Post by alyadmirer on Jan 14, 2016 0:10:33 GMT
It might not have been FAWN’s oldest rivalry, or its most passionate, but it was no worse than top three for either category...
... and, given the circumstances, that seemed rather fitting.
These were, after all, two of the only three women who could lay claim to being THREE time FAWN World champion--and the last two women to achieve that honor. Between them, they had held TEN championship belts. In the twelve years of FAWN’s existence, they had met ten times between singles and tag--with each woman claiming five victories. But the only two times they had ever met with gold on the line, Portia had been able to retain--in the first instance the World championship, in the second instance the Tag Team titles.
Still, it was hard to think of two more evenly matched women, two women with such comparable resumes--each one a certain first ballot Hall of Famer--who disliked each other as strongly as these two do...
Suddenly,the arena's speakers roar into life, posing their own question for one and all:
"Do you wanna get rocked?"
”LET’S GET ROCKED:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BO1Nae_EBvQ
The audience responds with a roar worthy the main event at Mania WHEN Def Leppard's "Let's Get Rocked" begins to pump over the PA. At which point the British Bombshell herself, Sensational Shea London, strides from backstage to a rapturous reception from the Orlando faithful.
SHEA LONDON:
The blonde Briton darts down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as she does, her usual million dollar smile on full display for the crowd. The Sensational One returns to action tonight sporting what could best be described as a Union Jack two piece: her top presents a white cross with the quadrants above in red and below in blue, and white trim leading into the shoulder straps. Her bottoms are primarily blue, save for the red, upside-down ‘V’ that start at each thigh and meet at her waist, the waistband and bars both trimmed in white. Though in this case of this Union Jack, the image is broken up by an expanse of scrumptious tummy. Her kneepads display the emblem in a much more traditional fashion, with white wrist tape and boots completing the ensemble.
The gorgeous blonde makes a complete circuit around ringside, continuing to slap hands and accept the well wishes of her fans. Catching sight of one particular sign in the audience, Shea's grin grows even wider. Leaning over the railing, Shea swings her left arm around the shoulders of one fortunate fan, turning to the camera and pointing at the posterboard with her right. The placard reads, rather simply, “SHEA LONDON: THE FIRST CHAMP, AND STILL THE BEST CHAMP!!!”
Further making the fan's day, London gives him a quick peck on the cheek before bounding over to the ring.
Climbing the steps, Shea slips between the ropes, shrugs off her flag cum cape and sets it underneath the bottom turnbuckle of her corner. And as the Sensational One starts to stretch along the ropes, London’s music fades... and, even before the start of her opponent’s anthem, the FAWNatics pre-emptively begin to jeer...
First Ivy, then Cynthia and now in the ring stood FAWN’s yin to her yang; the only woman who could be considered more an icon than she…by the morons of the world. And with Shea London waiting, Baby takes her sweet time. Telling the lackeys to hold her entrance and make London wait.
Behind the curtain, the THREE-time World Champion fidgets and paces. This isn’t just about beating her nemesis, as important as that is, or keeping the World Title, as vital as that is. This is about NOT letting the Sensational One stake claim to the ultimate gold for the unprecedented FOURTH time. If Shea manages it, Portia knows she might never get back in position to tie her again, thus ceding all-time FAWN Queen to the scrubwoman from Manchester. That is NOT going to happen.
With her two remaining Associates by her side, Baby shares a hand shake with Rachel and high-five and hug with her protégé and powerhouse Alexis.
VB&A is noticeably reserved, understanding trash talking Shea between themselves is a waste of time. They all know what she can do, Portia most of all. The blonde signals for her cue.
And when the sounds of ‘How You Like Me Now' from Heavy, the drumbeating clarion call of FAWN’s infamous socialite begins, the threesome march into the arena bowl ready to make sure Baby stays the CEO of FAWN’s roster.
The crowd rises to its feet, not in support of an icon and champion, but to jeer VanBuren at levels no one else could elicit, particularly with the slender socialite in possession of FAWN’s biggest prize.
”HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM
The assembled let Lyle VanBuren’s only child have it with both barrels. The head of VB&A floats like a feather over the hatred, the enormous gold plate on the belt around her waist lifting her rather than weighing her down. Next to her, Alexis leads a vain effort to gain the titleholder some support. She relents and instead points at belt, letting everyone know the hardware remains where it belongs despite the Mitchell family’s crowning moment after the match at All Hallows Evil.
Beaming, Baby starts down the aisle, slapping her faceplate and making sure everyone knows the loss of a quarter of her father’s fortune to Gretchen Vaughn is an aggravating but increasingly distant memory. She was and now IS the best.
Portia unsnaps the leather and lifts the belt overhead; the familiar, eardrum-injuring cascade of catcalls echoing through the confines at the volume of a jet engine as she strides down the aisle, Rachel and Alexis on either side.
PORTIA VANBUREN:
ALEXIS SUGUITAN:
RACHEL RAKER:
The sinewy blonde reaches the ring, smiling and offering a queenly wave to London. Shea and Portia know the show is for the fans. Nothing either could say or do outside the ring at this point in their careers could influence the other, knock the other off their game.
The slender socialite offers a familiar toss of her flaxen mane from one side to the other as she makes her way up the ring steps. VanBuren is back to classic Portia as far as gear goes, a daringly scant black bikini with a green, sparkling dollar sign on her infamous and flawless derriere. Baby’s uva-nourished, ivory skin glows next to the black swatches, her attire completed with green pads and black boots. The footwear contains a green outline of the state of New Jersey, an iconic red circle with a slash superimposed atop the Garden State.
The blonde patrician slides into the ring only after Suguitan widens the ropes for her, Portia’s protégé, talking up her boss loudly while assisting her entrance.
Alexis stuns in her skin-tight, red mini and pumps, the copper skin of her arms and legs resplendent. Rachel takes notes in her legal pad from the floor, Raker in a wardrobe far from casual business, instead glorious in a tight pinstripe suit and skirt, her red hair up in a messy bun, black nerdy glasses precariously resting on the tip of her adorable nose.
The ring announcer breaks in as Lyle’s baby girl hops in her corner.
“And her opponent… accompanied to the ring by her partners in VanBuren & Associates, Alexis Suguitan and Rachel Raker…from Manhattan and Easthampton, New York and Monaco City, Monaco, standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing in at 120 pounds, she is the THREE, THREE, THREE TIME FAWN World Champion… Portia Ophelia VanBuren IV!”
Portia lowers the big belt to her waist, holding it there with both hands as she motions London over with a shift of her head. Shea obliges, moving only a step away, eyes locked with each other and the belt in turn.
Under the roar of the crowd, VanBuren keeps it simple.
“I want. I hit. I have.”
Shea grins, her mind racing over the years and VanBuren returns the crooked smile, perhaps each realizing the autumn may not offer days as warm as this one again. Here and now.
With everything on the line.
Portia turns to her curvy back-up, handing the belt to Alexis who in turn provides it to the ref. The official shows it off, the crowd growing more excited by the second, particularly when Shea inspects, kisses her palm and places that palm on the gold.
And once the strap is passed to one of the ring crew, the official calls for the bell, spurring one more THUNDEROUS roar from the capacity crowd as Briton and American beauties move out of their respective corners, both ready to put an explosive capper on 2015. As champion and challenger begin to stalk one another, circling the ring, their remain no words--again, what would be the point? Instead of tossing barbs, London lunges forward, seemingly ready to tie up in a collar and elbow--only her eyes are trained to the first indications of Baby moving to accept her, at which point the Sensational One intended to duck down and slip in behind VanBuren, hoping to apply a waistlock.
Portia reaches and is quickly placed on the defensive as the athletic Brit scoots around and behind in the blink of an eye. She gives Baby a stiff hug 'hello', drawing a Heimlich-like 'oooof' from Fortune's Favorite. Portia pries at Shea's hands, clasped around her tummy. She finally breaks them and, holding onto the left wrist of her foe, slips under and around, securing a hammerlock on Shea. The blonde cinches the arm high and tight. Portia then kicks at the inside of Shea's calves to widen her stance and make it harder to reverse again.
Of course, a woman of Shea's experience understands that, so she doesn't bother wasting any energy trying to reverse the hold. Instead, her free right hand slaps at her throbbing shoulder twice, then switches course--now reaching over her right shoulder. As London's fingers start to slip into Portia's tresses, the Sensational One gives her captive wing a sharp tug, hoping to break Portia's grasp on the hammerlock. And if she could do THAT, London aimed to tighten her grip on VanBuren's noggin the instant she felt her left arm work itself free, pulling Baby's jaw over her shoulder so that she could drop to her backside.
VanBuren can feel Shea search for the exit and Baby can't pretend she won't find it eventually. If they are going to play at who is the better technical wrestler, well London would win every time and twice on Sunday PPVs. So instead, once London sinks her fingers into Portia's locks, the Manhattanite releases her hammerlock grip and instead races both sets of nails down Shea's back before the Brit can make good on her jawbreaker. Shea lurches forward, her back arching in pain from the ten long scrapes down her back. And when she turns, there is Portia, remaining in place, waiting for Shea to spin so the champ can grin and shrug at her fellow FAWN original.
"Have to try out the manicure, Sheasy."
The Sensational One meets Portia's grin with a harsh glare, Shea rolling her shoulders to alleviate some of the sting from VanBuren's talons. "I've always said it's good ta know yer weaknesses," London mutters. "An' tha's one thing I can say about ya, Portia--at least ya KNOW ya can't wrestle ta save yer life."
Now it's Baby's turn for her eyes to narrow, VanBuren charging forward--exactly as Shea had hoped. Again, the British Bombshell ducks under Portia's arms, wheeling around and nuzzling in tight against the champ's back, her arms wrapping around the slender socialite's waist a second time--only this time, London's legs churn, looking to use Portia's momentum to drive her into the ropes, Shea apparently hoping to bring a quick end to the proceedings with an O'Connor Roll.
London shuffles the champion into the cables as planned, but when the duo hit, Baby's arms curl under the top strand and Shea rolls back on her own. The dirty blonde somersaults then hops to her feet again having to stare down a sh!teating VanBuren grin. Portia smooches at Shea. "Who's the better wrestler?" Baby asks. That question is enough to put a burr under Shea's saddle and the Sensational One races at VanBuren. Reaching the slender socialite in a split second, Shea's swings a clothesline to knock Portia over and out but Baby grabs the top rope and ducks underneath, Shea's momentum sending her over the top instead. VanBuren pulls herself up, releases the ropes, and strolls toward the center of the ring, pointing at her temple with one index finger while making the Manziel money rub with her other set of digits.
