Post by alyadmirer on Oct 23, 2015 22:24:14 GMT
“The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, at a total combined weight of two-hundred and twenty-six pounds ... Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from Desert Divas, would you please give a warm Orlando welcome to the REIGNING Desert Divas Tag Team champions... Charlotte Dawson... Skylar Mitchell, otherwise known as... AMMMEEERRRIIICCCAAA’S SWWWEEEETTTHHHEEEAAARRRTTTSSS!”
The FAWNatics do just that, turning things up to eleven as Taylor Swift’s ‘Style’ begins to play over the sound system. Still not full-time members of the main roster yet, Charlie and Skye had put in a number of appearances in Orlando, and while neither had yet to claim a 'W’ in this particular ring, their talent and spunk had already won both women a considerable following...
CHARLIE DAWSON:
SKYLAR MITCHELL:
Just a couple of moments later, a stunning, bedimpled young blonde bursts through the curtains. Once the beaming Dawson arrives, however, the crowd remarkably manages to raise the decibel meter further still! And yet... despite the FAWN Arena’s capacity dwarfing the Left Turn by a factor of HUNDREDS to one, somehow their roar didn’t feel QUITE as loud to Dawson. But that doesn’t stop the youngster from bringing her hands up to her ears, covering them as if the roar might be painful--but the smile that remained planted on Charlie’s lips illustrated just how much she’s enjoying the moment. Blushing, the blonde motioned downward with her hands...
But even in Orlando, the capacity crowd would have none of it--especially not with her partner standing behind her, waving her hands UPWARD frantically, beckoning the FAWNatics to keep the love coming. As frenetic as Skylar’s arms are moving, perhaps Charlie spots a bit of a blur out of the corner of her eye, prompting her to spin around...
The kid might be quick, but not quick enough. By the time she’s facing Skye, her fellow youngster’s hands are clasped behind her back, and she looks up toward the lights, whistling in pure innocence.
Charlie shakes her head at her partner before turning and taking off toward the ring. Skylar followed suit almost immediately. The Sweethearts make it a point to slap EVERY single hand offered her way--and ESPECIALLY the younger ones.
Finally, the Darling of the Desert and the Lil’est Mitchell slide under the bottom rope, springing to their feet. The duo unzip their hot pink hoodies, Charlie slipping off hers to reveal a light blue fightin’ two piece that, in spite of its somewhat modest and innocent cut still managed to raise the blood pressure of quite a few spectators. For her part, Skye sports a royal purple lycra bikini top and short shorts, with white pads and boots.
(Old school FAWN fans might note the distinct similarity in Skylar’s togs, and the gear worn by her older sister Cynthia at the beginning of her career...)
Charlotte and Skye hand their belts to the referee before moving to their corner, taking a moment to adjust their pads before stretching, preparing to for the opportunity to set the tag division on its ear. Certainly, neither one had ever wrestled on a stage THIS big. But after taking the Desert Divas tag strap off of Harrietta Morreaux and Amaris Poison, no team in FAWN this side of the Three seemed QUITE as imposing...
Then again, that thought may have merited reconsideration, as the capacity throng erupts with ear-splitting zeal at the first opening strains of Celtic bagpipes. Within moments, the unworldly drone of the pipes metamorphosizes into a bass-thumping techno beat. A single spotlight stabbed out of the darkness and fell upon the head of the ramp. There stood two blondes.
MAEVE KANE:
MOIRA KANE:
Maeve the 5'6" elder sister stepped forward, her voluptuous figure clad in an emerald green one-piece suit and matching boots. She raised her arms in salute...not so much to the fans than to her sister and herself...yet the crowd responded enthusiastically nonetheless. A moment later she was joined by Moira, the 5'8" younger Kane, garbed in an emerald green top and black bottoms, with green boots to match those of her sister. Though not as well-endowed as her sibling, Moira was nevertheless curvy in her own right, and the spectators appreciated the fact that she wasn’t shy about showing her body off.
“Ladies and gentlemen, their opponents...hailing from Galway, Ireland, and weighing a combined weight of two hundred and fifty-eight pounds…they are the RIUIIIIILLLL KAAAAAAAAAAAANES!”
The sisters began a steady, regal march to the ring. They spared no effort to acknowledge the outstretched hands that lined the aisle, as their eyes and attention were riveted squarely upon the two women already in the ring. Ordinarily, such a pair of neophytes wouldn't warrant such scrutiny, but the Kanes and the Mitchells have history, and although Skylar played no part in that tableau of destruction, the sins of her kin were enough to put her squarely in the sights of the Irish lasses.
The Kanes now reached the ring and climbed onto the apron. Maeve then ordered the referee to sit on the middle rope and lift the top cable on his shoulder. The official, not used to being commanded by wrestlers, nonetheless seemed intimidated enough by Maeve's commanding presence to comply with the instruction. The blondes then finally deigned to enter the ring. Fairly brimming with confidence, they each stride over to their corner, almost casually awaiting the start of the match as the ref swiftly checked them for foreign objects.
Across the ring, Skye and Charlie engage in a final bit of strategic discussions, including the single most pressing question: who would start. It should be noted, however, that the question is never asked. As soon as Dawson opens her mouth to pose it, Skylar remarks, “I’ve got this.”
“You sure?” the blonde asked, eyebrows raised.
“Oh yeah,” Skye says, lips curling into a small grin. “Call it carrying on the family tradition...”
Charlie nods, turning and sliding through the ropes. As the Darling of the Desert Southwest takes up her station in the Sweethearts’ corner, Maeve Kane gives her sister a two-handed pat on the shoulders before exiting the ring herself. And that just makes the Li’lest Mitchell’s smirk grow a little wider.
As much of a family feud as it might have been, Moira and Cynthia had always seemed to be the cornerstone of it.
The bell sounds, bringing the blonde Irish lass and her auburn haired Carolina counterpart out of their respective corners, Moira and Skye circling the ring as they approached. When the distance between them had been all but eliminated, Mitchell did the somewhat surprising...
She extended her hand to Kane.
Moira casts her eyes down to Skylar’s offering, regarding the hand almost impassively... and then rolling her eyes. “Please,” she scoffs. “Gettin’ a little ahead of yerself, arent’cha? First thing ya gotta do is PROVE to me that ya belong in the same ring as me. Do that, and maybe I’ll shake yer hand. MAYBE.”
“Fair enough,” Mitchell mutters--but instead of dropping her hand, Skye brings up the other, surging into Moira and tying up in a collar and elbow. A few seconds of jostling and jockeying proves enough to break the stalemate, with experience gaining the opening upper hand when the Irishwomen slips around behind her opponent and clamps on a tight waistlock.
Mitchell’s feet shift a little wider apart as her hands clutch at Moira’s wrists, Kane uttering a grunt as she tries to keep her grip secure. Instead, Skylar breaks the clasp, swiveling around behind her foe and answering Moira’s waistlock with one of her own! Now it’s the blonde’s turn to struggle, but before anyone might think a rookie can figure out something she couldn’t, Kane works her way out the waistlock--and keeps a hold on Skye’s wrist as she wheels around behind the Li’lest Mitchell, wrenching up on her arm in a hammerlock.
But again, the youngster has an answer, first managing to reverse the hammerlock into one of her own, and then planting a boot against the back of Moira’s calf, forcing the proud Irish blonde to her knees. Skye relinquishes the hammerlock, instead opting to apply a tight side headlock as she slides to Moira’s left. Kane groans as her head is ground tight between Mitchell’s bicep and her hip, but after a few moments, the former FAWN Tag Team champion works her way free of the current Desert Divas Tag champ’s clutches.
Quickly pushing up from her knees, Moira snatches up Skylar’s wrist and applies another hammerlock--while returning the favor from early and forcing Mitchell to kneel with a well placed boot to the pit of the knee. The auburn haired, apple-cheeked cutie grinds her teeth, her free hand slapping at her aching shoulder... until she’s able to wrench her arm free of Moira. What’s more, unnoticed by Kane until it’s too late, Skye’s feet have worked their way between the blonde’s boots, allowing the rookie to trip up her foe and send Moira plummeting to the mat, the Irish beauty barely having enough time to get her hands down to absorb some of the fall.
Both women scramble to their feet, the FAWNatics cheering as each emerges in a tensed crouch... and when Kane relaxes ever so slightly, she offers her left hand to the rookie, seemingly satisfied that Skye does indeed belong in the same ring. Mitchell regards the offering suspiciously, her concerns shared by the crowd, the majority of whom encourage her NOT to accept the invitation. Against their wishes, Skylar takes a chance, reaching to shake Moira’s hand...
... at which point, Moira’s left hand falls away--and her RIGHT hand flashes upward, her palm striking Skye’s cheek with a resounding ‘THWACK!’, the slap connecting harshly enough to not only turn Mitchell’s head, but send her whole body spinning away along with. Kane quickly nuzzles in against her foe, wrapping her arms tight around Skylar’s midsection. “Make ME fall flat on my face, would ye?” the blonde snarls, then bridges back, RIPPING the Li’lest Mitchell off her feet and putting Skye’s head and shoulders on a collision course with the canvas via a German suplex.
