping me on my head at Spring Break. Didn’t like it. Very rude. You might want Cromwell, but for that, first you get my undivided attention.”
Bianchi's seemingly ever-present smirk grows as she shakes her head. "Should have known that redheaded stepchild wouldn't want what's coming to her." Alessandra peeks over Sammie's shoulder, not hard to do, and gives a wink to Cromwell. "But as they say, all good things come to those who wait...BUT NOT FOR TOO LONG," Bianchi adds with a shout to said redhead.
Turning her glance to the infuriatingly sweet Sinclair, Alessandra stares Sammie down. The People's Princess returns the gaze as good as she gets. Sinclair starts to speak but Bianchi holds up a hand, stopping her.
"I did drop you on your head, and it seems to have fractured your common sense. But then tagging with a treacherous bytch like Cromwell already shows you're not too bright. Don't make her mad. Don't disappoint her. She has a habit of taking things out on her partners." Alessandra cocks to turn away and head back to her corner, but speaks over her shoulder. "And if you wanted my undivided attention, you've got it."
The raven-haired grappler turns with right palm slightly cupped and sends speeding toward Sammie's left cheek to show just how much!
The CRACK!! was undeniable in its intensity, echoing off the walls and picked up by just about every camera directed towards the squared circle. Sammie’s head was sent on a swivel to the sound of the Loyalist Legionnaires gasping in indignation, the slap stinging the Sparrow’s cheek and flushing it crimson, starkly highlighting her freckles as she momentarily stood wide eyed. Samantha, however, for all of her lack of stature, had been her Father’s Daughter long before she had been the People’s Princess, and if there was to be one response to be expected from the legendary Rick ‘Golden Goliath’ Sinclair, it was not lacking with the tiny mass of girl who now flew the family colours.
With a (not entirely intimidating) war worthy shout, the English Export of Perfectly Petite Proportions turned about sharply, intending to repay the slap with a flurrying fist of fury!
But Bianchi is prepared for the predictable show of emotion from the furious Upstart. Alessandra raises a left forearm to block the blow and responds with a right of her own that rocks the Golden Girl. Sammie returns with a fist that Bianchi blocks and the Digital Damsel nails Sinclair again.
The flummoxed official, knowing he won't be able to regain order, calls for the bell just as a determined Sammie throws a third time only to have her little set of balled fingers stopped from Bianchi's cheek one more time. Alessandra, more than happy to continue when her haymakers are finding the mark, tosses again, but this time it's Sammie's turn to show some defence....
And the Legionnaires yip with delight when Sinclair feigns yet another right, only to send a popping left jab to her foe's chin!!
Head snapping back, a growly Bianchi loads a right but the lightning jabs from Sammie are flowing freely now...pik...pak...pik. Each one sending Bianchi's head snapping until Alessandra's arms lower slightly and Sammie follows with a wind up and a right cross that spins Bianchi in place, Alessandra staggering back to her corner where she's hugged tight by Jewell.
Sammie steps back, smirking like the little cat that could, resisting the urge to test the fresh tenderness of her lip before she raised her hands up high. The FAWNatics were ready, immediately clapping along with Sinclair in the rapid, three beat rhythm that was the Upstart Nations march to war and, clearly, an open challenge. She smirked further, leaning forwards and swishing her taunt little toosh as though she was ready to pounce, palms on her knees and baby browns focused.
“It’s ok Bianchi, send in your friend,” the Bright Eyed Wonder teased, “you’ll probably do better if my back is turned right?”
Alessandra glares at Sinclair, face flushed, but she does indeed demand Jewell take her place and Keith slides through languidly. She circles around Sammie in the middle, appearing as though she could go into a trance that would go on for minutes. But suddenly she thrusts forward into a collar-and-elbow lockup with Sammie.
Both women struggle for control, seeking leverage on the other and the bigger brunette finds it, noticeably driving Sinclair toward an awaiting Alessandra.