Just one problem... well, a problem so long as you're a member of VB&A: while London's momentum had indeed carried her over the top rope, Shea is nothing if not a noted flier, and the blonde Brit, quite impressively, manages to stick the landing on the floor in true Dominique Daly fashion. Righting herself in a little longer than the time it takes to blink an eye, London pivots back to the ring, climbing onto the apron as Fortune's Favorite confidently struts her way toward mid-ring. While Shea might not be renowned for her patience, she manages to wait for Baby to turn around, both hands coiled around the top rope as she rocks back. And when Portia starts to oblige her, London begins to launch herself over the top rope, planning to reach out an arm, capture VanBuren's noggin, and DRILL her skull into the mat with a slingshot DDT.
SLINGSHOT DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyDAWHyvc50
Alexis tries to warn her mentor, but Portia's enjoying the moment too much to pick up the shouts from stage right. Instead, she turns to reacquire the challenger's position and Shea launches. The Bombshell soars over the top rope, her arms wrapping around Baby's noggin. It's a simple shift and spin for London as she rotates around VanBuren and drops to the canvas SPIKING Portia's head into the thinly-covered plywood in violent fashion. The crowd 'WHOA's in numerous decibels as a boneless Baby flops over to her back, her carcass sliding to a top in a spreadeagle. Shea scrambles to the champion and covers in a crossbody pin, hooking a leg for...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOOO!
Alexis nearly has a heart attack as Portia slides a shoulder up no more than an inch before a final
Brian: fate-altering slap.
There's not the slightest pip of protest from the Sensational One. As solidly as she had connected with the slingshot DDT, it would have been more shocking if Portia HAD stayed down for the three and surrendered her title after enduring so relatively little. Instead, Shea climbs to her knees, pulling Baby up to a seated position in front of her. London then dropped to her tush, scooting forward slipping her legs around the waist of the slender socialite. At the same time, the blonde Brit's arms begin to slide underneath Portia's wings, Shea aiming to secure both a bodyscissors and a full nelson...
London takes a seat behind the champ and slithers her legs around Portia, like the snake she is, while doing likewise with her arms. She sweeps them under and around the limp limbs of Baby until she can lock her fingers behind VanBuren's neck. Shea gives the slender socialite a breathtaking squeeze from her tanned stems, drawing a gasping Portia back closer to coherence. Having a bit of fun, she swings Baby's head wildly from side to side while trying to cut her in half with the scissors, already succeeding in making the perfectly coiffed Portia look haggard. But Shea has more in mind and leans to her back, plucking Portia's derriere off the deck. Reversing course, she sends both herself and the champ up, forward and down, keister bouncing Portia's patootie into the deck, sending a shockwave into the tailbone and up the spine, a wide-eyed Portia reaching for her flawless glutes as Alexis warns Shea not to even think about doing it again from the outside, Portia immediately waving at Suguitan NOT to say that.
"Sorry, luv," the Sensational One grins toward a fuming Suguitan. "Bit deaf in tha' ear. Didja ask me ta do tha' again?"
VanBuren immediately starts shaking her head wildly, but she is otherwise powerless to stop Shea from rocking back, lifting Portia into the air and SLAMMING her rump to the backside one more time. But, to the delight of London's Legions, she doesn't stop there. London rocks back AGAIN, hoisting the champion aloft, then DRIVING Baby's bottom down to the deck. Finally, she relinquishes half of her combination, withdrawing her arms from underneath Portia's--but that proves only to allow the Sensational One to rock toward the right, rolling VanBuren over onto her shoulders. Shea KEEPS rolling, though, from belly to back to belly again, navigating one lap around the ring...
Then two...
Three...
Four...
FIVE...
And London isn't done yet, the referee forced to keep turning in a circle as the challenger makes her way through lap number six...
Seven...
EIGHT...
Finally, three-quarters of the way through her NINTH lap, the Sensational One draws to a halt, VanBuren left with her taut ass raised to the rafters, and her shoulders flat against the canvas. The official doesn't so much dive down to administer the count than take a drunken header to the canvas, but he still manages to check Portia's shoulders.
VanBuren, having been taken through the spin cycle, is hung out to dry on her shoulders. Both are planted to the canvas, her perfect posterior pointed to the rafters. The blonde bicycles her lean legs above to try and kick her way out of trouble, but through ONE and TWO she remains planted. The crowd roars as THREE approaches but Baby manages to flop out of the predicament. Portia pushes to her feet and takes a couple steps before face planting back to the canvas, her sense of balance unable to catch up with her sense of survival.
And Shea, still struggling herself a little bit on the balance front, quickly scampers over to the fallen champ, rolling her over before covering her for another...
ONE...
TWO...
... but STILL no THREE, VanBuren kicking free. A little more willing to risk rising to her feet, the Sensational One now climbs off the mat without incident, the British blonde leaning down to yank Portia up with a handful of hair. Transitioning her grip to the slender socialite's wrist, London starts to launch Fortune's Favorite toward the ropes with an Irish whip, readying herself to slide between the rebounding VanBuren's gams, capture an ankle and lock in her rolling half crab.
ROLLING HALF CRAB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHSASf05imc
VanBuren is sent sprinting to the ropes, but one of the Associates seems prescient on what Shea has in mind. Hopping to the apron, Alexis wraps her arms around her mentor, preventing Portia from bouncing back into trouble. The two hold in an embrace, Baby thanking her protege for the assist. But as Rachel scribbles in her pad around the corner, London is on the move, better late than never. She races toward the duo and shoots her boots between Portia's. The baseball slide connects with Suguitan's shins and knocks her off the canvas. Alexis falls to the floor, cracking her chin on the edge of the mat. Her head snaps back as she spills to the cement. Inside the ropes, Shea trips the turning blonde and rolls up to a single-leg crab like it was all part of the plan. The Brit reels in the limb, sending Baby's backbone into an agonizing curve, Shea apparently trying to touch Portia's boot to the crown of her foe's head and doing a very good job. The ref gets in VanBuren's face and asks for a surrender, but a wincing, mewling VanBuren shakes her head.
Again, the referee asks if Portia would like to surrender, and it takes nearly every ounce of self-restraint in the champion's body not to spit in his face. Shea would have to BREAK her leg before she would voluntarily give up her belt--and hand it, and her place in the FAWN history books, over to London. Luckily, it apparently wouldn't come to that, as the Sensational One releases VanBuren's gam and drops to the mat alongside her foe. Rather UN-luckily for Fortune's so-called Favorite, the blonde Briton starts to reach both hands past Portia's patrician features, hoping to grasp her left wrist with her right hand, pull back and slap a crossface on the reigning World champion.
But as London moves to capture the champ in another classic torture device, Rachel suddenly slides her clipboard into the ring. A confused official takes off to retrieve like a trained hound. As he does, a still wincing Alexis, massaging her jaw with one hand, reaches in with the other and clasps palms with Baby. She tugs the lead Associate toward the ropes despite Shea's best efforts and, by the time the striped-shirt turns back to the combatants, Portia has exchanged Suguitan's palm for the bottom rope, shouting loudly for a break.
The referee immediately calls for a break, but Shea proves uncharacteristically reluctant to relinquish the hold--not that the FAWNatics blame her, considering the circumstances under which Portia had been able to achieve the rope break. Alas, the official is not nearly so sympathetic. He initiates a five count, reaching "THREE!" before the Sensational One disgustedly lets go. As London pops to her feet, Alexis turns her attention to rallying the boss... and it takes Suguitan a couple of seconds to realize that Shea has not moved to claim the champion. The Filipino beauty looks up, and gets an eyeful of British blonde sprinting toward her, apparently ready to launch a suicide dive through the ropes. Instinct compels Alexis to duck for cover...
... much to the crowd's amusement when London pulls up short, taking a step back toward the center of the ring. As an embarrassed Associate glares daggers at the FAWN legend, Shea stoops and reaches for a handful of Baby's tresses, ready to pull Portia up and carry on her assault by wrapping her arms around VanBuren's waist and administering a bridging German suplex.
But with one arm wrapped around the top rope, Portia proves hard to budge and harder still when she swings her free elbow back and catches London in the cheek. Staggered for a moment, the Brit is, for once, slow to react as Portia spins to face her with a forearm shiver to the jaw that sends London's legs to jelly. Grabbing the challenger by a wrist and shoulder, VanBuren ushers her past, tripping the Brit so she ends on both knees in front of the ropes. Pushing Shea's throat against the middle cable, Baby climbs on board, throwing a leg through the ropes and atop Shea's shoulders to press her windpipe down on the rubber-coated steel. The official is quick to start his count and VanBuren dismounts at four. The blonde accompanies the official back to the center of the ring for a talk while a still furious Alexis wraps her palms around the back of London's neck to yank her throat tight to the choking rope.
The Sensational One has JUST enough time to draw in one gulp of clean air before Suguitan's grasp pulls her windpipe back down across the rubber coated steel. Shea's hands clutch at the middle rope, straining to push herself back up and create some room to simply breathe, but the Filipino beauty's leverage is unconquerable--especially when Alexis very nearly drops to one knee. Her boots urgently kicking at the mat, London gives up on pushing her way free and starts sweeping her arms through the rope, hoping to connect with Suguitan's noggin, but by now the brunette has sunk juuust out of the British Bombshell's reach. With Shea unable to free herself, the FAWNatics take up her case, pleading with the referee to pull himself away from Portia. A few moments later--not soon enough, as far as the crowd is concerned--the official finally starts to take a step away from VanBuren... and as he does, Rachel Raker hops onto the apron, calling the zebra over and pointing, rather insistently, toward her legal pad. The FAWNatics can only groan in disgust as he moves to order the legal eagle off the apron, while an increasingly blue-faced Sensational One kicks and thrashes ever more desperately.
And with Raker making all her best legal arguments, Portia waves Alexis back and races to Shea, planting a dropkick into her spine, not only testing the Brit's backbone but thrusting her neck against the rope. At least this time, London is able to bounce away. She chokes in deep breaths and rubs at her reddened throat while Baby signals to Rachel to leave the doofus in stripes be. Raker drops to the floor with Portia already plucking Shea off the deck and surrounding her waist from behind with an embrace. Without the power to force all the air from the FAWN icon with a bearhug, Portia instead tries to lift Shea's legs forward and high so she can swing them back down with gravity's help and drop to one knee to deliver a 50-megaton Inverted Atomic Drop between the legend's thighs.
London's Legion implore their heroine to find some manner of escape, but unfortunately for their hopes and dreams, simply replenishing her lungs is priority one, two, three and four for the Sensational One. Shea is powerless to keep Portia from muscling her off her feet, or to prevent the slender socialite from dropping to one knee, Shea landing butt and crotch first across VanBuren's outstretched thigh. The blonde Brit's jaw falls slack as she bounces away from ground zero, the only cry emerging an extremely brief and high pitched chirp as London tumbles to the canvas. There, the teary-eyed, gasping Sensational One draws into a tight ball, her thighs clenched shut, both hands sandwiched between them.