Just one problem: rather than fight to keep Moira from implementing her move, Skye’s boots shove off as Kane elevates her, that little extra surge allowing the Desert Diva to somersault THROUGH the toss--and from their, Mitchell shows even more nimbleness, sticking the landing in a manner which would make Domi Daly proud. That means that the rookie is still vertical, while Moira has to pick herself up. And by the time Kane is back on her feet, Skylar is OFF hers, the Carolina Cutie’s soles meeting Moira’s bosom with a dropkick.
Kane is sent back to the mat, HARD, while Skylar kips to her feet. Once again, the rookie settles into a tensed crouch as Moira rolls up to her knees, glaring at her opponent in wide-eyed disbelief. The FAWNatics respond with raucous cheers, which in turn become laughs when the Li’lest Mitchell playfully sticks her tongue out at the reeling veteran. Those laughs THEN become a budding chant of “SKY-LAR! SKY-LAR!”, which only grow louder with each upward wave of Charlie Dawson’s hands in the Sweethearts’ corner.
Rising up to her feet, Moira stops in a semi-crouch, hands on her knees as she stares intently down at the canvas, as if she's absorbing the new reality of this match. Then she tilts her head up, locks eyes, with Skylar and...smiles.
For the first time tonight, the littlest Mitchell feels a tad unnerved. For Kane's grin is that of a woman who's in on a joke that Skylar hasn't even heard the set-up for yet. Cynthia once told her, "I think there's some crazy in there, but you have to mine for it. But if you hit it, it's gonna be a mother lode." The Carolinian fears she may have dynamited her way to a thick vein of crazy, and a tiny voice in the back of her head squeaks, "We didn't sign on for this!"
Standing up and starting to casually circle around her opponent, however, Moira certainly doesn't seem crazy. Indeed, she seems focused with laser-beam intensity on her opponent. "I confess," she says in the sing-song lilt of Galway, "ye've gone and impressed me. I might go so far as t'say ye have the makings of being every bit o' good as sister Cynthia someday." Wary of a serpent's trick behind the lamb's words, Skylar nonetheless can't help but feel pride swelling in her breast at the suggestion she could one day equal her sister in the ring.
But then Kane's tone darkens as she says, "But on her very best day, Cynthia Mitchell is no match f'r me!" And with a speed that the younger grappler didn't think was possible, the blonde charges at her and delivers a boot to the midsection that doubles Skylar over with a whoosh of exhaled breath. A moment later, the youngster is met with a simultaneous kneelift to the chest and double axe handle blow to the back, dropping her to her knees. Then a standing dropkick to the chest sends Mitchell tumbling ass over teakettle, until she's face down on the mat and moaning. But if she's hoping to have a few moments respite, she's swiftly disabused of that notion, as her hair fills the fists of her opponent, how hauls her whining back up to her feet. From behind the young American, Kane's eyes fix upon a particular part of Skylar's anatomy. "Well, as I see it, ye haven't got th' bum that Cynthia has," the Gaelic grappler declares, as her hands grab the fabric of Mitchell's short shorts. "But it'll do, lassie!" And with that, Moira mightily jerks the article of clothing up, the lycra pulled deep up between the cheeks of Skylar's derriere. Mitchell's eyes go wide and she gives a high-pitched squeal as she's lifted up on tippy-toes. In her corner, Charlie Dawson places her hands to her forehead, her face a mask of grave concern for her embattled partner. On the opposite side of the ring, Maeve Kane's face wears the slightest of haughty smirks, her head nodding slowly in approval.
One hand still holding the shorts, while the other grabs tight hold of Mitchell's hair close to the roots, Kane dips her knees and with a small grunt executes a suplex. Skylar's neck and the back of her skull take the full impact, leaving her limpid and glassy-eyed. Standing over her, Moira give a half-grin and plants her right boot upon her adversary's heaving chest. The referee drops to his knees and counts off...
ONE...
TWO...
Before the count of three, the Irishwoman voluntarily lifts her boot up and punts a kick to the ribs of her young rival, rolling Mitchell over onto her side with a groan. "Not that easy," Moira sneers, as she bends over, takes Skylar by the hair once again, pulls her up, and throws her bodily toward her own corner. "Yer turn," she snarls at Charlie, then Kane turns, struts back to her corner, and slaps hands with her sister.
Aching but enraged, Skylar takes one step out of her corner... but before she can take a second, a hand grabs her shoulder, pulling her back in.
“Take five, Skye,” Charlie says, trying to settle her partner’s emotions.
“I’m okay,” Mitchell responds. “I can...”
“I KNOW you can, babe,” the bubbly young blonde replies, reassuring her. “It’s not about that. Catch your breath, clear your head...” Dawson smiles brightly before promising, “Trust me, I’ll tag ya back in before you know it.”
With the smallest of sighs, the Li’lest Mitchell raises her hand over her shoulder, Charlie responding with a downward slap to make the tag official. On the other side of the ring, the tag had LONG since been made--but Maeve appears content to watch the confab between blonde and redhead. When Dawson finally starts to slip through the ropes, the elder Kane makes a show of stifling a yawn... but Charlie answers that lack of respect with an equally impudent roll of her eyes. “Awwwwwwwww,” the American blonde coos, she and Maeve beginning to circle, “is it getting past your bedtime? It’s okay. My grandma never could stay up much past 8, either...”
Now Kane rolls her eyes... but as Charlie surges in to tie up with a collar and elbow, Maeve’s hand shoots higher than Dawson’s shoulders, her fingers jabbing into the rookie’s eyes. Charlie squeals, doubling over as she staggers back a step--and doubling over further when the Irish blonde buries a knee into the pit of her stomach.
Pivoting to the side, Maeve reaches over her shoulders, grabbing two handfuls of hair and roughly depositing Charlie on her tush with a hairmare. Kane then deftly shifts into a backpedal, until the ropes shoot her back at the seated Desert Diva. Diving over Dawson’s shoulder, the former FAWN Tag Team champ’s hands again clamp on to Charlie’s gold locks, the Irish beauty’s momentum this time leading her to SLAM the youngster’s face into the canvas. Dawson’s upper body whips back up to a seated position, blinking eyes staring blankly ahead for the second she remains vertical... until the Darling of the Desert Southwest topples into a boneless starfish.
The elder Kane foregoes the arrogant foot-on-chest cover her younger sister had applied to Skylar, even with Charlie looking even more receptive to it. Instead, she peels the rookie up with a handful of hair, and then launches Dawson on her way with an Irish whip. Only whatever the veteran had intended for her foe upon her return would remain a mystery, Maeve’s eyes widening as Charlie suddenly LEAPS toward the former tag champ. Dawson rotates as she flies, her legs snaking around Kane’s waist, Charlie facing the canvas. And as her thighs constrict, the Desert Divas tag champ swings her upper body downward, through Maeve’s legs, her Casadora Victory Roll securing Kane in a tight, wriggling ball with her shoulders flat against the mat... and as the official slides into place, his three count would put quite a bow on this monumental upset.
CASADORA VICTORY ROLL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7QSgqm9Ge8
ONE...
TWO...
THREE?
Kane kicks loose... but was it in time? The Irish lass rolls to her knees, raising an almost fearful gaze up toward the referee... and releasing a sigh of a relief when he only has two fingers raised. Meanwhile, Charlie has made it up to her HANDS and knees, the young blonde scampering toward what, through her still-a-bit-blurry vision, she could only hope was her corner...
Suddenly, the blonde crashes chin-first to the canvas, the result of her left leg being yanked out from under her, courtesy of Kane's hands wrapped around her ankle. And before the American can respond, the redhead scrambles atop her, grabbing her hair at the scalp, and slamming Charlie's face down into the mat, further stunning her. From her corner, Skylar is veritably shrieking in both concern for her partner as well as fury at the elder Kane, the young Mitchell fruitlessly extending her arm into the ring as far as she can, desperately hoping to touch fingertips with the embattled blonde. But both the distance between her and her partner...as well as Dawson's current state of daze...make any hopes of a fair tag moot.
Climbing to her feet, Maeve rolls Charlie over onto her back, grasps her legs behind the knees, and monkey flips the desert diva across the ring, and far away from the potential sanctuary of her own corner. The blonde grunts as she lands on her chest, bouncing once and skidding forward a few inches. Groaning, she plants her palms to the mat and starts to push herself up, but a boot stomp between the shoulder blades dissuades her from that.
Mere heartbeats later, Dawson is snapped out of her fog by the electric pain of an STF, deftly applied by the Irish battler. Leaning in toward her mewling victim's ear, Maeve grimly intones, "Ye've lost to those feckin' Scandalous doxies, and ye've got a Mitchell on yer team as well. Do you well an' truly believe my sister an' I are goin' to let ye win this match? We'll move Heaven an' Earth to beat ye, lass." She gives the chinlock an extra tug for emphasis, but she doesn't crank the hold up to full power. For she's not quite ready to let the Spokane siren submit just yet.