Before she gets stuck there, Sammie slams on the brakes and turns Jewell's back toward her partner. She tries to shove Keith back for another go but the Toker isn't moved. Instead, she draws the Brit into a side headlock and wrenches away on Sinclair's noggin.
Sammie spins out and tries to reverse but Jewell reverses the reversal into a cobra clutch grip, using Sammie's own trapped limb to block off her brain's blood supply. Jewell has more in mind than draining Sammie's gray matter of corpuscles, the NoCal girl accustomed to using the Clutch to lift her foe up for an unwelcome Atomic Drop.
With pretty peepers fluttering, the Upstart attempted to inhale deeply without successes; the petite battler forced by her taller counterpart to teeter up onto her tiptoes, the small brunette momentarily at the mercy of a new rival as her slender throat was throttled by her own arm. The young women attempted to pull down upon the modest bicep of the traitorous limb to little effect, shuffling slightly from left to right on unsteady tootsies before Jewel fully utilised her own free hand, grasping Sinclair by the belt of her short skirt and, seemingly without a great deal of required effort, muscled the unbalanced featherweight clean off the canvas to the audible worry of the watching FAWNatics!
As Samantha was brought rapidly back down, Keith dropped to one knee also, the weaponised joint utilised as a landing pad for the tailbone of Sinclair! The smaller brunette cried out as her athletic stems were cleaning split and recoiled from the savage landing as though jolted with electricity. She shot away with an (obviously) PG rated curse and she tumbled to the canvas, right hand cupping the base of her pained back as she resisted the urge to turtle.
Jewell looks down at the aching Sinclair with satisfaction. "You people think I'm here to just to get wasted," she shouts at the audience. "Well, maybe so. But I'm going to waste these two losers first."
Digging her nails into Sammie's scalp, Keith drags the Golden Girl to her feet and bullies her into the ropes behind them. She bounces out and flings Sammie with an Irish Whip across the canvas, the little Upstart flies across the mat and into the opposite cables where she rebounds toward the waiting Jewell. The Toker dips to collect Sammie under her arms and vault the Brit far into the atmosphere above, only to mega slam her back to earth with her Sky High bomb...
SKY HIGH BOMB
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Wc6zJDQ8CM
As Sinclair’s featherweight frame was hupped skywards, her trim tummy was gripped by a giddiness that was not pleasant, a half panicked breadth escaping her small body as she was soon recollected by Keith and expertly driven back first towards the canvas. The Bomb earned its name and then some, positively PLANTING the Little Sparrow into the mat across her shoulders, rattling the ring ropes and rippling a sympathetic moan across the watching masses. Sammie herself recoiled with a pained grunt and would have bucked away from the empathic impact, had Jewel not retained her grip about the younger women’s lower limbs and crunched the petite brunette between her own legs up into a tight ball.
ONE!
TWO!!
Sammie kicked out with a fresh shout, this one defiant as she refused to concede this early in the contest.
Jewell looks at the Upstart with a scowl. "Little brats that keep me from my buds are not appreciated," Keith scolds. She sinks a set of nails into Sinclair's scalp and drags a yipping Sammie to her feet as she rises. The bigger brunette sends a flurry of headbutts into the noggin of the Golden Girl that rocks the Brit. Jewell shakes her head banging results off, but Sammie is left both wibbly and wobbly, her bright eyes glazed from the barrage.
From the ravenous look on her face, its clear Keith is getting a signature case of the 'Munchies' and the Toker leans forward to take a bite from Sammie's button nose.
An ill conceived effort by all accounts, as it appeared as though Sinclair had no intention of being anyone’s desert. Kylie Sanders had may have stolen a much converted nibble of the People’s Princess at Summer Swelter, but there was to be no freebies tonight’s as Sammie quickly swept her arms about as Keith leaned in close, and SLAPPED her palms down hard across the back of the taller brunettes noggin. Allowing gravity to lend a hand, Sinclair suddenly moved to drop down sharply to her knees, aiming to yank Jewel forwards into an impromptu Jawbreaker!