With one hand already conveniently placed, Portia straps her slender frame across London's back from the side. The blonde grabs one of the arms already between the Brit's thighs and tugs it into a very uncomfortable pumphandle. Leaning forward, the Manhattanite gives Shea a peck on the cheek (perhaps goodbye the FAWNatics have to consider). Portia then wraps an arm under and around London's to secure the rest of her cargo and tries to launch Shea into a spinning flight in front of her, again ready to genuflect and bust the hell out of Shea's gut.
PUMPHANDLE GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbFqgI6XCz4
Getting Shea aloft doesn't prove all that difficult. And while some would say the air is London's natural habitat, there proves to be nothing friendly about her trip into these skies. At the height of the Sensational One's ascent, Baby turns her opponent over before once more dropping to one knee. This time, it's the British blonde's belly that SLAMS down across smooth, shapely thigh--not QUITE as agonizing, but quite self-evidently devastating as London slumps off of Portia's knee and lands on her own, the blonde sinking back onto her haunches, one arm pressed tight to her impaled tummy, Shea sporting the expression of a woman who'd had about three too many pints out at the pub the night before. Retching and sputtering, London topples forward to rest on her chest as well as her knees.
Portia shoves what's left of London onto her back and rises. A slight pained grin in place, Baby feigns placing a boot on Shea's chest for a Gladiatrix-style pin but instead skips over and strides to the nearest buckles. Climbing to the top, Portia, an infrequent flier, turns to face the splayed London. She raises her arms high, drawing only whistles and catcalls from the crowd. Slipping into a slight crouch, VanBuren launches. It's a commuter flight compared to Shea, but if she can land her extended legs across London's throat and chest and win via a Sensational Knockoff what a delightful humiliation would be at hand.
It's a short flight, and surprisingly for Portia one in coach compared to London's acrobatics, but in this particular case, what matters IS the destination and not the journey. VanBuren's gams SLAM down atop the Sensational One's bosom and windpipe, sending London's luscious legs flying into the air. As the Brit's stems drop back to the canvas, the rest of the FAWN Original falls alarmingly still, Baby showing very little urgency as she reclines across Shea's chest. She doesn't even bother with a hook of the leg as the official slaps off the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
London fires a balled right fist into the air, raising her shoulder off the mat, with a fraction of a second to spare.
On the outside, Alexis tears into hysterics and even Rachel looks up from her legal pad to make a not altogether judicious claim. But that's nothing compared to the Portia in the ring who flies up from her British padding and into the face of the official. "Gretchen buy you off? Is that it?" The man throws up his hands. "Two. Portia. That's my call." Baby threatens a kick to his twig and berries but instead turns to a stirring Shea, the British bulldog up to all fours. "Let me help you out a little, Jersey," Portia says, grabbing the dirty blonde locks and tugging Shea to rubbery legs. Van Buren lines London up with the far buckles, ready to "guide" her rival to the corner and follow her in with a leaping knee to the chin to knock what little sense remains in the Manchester native straight into the back row.
London hurtles toward the buckles, Fortune's Favorite in hot pursuit... only with each stride they take, Portia becomes increasingly aware that the Sensational One ISN'T turning her back for a collision with the turnbuckles. That prompts the slender socialite to ad lib, and instead of launching a knee, VanBuren lowers her shoulder... but as Portia drops her gaze, Shea leaves her feet, landing on the bottom rope. Quickly grabbing the top rope with both hands, the Sensational One doesn't remain on her perch for long, Flying into the air, Shea twists her body, landing in a straddle of the doubled Portia's back--and facing out into the ring. Apparently an old dog in FAWN *can* learn some new tricks, for the blonde Brit throws her weight forward, hoping to swing THROUGH VanBuren's gams and turn the tide with a sunset flip powerbomb.
SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw69VCxkayI
The crowd roars as London lands on her reverse mount of the doubled and confused Trust Fund Terror. Alexis suddenly realizes the danger and reaches for a desperate Portia's hand but comes up short. The somersaulting Shea RIPS Baby off her moorings and backflips VanBuren into an incredible powerbomb that DRIVES Portia into the canvas with remarkable force. Baby is stacked on her shoulders and, more than that, not squirming for freedom, London nodding along with the crowd as they count up to Shea's FOURTH World Title reign with the...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENNOOOO!
Somehow the champ digs deeps and rolls through the rest of the way ending on her chest, head pointed to London, perhaps VanBuren showing to some FAWNatics she did indeed deserve to be considered among FAWN's best ever, even if never admitting she was Shea's equal.
And as the champion tumbles over, Shea too pitches to her back, the Sensational One left spreadeagled, staring up the lights, her reserves seemingly exhausted. And with both women down, the referee has little choice but to start counting...
“ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!"
Suddenly, London's legs soar into the air, the blonde Brit rolling back onto her shoulders before kipping to her feet--the FAWNatics erupting at the sight of Shea's apparent second wind. Marching over to the fallen socialite, the challenger hairhauls Portia off the canvas, then forces her into a backpedal with a pair of forearm smashes to the sternum. Baby's retreat is halted, however, when London reaches out and claims a wrist, preparing to whip VanBuren toward the very same set of buckles Portia had launched her toward moments ago--and intending to follow her in with a handspring elbow.
Seemingly barely aware of her circumstances, let alone able to reverse the Irish whip, Portia's only hope is that her legs will give out before getting her across the canvas. Unfortunately for Lyle's baby girl, she shows her toughness again, making it across and turning into a wicked collision. VanBuren slumps into the corner as a distraught Alexis runs her hands through her long raven locks. Already Shea is on the way, racing across the canvas in a tumbling run just short of Janel Manning or Domi Daly. She ends it with the perfect handspring into a piercing elbow that DRIVES into the less than cavernous cleft of Portia's A-cups. The emerald eyes of the slender socialite cross almost comically, but there's nothing funny to the Associates as they watch Portia stagger out of the corner in a semi-circle, Shea's eyes lighting up as Baby reels herself back toward London like a demolished yo-yo.
And once she's within range, London's fingers plunge into VanBuren's locks. The British blonde's hand then sends the reigning World champion's mug SLAMMING into the top turnbuckle with a forceful shove. Her fingers tightening in VanBuren's tresses, the Sensational One pulls back on Baby's noggin, only to introduce her face to the thin leather padding a second, third and FOURTH time, each blow a little stronger than the one that had preceded it. As London pulls her hand away, Portia manages to wheel her back to the buckles...
... and then her legs shimmy, Fortune's Favorite crashing to a seat in the corner. The FAWNatics waste no time letting Shea know what they want to see next, but the Sensational One hadn't needed the suggestion, London quickly navigating her way toward the opposite corner. Giving the top turnbuckle a resounding SLAP, Shea pivots and sprints toward the fallen Fortune's Favorite, ready to bust this overpriced bronco.
London sprints toward her target but halfway there a chickenfight breaks out between the ref and Alexis, Suguitan trying to pull VanBuren out of harm's way; the ref trying to keep her from interfering. London takes a detour left turn and, reaching over the referee's shoulder, grabs a wrist of the Filipino beauty, tugging her into the ring instead of pushing her out. Adrenaline pumping through the Brit like only the most memorable London Run could provide. She buggywhips Suguitan to the opposite ropes and, on the rebound takes off, leaping high, her legs wrapping around the wide-eyed features of the junior Associate.
Before Alexis can counter, Shea sends the dark-haired grappler flipping through the air with a sprightly hurricarana, London using her years of experience to also direct Suguitan to the same corner where the soggy senior member resides. Alexis skids on her ass into Portia's lap, the dazed dilapidated Associates now in a two-layer stack. Shea takes a glance at Raker who seems frozen in her tracks. Again Shea traces back to the opposite buckles for a slap of the top and races to Alexis and Portia. She leaps legs extended, her backside CRASHING into Alexis' chest and sandwiching the blasted Portia underneath, the crowd going apesh!t as Shea busts two Associate broncos for the price of one, each growing more flaccid with the accumulating thrusts, all the way up to a full dozen.
The Sensational One rolls away following the final thrust, almost able to feel the World belt around her waist again as she climbs to her feet. But as she reaches to peel the remnants of the Filipino penthouse terror off of the senior partner, Rachel Raker climbs onto the apron, screaming for the referee's attention. She makes an impassioned case that Shea London has used Alexis Suguitan as a foreign object against the reigning champion, and on those grounds, that she should be immediately disqualified. The official starts to answer, but just as his mouth opens, a whistle prompts him to turn around--at which point he sees the Sensational One charging toward him, with a doubled over Suguitan in tow.
While HE has time to dive out of the way, Raker is not so lucky, and she ends up on the receiving end of a shoulder to the midsection when London tosses Alexis through the ropes. Both Associates crash to the floor thanks to the exotic brunette's imposed spear, the FAWNatics ERUPTING as Shea turns and stalks her way back to a slowly stirring Portia. Yanking the champ to rubbery legs via a handful of hair, the blonde Brit laces an arm around VanBuren's neck and turns toward the center of the ring. Charging out of the corner, Shea drags her cargo alongside, moments away from leaving her feet and SLAMMING Baby's mug into the mat with a bulldog.
But Shea's time away dealing with the other Associates apparently provided the resourceful Portia enough time to get some of her wits about her. When the duo come hustling out of the corner and London leaps, legs extended, Portia has the wherewithal to get her hands against the Brit's hips and, at the proper moment, shove for all she's worth. London is sent on the trip alone while Baby avoids the bulldogging. Plan thwarted, Shea manages to land on her feet and is quick to spin to find her wayward foe, but VanBuren surges toward the challenger, lifting a right leg toward the Manchester native's chin to finally put an end to this London Run with a Big Boot.
It had always been the way: Baby might not be the biggest, she might not be the fastest, and she certainly wasn't the strongest, but what she might very well be is the craftiest. And her guile serves her well here, VanBuren raised a perfectly timed luscious leg to catch the turned Sensational One square under the jaw with her sole. Shea's head snaps back, the blonde Brit's gams flying out from underneath her, London plummeting to the deck. Shea's back hits hard, but perhaps the worst part of the landing is when London's head whiplashes back, her skull SLAMMING into barely padded plywood, the Sensational One's eyes momentarily crossing as her arms spill limp above her head. And, just like that, the FAWNatics are silenced.