But not going full-tilt on the STF has another benefit to young Charlie: it allows the trapped, trussed up blonde to slither on her belly juuust enough to allow her to coil her fingers around the bottom rope. “BREAK!” the referee demands, but its an order that falls on deaf ears. Ever the contrarian, Maeve NOW turns the dial on her STF up to 11, forcing Dawson to shriek in agony while wailing for an end to the hold.
“ONE!” the ref barks.
Maeve merely flashes him an infuriating smile.
“TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!”
The elder Kane finally pulls back her hands, releasing the chinlock--and deprived the resistance of the Irish lass’ torturous hold, Charlie’s upper body whiplashes forward, and DOWN, her throat hitting the taut, rubber coated steel of the bottom rope and forcing her to wretch. As the rookie brings a hand to her throat, Maeve grabs hold of one ankle, rolling the young blonde to her back and dragging her into the Kane’s corner, where Moira reaches over the top rope to slap her shoulder.
The younger Kane slips into the ring, but her partner keeps a firm grip on Dawson’s boot. “Alright, Maeve,” the official sighs, “you gotta get out of the ring.”
“Not yet, I don’t,” Maeve replies, while her sister takes Charlie’s OTHER ankle and lifts her leg. The referee is about ready to start another five count, until the Irish “twins” simultaneous each lift one of their feet, and leave it hovering inside Dawson’s thighs.
“Don’t you dare...” the zebra admonishes them, Dawson herself whimpering out a hoarse series of “Nonononooooo”, raising her hands to plead with the former FAWN tag champs. Maeve and Moira smirk at one another, wordlessly debating the pros and cons of stomping down as the official begins his count. On the brink of “FOUR!”, the Kanes shrug the shoulders and lower their boots...
... but in the next instant, both sisters dive in opposing directions, each one taking one of Charlie’s gams with them.
Maeve hits the mat and rolls to the apron, while Moira quickly tumbles up to her knees. But poor Dawson sits up with a tortured scream, her hamstrings feeling like they might very well have torn. The Darling of the Desert Southwest rolls over to her knees and her chest, her wriggling hindquarters thrust upward as her feet pound in distress at the canvas.
Climbing to her feet, the younger Kane pulls Charlie to hers as well, before stepping her right leg inside Dawson’s left. Then, pushing down on her opponent’s back, Moira slips her left leg over the rookie’s bowed noggin, while gathering and securing Charlie’s right arm. Once the octopus hold is secured, Kane takes a tremendous amount of pleasure in griiiiinding her elbow into Dawson’s defenseless left flank, but while the youngster might moan and sob, she refuses to submit...
... and suddenly, Moira feels a light tap on her lower back.
Instantly understanding its meaning, the younger Kane withdraws her elbow from Charlie’s side, the Desert Divas tag champ letting out a small sigh of relief. But that easing up of the anguish not only proves fleeting, but when the pressure ramps up again, it does so with a vengeance--thanks largely to Maeve holding and pulling on her sister’s hand, unnoticed by the referee, whose eyes are locked on Dawson’s teary peepers, waiting for the first sign of surrender.
“HEY, REF!” Skylar shouts, sliding a leg through the ropes... but as she does, Maeve lets go--and Moira immediately gets back to grinding her elbow into Charlie’s ribs.
“Really?” the younger Kane asks the youngest Mitchell. “Ya really in THAT much of a hurry to get yer arse handed to ya again?”
"You never could handle Mitchell ass before," Skylar calls out, evoking memories of times Moira spent beneath Cynthia's fabled posterior. "I doubt you can now."
The younger Kane says nothing, but gives an ever-so-slight tilt of her head, while simultaneously allowing a small smirk to emerge upon her lips. Although no words are spoken, the meaning in perfectly clear: Challenge accepted!
Not once taking her eyes off of Mitchell, Moira releases her hold on Dawson. But before the Desert Diva can even begin to take advantage of her newfound freedom, she finds herself bent at the waist until she's gazing down at the canvas, the Irishwoman's arm snaked around her neck. A heartbeat later, a DDT spikes the crown of Charlie's skull into that canvas (or, more precisely, the plywood beneath), leaving her seeing a skyful of stars to rival any desert night. Kane briefly considers going for the pin, but then thinks better of it.
Rising up, the Irish blonde grabs her badly dazed opponent by her own golden mane and hauls her whining back up to her feet. Kane then drags the stumbling Dawson closer to her own corner. Closer...but not too close. Halting, Moira keeps one hand on Charlie's hair close to the roots, and grasps her right wrist with the other, holding her limp hand out. Had the Sweetheart had the presence of mind, she could have easily broken free, but as it is, she can only stand there, vacant-eyed. This gesture forces Skylar to reach over the ropes, straining every muscle to close the distance between herself and her partner, until finally she's able to just barely brush fingertips with Dawson. The referee calls for the switch, and Kane roughly shoves Charlie into her corner, where she collapses into a heap. Mitchell first crouches to check on her partner, then looks up at Moira with a visage of cold fury. "This is just the latest in a long line of mistakes you've made," the American tells her opponent. "But don't worry, it'll be the last you get to make tonight. I'll make sure of that!"
Kane steps back to center ring, taunting her adversary with a grin and a wave of her fingers. "Have at it then, lassie. Oi'm lookin' forward to addin' another notch to my 'Mitchells are my Bitchells' belt.'
With a roar, Skylar jumps up and rushes at Kane. Such a clumsy move, it's obvious to all...a rookie's error. Moira braces herself, prepared to side-step and throw her outclassed opponent to the mat.
The only problem with that idea is, this isn't some clumsy move, but rather a highly skillful feint. As the Irish lass steps sideways and tilts her body, Mitchell suddenly cartwheels, and delivers a boot flash to the side of her rival's head. Indeed, one wrestler does go down to the mat, but it isn't Skylar Mitchell.
Dropped to one knee, Moira shakes her head, her temper rising. But rising even quicker is Skylar, who kips up to her feet and throws a knee to the other woman's forehead, the impact throwing Kane flat on her back and starfished. One hop later, Mitchell lands all one-hundred and fourteen of her pounds squarely upon the blonde's tummy, the taut abs crumbling under the impact as a sickening whoosh of air rips from Moira's lungs. Dropping herself down into a straddle, Mitchell sits upon the chest of her opponent as the zebra drops down and starts to count...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOO!
A bucking bridge to break the pin at the last possible instant.
"Fine, be that way," Skylar pouts. "I'll just have to get more creative!"
In spite of the vow, however, Skye turns to some of the most basic offense available after yanking Moira up by the hair, blasting her sternum with repeated forearm shots that rock the Irish lass back on her heels. Taking a wrist, the Li’lest Mitchell sets her feet and attempts to send Kane for a ride via an Irish whip, but it’s not to be. Moira digs in her heels and reverses it...
... but as the younger Kane scoops the rebounding Skylar off her feet, NOW the youngster decides to get inventive. Kicking her legs unexpectedly high, Mitchell rotates a little more than Moira had anticipated, causing the veteran to lose her grip on the youngster as she swings through the air. To keep herself from falling before she’s ready, Skye latches an arm around Moira’s neck and kicks her feet up AGAIN, this time toppling backwards and PLANTING the crown of Kane’s skull with her Satellite DDT.
SATELLITE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=n36GU_CgF8I
Moira hits the mat with a thud and a groan, and apparently the impact of cranium to canvas is enough to give her second thoughts about having allowing Charlie Dawson out of the ring. The former FAWN Tag Team champion rolls under the bottom rope, dropping to her feet on the floor for a little breather... but Skylar is evidently a subscriber to the philosophy that there are NO time outs in wrestling. Rebounding off the far ropes, the rookie launches herself in a baseball slide underneath the bottom rope, parting her legs just enough to trap her opponent’s noggin between her calves before swinging her frame through the air and tossing Moira harshly down to the floor.
BASEBALL SLIDE HEADSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0U974k9BH1Q
Springing to her feet, Skye throws her head back and lets out an elated roar--one echoed by almost the entirety of the audience. Marching over to the fallen Moira, Mitchell gathers her up and stuffs her back onto the apron, rolling her back into the ring with a shove. Skye follows her as far as the apron, but she takes a different route back into the ring. Rocking back, the Li’lest Mitchell vaults to the top rope, and from their launches herself higher still, soaring HIIIGH into her namesake before dropping an elbow to the younger Kane’s bosom.
SPRINGBOARD ELBOW DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmDnOPY3AcI
Without a second thought, Skylar hooks a leg, scoring the...
ONE...
TWO...
NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Kane kicks out.
As Mitchell hairhauls Moira to her feet, the Li’lest Mitchell spares a brief glance toward her corner, where Charlie has worked her way up to her knees. The young blonde gives her a reassuring nod, but she’s clearly not ready to return to the contest yet.
Not a problem.