Sammie drops to her knees with Keith's chin strapped tightly to the crown of her head. It's Sinclair's turn to use her braincase as a battering ram, the quick stop for Jewell sending her jawbone blasting upward, forcing the rest of her skull with it. The head of the Humboldt County denizen snaps back and she staggers away from the impact without the usual cloud of smoke accompanying her staggering.
After a few stoned steps, Jewell drops to one knee to get her bearings. With Sammie approaching, she slips something surreptitiously out of her lower togs and stuffs it in her mouth, biting down. As Sinclair starts to tug Jewell to her feet, Keith draws her head back to let loose with a signature spray of Sticky Green Mist into the face of the Upstart.
The former Lightweight Champion released a startled yelp as her baby browns were quickly blinded by the rapidly expanding cloud of toxic looking mist. With pain searing her peepers, the petite Brit spun away into a short, blind spiral as her palms rubbed furiously in attempt to reclaim her vision, stumbling downwards onto one knee as the Legionnaires vocally protested. They were not alone in doing so.
“HEY!!” the suddenly irate Cromwell at ringside shouted, furiously leaning forwards over the top rope as she throttled it with her fists. Any reservations the red head had felt earlier were evaporating swiftly, burned away by the Hellcats temper as she barely resisted the urge to simply storm in. “YOU!!” she all but spat in the direction of the Official, demanding that he take action before she did it for him, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU IN HERE FOR? CUT THAT SH*T OUT!!”
Jewell is uninterested in Lizzie's complaints about the lax refereeing standards in FAWN. Anyone around as long as she, should have known. Instead, Keith wipes away some green spittle from her chlorophyll-coloured lips and approaches the blinded Brit from behind.
The Toker sweeps Sammie's feet out from under her, Sinclair landing on her back.
From the outside, Alessandra watches with increasing belief she's made an excellent choice in partners and this grows when Jewell secures Sammie's left arm, wrenching at her foe's elbow, and starts to turn Sinclair over, hoping to put the downgraded Upstart in her Roach Clip...
ROACH CLIP: @00:54
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NzuuxL48go
With the peepers of the blinded Bright Eyed Wonder still closed, Sinclair protests with a short grunt as her shoulder is twisted at an unnatural angle, that grunt soon becoming a protracted groooooan as Jewel begins to leverage the smaller women’s spine into a sharp arch. As flexible as she was, the body of the small brunette was only meant to go so far, and it was only with the biting of her bottom lip that the Brit was able to retain any semblance of silence.
Lizzie had no intention of biting her own tongue, standing on the apron and clapping, the red head shouting out encouragement that wasn’t entirely PG approved. It seemed to do the trick, the vision impaired half of the World’s Best Brits zeroing in on her partners siren calls, draaaaaaaaging herself slowly towards Cromwell and the only friendly corner in the squared circle.
Frustrated at Sammie's progress, Jewell gives up on her 'Clip', dismounts, and tugs Sinclair up by a wrist, dragging her away from the outstretched hand of her redheaded help. "Aw. So close," Keith purrs while leading Sammie to the opposite corner and a waiting, beaming Alessandra.
Jewell tags her partner, but doesn't leave for her replacement. Instead, she waits for Bianchi to enter and grab the opposite wrist of their foe. While, Cromwell protests, they move the sweet little Upstart halfway down the ropes and lean her into the cables. Simultaneously, they bound out and launch the People's Princess with a double heave. Clasping hands, the duo race toward a rebounding Sammie, determined to remove head from neck with a dual clothesline that might do just that.
As Sinclair was sent hurtling across the ring, the Legionnaires watched on with reserves of hope that often seemed boundless, hope that one of their beloved Upstarts would find a way to counter. What they didn’t quite expect to see was a frustrated Lizzie all but leaping away from her team’s corner, dashing down the apron and, using her own body weight for additional leverage, YANK!! down HARD!! on the top rope, just as the hurtling Sinclair was about to make contact.