VanBuren wearily raises her arms over her head, though the Run just ended doesn't leave her in a position for much of a celebration or even follow-up. In fact, after considering what to do next, the blonde simply melts over the top of the dazed Shea, lightly hooking a leg and rolling her foe into a tight cradled ball for the...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
London's hips buck harshly--it's not so much a powerful movement as an abrupt one, but with Portia still feeling the effects of the Run, it proves enough to break VanBuren's grasp of her leg and dislodge her from atop the Sensational One... but had it been in time? As the glistening blonde Brit flops over to her stomach, Baby turns to the official, his hand still frozen little more than a centimeter off the mat. "TWO!" he shouts, rising to his knee and holding up only two digits. "TWO!"
Portia's head drops, chin to chest, no energy for another tussle with the zebra. Instead, she uses Shea's body to push to her feet. The World Champ throws her head back and draws in deep breaths. "I'm not as young as I used to be," she mutters, but then grabs Shea by her dirty blonde locks. "But neither are you."
VanBuren tugs Shea to her feet and brings the doubled Brit close, hammerlocking an arm behind London's back. Perhaps working on her final reserves, Portia 'hups' Shea into her lap, London's legs reflexively wrapping around Baby's waist. The crowd quiets as they see 'The Color of Money' coming up gold for Portia, her signature cradle DDT about to take the starch out of the FAWN legend.
THE COLOR OF MONEY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeENkUBLt1I
Deprived her moorings and with one arm effectively bound, there's little Shea can do to stop Portia from leaning ever so slightly forward, and then VIOLENTLY rocking back, dropping the the mat and SPIKING the Sensational One's head into the canvas. While this time it's the crown of London's skull that takes the brunt of the impact instead of the back of her noggin, that appears to make little difference to the damage inflicted. Indeed, for a split second, the blonde remains planted in a headstand, almost as if her melon had become fused with the mat... but gravity would not be denied for long, pulling Shea down into a boneless sprawl, her eyes dulled and chest heaving with each pant.
A partially recovered Alexis manages some pained claps on the sidelines, the Filipino beauty still wiping some of the bronco busting humidity from her features. For her part, Portia is slow but steady and looking like an absolute daisy compared to London. Perhaps surprisingly, she passes on the pin and instead grabs a wrist, taking a rubbery Shea to her feet. She aims the Englishwoman at a far corner and lets loose with the Irish whip. Shea turns and 'explodes' into the buckles but remains upright, throwing her arms over the top ropes on either side. VanBuren strides in slowly and turns her back to the dazed challenger. She climbs to the middle rope, ready to drop dollar sign and show Shea the Bare Ass Market is in full bloom.
Sure enough, the sight of Portia slipping her fingers into her waistband is enough to transform a portion of the FAWNatics boos and jeers to cheers and whistles, which only get louder as VanBuren bares more and more of her priceless cheeks. "Oh, please," Baby spits in disgust toward the masses. "Head back across the Turnpike."
With that, Fortune's Favorite thrusts her hips backward, pressing her buttocks tight to Shea's features and paying back the blonde Brit's bronco buster with compound interest. When VanBuren feels London's hands move to meet her hips, she brings hers to the top rope, securing a white-knuckled grip that allows her to ride out the worst of the Sensational One's shoves--with "ride" being the operative word. Shea's legs kick frantically, but the slender socialite is perched quite safely above their reach for the moment. Before long, she can feel London's hands shift from shoves to slap--a development that brings a vengeful, satisfied smile to Portia's lips. And when Fortune's Favorite dismounts the middle rope, London plops to a seat in the corner, her head lolling back to rest against the middle buckles, eyes blank and features greased.
Portia tugs her bottoms back into place, no one in the crowd is particularly pleased with that development. Luckily for the lead Associate, she could give a shyt. Instead, she moves to Shea and cups a hand under her foe's chin. "You ready to ride off into the sunset in my 911, Shea? I know these people want to see it."
Baby grabs a wrist and starts tugging the flaccid Brit toward center stage cavewoman style for the grand finale of grande finales. Three-time champ staking her claim for best ever against three-time champ and, if Portia drove her finisher home, who could deny her?
VanBuren drops Shea's arm... only after dropping maybe an inch or two, the Sensational One suddenly reaches upward, slipping her arm around the back of Portia's neck. At the same time, London's butt scoots across the canvas, just enough to allow the Brit to slip a leg between Baby's parted stems and hook a thigh. With the champion already off balance, Shea pours possibly her last vestiges of resolve into trying to pull Portia down and into a tight small package, that with any luck would hold for just three seconds.
VanBuren squirms in her tight ball, the crowd counting along with the official, Alexis yanking her raven locks in growing concern as the mat is slapped ONE...TWO...THRNOOO! Portia escapes with a kickout and lands on her side. She scrambles to all fours and scurries to Shea, landing a forearm smash between a still slowed London's eyes. Grabbing a wrist, the Manhattanite yanks London to unsteady feet and bullies her to a corner. VanBuren takes the inside position, her back to the buckles, Shea face to face. Baby's fingers dig deep in the Bombshell's dirty blonde mop. Lyle's only child stairsteps to the middle ropes and leaps off, forcing Shea into a backpedal, hoping to force more with her Boob Job.
BOOB JOB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJs-L1k19lU
Shea's arms rise up, reaching toward VanBuren's thighs, the Sensational One aware enough to think of trying to transform Baby's Boob Job into a powerbomb... but while the wits might be there, this time the body proves just a tick too slow, the champ's weight driving London down to the mat, until Portia's nearly perfect posterior SLAMS down onto the blonde Brit's bosom. Fortune's Favorite bounces away, Shea's top straining to keep a proper confines on her bounty as VanBuren lands on her knees a foot or so beyond Shea's noggin, London groaning as she weakly rolls over to one hip.
Baby turns and knee-walks to the challenger. Grabbing her foe by the hair, Portia pulls London to a seated position and takes to her perfect ass behind the Englishwoman. Baby rolls to her side while scissoring up the left leg of the FAWN legend. If she could reach across from behind and snatch Shea's right lower limb, it might be time to Stretch a Buck and end this title match with her legspread submission.
STRETCHING A BUCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcgDGJvz9GM&list=PL6D543E88E233B021&index=8
As soon as London feels her left leg ensnared by Portia's stems. she knows what's about to happen, and tries to slip her right leg out of reach... but again, knocked breathless by the Boob Job--and that itself on the heels of the Bare Ass Market--there remains a lag between the signal leaving her brain and reaching her muscles, allowing VanBuren to grab her ankle and YAAAAANK back. Shea lets out an instant howl of anguish, her hamstrings EXPLODING in torment, the Brit's hands involuntarily dropping toward the junction of her thighs.
"What do you say, Shea?" the referee asks, but London says nothing--she instead bites her bottom lip, trying to keep from unleashing another scream. Her eyes beginning to water and blink, the Sensational One directs her gaze toward locating the near ropes. Finding them, Shea stretches her hand toward the cables... and comes up a good two feet short. The British blonde tries to lean forward... which only INTENSIFIES the flames engulfing her poor hamstrings. London can't keep the whimper inside as she slumps back, melting against Portia's torso. Clearly, there could be NO escape through the ropes, not so long as Baby had her legs so thoroughly tied up. Even so, she wouldn't give up. She COULDN'T give up... could she? In a very short time, she wouldn't have a choice--not if Portia kept testing the elasticity of this British "Buck"...
But thankfully and not so thankfully for Shea, it seems Baby has no plans to win this match in any way but the 911. VanBuren tests London with the legspread for another half-dozen seconds before releasing the hold, the challenger having apparently earned the ultimate ending. Unleashing Shea from both sides, Baby moves to her a kneel behind the wincing Brit, London working at her inner thighs to remove the knots in her groin muscles. As Shea sits, legs extended, Portia snuggles in from behind, She collects one of London's arms and quickly wraps her arms around Shea's pilfered limb, using it to try and cut off the flow of blood to Shea's brain with a cobra clutch. "Time for a little anesthesia Sheasy. You don;'t want to have the 911 be a bumpy ride, now do you?" Portia gives London's head a violent rattle. "On last little joy ride for yours truly and everyone will know I'M the best ever."
One arm not only trapped but transformed into a weapon against her very self, Shea's free arm flails in the air, fingers flexing, again straaaaaiiiinnning to reach the ropes... but not even coming as close as she had been able to do just moments ago. At least this time, the Sensational One's legs are no longer restrained, but alas, she can only manage to scoot forward a couple of inches before her thrashing arm begins to falter. And only a few moments later, it appears that the ONLY thing driving the movement of Shea's flopping arm are the jerks and jostles that Portia is giving her...
But before the official can step in and take control of London's free flaccid arm, Baby releases her Clutch. She backs slowly on her knees to let the challenger's head drop softly to the canvas, Baby apparently not wanting to wake her drowsy foe. She then 'walks' forward over the splayed Shea, the crowd growing increasingly despondent as the ass of the slender socialists hovers over Shea's features. Lyle VanBuren's only child reaches forward, looking to scoop behind either knee of her rival and start to matchbook London for her final ride, ready to drop her derriere onto her legendary foe/throne, once she has the lower limbs yanked toward her and locked.
London's Legion sink from despondent to downright morose as Shea's exquisite stems are gathered up and tucked underneath Portia's arms, the Sensational One's taut hindquarters raised to the rafters as VanBuren sits back, settling her weight firmly atop London's mug. The smother snugly in place, all that remains left for Fortune's Favorite to do is sink her talons into the blonde's Brit's thoroughly defenseless crotch. It's a testament to just how far into oblivion she had already been driven that the claw produces only the weakest of bucking and thrashing from the challenger, which VanBuren is easily capable of riding out... and it doesn't last long. But even as the Brit's writhing begins to ebb, Shea's left hand rises a couple of inches off the mat... and drops down... and rises again... and DROPS again. Whether intended that way or not, the referee interprets it as a submission, and promptly calls for the bell.
And whether the ref takes it the right way or not, VanBuren doesn't rise from London's face, instead shifting her undercarriage forward and back over the forehead, nose and lips of the loser. Baby releases her grasp on Shea's crotch and lets the lifeless lower limbs tumble to the deck, instead flattening the English crosses atop London's pert bosom with either palm. On the outside, Alexis turns toward the FAWNatics and nods with a sh!teating grin while Rachel clicks her pen and places it behind her left ear, no further note taking necessary.
While the bell tolls and the announcer makes his unhappy announcement VanBuren remains FAWN's World Champion by knockout, Portia dips her pelvis so she can delve her thinly-sheathed crotch and rump over London's features, rubbing them red while clearly getting increasingly hot and bothered. The zebra starts to count for a possible KO but throws up his hands and watches like everyone else. Portia huffs and grunts as she increases the pace. This might never happen again and she is going to enjoyuuuhhhhh it. Spent, the blonde falls forward atop London's torso, Shea's face reappearing coated in more than sweat, the face of the Brit glazed in Portia's victory. Only now do her fellow Associates enter, each scooping under an arm and lifting the champion to her feet, Alexis handing over the gaudy golden belt. Portia hugs it close and places a boot atop Shea's softly rolling chest.