Again taking Kane’s wrist, Skye begins to whip Moira toward the far neutral corner, but again the Irish beauty proves to have an answer, reversing the whip and sending Skylar sprinting toward the buckles. Anticipating the youngster would turn her back into the collision, Kane takes off after her almost immediately, aiming to meet her in the corner with a splash...
... but apparently this American brat didn’t know to turn.
Instead, Skye reaches out both hands, grabbing the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle and kicks her legs into the air behind her. Moira tries to slam on the brakes, but there’s not enough time, Mitchell hooking her boots behind Kane’s noggin. Skylar then uses her leg strength to send the former Tag champ’s face CRASHING into the middle buckle, Moira put on her kneels, Mitchell leaning all her weight into the blonde’s back.
The referee begins to count, but Skye dismounts before her can even reach “THREE!”, allowing Moira to roll over so that the back of her head now rests against the middle turnbuckle. And a smirking Skylar doesn’t miss a beat. “And now,” the youngster grins, turning her back to the battered Irish beauty, “as I was saying about Mitchell ass...”
With that, the redheaded rookie thrusts her hips back, forcing the downed veteran to Kiss Her Grits. In all honesty, Skylar had NO idea where momma Natalie had picked up that phrase, but it had always made her chuckle. And right now, it was making Moira thrash and kick, and shove against her hips, but to no avail. Only the official’s building count forces the Li’lest Mitchell to relent.
As Skye steps back, the younger Kane tumbles away from the buckles and toward the ropes, her arms spilling over the middle cable as she gasps for air. A few feet away from Moira, Charlie has made it back to her feet, and she slaps the top turnbuckle in support of her partner. And with the crowd clapping along as well, Skylar sinks into a crouch, stomping her left boot against the canvas in time with the applause, waiting for Moira to pick herself up. Once Kane was vertical and her boot was properly loaded, Mitchell had EVERY intention of offering her Greetings from Charlotte with a superkick that would allow her to carry on the family tradition of humbling these Irish bytches...
But this wasn’t the Irish lass’s first time at the fleadh. Despite her diminished state, she is still able to see the move coming. Indeed, the very nature of the superkick is to showboat, and thus it telegraphs itself. Battle instincts kicking in, Kane manages to grab Mitchell’s boot just before the blow lands, throwing the leg aside while simultaneously lifting her own right leg up. Luckily…comparatively speaking…for Skye, the kick that was meant for her groin falls a few inches short, and instead connects with her inner left thigh. Painful to be sure, but not debilitating.
However, hunched over, hands clutching her throbbing thigh, the youngest offspring of Mère Mitchell finds her heretofore successful offensive halted in its tracks. And her comparative lack of experience causes her to not expect Moira to manage to stagger up to her feet, dash to the ropes, rebound off of them and rush at her unwary opponent, and execute a tidy Scorpion Rising.
SCORPION RISING @ :31:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=56roNvmFceU
With the blow to the base of her skull causing her to flop backwards to the mat, there are a Skyeful of stars filling the youngster's eyes, and that provides the Irish blonde the precious seconds she needs to scramble on all fours toward her corner. There, she finds the outstretched hand of her sibling. And although Maeve has taken her own share of bumps and bruises in this match, she is more than willing to step back onto the field of battle and write finis to this latest skirmish in the Kane/Mitchell war.
Advancing on the dazed and disoriented youngster, the elder Kane snatches a handful of Skylar’s locks, yanking the youngest Mitchell up to her feet before locking an arm around her foe’s neck. Maeve’s free hand then moves downward, slipping behind Skye’s thigh and hooking her leg. With Mitchell still struggling to shrug her mind free of its cobwebs, the buxom Irish beauty pops her hips, hoists her opponent into the sky, and mercilessly adds to Mitchell’s cognitive difficulties by dropping her directly on the crown of her skull with a nasty fisherman buster.
FISHERMAN BUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qF6KnwxDeg
A cover might very well have netted the Kanes a three count, but Maeve doesn’t appear to be in much of a hurry. Peeling her dull-eyed, glistening-skinned adversary off the canvas, the former FAWN Tag Team champion whips Skylar toward the far corner--and promptly takes off in pursuit of her prey nearly as soon as she’s released Mitchell’s wrist. Instinct alone allows the Li’lest Mitchell to turn her back into the buckles, Skye showing JUUUUST enough awareness of her surroundings for her eyes to widen an instant before Maeve’s voluptuous frame BURIES her in an avalanche splash.
As Skye’s cheeks puff with a loud gasp, Kane dips down, driving her shoulder into Mitchell’s abdomen and muscling the young redhead up to a seat on the top turnbuckle. Climbing onto the middle rope herself, facing her foe, Maeve scoops the Li’lest Mitchell up to her ample chest, the Irish beauty smirking before bridging backward, flipping through the air and SLAMMING Skylar down to the mat, Maeve’s one hundred and twenty-five pounds CRASHING across Skye’s yielding tummy just for good measure.
IRISH CAR BOMB (off the corner rather than ladder):
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xL-WpqB-gBM
In the Sweetheart’s corner, a weary and woozy Charlie Dawson understands well enough that their chances at victory are slipping away, but there’s one thing that the young blonde FAILS to notice: namely, that the Kane corner currently stands empty. That is, until a pair of hands clutch her ankles, yanking her feet out from under her and dropping her chin first to the apron. Somehow, Dawson lands on her feet on the floor, but she’s too stunned to react when Moira Kane suddenly claims two handfuls of hair and drops to her tush, pulling Charlie down between her outstretched thighs and DRIVING Dawson’s face into the floor.
The crowd had begun to boo vehemently the moment Moira had sprung her sneak attack, yet ironically their actions had served to AID the younger Kane, preventing the referee from hearing any of this exchange as he focused on Maeve and Skylar. And lest Charlie be able to cry out as she unknowingly rolled to her back, Moira scoots forward to take a seat on her face.
Purely to keep her quiet, of course.
Meanwhile, in the ring, Maeve too has taken a seat--her’s in Skylar’s lap. Pulling the vacant-eyed Skye up to a seated position, the Irish beauty takes a moment to brush a few stray locks away from the redhead’s half-lidded peepers. “Ya can talk about Mitchell arse all ya like,” Kane purrs, “but I happen to possess something the likes of which NONE of you Mitchell skrags can boast.”
And without further ado, Maeve THRUSTS Skylar’s face into her cleavage.
The swift elimination of light and air for the Li’lest Mitchell manages to rouse the rookie out of her stupor, at least to a degree, and a desperate Skye starts sending punch after punch into Maeve’s flanks. Kane grits her teeth through the first few stinging impacts, but it only takes until the third wave of blows for the former tag champ to sense the power behind those punches draining away. Maeve’s hands push a little harder against the back of Skylar’s noggin, a husky chuckle passing across her lips as she feels Skye’s lips tug a little more urgently at her flesh... and as she feels Mitchell’s punches become barely slaps...
... and then, not even that.
“Don’t feel ya have to check her,” the elder Kane notes, dryly. “I can keep this going all night.”
But of course, the official DOES take Skye’s wrist, lifting her limp arm.
It falls ONCE...
It falls TWICE...
It falls THREE TIMES!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer declares, while Moira Kane stuffs an all but lifeless Charlie Dawson under the bottom rope, “your winners, by knockout... RIIIUUUIIILLL KAAANNNEEESSS!!!!!”
Maeve pulls her arms away from Skye’s head to allow the referee to raise her hand in triumph--which allows Skylar to topple backward, the Li’lest Mitchell landing in a splayed ‘X’ as the elder Kane rises into a standing straddle over her vanquished opponent. Stepping away, Maeve and Moira exchange a high five as they pass one another, the elder Kane dropping her tush onto Charlie’s breadbasket as her little sister circles to Skye’s noggin.
The impact of Maeve’s bottom with Dawson’s belly causes the younger blonde’s eyelids to flutter and her bow lips to purse, but that proves to be the rookie’s only response as Kane’s ankles hook hers, the former tag champ grapevining the youngster’s legs as she allows her gurls to descend on Dawson’s features, Maeve intent on subjecting the Darling of the Desert Southwest to the same clammy oblivion her partner had experienced.
Moira, meanwhile, offers Skye a couple of words. “Not sayin’ a whole lot now, are you, brat?” she asks. “Pog ma hone, ‘buttercup’...”
The younger Kane falls to her knees, dropping her rump atop the mug of the youngest Mitchell. Skylar gains a brief reprieve as the blonde leans forward, her tush rising off Skye’s features for just a moment as Moira gathers up Mitchell’s ankles. But she then settles back--and starts to push Skylar’s stems in opposing directions. The Emerald Ire awakens the Li’lest Mitchell to a fresh new hell, and its mere seconds before Skye’s hand starts slapping the canvas.
“Awww,” Moira purrs... and then pushes Mitchell’s gams open FURTHER. “That’s just ADORABLE.” The younger Kane closes her eyes for a moment, basking in the sensation of Skylar’s screams, that Moira’s backside was absorbing.
About ten seconds later, Skye’s hand stops tapping.