With the coil forcibly removed from her path, the blinded Sammie yeeped somewhat unceremoniously as, instead of bouncing off the secure ropes, she instead tumbled clean right over the top. Up and over the brunette went, tumbling to the outside of the ring and relative safety, Lizzie releasing the coil almost immediately and allowing it to TAWNG!! back into place.
Dropping down to the barely padded concrete to join her fellow Best Brit, Lizzie hustled her partner towards the loyal spectators at ringside, helping herself to the closest beverage she could lay her hands on (he was going to volunteer it anyway), and began to hastily wash the gunk of her partners freckled features.
Thankfully, Cromwell uses water instead of Coke and Sammie turns from mini-Hulk to her usual pretty pink. In either color however, the official starts his count both on Jewell to get out of the ring and Sinclair to enter. Luckily for the Brits, Keith has only five and Sammie has ten, of which she uses nine to slide under the ropes near her corner, only to quickly turn and tag Elizabeth.
Having seen her partner take a pounding, Cromwell's jitters about facing Alessandra seem well behind her and she leaps over the ropes after the slap of hands.
Bianchi appears ready to let the woman she owes so much enter. But before Lizzie's boots can touch canvas, the Techie Terror is racing at the redhead, hands joined in a double axhandle blow headed straight for the crown of Cromwell's cranium.
With her baby browns clear, Sammie 'eeps' in concern for her partner. But when Elizabeth dips and somersaults out of the way, her partner safe, Alessandra turns her miss from lemons to lemonade by sending the blow into Sammie's chest, sending the Golden Girl spilling from the apron.
Bianchi spins with a smirk directed at Lizzie, but the redhead is both running and gunning for the raven-haired grappler with a dropkick directed at her foe's chin.
Bianchi pays for her pop to the Golden Girl's jaw as Cromwell lifts off and sends her boots careening into the point of Alessandra's chin. The legs of the raven-haired grappler fly out in front of her as her back and head THUMP against the canvas Bianchi scurries to her feet but Elizabeth is faster and NAILS HER AGAIN with a repeat performance that decks her former partner and now hated rival. The stubborn Bianchi rises again, though not as quickly, and is sent tumbling with a third dropkick, this time Alessandra making it to a seat before pausing to shake her coconut.
A sharp step from Lizzie, however, convinces the Gorgeous Geek to take immediate action, albeit one that emphasised the better part of valour. With a quick drop and roll, the raven haired tormentor of traitorous partners slipped outside the ring and beat a temporary retreat. Once vertical, Bianchi refused to take her eyes off Cromwell again as she marched back and forth, rubbing her chin and performing several fresh calculations.
When Lizzie took another insistent step forwards, Alessandra matched it with an equally urgent step backwards, the FAWNatics cheering at the display and applauding the sudden shift in the duos dynamic. “Keep her back!” Bianchi insisted, pointing Jewel in the appropriate direction with a sharp gesture, “you want to get paid, you keep her back!”
Keith, for her part, sighed wearily concerning their secret bargain, rolling her eyes at the unfairness of it all, having to rigidly maintain her side of it in order to gather her rewards. Never the less the taller brunette did indeed shift from her team’s corner, blocking the most immediate path between Cromwell and her target.
Cromwell looks at Jewell as if to say "really?" and Keith responds with a "yeah really" shrug.
Elizabeth takes one step away, as if to give Bianchi more room, but quickly spins back in the direction of the opposing team. With her dropkicking already on point, Cromwell skies into the air when she closes in, leading with her boots, hoping to send each into Jewell's chest and send her flying off the apron and into Bianchi below, Lizzie beginning to understand she'd have to be aggressive to stop Alessandra's aggression.
Satisfied that several fresh variables had been taken into account and easily rectified, Alessandra had halted her back and forth pacing and, after waving a dismissive hand in the direction of jeering sheep, turned back towards the ring. Grasping the bottom rope, the Digital Damsel prepared to haul herself up onto the apron when a shout went up from the FAWNatics. Immediately she knew that anything they considered cheerful would invariably be less so to her, but already it was too late as Cromwell unleashed yet another dropkick that sent her boots slamming into her Keith’s bosom!