Handed a microphone by Rachel, she brings it to her lips. "Clean as a whistle, Jerseys. That's the way I beat this bytch."
“Except for her face," Alexis interrupts with a giggle. "True," Portia responds, "but even that shows that WITHOUT A DOUBT I am the best ever." Portia drops the mic on Shea's tummy with a meaty 'clop' and the Associates bolt arm in arm, leaving the arena clean-up crew to scrape up what's left of Shea and cart the carcass to the back.
... and, given the circumstances, that seemed rather fitting.
These were, after all, two of the only three women who could lay claim to being THREE time FAWN World champion--and the last two women to achieve that honor. Between them, they had held TEN championship belts. In the twelve years of FAWN’s existence, they had met ten times between singles and tag--with each woman claiming five victories. But the only two times they had ever met with gold on the line, Portia had been able to retain--in the first instance the World championship, in the second instance the Tag Team titles.
Still, it was hard to think of two more evenly matched women, two women with such comparable resumes--each one a certain first ballot Hall of Famer--who disliked each other as strongly as these two do...
Suddenly,the arena's speakers roar into life, posing their own question for one and all:
"Do you wanna get rocked?"
”LET’S GET ROCKED:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BO1Nae_EBvQ
The audience responds with a roar worthy the main event at Mania WHEN Def Leppard's "Let's Get Rocked" begins to pump over the PA. At which point the British Bombshell herself, Sensational Shea London, strides from backstage to a rapturous reception from the Orlando faithful.
SHEA LONDON:
The blonde Briton darts down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as she does, her usual million dollar smile on full display for the crowd. The Sensational One returns to action tonight sporting what could best be described as a Union Jack two piece: her top presents a white cross with the quadrants above in red and below in blue, and white trim leading into the shoulder straps. Her bottoms are primarily blue, save for the red, upside-down ‘V’ that start at each thigh and meet at her waist, the waistband and bars both trimmed in white. Though in this case of this Union Jack, the image is broken up by an expanse of scrumptious tummy. Her kneepads display the emblem in a much more traditional fashion, with white wrist tape and boots completing the ensemble.
The gorgeous blonde makes a complete circuit around ringside, continuing to slap hands and accept the well wishes of her fans. Catching sight of one particular sign in the audience, Shea's grin grows even wider. Leaning over the railing, Shea swings her left arm around the shoulders of one fortunate fan, turning to the camera and pointing at the posterboard with her right. The placard reads, rather simply, “SHEA LONDON: THE FIRST CHAMP, AND STILL THE BEST CHAMP!!!”
Further making the fan's day, London gives him a quick peck on the cheek before bounding over to the ring.
Climbing the steps, Shea slips between the ropes, shrugs off her flag cum cape and sets it underneath the bottom turnbuckle of her corner. And as the Sensational One starts to stretch along the ropes, London’s music fades... and, even before the start of her opponent’s anthem, the FAWNatics pre-emptively begin to jeer...
First Ivy, then Cynthia and now in the ring stood FAWN’s yin to her yang; the only woman who could be considered more an icon than she…by the morons of the world. And with Shea London waiting, Baby takes her sweet time. Telling the lackeys to hold her entrance and make London wait.
Behind the curtain, the THREE-time World Champion fidgets and paces. This isn’t just about beating her nemesis, as important as that is, or keeping the World Title, as vital as that is. This is about NOT letting the Sensational One stake claim to the ultimate gold for the unprecedented FOURTH time. If Shea manages it, Portia knows she might never get back in position to tie her again, thus ceding all-time FAWN Queen to the scrubwoman from Manchester. That is NOT going to happen.
With her two remaining Associates by her side, Baby shares a hand shake with Rachel and high-five and hug with her protégé and powerhouse Alexis.
VB&A is noticeably reserved, understanding trash talking Shea between themselves is a waste of time. They all know what she can do, Portia most of all. The blonde signals for her cue.
And when the sounds of ‘How You Like Me Now' from Heavy, the drumbeating clarion call of FAWN’s infamous socialite begins, the threesome march into the arena bowl ready to make sure Baby stays the CEO of FAWN’s roster.
The crowd rises to its feet, not in support of an icon and champion, but to jeer VanBuren at levels no one else could elicit, particularly with the slender socialite in possession of FAWN’s biggest prize.
”HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM
The assembled let Lyle VanBuren’s only child have it with both barrels. The head of VB&A floats like a feather over the hatred, the enormous gold plate on the belt around her waist lifting her rather than weighing her down. Next to her, Alexis leads a vain effort to gain the titleholder some support. She relents and instead points at belt, letting everyone know the hardware remains where it belongs despite the Mitchell family’s crowning moment after the match at All Hallows Evil.
Beaming, Baby starts down the aisle, slapping her faceplate and making sure everyone knows the loss of a quarter of her father’s fortune to Gretchen Vaughn is an aggravating but increasingly distant memory. She was and now IS the best.
Portia unsnaps the leather and lifts the belt overhead; the familiar, eardrum-injuring cascade of catcalls echoing through the confines at the volume of a jet engine as she strides down the aisle, Rachel and Alexis on either side.
PORTIA VANBUREN:
ALEXIS SUGUITAN:
RACHEL RAKER:
The sinewy blonde reaches the ring, smiling and offering a queenly wave to London. Shea and Portia know the show is for the fans. Nothing either could say or do outside the ring at this point in their careers could influence the other, knock the other off their game.
The slender socialite offers a familiar toss of her flaxen mane from one side to the other as she makes her way up the ring steps. VanBuren is back to classic Portia as far as gear goes, a daringly scant black bikini with a green, sparkling dollar sign on her infamous and flawless derriere. Baby’s uva-nourished, ivory skin glows next to the black swatches, her attire completed with green pads and black boots. The footwear contains a green outline of the state of New Jersey, an iconic red circle with a slash superimposed atop the Garden State.
The blonde patrician slides into the ring only after Suguitan widens the ropes for her, Portia’s protégé, talking up her boss loudly while assisting her entrance.
Alexis stuns in her skin-tight, red mini and pumps, the copper skin of her arms and legs resplendent. Rachel takes notes in her legal pad from the floor, Raker in a wardrobe far from casual business, instead glorious in a tight pinstripe suit and skirt, her red hair up in a messy bun, black nerdy glasses precariously resting on the tip of her adorable nose.
The ring announcer breaks in as Lyle’s baby girl hops in her corner.
“And her opponent… accompanied to the ring by her partners in VanBuren & Associates, Alexis Suguitan and Rachel Raker…from Manhattan and Easthampton, New York and Monaco City, Monaco, standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing in at 120 pounds, she is the THREE, THREE, THREE TIME FAWN World Champion… Portia Ophelia VanBuren IV!”
Portia lowers the big belt to her waist, holding it there with both hands as she motions London over with a shift of her head. Shea obliges, moving only a step away, eyes locked with each other and the belt in turn.
Under the roar of the crowd, VanBuren keeps it simple.
“I want. I hit. I have.”
Shea grins, her mind racing over the years and VanBuren returns the crooked smile, perhaps each realizing the autumn may not offer days as warm as this one again. Here and now.
With everything on the line.
Portia turns to her curvy back-up, handing the belt to Alexis who in turn provides it to the ref. The official shows it off, the crowd growing more excited by the second, particularly when Shea inspects, kisses her palm and places that palm on the gold.
And once the strap is passed to one of the ring crew, the official calls for the bell, spurring one more THUNDEROUS roar from the capacity crowd as Briton and American beauties move out of their respective corners, both ready to put an explosive capper on 2015. As champion and challenger begin to stalk one another, circling the ring, their remain no words--again, what would be the point? Instead of tossing barbs, London lunges forward, seemingly ready to tie up in a collar and elbow--only her eyes are trained to the first indications of Baby moving to accept her, at which point the Sensational One intended to duck down and slip in behind VanBuren, hoping to apply a waistlock.
Portia reaches and is quickly placed on the defensive as the athletic Brit scoots around and behind in the blink of an eye. She gives Baby a stiff hug 'hello', drawing a Heimlich-like 'oooof' from Fortune's Favorite. Portia pries at Shea's hands, clasped around her tummy. She finally breaks them and, holding onto the left wrist of her foe, slips under and around, securing a hammerlock on Shea. The blonde cinches the arm high and tight. Portia then kicks at the inside of Shea's calves to widen her stance and make it harder to reverse again.
Of course, a woman of Shea's experience understands that, so she doesn't bother wasting any energy trying to reverse the hold. Instead, her free right hand slaps at her throbbing shoulder twice, then switches course--now reaching over her right shoulder. As London's fingers start to slip into Portia's tresses, the Sensational One gives her captive wing a sharp tug, hoping to break Portia's grasp on the hammerlock. And if she could do THAT, London aimed to tighten her grip on VanBuren's noggin the instant she felt her left arm work itself free, pulling Baby's jaw over her shoulder so that she could drop to her backside.
VanBuren can feel Shea search for the exit and Baby can't pretend she won't find it eventually. If they are going to play at who is the better technical wrestler, well London would win every time and twice on Sunday PPVs. So instead, once London sinks her fingers into Portia's locks, the Manhattanite releases her hammerlock grip and instead races both sets of nails down Shea's back before the Brit can make good on her jawbreaker. Shea lurches forward, her back arching in pain from the ten long scrapes down her back. And when she turns, there is Portia, remaining in place, waiting for Shea to spin so the champ can grin and shrug at her fellow FAWN original.
"Have to try out the manicure, Sheasy."
The Sensational One meets Portia's grin with a harsh glare, Shea rolling her shoulders to alleviate some of the sting from VanBuren's talons. "I've always said it's good ta know yer weaknesses," London mutters. "An' tha's one thing I can say about ya, Portia--at least ya KNOW ya can't wrestle ta save yer life."
Now it's Baby's turn for her eyes to narrow, VanBuren charging forward--exactly as Shea had hoped. Again, the British Bombshell ducks under Portia's arms, wheeling around and nuzzling in tight against the champ's back, her arms wrapping around the slender socialite's waist a second time--only this time, London's legs churn, looking to use Portia's momentum to drive her into the ropes, Shea apparently hoping to bring a quick end to the proceedings with an O'Connor Roll.
London shuffles the champion into the cables as planned, but when the duo hit, Baby's arms curl under the top strand and Shea rolls back on her own. The dirty blonde somersaults then hops to her feet again having to stare down a sh!teating VanBuren grin. Portia smooches at Shea. "Who's the better wrestler?" Baby asks. That question is enough to put a burr under Shea's saddle and the Sensational One races at VanBuren. Reaching the slender socialite in a split second, Shea's swings a clothesline to knock Portia over and out but Baby grabs the top rope and ducks underneath, Shea's momentum sending her over the top instead. VanBuren pulls herself up, releases the ropes, and strolls toward the center of the ring, pointing at her temple with one index finger while making the Manziel money rub with her other set of digits.