Another five seconds pass before Moira climbs to her feet, while Maeve sits up atop Charlie’s belly, both Sweethearts left to dream hopefully sweet dreams in the wake of a rather dominant effort by one of FAWN’s premiere tag teams.
The FAWNatics do just that, turning things up to eleven as Taylor Swift’s ‘Style’ begins to play over the sound system. Still not full-time members of the main roster yet, Charlie and Skye had put in a number of appearances in Orlando, and while neither had yet to claim a 'W’ in this particular ring, their talent and spunk had already won both women a considerable following...
CHARLIE DAWSON:
SKYLAR MITCHELL:
Just a couple of moments later, a stunning, bedimpled young blonde bursts through the curtains. Once the beaming Dawson arrives, however, the crowd remarkably manages to raise the decibel meter further still! And yet... despite the FAWN Arena’s capacity dwarfing the Left Turn by a factor of HUNDREDS to one, somehow their roar didn’t feel QUITE as loud to Dawson. But that doesn’t stop the youngster from bringing her hands up to her ears, covering them as if the roar might be painful--but the smile that remained planted on Charlie’s lips illustrated just how much she’s enjoying the moment. Blushing, the blonde motioned downward with her hands...
But even in Orlando, the capacity crowd would have none of it--especially not with her partner standing behind her, waving her hands UPWARD frantically, beckoning the FAWNatics to keep the love coming. As frenetic as Skylar’s arms are moving, perhaps Charlie spots a bit of a blur out of the corner of her eye, prompting her to spin around...
The kid might be quick, but not quick enough. By the time she’s facing Skye, her fellow youngster’s hands are clasped behind her back, and she looks up toward the lights, whistling in pure innocence.
Charlie shakes her head at her partner before turning and taking off toward the ring. Skylar followed suit almost immediately. The Sweethearts make it a point to slap EVERY single hand offered her way--and ESPECIALLY the younger ones.
Finally, the Darling of the Desert and the Lil’est Mitchell slide under the bottom rope, springing to their feet. The duo unzip their hot pink hoodies, Charlie slipping off hers to reveal a light blue fightin’ two piece that, in spite of its somewhat modest and innocent cut still managed to raise the blood pressure of quite a few spectators. For her part, Skye sports a royal purple lycra bikini top and short shorts, with white pads and boots.
(Old school FAWN fans might note the distinct similarity in Skylar’s togs, and the gear worn by her older sister Cynthia at the beginning of her career...)
Charlotte and Skye hand their belts to the referee before moving to their corner, taking a moment to adjust their pads before stretching, preparing to for the opportunity to set the tag division on its ear. Certainly, neither one had ever wrestled on a stage THIS big. But after taking the Desert Divas tag strap off of Harrietta Morreaux and Amaris Poison, no team in FAWN this side of the Three seemed QUITE as imposing...
Then again, that thought may have merited reconsideration, as the capacity throng erupts with ear-splitting zeal at the first opening strains of Celtic bagpipes. Within moments, the unworldly drone of the pipes metamorphosizes into a bass-thumping techno beat. A single spotlight stabbed out of the darkness and fell upon the head of the ramp. There stood two blondes.
MAEVE KANE:
MOIRA KANE:
Maeve the 5'6" elder sister stepped forward, her voluptuous figure clad in an emerald green one-piece suit and matching boots. She raised her arms in salute...not so much to the fans than to her sister and herself...yet the crowd responded enthusiastically nonetheless. A moment later she was joined by Moira, the 5'8" younger Kane, garbed in an emerald green top and black bottoms, with green boots to match those of her sister. Though not as well-endowed as her sibling, Moira was nevertheless curvy in her own right, and the spectators appreciated the fact that she wasn’t shy about showing her body off.
“Ladies and gentlemen, their opponents...hailing from Galway, Ireland, and weighing a combined weight of two hundred and fifty-eight pounds…they are the RIUIIIIILLLL KAAAAAAAAAAAANES!”
The sisters began a steady, regal march to the ring. They spared no effort to acknowledge the outstretched hands that lined the aisle, as their eyes and attention were riveted squarely upon the two women already in the ring. Ordinarily, such a pair of neophytes wouldn't warrant such scrutiny, but the Kanes and the Mitchells have history, and although Skylar played no part in that tableau of destruction, the sins of her kin were enough to put her squarely in the sights of the Irish lasses.
The Kanes now reached the ring and climbed onto the apron. Maeve then ordered the referee to sit on the middle rope and lift the top cable on his shoulder. The official, not used to being commanded by wrestlers, nonetheless seemed intimidated enough by Maeve's commanding presence to comply with the instruction. The blondes then finally deigned to enter the ring. Fairly brimming with confidence, they each stride over to their corner, almost casually awaiting the start of the match as the ref swiftly checked them for foreign objects.
Across the ring, Skye and Charlie engage in a final bit of strategic discussions, including the single most pressing question: who would start. It should be noted, however, that the question is never asked. As soon as Dawson opens her mouth to pose it, Skylar remarks, “I’ve got this.”
“You sure?” the blonde asked, eyebrows raised.
“Oh yeah,” Skye says, lips curling into a small grin. “Call it carrying on the family tradition...”
Charlie nods, turning and sliding through the ropes. As the Darling of the Desert Southwest takes up her station in the Sweethearts’ corner, Maeve Kane gives her sister a two-handed pat on the shoulders before exiting the ring herself. And that just makes the Li’lest Mitchell’s smirk grow a little wider.
As much of a family feud as it might have been, Moira and Cynthia had always seemed to be the cornerstone of it.
The bell sounds, bringing the blonde Irish lass and her auburn haired Carolina counterpart out of their respective corners, Moira and Skye circling the ring as they approached. When the distance between them had been all but eliminated, Mitchell did the somewhat surprising...
She extended her hand to Kane.
Moira casts her eyes down to Skylar’s offering, regarding the hand almost impassively... and then rolling her eyes. “Please,” she scoffs. “Gettin’ a little ahead of yerself, arent’cha? First thing ya gotta do is PROVE to me that ya belong in the same ring as me. Do that, and maybe I’ll shake yer hand. MAYBE.”
“Fair enough,” Mitchell mutters--but instead of dropping her hand, Skye brings up the other, surging into Moira and tying up in a collar and elbow. A few seconds of jostling and jockeying proves enough to break the stalemate, with experience gaining the opening upper hand when the Irishwomen slips around behind her opponent and clamps on a tight waistlock.
Mitchell’s feet shift a little wider apart as her hands clutch at Moira’s wrists, Kane uttering a grunt as she tries to keep her grip secure. Instead, Skylar breaks the clasp, swiveling around behind her foe and answering Moira’s waistlock with one of her own! Now it’s the blonde’s turn to struggle, but before anyone might think a rookie can figure out something she couldn’t, Kane works her way out the waistlock--and keeps a hold on Skye’s wrist as she wheels around behind the Li’lest Mitchell, wrenching up on her arm in a hammerlock.
But again, the youngster has an answer, first managing to reverse the hammerlock into one of her own, and then planting a boot against the back of Moira’s calf, forcing the proud Irish blonde to her knees. Skye relinquishes the hammerlock, instead opting to apply a tight side headlock as she slides to Moira’s left. Kane groans as her head is ground tight between Mitchell’s bicep and her hip, but after a few moments, the former FAWN Tag Team champion works her way free of the current Desert Divas Tag champ’s clutches.
Quickly pushing up from her knees, Moira snatches up Skylar’s wrist and applies another hammerlock--while returning the favor from early and forcing Mitchell to kneel with a well placed boot to the pit of the knee. The auburn haired, apple-cheeked cutie grinds her teeth, her free hand slapping at her aching shoulder... until she’s able to wrench her arm free of Moira. What’s more, unnoticed by Kane until it’s too late, Skye’s feet have worked their way between the blonde’s boots, allowing the rookie to trip up her foe and send Moira plummeting to the mat, the Irish beauty barely having enough time to get her hands down to absorb some of the fall.
Both women scramble to their feet, the FAWNatics cheering as each emerges in a tensed crouch... and when Kane relaxes ever so slightly, she offers her left hand to the rookie, seemingly satisfied that Skye does indeed belong in the same ring. Mitchell regards the offering suspiciously, her concerns shared by the crowd, the majority of whom encourage her NOT to accept the invitation. Against their wishes, Skylar takes a chance, reaching to shake Moira’s hand...
... at which point, Moira’s left hand falls away--and her RIGHT hand flashes upward, her palm striking Skye’s cheek with a resounding ‘THWACK!’, the slap connecting harshly enough to not only turn Mitchell’s head, but send her whole body spinning away along with. Kane quickly nuzzles in against her foe, wrapping her arms tight around Skylar’s midsection. “Make ME fall flat on my face, would ye?” the blonde snarls, then bridges back, RIPPING the Li’lest Mitchell off her feet and putting Skye’s head and shoulders on a collision course with the canvas via a German suplex.