The suddenly breathless stoner flew backwards from the apron and COLLIDED with the wide eyed Bianchi, both winded beauties plummeting to the concrete with a tangling of limbs and several repeated curses.
Elizabeth kips to her feet perfectly, turning to Sammie and winking as she swipes a classic maneuver from her partner.
Not satisfied with seeing the tangle Bianchi and Jewell are in, Elizabeth slides through the ropes and drops her boots to the canvas next to both foes. Sinking her nails into Alessandra and Jewell's manes, she drags both yelping foes to their feet. With the teammates facing each other, a snarly Lizzie draws their heads back, the eyes of both women going wide with the knowledge of what the brat has in mind, namely to knock their noggins together and make herself a headache for each with one big meeting of the minds.
Bianchi was rarely one for a meeting of minds, hers alone was sufficient enough, and it was with wide eyes that she observed the impending collision. No amount of mental arithmetic could prevent the impact, and it was with an annoyed snarl that her forehead was CLUNCKED!! into that of her cherry picked partner with a skull rattling force, a snarl that became a yip as she snapped her eyes shut and both young women spiralled haphazardly away in a daze.
Even with her equilibrium shot (a momentary hurdle), the terrorising techie refused to start panicking, even stumbling as she was with her eyes shut. With one palm pressed hard across her peepers and the other grasping the steel railing, the raven haired manipulator wobbled away quickly in order to create distance. At the first opportunity she spied an ideal equaliser, opening her dark eyes long enough to snatch a steel chair, slamming it shut with obvious venom as she turned sharply to ward off Cromwell.
Elizabeth, feeling more comfortable by the second, revels in the noggin knocker, enjoying it with the FAWNatics. She moves to the barricade and shares a high five or two with the fans before turning to reclaim her former partner. Seeing the folded furniture, the dark eyes of the redhead turn to saucers and Cromwell stops in her tracks, not so silly as to advance on Alessandra when she has a weapon.
Unfortunately, the Boarding School Princess fails to account for the wincing stoner behind her. A vertical Jewell shoves Cromwell in the shoulder blades and Elizabeth stumbles toward Bianchi. With Lizzie's arms raised in protection against a swatting bat-like blow, the Terrible Techie brandishes her steel with the rim of the chair back pointed toward Cromwell.
She DRIVES!! the top of the metal chair into Lizzie's tummy like a blade, gutting Sammie's partner. Elizabeth doubles over with a deep groan, leaving her back lowered, an inviting target for a girl with revenge against the Brit still foremost on her mind.
“Do you feel that Cromwell?” Bianchi growled, a smile creeping across her features for the first time in minutes, her breathing sharp with denied pleasure. “That twist in your gut? That’s the sense of my satisfaction!” Alessandria could barely contain herself with the hated red head folded before her, years of pent up aggression slipping through the cracks of her calm facade, equations discarded for pure, raw data and the sensation of experience. With a deep breath she lifted her weapon high, preparing to smash Cromwell’s newly beloved noggin across the concrete...
Only Sinclair was running, dashing across the apron with the balance of a chipmunk, the Tiny Titan a blur of sapphire and gold as she ran to her partner’s aid. As the Legionnaires whooped a great cheer, the distracted Bianchi barely had time to look sideways before the sprinting brunette leapt and took flight, Sammie spreading into a highflying splash that caught the horrified Geek by surprise!
With a terrific collision, the lithe frames of both young women went tumbling; chairs sent clattering to the concrete whilst bodies went flying up and over railings, landing head over heels amongst the front rows of the audience!
Bianchi and Sinclair try to untangle themselves from the crowd while Jewell plucks the freckled redhead up from kneeling. As Sammie and Alessandra start to climb over the barricade, the Toker grabs some of Cromwell's red-white-and-blue togs and bum rushes her toward the feisty duo. Lizzie tumbles over the top, spilling into both Sammie and the gorgeous geek, all three ending in laps.