Just one problem... well, a problem so long as you're a member of VB&A: while London's momentum had indeed carried her over the top rope, Shea is nothing if not a noted flier, and the blonde Brit, quite impressively, manages to stick the landing on the floor in true Dominique Daly fashion. Righting herself in a little longer than the time it takes to blink an eye, London pivots back to the ring, climbing onto the apron as Fortune's Favorite confidently struts her way toward mid-ring. While Shea might not be renowned for her patience, she manages to wait for Baby to turn around, both hands coiled around the top rope as she rocks back. And when Portia starts to oblige her, London begins to launch herself over the top rope, planning to reach out an arm, capture VanBuren's noggin, and DRILL her skull into the mat with a slingshot DDT.
SLINGSHOT DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyDAWHyvc50
Alexis tries to warn her mentor, but Portia's enjoying the moment too much to pick up the shouts from stage right. Instead, she turns to reacquire the challenger's position and Shea launches. The Bombshell soars over the top rope, her arms wrapping around Baby's noggin. It's a simple shift and spin for London as she rotates around VanBuren and drops to the canvas SPIKING Portia's head into the thinly-covered plywood in violent fashion. The crowd 'WHOA's in numerous decibels as a boneless Baby flops over to her back, her carcass sliding to a top in a spreadeagle. Shea scrambles to the champion and covers in a crossbody pin, hooking a leg for...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOOO!
Alexis nearly has a heart attack as Portia slides a shoulder up no more than an inch before a final
Brian: fate-altering slap.
There's not the slightest pip of protest from the Sensational One. As solidly as she had connected with the slingshot DDT, it would have been more shocking if Portia HAD stayed down for the three and surrendered her title after enduring so relatively little. Instead, Shea climbs to her knees, pulling Baby up to a seated position in front of her. London then dropped to her tush, scooting forward slipping her legs around the waist of the slender socialite. At the same time, the blonde Brit's arms begin to slide underneath Portia's wings, Shea aiming to secure both a bodyscissors and a full nelson...
London takes a seat behind the champ and slithers her legs around Portia, like the snake she is, while doing likewise with her arms. She sweeps them under and around the limp limbs of Baby until she can lock her fingers behind VanBuren's neck. Shea gives the slender socialite a breathtaking squeeze from her tanned stems, drawing a gasping Portia back closer to coherence. Having a bit of fun, she swings Baby's head wildly from side to side while trying to cut her in half with the scissors, already succeeding in making the perfectly coiffed Portia look haggard. But Shea has more in mind and leans to her back, plucking Portia's derriere off the deck. Reversing course, she sends both herself and the champ up, forward and down, keister bouncing Portia's patootie into the deck, sending a shockwave into the tailbone and up the spine, a wide-eyed Portia reaching for her flawless glutes as Alexis warns Shea not to even think about doing it again from the outside, Portia immediately waving at Suguitan NOT to say that.
"Sorry, luv," the Sensational One grins toward a fuming Suguitan. "Bit deaf in tha' ear. Didja ask me ta do tha' again?"
VanBuren immediately starts shaking her head wildly, but she is otherwise powerless to stop Shea from rocking back, lifting Portia into the air and SLAMMING her rump to the backside one more time. But, to the delight of London's Legions, she doesn't stop there. London rocks back AGAIN, hoisting the champion aloft, then DRIVING Baby's bottom down to the deck. Finally, she relinquishes half of her combination, withdrawing her arms from underneath Portia's--but that proves only to allow the Sensational One to rock toward the right, rolling VanBuren over onto her shoulders. Shea KEEPS rolling, though, from belly to back to belly again, navigating one lap around the ring...
Then two...
Three...
Four...
FIVE...
And London isn't done yet, the referee forced to keep turning in a circle as the challenger makes her way through lap number six...
Seven...
EIGHT...
Finally, three-quarters of the way through her NINTH lap, the Sensational One draws to a halt, VanBuren left with her taut ass raised to the rafters, and her shoulders flat against the canvas. The official doesn't so much dive down to administer the count than take a drunken header to the canvas, but he still manages to check Portia's shoulders.
VanBuren, having been taken through the spin cycle, is hung out to dry on her shoulders. Both are planted to the canvas, her perfect posterior pointed to the rafters. The blonde bicycles her lean legs above to try and kick her way out of trouble, but through ONE and TWO she remains planted. The crowd roars as THREE approaches but Baby manages to flop out of the predicament. Portia pushes to her feet and takes a couple steps before face planting back to the canvas, her sense of balance unable to catch up with her sense of survival.
And Shea, still struggling herself a little bit on the balance front, quickly scampers over to the fallen champ, rolling her over before covering her for another...
ONE...
TWO...
... but STILL no THREE, VanBuren kicking free. A little more willing to risk rising to her feet, the Sensational One now climbs off the mat without incident, the British blonde leaning down to yank Portia up with a handful of hair. Transitioning her grip to the slender socialite's wrist, London starts to launch Fortune's Favorite toward the ropes with an Irish whip, readying herself to slide between the rebounding VanBuren's gams, capture an ankle and lock in her rolling half crab.
ROLLING HALF CRAB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHSASf05imc
VanBuren is sent sprinting to the ropes, but one of the Associates seems prescient on what Shea has in mind. Hopping to the apron, Alexis wraps her arms around her mentor, preventing Portia from bouncing back into trouble. The two hold in an embrace, Baby thanking her protege for the assist. But as Rachel scribbles in her pad around the corner, London is on the move, better late than never. She races toward the duo and shoots her boots between Portia's. The baseball slide connects with Suguitan's shins and knocks her off the canvas. Alexis falls to the floor, cracking her chin on the edge of the mat. Her head snaps back as she spills to the cement. Inside the ropes, Shea trips the turning blonde and rolls up to a single-leg crab like it was all part of the plan. The Brit reels in the limb, sending Baby's backbone into an agonizing curve, Shea apparently trying to touch Portia's boot to the crown of her foe's head and doing a very good job. The ref gets in VanBuren's face and asks for a surrender, but a wincing, mewling VanBuren shakes her head.
Again, the referee asks if Portia would like to surrender, and it takes nearly every ounce of self-restraint in the champion's body not to spit in his face. Shea would have to BREAK her leg before she would voluntarily give up her belt--and hand it, and her place in the FAWN history books, over to London. Luckily, it apparently wouldn't come to that, as the Sensational One releases VanBuren's gam and drops to the mat alongside her foe. Rather UN-luckily for Fortune's so-called Favorite, the blonde Briton starts to reach both hands past Portia's patrician features, hoping to grasp her left wrist with her right hand, pull back and slap a crossface on the reigning World champion.
But as London moves to capture the champ in another classic torture device, Rachel suddenly slides her clipboard into the ring. A confused official takes off to retrieve like a trained hound. As he does, a still wincing Alexis, massaging her jaw with one hand, reaches in with the other and clasps palms with Baby. She tugs the lead Associate toward the ropes despite Shea's best efforts and, by the time the striped-shirt turns back to the combatants, Portia has exchanged Suguitan's palm for the bottom rope, shouting loudly for a break.
The referee immediately calls for a break, but Shea proves uncharacteristically reluctant to relinquish the hold--not that the FAWNatics blame her, considering the circumstances under which Portia had been able to achieve the rope break. Alas, the official is not nearly so sympathetic. He initiates a five count, reaching "THREE!" before the Sensational One disgustedly lets go. As London pops to her feet, Alexis turns her attention to rallying the boss... and it takes Suguitan a couple of seconds to realize that Shea has not moved to claim the champion. The Filipino beauty looks up, and gets an eyeful of British blonde sprinting toward her, apparently ready to launch a suicide dive through the ropes. Instinct compels Alexis to duck for cover...
... much to the crowd's amusement when London pulls up short, taking a step back toward the center of the ring. As an embarrassed Associate glares daggers at the FAWN legend, Shea stoops and reaches for a handful of Baby's tresses, ready to pull Portia up and carry on her assault by wrapping her arms around VanBuren's waist and administering a bridging German suplex.
But with one arm wrapped around the top rope, Portia proves hard to budge and harder still when she swings her free elbow back and catches London in the cheek. Staggered for a moment, the Brit is, for once, slow to react as Portia spins to face her with a forearm shiver to the jaw that sends London's legs to jelly. Grabbing the challenger by a wrist and shoulder, VanBuren ushers her past, tripping the Brit so she ends on both knees in front of the ropes. Pushing Shea's throat against the middle cable, Baby climbs on board, throwing a leg through the ropes and atop Shea's shoulders to press her windpipe down on the rubber-coated steel. The official is quick to start his count and VanBuren dismounts at four. The blonde accompanies the official back to the center of the ring for a talk while a still furious Alexis wraps her palms around the back of London's neck to yank her throat tight to the choking rope.
The Sensational One has JUST enough time to draw in one gulp of clean air before Suguitan's grasp pulls her windpipe back down across the rubber coated steel. Shea's hands clutch at the middle rope, straining to push herself back up and create some room to simply breathe, but the Filipino beauty's leverage is unconquerable--especially when Alexis very nearly drops to one knee. Her boots urgently kicking at the mat, London gives up on pushing her way free and starts sweeping her arms through the rope, hoping to connect with Suguitan's noggin, but by now the brunette has sunk juuust out of the British Bombshell's reach. With Shea unable to free herself, the FAWNatics take up her case, pleading with the referee to pull himself away from Portia. A few moments later--not soon enough, as far as the crowd is concerned--the official finally starts to take a step away from VanBuren... and as he does, Rachel Raker hops onto the apron, calling the zebra over and pointing, rather insistently, toward her legal pad. The FAWNatics can only groan in disgust as he moves to order the legal eagle off the apron, while an increasingly blue-faced Sensational One kicks and thrashes ever more desperately.
And with Raker making all her best legal arguments, Portia waves Alexis back and races to Shea, planting a dropkick into her spine, not only testing the Brit's backbone but thrusting her neck against the rope. At least this time, London is able to bounce away. She chokes in deep breaths and rubs at her reddened throat while Baby signals to Rachel to leave the doofus in stripes be. Raker drops to the floor with Portia already plucking Shea off the deck and surrounding her waist from behind with an embrace. Without the power to force all the air from the FAWN icon with a bearhug, Portia instead tries to lift Shea's legs forward and high so she can swing them back down with gravity's help and drop to one knee to deliver a 50-megaton Inverted Atomic Drop between the legend's thighs.