Just one problem: rather than fight to keep Moira from implementing her move, Skye’s boots shove off as Kane elevates her, that little extra surge allowing the Desert Diva to somersault THROUGH the toss--and from their, Mitchell shows even more nimbleness, sticking the landing in a manner which would make Domi Daly proud. That means that the rookie is still vertical, while Moira has to pick herself up. And by the time Kane is back on her feet, Skylar is OFF hers, the Carolina Cutie’s soles meeting Moira’s bosom with a dropkick.
Kane is sent back to the mat, HARD, while Skylar kips to her feet. Once again, the rookie settles into a tensed crouch as Moira rolls up to her knees, glaring at her opponent in wide-eyed disbelief. The FAWNatics respond with raucous cheers, which in turn become laughs when the Li’lest Mitchell playfully sticks her tongue out at the reeling veteran. Those laughs THEN become a budding chant of “SKY-LAR! SKY-LAR!”, which only grow louder with each upward wave of Charlie Dawson’s hands in the Sweethearts’ corner.
Rising up to her feet, Moira stops in a semi-crouch, hands on her knees as she stares intently down at the canvas, as if she's absorbing the new reality of this match. Then she tilts her head up, locks eyes, with Skylar and...smiles.
For the first time tonight, the littlest Mitchell feels a tad unnerved. For Kane's grin is that of a woman who's in on a joke that Skylar hasn't even heard the set-up for yet. Cynthia once told her, "I think there's some crazy in there, but you have to mine for it. But if you hit it, it's gonna be a mother lode." The Carolinian fears she may have dynamited her way to a thick vein of crazy, and a tiny voice in the back of her head squeaks, "We didn't sign on for this!"
Standing up and starting to casually circle around her opponent, however, Moira certainly doesn't seem crazy. Indeed, she seems focused with laser-beam intensity on her opponent. "I confess," she says in the sing-song lilt of Galway, "ye've gone and impressed me. I might go so far as t'say ye have the makings of being every bit o' good as sister Cynthia someday." Wary of a serpent's trick behind the lamb's words, Skylar nonetheless can't help but feel pride swelling in her breast at the suggestion she could one day equal her sister in the ring.
But then Kane's tone darkens as she says, "But on her very best day, Cynthia Mitchell is no match f'r me!" And with a speed that the younger grappler didn't think was possible, the blonde charges at her and delivers a boot to the midsection that doubles Skylar over with a whoosh of exhaled breath. A moment later, the youngster is met with a simultaneous kneelift to the chest and double axe handle blow to the back, dropping her to her knees. Then a standing dropkick to the chest sends Mitchell tumbling ass over teakettle, until she's face down on the mat and moaning. But if she's hoping to have a few moments respite, she's swiftly disabused of that notion, as her hair fills the fists of her opponent, how hauls her whining back up to her feet. From behind the young American, Kane's eyes fix upon a particular part of Skylar's anatomy. "Well, as I see it, ye haven't got th' bum that Cynthia has," the Gaelic grappler declares, as her hands grab the fabric of Mitchell's short shorts. "But it'll do, lassie!" And with that, Moira mightily jerks the article of clothing up, the lycra pulled deep up between the cheeks of Skylar's derriere. Mitchell's eyes go wide and she gives a high-pitched squeal as she's lifted up on tippy-toes. In her corner, Charlie Dawson places her hands to her forehead, her face a mask of grave concern for her embattled partner. On the opposite side of the ring, Maeve Kane's face wears the slightest of haughty smirks, her head nodding slowly in approval.
One hand still holding the shorts, while the other grabs tight hold of Mitchell's hair close to the roots, Kane dips her knees and with a small grunt executes a suplex. Skylar's neck and the back of her skull take the full impact, leaving her limpid and glassy-eyed. Standing over her, Moira give a half-grin and plants her right boot upon her adversary's heaving chest. The referee drops to his knees and counts off...
ONE...
TWO...
Before the count of three, the Irishwoman voluntarily lifts her boot up and punts a kick to the ribs of her young rival, rolling Mitchell over onto her side with a groan. "Not that easy," Moira sneers, as she bends over, takes Skylar by the hair once again, pulls her up, and throws her bodily toward her own corner. "Yer turn," she snarls at Charlie, then Kane turns, struts back to her corner, and slaps hands with her sister.
Aching but enraged, Skylar takes one step out of her corner... but before she can take a second, a hand grabs her shoulder, pulling her back in.
“Take five, Skye,” Charlie says, trying to settle her partner’s emotions.
“I’m okay,” Mitchell responds. “I can...”
“I KNOW you can, babe,” the bubbly young blonde replies, reassuring her. “It’s not about that. Catch your breath, clear your head...” Dawson smiles brightly before promising, “Trust me, I’ll tag ya back in before you know it.”
With the smallest of sighs, the Li’lest Mitchell raises her hand over her shoulder, Charlie responding with a downward slap to make the tag official. On the other side of the ring, the tag had LONG since been made--but Maeve appears content to watch the confab between blonde and redhead. When Dawson finally starts to slip through the ropes, the elder Kane makes a show of stifling a yawn... but Charlie answers that lack of respect with an equally impudent roll of her eyes. “Awwwwwwwww,” the American blonde coos, she and Maeve beginning to circle, “is it getting past your bedtime? It’s okay. My grandma never could stay up much past 8, either...”
Now Kane rolls her eyes... but as Charlie surges in to tie up with a collar and elbow, Maeve’s hand shoots higher than Dawson’s shoulders, her fingers jabbing into the rookie’s eyes. Charlie squeals, doubling over as she staggers back a step--and doubling over further when the Irish blonde buries a knee into the pit of her stomach.
Pivoting to the side, Maeve reaches over her shoulders, grabbing two handfuls of hair and roughly depositing Charlie on her tush with a hairmare. Kane then deftly shifts into a backpedal, until the ropes shoot her back at the seated Desert Diva. Diving over Dawson’s shoulder, the former FAWN Tag Team champ’s hands again clamp on to Charlie’s gold locks, the Irish beauty’s momentum this time leading her to SLAM the youngster’s face into the canvas. Dawson’s upper body whips back up to a seated position, blinking eyes staring blankly ahead for the second she remains vertical... until the Darling of the Desert Southwest topples into a boneless starfish.
The elder Kane foregoes the arrogant foot-on-chest cover her younger sister had applied to Skylar, even with Charlie looking even more receptive to it. Instead, she peels the rookie up with a handful of hair, and then launches Dawson on her way with an Irish whip. Only whatever the veteran had intended for her foe upon her return would remain a mystery, Maeve’s eyes widening as Charlie suddenly LEAPS toward the former tag champ. Dawson rotates as she flies, her legs snaking around Kane’s waist, Charlie facing the canvas. And as her thighs constrict, the Desert Divas tag champ swings her upper body downward, through Maeve’s legs, her Casadora Victory Roll securing Kane in a tight, wriggling ball with her shoulders flat against the mat... and as the official slides into place, his three count would put quite a bow on this monumental upset.
CASADORA VICTORY ROLL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7QSgqm9Ge8
ONE...
TWO...
THREE?
Kane kicks loose... but was it in time? The Irish lass rolls to her knees, raising an almost fearful gaze up toward the referee... and releasing a sigh of a relief when he only has two fingers raised. Meanwhile, Charlie has made it up to her HANDS and knees, the young blonde scampering toward what, through her still-a-bit-blurry vision, she could only hope was her corner...
Suddenly, the blonde crashes chin-first to the canvas, the result of her left leg being yanked out from under her, courtesy of Kane's hands wrapped around her ankle. And before the American can respond, the redhead scrambles atop her, grabbing her hair at the scalp, and slamming Charlie's face down into the mat, further stunning her. From her corner, Skylar is veritably shrieking in both concern for her partner as well as fury at the elder Kane, the young Mitchell fruitlessly extending her arm into the ring as far as she can, desperately hoping to touch fingertips with the embattled blonde. But both the distance between her and her partner...as well as Dawson's current state of daze...make any hopes of a fair tag moot.
Climbing to her feet, Maeve rolls Charlie over onto her back, grasps her legs behind the knees, and monkey flips the desert diva across the ring, and far away from the potential sanctuary of her own corner. The blonde grunts as she lands on her chest, bouncing once and skidding forward a few inches. Groaning, she plants her palms to the mat and starts to push herself up, but a boot stomp between the shoulder blades dissuades her from that.
Mere heartbeats later, Dawson is snapped out of her fog by the electric pain of an STF, deftly applied by the Irish battler. Leaning in toward her mewling victim's ear, Maeve grimly intones, "Ye've lost to those feckin' Scandalous doxies, and ye've got a Mitchell on yer team as well. Do you well an' truly believe my sister an' I are goin' to let ye win this match? We'll move Heaven an' Earth to beat ye, lass." She gives the chinlock an extra tug for emphasis, but she doesn't crank the hold up to full power. For she's not quite ready to let the Spokane siren submit just yet.