Delighting in being the only one left standing, Jewell slides into the ring and hops around the squared circle in a happy dance that is met by a cascade of boos from the FAWNatics.
Outside, the frantic threesome push and shove at each other as they tumble over the steel newly separating them from the crowd. In their mounting panic, Cromwell and Bianchi scurry under the bottom rope to beat the count.
With the behaviour of the four young women rapidly exploding into a free for all, the Official was perhaps as baffled as the next man as he had only reached a count of ‘Six!!’ as Elizabeth and Alessandria dashed back into the ring, Keith still parading around inside the squared circle and only adding to his disorientation. Stuck between deciding whether or not he should start with banishing someone from the ring and demanding that others remain inside of it, he was the only resident on the canvas to remain idle.
Cromwell was swift to find her feet, but not quickly enough to match her former tag team partner, the Gorgeous Geek beating the Boarding School Princess to vertical and, with a swift kick, efficiently GUTTED the red head with a venomous blow. The toes of her up swinging boot buried themselves deep into the trim tummy of Lizzie, the midriff of the brawler already tenderised from an all too recent chair shot, the freckled (new) fan favourite folding forwards with a heavy groan of pain.
“Always hasty,” Alessandria scolded, reaching forwards to yank the winded Brit into a firm front headlock, twisting the girls head to make her point. “And still tardy. No wonder your credit score around here is in the toilet!” she further drove her point home, the dark haired Digital Damsel slipping her free arm beneath a limp limb of Lizzie to secure and underhook whilst preparing to pop her knees, looking to end this mayhem with a decisive Blue Screen of Death!!
BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH: @1:20
www.youtube.com/watch?v=l32Gt1ThjWw
But as Alessandra lifts her former partner off the deck to send Elizabeth's CPU crashing to the canvas, a fourth person re-joined the party, namely a certain Golden Girl, one who catches Cromwell's legs on the way up.
Sammie sends them back down with a helpful tug, and the surprised Bianchi fails to keep control of Cromwell's captured limbs when her foe returns safely to the canvas.
The redhead's arms surround Alessandra's thighs and, with a startled yelp, she is back body dropped to the canvas. Bianchi lands on her backside, a tremor of pain moving up from her tailbone. Realizing Sinclair stopped Cromwell's date with obliteration, an intensely irritated Alessandra pulls one of the hands from massaging her bum to take a swing at Sammie.
The Upstart easily avoids it, much to the delight of the Loyalists, and she retaliates with a solid football kick into Bianchi's chest that THUMPS her to horizontal!
The frazzled ref has lost control. He tries to scold Sinclair out of the ring, but Jewell takes a more direct approach, charging in on the blind side of the Tiny Titan and jumping onto her back, circling the slim midriff of the People's Princess with her stems whilst swiftly capturing the Brit's arms with a Cobra Clutch, threatening to put Sammie into Dreamland with her own limbs for the second time tonight.
Lizzie, meanwhile, leaps over a splayed Bianchi, dropping a big leg across the throat of the woman she'd put on the shelf before being set straight by the button-nosed Upstart.
Alessandria’s eyes go wide as she struggles to form a fresh series of calculations to launch a useful counter, but all such mental arithmetic quickly proved to be moot as a deliciously sculptured stem SLAMMED home across her throat and shoulders! The Digital Damsel recoiled with a spasming of limbs, arms and legs bucking into the air before the scantily clad, leather wearing techie flopped into a heaving heap.
Fortune, however, was working both ways for the World’s Best Brits as a startled Sammie swiftly found herself incapable of supporting Keith’s full weight, the taller and stronger brunette dragging her petite and beloved counterpart to the canvas like an anaconda. Sinclair groaned heavily as a pair of powerful thighs tightened about her bare midriff, Jewel constricting ever further about the People’s Princess and adding a cobra clutch to the crowd favourites torment.