London's Legion implore their heroine to find some manner of escape, but unfortunately for their hopes and dreams, simply replenishing her lungs is priority one, two, three and four for the Sensational One. Shea is powerless to keep Portia from muscling her off her feet, or to prevent the slender socialite from dropping to one knee, Shea landing butt and crotch first across VanBuren's outstretched thigh. The blonde Brit's jaw falls slack as she bounces away from ground zero, the only cry emerging an extremely brief and high pitched chirp as London tumbles to the canvas. There, the teary-eyed, gasping Sensational One draws into a tight ball, her thighs clenched shut, both hands sandwiched between them.
With one hand already conveniently placed, Portia straps her slender frame across London's back from the side. The blonde grabs one of the arms already between the Brit's thighs and tugs it into a very uncomfortable pumphandle. Leaning forward, the Manhattanite gives Shea a peck on the cheek (perhaps goodbye the FAWNatics have to consider). Portia then wraps an arm under and around London's to secure the rest of her cargo and tries to launch Shea into a spinning flight in front of her, again ready to genuflect and bust the hell out of Shea's gut.
PUMPHANDLE GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbFqgI6XCz4
Getting Shea aloft doesn't prove all that difficult. And while some would say the air is London's natural habitat, there proves to be nothing friendly about her trip into these skies. At the height of the Sensational One's ascent, Baby turns her opponent over before once more dropping to one knee. This time, it's the British blonde's belly that SLAMS down across smooth, shapely thigh--not QUITE as agonizing, but quite self-evidently devastating as London slumps off of Portia's knee and lands on her own, the blonde sinking back onto her haunches, one arm pressed tight to her impaled tummy, Shea sporting the expression of a woman who'd had about three too many pints out at the pub the night before. Retching and sputtering, London topples forward to rest on her chest as well as her knees.
Portia shoves what's left of London onto her back and rises. A slight pained grin in place, Baby feigns placing a boot on Shea's chest for a Gladiatrix-style pin but instead skips over and strides to the nearest buckles. Climbing to the top, Portia, an infrequent flier, turns to face the splayed London. She raises her arms high, drawing only whistles and catcalls from the crowd. Slipping into a slight crouch, VanBuren launches. It's a commuter flight compared to Shea, but if she can land her extended legs across London's throat and chest and win via a Sensational Knockoff what a delightful humiliation would be at hand.
It's a short flight, and surprisingly for Portia one in coach compared to London's acrobatics, but in this particular case, what matters IS the destination and not the journey. VanBuren's gams SLAM down atop the Sensational One's bosom and windpipe, sending London's luscious legs flying into the air. As the Brit's stems drop back to the canvas, the rest of the FAWN Original falls alarmingly still, Baby showing very little urgency as she reclines across Shea's chest. She doesn't even bother with a hook of the leg as the official slaps off the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
London fires a balled right fist into the air, raising her shoulder off the mat, with a fraction of a second to spare.
On the outside, Alexis tears into hysterics and even Rachel looks up from her legal pad to make a not altogether judicious claim. But that's nothing compared to the Portia in the ring who flies up from her British padding and into the face of the official. "Gretchen buy you off? Is that it?" The man throws up his hands. "Two. Portia. That's my call." Baby threatens a kick to his twig and berries but instead turns to a stirring Shea, the British bulldog up to all fours. "Let me help you out a little, Jersey," Portia says, grabbing the dirty blonde locks and tugging Shea to rubbery legs. Van Buren lines London up with the far buckles, ready to "guide" her rival to the corner and follow her in with a leaping knee to the chin to knock what little sense remains in the Manchester native straight into the back row.
London hurtles toward the buckles, Fortune's Favorite in hot pursuit... only with each stride they take, Portia becomes increasingly aware that the Sensational One ISN'T turning her back for a collision with the turnbuckles. That prompts the slender socialite to ad lib, and instead of launching a knee, VanBuren lowers her shoulder... but as Portia drops her gaze, Shea leaves her feet, landing on the bottom rope. Quickly grabbing the top rope with both hands, the Sensational One doesn't remain on her perch for long, Flying into the air, Shea twists her body, landing in a straddle of the doubled Portia's back--and facing out into the ring. Apparently an old dog in FAWN *can* learn some new tricks, for the blonde Brit throws her weight forward, hoping to swing THROUGH VanBuren's gams and turn the tide with a sunset flip powerbomb.
SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw69VCxkayI
The crowd roars as London lands on her reverse mount of the doubled and confused Trust Fund Terror. Alexis suddenly realizes the danger and reaches for a desperate Portia's hand but comes up short. The somersaulting Shea RIPS Baby off her moorings and backflips VanBuren into an incredible powerbomb that DRIVES Portia into the canvas with remarkable force. Baby is stacked on her shoulders and, more than that, not squirming for freedom, London nodding along with the crowd as they count up to Shea's FOURTH World Title reign with the...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENNOOOO!
Somehow the champ digs deeps and rolls through the rest of the way ending on her chest, head pointed to London, perhaps VanBuren showing to some FAWNatics she did indeed deserve to be considered among FAWN's best ever, even if never admitting she was Shea's equal.
And as the champion tumbles over, Shea too pitches to her back, the Sensational One left spreadeagled, staring up the lights, her reserves seemingly exhausted. And with both women down, the referee has little choice but to start counting...
“ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!"
Suddenly, London's legs soar into the air, the blonde Brit rolling back onto her shoulders before kipping to her feet--the FAWNatics erupting at the sight of Shea's apparent second wind. Marching over to the fallen socialite, the challenger hairhauls Portia off the canvas, then forces her into a backpedal with a pair of forearm smashes to the sternum. Baby's retreat is halted, however, when London reaches out and claims a wrist, preparing to whip VanBuren toward the very same set of buckles Portia had launched her toward moments ago--and intending to follow her in with a handspring elbow.
Seemingly barely aware of her circumstances, let alone able to reverse the Irish whip, Portia's only hope is that her legs will give out before getting her across the canvas. Unfortunately for Lyle's baby girl, she shows her toughness again, making it across and turning into a wicked collision. VanBuren slumps into the corner as a distraught Alexis runs her hands through her long raven locks. Already Shea is on the way, racing across the canvas in a tumbling run just short of Janel Manning or Domi Daly. She ends it with the perfect handspring into a piercing elbow that DRIVES into the less than cavernous cleft of Portia's A-cups. The emerald eyes of the slender socialite cross almost comically, but there's nothing funny to the Associates as they watch Portia stagger out of the corner in a semi-circle, Shea's eyes lighting up as Baby reels herself back toward London like a demolished yo-yo.
And once she's within range, London's fingers plunge into VanBuren's locks. The British blonde's hand then sends the reigning World champion's mug SLAMMING into the top turnbuckle with a forceful shove. Her fingers tightening in VanBuren's tresses, the Sensational One pulls back on Baby's noggin, only to introduce her face to the thin leather padding a second, third and FOURTH time, each blow a little stronger than the one that had preceded it. As London pulls her hand away, Portia manages to wheel her back to the buckles...
... and then her legs shimmy, Fortune's Favorite crashing to a seat in the corner. The FAWNatics waste no time letting Shea know what they want to see next, but the Sensational One hadn't needed the suggestion, London quickly navigating her way toward the opposite corner. Giving the top turnbuckle a resounding SLAP, Shea pivots and sprints toward the fallen Fortune's Favorite, ready to bust this overpriced bronco.
London sprints toward her target but halfway there a chickenfight breaks out between the ref and Alexis, Suguitan trying to pull VanBuren out of harm's way; the ref trying to keep her from interfering. London takes a detour left turn and, reaching over the referee's shoulder, grabs a wrist of the Filipino beauty, tugging her into the ring instead of pushing her out. Adrenaline pumping through the Brit like only the most memorable London Run could provide. She buggywhips Suguitan to the opposite ropes and, on the rebound takes off, leaping high, her legs wrapping around the wide-eyed features of the junior Associate.
Before Alexis can counter, Shea sends the dark-haired grappler flipping through the air with a sprightly hurricarana, London using her years of experience to also direct Suguitan to the same corner where the soggy senior member resides. Alexis skids on her ass into Portia's lap, the dazed dilapidated Associates now in a two-layer stack. Shea takes a glance at Raker who seems frozen in her tracks. Again Shea traces back to the opposite buckles for a slap of the top and races to Alexis and Portia. She leaps legs extended, her backside CRASHING into Alexis' chest and sandwiching the blasted Portia underneath, the crowd going apesh!t as Shea busts two Associate broncos for the price of one, each growing more flaccid with the accumulating thrusts, all the way up to a full dozen.
The Sensational One rolls away following the final thrust, almost able to feel the World belt around her waist again as she climbs to her feet. But as she reaches to peel the remnants of the Filipino penthouse terror off of the senior partner, Rachel Raker climbs onto the apron, screaming for the referee's attention. She makes an impassioned case that Shea London has used Alexis Suguitan as a foreign object against the reigning champion, and on those grounds, that she should be immediately disqualified. The official starts to answer, but just as his mouth opens, a whistle prompts him to turn around--at which point he sees the Sensational One charging toward him, with a doubled over Suguitan in tow.
While HE has time to dive out of the way, Raker is not so lucky, and she ends up on the receiving end of a shoulder to the midsection when London tosses Alexis through the ropes. Both Associates crash to the floor thanks to the exotic brunette's imposed spear, the FAWNatics ERUPTING as Shea turns and stalks her way back to a slowly stirring Portia. Yanking the champ to rubbery legs via a handful of hair, the blonde Brit laces an arm around VanBuren's neck and turns toward the center of the ring. Charging out of the corner, Shea drags her cargo alongside, moments away from leaving her feet and SLAMMING Baby's mug into the mat with a bulldog.
But Shea's time away dealing with the other Associates apparently provided the resourceful Portia enough time to get some of her wits about her. When the duo come hustling out of the corner and London leaps, legs extended, Portia has the wherewithal to get her hands against the Brit's hips and, at the proper moment, shove for all she's worth. London is sent on the trip alone while Baby avoids the bulldogging. Plan thwarted, Shea manages to land on her feet and is quick to spin to find her wayward foe, but VanBuren surges toward the challenger, lifting a right leg toward the Manchester native's chin to finally put an end to this London Run with a Big Boot.
It had always been the way: Baby might not be the biggest, she might not be the fastest, and she certainly wasn't the strongest, but what she might very well be is the craftiest. And her guile serves her well here, VanBuren raised a perfectly timed luscious leg to catch the turned Sensational One square under the jaw with her sole. Shea's head snaps back, the blonde Brit's gams flying out from underneath her, London plummeting to the deck. Shea's back hits hard, but perhaps the worst part of the landing is when London's head whiplashes back, her skull SLAMMING into barely padded plywood, the Sensational One's eyes momentarily crossing as her arms spill limp above her head. And, just like that, the FAWNatics are silenced.