But not going full-tilt on the STF has another benefit to young Charlie: it allows the trapped, trussed up blonde to slither on her belly juuust enough to allow her to coil her fingers around the bottom rope. “BREAK!” the referee demands, but its an order that falls on deaf ears. Ever the contrarian, Maeve NOW turns the dial on her STF up to 11, forcing Dawson to shriek in agony while wailing for an end to the hold.
“ONE!” the ref barks.
Maeve merely flashes him an infuriating smile.
“TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!”
The elder Kane finally pulls back her hands, releasing the chinlock--and deprived the resistance of the Irish lass’ torturous hold, Charlie’s upper body whiplashes forward, and DOWN, her throat hitting the taut, rubber coated steel of the bottom rope and forcing her to wretch. As the rookie brings a hand to her throat, Maeve grabs hold of one ankle, rolling the young blonde to her back and dragging her into the Kane’s corner, where Moira reaches over the top rope to slap her shoulder.
The younger Kane slips into the ring, but her partner keeps a firm grip on Dawson’s boot. “Alright, Maeve,” the official sighs, “you gotta get out of the ring.”
“Not yet, I don’t,” Maeve replies, while her sister takes Charlie’s OTHER ankle and lifts her leg. The referee is about ready to start another five count, until the Irish “twins” simultaneous each lift one of their feet, and leave it hovering inside Dawson’s thighs.
“Don’t you dare...” the zebra admonishes them, Dawson herself whimpering out a hoarse series of “Nonononooooo”, raising her hands to plead with the former FAWN tag champs. Maeve and Moira smirk at one another, wordlessly debating the pros and cons of stomping down as the official begins his count. On the brink of “FOUR!”, the Kanes shrug the shoulders and lower their boots...
... but in the next instant, both sisters dive in opposing directions, each one taking one of Charlie’s gams with them.
Maeve hits the mat and rolls to the apron, while Moira quickly tumbles up to her knees. But poor Dawson sits up with a tortured scream, her hamstrings feeling like they might very well have torn. The Darling of the Desert Southwest rolls over to her knees and her chest, her wriggling hindquarters thrust upward as her feet pound in distress at the canvas.
Climbing to her feet, the younger Kane pulls Charlie to hers as well, before stepping her right leg inside Dawson’s left. Then, pushing down on her opponent’s back, Moira slips her left leg over the rookie’s bowed noggin, while gathering and securing Charlie’s right arm. Once the octopus hold is secured, Kane takes a tremendous amount of pleasure in griiiiinding her elbow into Dawson’s defenseless left flank, but while the youngster might moan and sob, she refuses to submit...
... and suddenly, Moira feels a light tap on her lower back.
Instantly understanding its meaning, the younger Kane withdraws her elbow from Charlie’s side, the Desert Divas tag champ letting out a small sigh of relief. But that easing up of the anguish not only proves fleeting, but when the pressure ramps up again, it does so with a vengeance--thanks largely to Maeve holding and pulling on her sister’s hand, unnoticed by the referee, whose eyes are locked on Dawson’s teary peepers, waiting for the first sign of surrender.
“HEY, REF!” Skylar shouts, sliding a leg through the ropes... but as she does, Maeve lets go--and Moira immediately gets back to grinding her elbow into Charlie’s ribs.
“Really?” the younger Kane asks the youngest Mitchell. “Ya really in THAT much of a hurry to get yer arse handed to ya again?”
"You never could handle Mitchell ass before," Skylar calls out, evoking memories of times Moira spent beneath Cynthia's fabled posterior. "I doubt you can now."
The younger Kane says nothing, but gives an ever-so-slight tilt of her head, while simultaneously allowing a small smirk to emerge upon her lips. Although no words are spoken, the meaning in perfectly clear: Challenge accepted!
Not once taking her eyes off of Mitchell, Moira releases her hold on Dawson. But before the Desert Diva can even begin to take advantage of her newfound freedom, she finds herself bent at the waist until she's gazing down at the canvas, the Irishwoman's arm snaked around her neck. A heartbeat later, a DDT spikes the crown of Charlie's skull into that canvas (or, more precisely, the plywood beneath), leaving her seeing a skyful of stars to rival any desert night. Kane briefly considers going for the pin, but then thinks better of it.
Rising up, the Irish blonde grabs her badly dazed opponent by her own golden mane and hauls her whining back up to her feet. Kane then drags the stumbling Dawson closer to her own corner. Closer...but not too close. Halting, Moira keeps one hand on Charlie's hair close to the roots, and grasps her right wrist with the other, holding her limp hand out. Had the Sweetheart had the presence of mind, she could have easily broken free, but as it is, she can only stand there, vacant-eyed. This gesture forces Skylar to reach over the ropes, straining every muscle to close the distance between herself and her partner, until finally she's able to just barely brush fingertips with Dawson. The referee calls for the switch, and Kane roughly shoves Charlie into her corner, where she collapses into a heap. Mitchell first crouches to check on her partner, then looks up at Moira with a visage of cold fury. "This is just the latest in a long line of mistakes you've made," the American tells her opponent. "But don't worry, it'll be the last you get to make tonight. I'll make sure of that!"
Kane steps back to center ring, taunting her adversary with a grin and a wave of her fingers. "Have at it then, lassie. Oi'm lookin' forward to addin' another notch to my 'Mitchells are my Bitchells' belt.'
With a roar, Skylar jumps up and rushes at Kane. Such a clumsy move, it's obvious to all...a rookie's error. Moira braces herself, prepared to side-step and throw her outclassed opponent to the mat.
The only problem with that idea is, this isn't some clumsy move, but rather a highly skillful feint. As the Irish lass steps sideways and tilts her body, Mitchell suddenly cartwheels, and delivers a boot flash to the side of her rival's head. Indeed, one wrestler does go down to the mat, but it isn't Skylar Mitchell.
Dropped to one knee, Moira shakes her head, her temper rising. But rising even quicker is Skylar, who kips up to her feet and throws a knee to the other woman's forehead, the impact throwing Kane flat on her back and starfished. One hop later, Mitchell lands all one-hundred and fourteen of her pounds squarely upon the blonde's tummy, the taut abs crumbling under the impact as a sickening whoosh of air rips from Moira's lungs. Dropping herself down into a straddle, Mitchell sits upon the chest of her opponent as the zebra drops down and starts to count...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOO!
A bucking bridge to break the pin at the last possible instant.
"Fine, be that way," Skylar pouts. "I'll just have to get more creative!"
In spite of the vow, however, Skye turns to some of the most basic offense available after yanking Moira up by the hair, blasting her sternum with repeated forearm shots that rock the Irish lass back on her heels. Taking a wrist, the Li’lest Mitchell sets her feet and attempts to send Kane for a ride via an Irish whip, but it’s not to be. Moira digs in her heels and reverses it...
... but as the younger Kane scoops the rebounding Skylar off her feet, NOW the youngster decides to get inventive. Kicking her legs unexpectedly high, Mitchell rotates a little more than Moira had anticipated, causing the veteran to lose her grip on the youngster as she swings through the air. To keep herself from falling before she’s ready, Skye latches an arm around Moira’s neck and kicks her feet up AGAIN, this time toppling backwards and PLANTING the crown of Kane’s skull with her Satellite DDT.
SATELLITE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=n36GU_CgF8I
Moira hits the mat with a thud and a groan, and apparently the impact of cranium to canvas is enough to give her second thoughts about having allowing Charlie Dawson out of the ring. The former FAWN Tag Team champion rolls under the bottom rope, dropping to her feet on the floor for a little breather... but Skylar is evidently a subscriber to the philosophy that there are NO time outs in wrestling. Rebounding off the far ropes, the rookie launches herself in a baseball slide underneath the bottom rope, parting her legs just enough to trap her opponent’s noggin between her calves before swinging her frame through the air and tossing Moira harshly down to the floor.
BASEBALL SLIDE HEADSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0U974k9BH1Q
Springing to her feet, Skye throws her head back and lets out an elated roar--one echoed by almost the entirety of the audience. Marching over to the fallen Moira, Mitchell gathers her up and stuffs her back onto the apron, rolling her back into the ring with a shove. Skye follows her as far as the apron, but she takes a different route back into the ring. Rocking back, the Li’lest Mitchell vaults to the top rope, and from their launches herself higher still, soaring HIIIGH into her namesake before dropping an elbow to the younger Kane’s bosom.
SPRINGBOARD ELBOW DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmDnOPY3AcI
Without a second thought, Skylar hooks a leg, scoring the...
ONE...
TWO...
NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Kane kicks out.
As Mitchell hairhauls Moira to her feet, the Li’lest Mitchell spares a brief glance toward her corner, where Charlie has worked her way up to her knees. The young blonde gives her a reassuring nod, but she’s clearly not ready to return to the contest yet.
Not a problem.
Again taking Kane’s wrist, Skye begins to whip Moira toward the far neutral corner, but again the Irish beauty proves to have an answer, reversing the whip and sending Skylar sprinting toward the buckles. Anticipating the youngster would turn her back into the collision, Kane takes off after her almost immediately, aiming to meet her in the corner with a splash...