The English Export of Perfectly Petite Proportions attempted to wriggle free but it was to no avail, the Toker refusing to let go and wrenching her smaller, new rival from left to right to further wring the fight right out of her gold clad plaything. Sammie was fading swiftly, with no rope break to save her, and already her protests were turning leaden, pretty peepers fluttering as Keith squeezed her mercilessly towards slumber.
Torn between going for the pin on her bitter rival and keeping her newfound friend in the match, Cromwell decides on the latter. She rises and gives Bianchi a farewell boot before sprinting to Jewell and Sammie. Elizabeth climbs atop Keith and slips her arms around the brunette's head in a sleeper hold, but she adds a side-to-side wrench of Jewell's braincase to convince her to give up her grip on Sammie.
The effort is to no avail, at least as long as it takes a recovered Alessandra to add herself to the ever growing pile!
Slipping down behind Lizzie, she slides her ivory gams under and around the head of the Boarding School Princess and clamps down with a fresh head scissors!
The overcome official stares at the jumble of FAWN pulchritude tied together in a Chinese puzzle of torso and limbs. He dives into the scrum, valiantly trying to pry them free and restore order until Alessandra puts a headlock on him... and it's suddenly a five-way knot of humanity, the crowd roaring with delight at the unusual cluster.
With anarchy reigning and no sign of renewed control, it was perhaps a surprise to no-one to witness the curtains at the entrance parting and a new figure emerging. A second Official (dispatched by a despairing Bethany Christian), dashing down the aisle as though he was on fire and the ring was filled with water. Ironic cheers followed him every step of the way until he dived beneath the bottom rope, scampering directly to the puppy pile of feisty young women and setting to work on untangling their scrum.
Freeing his compatriot in black and white first, the original and flustered Official was quickly hustled outside of the ring, his replacement pushing, pulling and directing his stubborn charges to release their respective holds. Three of the four young ladies proved especially reluctant, whilst Sammie, on the wrong end of the tie up, was barely responsive. When the first link in the chain was finally broken, all of them seemed to rapidly unravel, and a great deal of renewed growling accompanied the rapid ascent of FAWN’s future as both teams fought to secure the first moment of advantage.
Bianchi zeroed in on the half conscience Sinclair, grabbing the People’s Princess by her full curls and the belt of her short skirt, pivoting violently to chuck the crowd sweetheart clean out of the squared circle. Sammie wasn’t quite having it, summoning a burst of vitality as the Upstart entangled herself about the Gorgeous Geek in a gesture of defiance, one that elicited a frustrated squeal from Alessandra and dragged both of the young women clean over the top rope and sent them both tumbling towards concrete together.
Remaining inside the squared circle, Jewell gains the upper hand, crashing a knee into one set of Cromwell's ribs. The freckled Brit doubles as she grunts. The Toker yanks Elizabeth's left arm between the redhead's legs to create her Pumphandle, Jewell ready to deliver her 'Up In Smoke' to finish off the World's Worst Brits...
UP IN SMOKE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4CPJfe8IDM
...but before Keith can lift and put out Lizzie's lights, Cromwell uses the elbow of her free, near arm as a weapon.
She slams it into Jewell's temple three, four, five times until the brunette's grip falls away. A furious and catty Lizzie grabs The Toker by her long dark locks and gives her an earful before drawing her foe's head back and pivoting to plant Jewell's face into the canvas with her signature Silver Spoon Buster!
SILVER SPOON BUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRXUkHPTKlc
Not so long ago the Loyalist Legionnaire’s would have felt despair at this very moment, only now with the reformed (yet still catty) Hellcat fighting for the side of Angels, the red headed brawler from England instead earned herself a hearty cheer as she took the filth spitting Toker to task. Pulling the sleepy eyed Keith’s head back with a sharp yank of her frazzled mane, Lizzie whipped them both forwards; SLAMMING Jewells shell shocked features DEEP into the canvas!
Nailed into the mat forehead first, Keith whiplashed away with a violent spasm, flipping over onto her back into a haphazard starfish, fingers and the toes of her boots twitching as the world was reminded just how devastating Cromwell could be when on game.
And Elizabeth seems very much that as she tugs Jewell to her feet, the ganga grappler looking as if she's had one pull too many on her weed. As the brunette wobbles in front of a fierce Cromwell, the Brit yanks her into a front facelock and tosses a limp arm of her foe over the back of her neck. The crowd roars as Elizabeth sweeps her free arm in front of Keith's midriff and, in a familiar sweeping motion, launches Jewell high, spinning her foe's noggin to face crown-down, Elizabeth ready to 'expel' Jewell from the match...
PREP SCHOOL EXPULSION: @ 00:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ttqciIH5dA
Lizzie doesn’t drop immediately, smirking like a feral feline as she held Keith clean off the canvas as if holding a stalling suplex, as sure a sign of domination in a fiercely fought contest as one could ever find. The Loyalist ate it up, serenading the Upstart-In-Law with the three beat mantra of the Upstart Nation, and the freckled Brit appeared ravishing as she positively glowed beneath the FAWNatics praise, daring even to pivot about in a small circle, keeping her soon to be victim on show for all to witness.
Just as it seemed as though she might be about to push her luck too far, Cromwell pulled the trigger, embracing gravity and dropping to the canvas! Keith was brought along for the ride, and she was all but executed as the Boarding School Princess made a statement with the Prep School Expulsion. The crown of the stoner’s skull was NAILED!! into the mat with enough force to rock all four of the top turnbuckles, the plywood rattling as Jewel was obliterated in that one, swift motion.
She flopped to the canvas, all but lifeless, Cromwell pouncing without hesitation, sliding across the top of the unconscious Keith, the redhead grapevining her stems around those of her new rivals and seizing the other girl’s wrists. Possessively planting them above Jewel’s blank eyed noggin, she delivered a cheeky ‘kiss off’ reminiscent of Sinclair as the Official dropped down to the canvas beside them...
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
Jewell sleeps away her chances to keep the match going.
As the bell rings, from the outside, a frantic Alessandra pulls herself away from her brawling with Sammie, pushing Sinclair to her taut little backside. Bianchi SLAMS the apron. "I'm legal," she screams. "ME!"
The newly minted ref stares blankly at the raven-haired grappler for a moment and decides to ignore the protest.
With Lizzie still enjoying a front-facing straddling ride of the unconscious Jewell's midriff, the man grabs an already raised wrist of the redhead and tugs Cromwell to her feet and off the splayed Toker. He presents his 'winner' to the FAWNatics, delighted if confused at the result.
A likewise perplexed People's Princess slides into the ring and gives a big celebratory snug to Cromwell as the ring announcer makes the decision irreversible.
"Your winners...by pinfall...the World's Best Brits!!"
Lizzie wraps her arms around Sammie in reply to Sinclair's embrace, but remembering to keep one watchful eye in Bianchi's direction, leaving Alessandra furious and frustrated on the sidelines, unable to even sneak attack and get some satisfaction.
With a inarticulate shout of indignation, Bianchi balls up her fists as she burns holes into the red headed Brit that had not only tried to rob her of her career, but had stolen, STOLEN!! her victory tonight, oblivious to the shenanigans her own team had instigated to bring it all about. She marched away with a sneer, snatching her jacket from her a stage flunky and, after a short moment of consideration, reaching into the ring to grab Keith by her wrist and drag her outside of the squared circle as well.
“You didn’t beat me Cromwell!” Alessandria pointed in accusation, fuming from head to toe, “YOU DIDN’T WIN!!” she added with a stamping of her foot. Perhaps for the first time since her return, Bianchi had lost it, her ruthless composure discarded and the festering, distorted rage revealed for the world to see. “I’m not DONE Cromwell, you’ll see, at FAWNMANIA it is OVER!! You!! Me!! No more running, no more hiding, no more dodging, no more F***ING Upstarts!! I’m ENDING you Cromwell, you hear me... I’m ENDING you in a STEEL CAGE!!”