... but apparently this American brat didn’t know to turn.
Instead, Skye reaches out both hands, grabbing the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle and kicks her legs into the air behind her. Moira tries to slam on the brakes, but there’s not enough time, Mitchell hooking her boots behind Kane’s noggin. Skylar then uses her leg strength to send the former Tag champ’s face CRASHING into the middle buckle, Moira put on her kneels, Mitchell leaning all her weight into the blonde’s back.
The referee begins to count, but Skye dismounts before her can even reach “THREE!”, allowing Moira to roll over so that the back of her head now rests against the middle turnbuckle. And a smirking Skylar doesn’t miss a beat. “And now,” the youngster grins, turning her back to the battered Irish beauty, “as I was saying about Mitchell ass...”
With that, the redheaded rookie thrusts her hips back, forcing the downed veteran to Kiss Her Grits. In all honesty, Skylar had NO idea where momma Natalie had picked up that phrase, but it had always made her chuckle. And right now, it was making Moira thrash and kick, and shove against her hips, but to no avail. Only the official’s building count forces the Li’lest Mitchell to relent.
As Skye steps back, the younger Kane tumbles away from the buckles and toward the ropes, her arms spilling over the middle cable as she gasps for air. A few feet away from Moira, Charlie has made it back to her feet, and she slaps the top turnbuckle in support of her partner. And with the crowd clapping along as well, Skylar sinks into a crouch, stomping her left boot against the canvas in time with the applause, waiting for Moira to pick herself up. Once Kane was vertical and her boot was properly loaded, Mitchell had EVERY intention of offering her Greetings from Charlotte with a superkick that would allow her to carry on the family tradition of humbling these Irish bytches...
But this wasn’t the Irish lass’s first time at the fleadh. Despite her diminished state, she is still able to see the move coming. Indeed, the very nature of the superkick is to showboat, and thus it telegraphs itself. Battle instincts kicking in, Kane manages to grab Mitchell’s boot just before the blow lands, throwing the leg aside while simultaneously lifting her own right leg up. Luckily…comparatively speaking…for Skye, the kick that was meant for her groin falls a few inches short, and instead connects with her inner left thigh. Painful to be sure, but not debilitating.
However, hunched over, hands clutching her throbbing thigh, the youngest offspring of Mère Mitchell finds her heretofore successful offensive halted in its tracks. And her comparative lack of experience causes her to not expect Moira to manage to stagger up to her feet, dash to the ropes, rebound off of them and rush at her unwary opponent, and execute a tidy Scorpion Rising.
SCORPION RISING @ :31:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=56roNvmFceU
With the blow to the base of her skull causing her to flop backwards to the mat, there are a Skyeful of stars filling the youngster's eyes, and that provides the Irish blonde the precious seconds she needs to scramble on all fours toward her corner. There, she finds the outstretched hand of her sibling. And although Maeve has taken her own share of bumps and bruises in this match, she is more than willing to step back onto the field of battle and write finis to this latest skirmish in the Kane/Mitchell war.
Advancing on the dazed and disoriented youngster, the elder Kane snatches a handful of Skylar’s locks, yanking the youngest Mitchell up to her feet before locking an arm around her foe’s neck. Maeve’s free hand then moves downward, slipping behind Skye’s thigh and hooking her leg. With Mitchell still struggling to shrug her mind free of its cobwebs, the buxom Irish beauty pops her hips, hoists her opponent into the sky, and mercilessly adds to Mitchell’s cognitive difficulties by dropping her directly on the crown of her skull with a nasty fisherman buster.
FISHERMAN BUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qF6KnwxDeg
A cover might very well have netted the Kanes a three count, but Maeve doesn’t appear to be in much of a hurry. Peeling her dull-eyed, glistening-skinned adversary off the canvas, the former FAWN Tag Team champion whips Skylar toward the far corner--and promptly takes off in pursuit of her prey nearly as soon as she’s released Mitchell’s wrist. Instinct alone allows the Li’lest Mitchell to turn her back into the buckles, Skye showing JUUUUST enough awareness of her surroundings for her eyes to widen an instant before Maeve’s voluptuous frame BURIES her in an avalanche splash.
As Skye’s cheeks puff with a loud gasp, Kane dips down, driving her shoulder into Mitchell’s abdomen and muscling the young redhead up to a seat on the top turnbuckle. Climbing onto the middle rope herself, facing her foe, Maeve scoops the Li’lest Mitchell up to her ample chest, the Irish beauty smirking before bridging backward, flipping through the air and SLAMMING Skylar down to the mat, Maeve’s one hundred and twenty-five pounds CRASHING across Skye’s yielding tummy just for good measure.
IRISH CAR BOMB (off the corner rather than ladder):
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xL-WpqB-gBM
In the Sweetheart’s corner, a weary and woozy Charlie Dawson understands well enough that their chances at victory are slipping away, but there’s one thing that the young blonde FAILS to notice: namely, that the Kane corner currently stands empty. That is, until a pair of hands clutch her ankles, yanking her feet out from under her and dropping her chin first to the apron. Somehow, Dawson lands on her feet on the floor, but she’s too stunned to react when Moira Kane suddenly claims two handfuls of hair and drops to her tush, pulling Charlie down between her outstretched thighs and DRIVING Dawson’s face into the floor.
The crowd had begun to boo vehemently the moment Moira had sprung her sneak attack, yet ironically their actions had served to AID the younger Kane, preventing the referee from hearing any of this exchange as he focused on Maeve and Skylar. And lest Charlie be able to cry out as she unknowingly rolled to her back, Moira scoots forward to take a seat on her face.
Purely to keep her quiet, of course.
Meanwhile, in the ring, Maeve too has taken a seat--her’s in Skylar’s lap. Pulling the vacant-eyed Skye up to a seated position, the Irish beauty takes a moment to brush a few stray locks away from the redhead’s half-lidded peepers. “Ya can talk about Mitchell arse all ya like,” Kane purrs, “but I happen to possess something the likes of which NONE of you Mitchell skrags can boast.”
And without further ado, Maeve THRUSTS Skylar’s face into her cleavage.
The swift elimination of light and air for the Li’lest Mitchell manages to rouse the rookie out of her stupor, at least to a degree, and a desperate Skye starts sending punch after punch into Maeve’s flanks. Kane grits her teeth through the first few stinging impacts, but it only takes until the third wave of blows for the former tag champ to sense the power behind those punches draining away. Maeve’s hands push a little harder against the back of Skylar’s noggin, a husky chuckle passing across her lips as she feels Skye’s lips tug a little more urgently at her flesh... and as she feels Mitchell’s punches become barely slaps...
... and then, not even that.
“Don’t feel ya have to check her,” the elder Kane notes, dryly. “I can keep this going all night.”
But of course, the official DOES take Skye’s wrist, lifting her limp arm.
It falls ONCE...
It falls TWICE...
It falls THREE TIMES!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer declares, while Moira Kane stuffs an all but lifeless Charlie Dawson under the bottom rope, “your winners, by knockout... RIIIUUUIIILLL KAAANNNEEESSS!!!!!”
Maeve pulls her arms away from Skye’s head to allow the referee to raise her hand in triumph--which allows Skylar to topple backward, the Li’lest Mitchell landing in a splayed ‘X’ as the elder Kane rises into a standing straddle over her vanquished opponent. Stepping away, Maeve and Moira exchange a high five as they pass one another, the elder Kane dropping her tush onto Charlie’s breadbasket as her little sister circles to Skye’s noggin.
The impact of Maeve’s bottom with Dawson’s belly causes the younger blonde’s eyelids to flutter and her bow lips to purse, but that proves to be the rookie’s only response as Kane’s ankles hook hers, the former tag champ grapevining the youngster’s legs as she allows her gurls to descend on Dawson’s features, Maeve intent on subjecting the Darling of the Desert Southwest to the same clammy oblivion her partner had experienced.
Moira, meanwhile, offers Skye a couple of words. “Not sayin’ a whole lot now, are you, brat?” she asks. “Pog ma hone, ‘buttercup’...”
The younger Kane falls to her knees, dropping her rump atop the mug of the youngest Mitchell. Skylar gains a brief reprieve as the blonde leans forward, her tush rising off Skye’s features for just a moment as Moira gathers up Mitchell’s ankles. But she then settles back--and starts to push Skylar’s stems in opposing directions. The Emerald Ire awakens the Li’lest Mitchell to a fresh new hell, and its mere seconds before Skye’s hand starts slapping the canvas.
“Awww,” Moira purrs... and then pushes Mitchell’s gams open FURTHER. “That’s just ADORABLE.” The younger Kane closes her eyes for a moment, basking in the sensation of Skylar’s screams, that Moira’s backside was absorbing.
About ten seconds later, Skye’s hand stops tapping.
Another five seconds pass before Moira climbs to her feet, while Maeve sits up atop Charlie’s belly, both Sweethearts left to dream hopefully sweet dreams in the wake of a rather dominant effort by one of FAWN’s premiere tag teams.