VanBuren wearily raises her arms over her head, though the Run just ended doesn't leave her in a position for much of a celebration or even follow-up. In fact, after considering what to do next, the blonde simply melts over the top of the dazed Shea, lightly hooking a leg and rolling her foe into a tight cradled ball for the...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
London's hips buck harshly--it's not so much a powerful movement as an abrupt one, but with Portia still feeling the effects of the Run, it proves enough to break VanBuren's grasp of her leg and dislodge her from atop the Sensational One... but had it been in time? As the glistening blonde Brit flops over to her stomach, Baby turns to the official, his hand still frozen little more than a centimeter off the mat. "TWO!" he shouts, rising to his knee and holding up only two digits. "TWO!"
Portia's head drops, chin to chest, no energy for another tussle with the zebra. Instead, she uses Shea's body to push to her feet. The World Champ throws her head back and draws in deep breaths. "I'm not as young as I used to be," she mutters, but then grabs Shea by her dirty blonde locks. "But neither are you."
VanBuren tugs Shea to her feet and brings the doubled Brit close, hammerlocking an arm behind London's back. Perhaps working on her final reserves, Portia 'hups' Shea into her lap, London's legs reflexively wrapping around Baby's waist. The crowd quiets as they see 'The Color of Money' coming up gold for Portia, her signature cradle DDT about to take the starch out of the FAWN legend.
THE COLOR OF MONEY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeENkUBLt1I
Deprived her moorings and with one arm effectively bound, there's little Shea can do to stop Portia from leaning ever so slightly forward, and then VIOLENTLY rocking back, dropping the the mat and SPIKING the Sensational One's head into the canvas. While this time it's the crown of London's skull that takes the brunt of the impact instead of the back of her noggin, that appears to make little difference to the damage inflicted. Indeed, for a split second, the blonde remains planted in a headstand, almost as if her melon had become fused with the mat... but gravity would not be denied for long, pulling Shea down into a boneless sprawl, her eyes dulled and chest heaving with each pant.
A partially recovered Alexis manages some pained claps on the sidelines, the Filipino beauty still wiping some of the bronco busting humidity from her features. For her part, Portia is slow but steady and looking like an absolute daisy compared to London. Perhaps surprisingly, she passes on the pin and instead grabs a wrist, taking a rubbery Shea to her feet. She aims the Englishwoman at a far corner and lets loose with the Irish whip. Shea turns and 'explodes' into the buckles but remains upright, throwing her arms over the top ropes on either side. VanBuren strides in slowly and turns her back to the dazed challenger. She climbs to the middle rope, ready to drop dollar sign and show Shea the Bare Ass Market is in full bloom.
Sure enough, the sight of Portia slipping her fingers into her waistband is enough to transform a portion of the FAWNatics boos and jeers to cheers and whistles, which only get louder as VanBuren bares more and more of her priceless cheeks. "Oh, please," Baby spits in disgust toward the masses. "Head back across the Turnpike."
With that, Fortune's Favorite thrusts her hips backward, pressing her buttocks tight to Shea's features and paying back the blonde Brit's bronco buster with compound interest. When VanBuren feels London's hands move to meet her hips, she brings hers to the top rope, securing a white-knuckled grip that allows her to ride out the worst of the Sensational One's shoves--with "ride" being the operative word. Shea's legs kick frantically, but the slender socialite is perched quite safely above their reach for the moment. Before long, she can feel London's hands shift from shoves to slap--a development that brings a vengeful, satisfied smile to Portia's lips. And when Fortune's Favorite dismounts the middle rope, London plops to a seat in the corner, her head lolling back to rest against the middle buckles, eyes blank and features greased.
Portia tugs her bottoms back into place, no one in the crowd is particularly pleased with that development. Luckily for the lead Associate, she could give a shyt. Instead, she moves to Shea and cups a hand under her foe's chin. "You ready to ride off into the sunset in my 911, Shea? I know these people want to see it."
Baby grabs a wrist and starts tugging the flaccid Brit toward center stage cavewoman style for the grand finale of grande finales. Three-time champ staking her claim for best ever against three-time champ and, if Portia drove her finisher home, who could deny her?
VanBuren drops Shea's arm... only after dropping maybe an inch or two, the Sensational One suddenly reaches upward, slipping her arm around the back of Portia's neck. At the same time, London's butt scoots across the canvas, just enough to allow the Brit to slip a leg between Baby's parted stems and hook a thigh. With the champion already off balance, Shea pours possibly her last vestiges of resolve into trying to pull Portia down and into a tight small package, that with any luck would hold for just three seconds.
VanBuren squirms in her tight ball, the crowd counting along with the official, Alexis yanking her raven locks in growing concern as the mat is slapped ONE...TWO...THRNOOO! Portia escapes with a kickout and lands on her side. She scrambles to all fours and scurries to Shea, landing a forearm smash between a still slowed London's eyes. Grabbing a wrist, the Manhattanite yanks London to unsteady feet and bullies her to a corner. VanBuren takes the inside position, her back to the buckles, Shea face to face. Baby's fingers dig deep in the Bombshell's dirty blonde mop. Lyle's only child stairsteps to the middle ropes and leaps off, forcing Shea into a backpedal, hoping to force more with her Boob Job.
BOOB JOB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJs-L1k19lU
Shea's arms rise up, reaching toward VanBuren's thighs, the Sensational One aware enough to think of trying to transform Baby's Boob Job into a powerbomb... but while the wits might be there, this time the body proves just a tick too slow, the champ's weight driving London down to the mat, until Portia's nearly perfect posterior SLAMS down onto the blonde Brit's bosom. Fortune's Favorite bounces away, Shea's top straining to keep a proper confines on her bounty as VanBuren lands on her knees a foot or so beyond Shea's noggin, London groaning as she weakly rolls over to one hip.
Baby turns and knee-walks to the challenger. Grabbing her foe by the hair, Portia pulls London to a seated position and takes to her perfect ass behind the Englishwoman. Baby rolls to her side while scissoring up the left leg of the FAWN legend. If she could reach across from behind and snatch Shea's right lower limb, it might be time to Stretch a Buck and end this title match with her legspread submission.
STRETCHING A BUCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcgDGJvz9GM&list=PL6D543E88E233B021&index=8
As soon as London feels her left leg ensnared by Portia's stems. she knows what's about to happen, and tries to slip her right leg out of reach... but again, knocked breathless by the Boob Job--and that itself on the heels of the Bare Ass Market--there remains a lag between the signal leaving her brain and reaching her muscles, allowing VanBuren to grab her ankle and YAAAAANK back. Shea lets out an instant howl of anguish, her hamstrings EXPLODING in torment, the Brit's hands involuntarily dropping toward the junction of her thighs.
"What do you say, Shea?" the referee asks, but London says nothing--she instead bites her bottom lip, trying to keep from unleashing another scream. Her eyes beginning to water and blink, the Sensational One directs her gaze toward locating the near ropes. Finding them, Shea stretches her hand toward the cables... and comes up a good two feet short. The British blonde tries to lean forward... which only INTENSIFIES the flames engulfing her poor hamstrings. London can't keep the whimper inside as she slumps back, melting against Portia's torso. Clearly, there could be NO escape through the ropes, not so long as Baby had her legs so thoroughly tied up. Even so, she wouldn't give up. She COULDN'T give up... could she? In a very short time, she wouldn't have a choice--not if Portia kept testing the elasticity of this British "Buck"...
But thankfully and not so thankfully for Shea, it seems Baby has no plans to win this match in any way but the 911. VanBuren tests London with the legspread for another half-dozen seconds before releasing the hold, the challenger having apparently earned the ultimate ending. Unleashing Shea from both sides, Baby moves to her a kneel behind the wincing Brit, London working at her inner thighs to remove the knots in her groin muscles. As Shea sits, legs extended, Portia snuggles in from behind, She collects one of London's arms and quickly wraps her arms around Shea's pilfered limb, using it to try and cut off the flow of blood to Shea's brain with a cobra clutch. "Time for a little anesthesia Sheasy. You don;'t want to have the 911 be a bumpy ride, now do you?" Portia gives London's head a violent rattle. "On last little joy ride for yours truly and everyone will know I'M the best ever."
One arm not only trapped but transformed into a weapon against her very self, Shea's free arm flails in the air, fingers flexing, again straaaaaiiiinnning to reach the ropes... but not even coming as close as she had been able to do just moments ago. At least this time, the Sensational One's legs are no longer restrained, but alas, she can only manage to scoot forward a couple of inches before her thrashing arm begins to falter. And only a few moments later, it appears that the ONLY thing driving the movement of Shea's flopping arm are the jerks and jostles that Portia is giving her...
But before the official can step in and take control of London's free flaccid arm, Baby releases her Clutch. She backs slowly on her knees to let the challenger's head drop softly to the canvas, Baby apparently not wanting to wake her drowsy foe. She then 'walks' forward over the splayed Shea, the crowd growing increasingly despondent as the ass of the slender socialists hovers over Shea's features. Lyle VanBuren's only child reaches forward, looking to scoop behind either knee of her rival and start to matchbook London for her final ride, ready to drop her derriere onto her legendary foe/throne, once she has the lower limbs yanked toward her and locked.
London's Legion sink from despondent to downright morose as Shea's exquisite stems are gathered up and tucked underneath Portia's arms, the Sensational One's taut hindquarters raised to the rafters as VanBuren sits back, settling her weight firmly atop London's mug. The smother snugly in place, all that remains left for Fortune's Favorite to do is sink her talons into the blonde's Brit's thoroughly defenseless crotch. It's a testament to just how far into oblivion she had already been driven that the claw produces only the weakest of bucking and thrashing from the challenger, which VanBuren is easily capable of riding out... and it doesn't last long. But even as the Brit's writhing begins to ebb, Shea's left hand rises a couple of inches off the mat... and drops down... and rises again... and DROPS again. Whether intended that way or not, the referee interprets it as a submission, and promptly calls for the bell.
And whether the ref takes it the right way or not, VanBuren doesn't rise from London's face, instead shifting her undercarriage forward and back over the forehead, nose and lips of the loser. Baby releases her grasp on Shea's crotch and lets the lifeless lower limbs tumble to the deck, instead flattening the English crosses atop London's pert bosom with either palm. On the outside, Alexis turns toward the FAWNatics and nods with a sh!teating grin while Rachel clicks her pen and places it behind her left ear, no further note taking necessary.
While the bell tolls and the announcer makes his unhappy announcement VanBuren remains FAWN's World Champion by knockout, Portia dips her pelvis so she can delve her thinly-sheathed crotch and rump over London's features, rubbing them red while clearly getting increasingly hot and bothered. The zebra starts to count for a possible KO but throws up his hands and watches like everyone else. Portia huffs and grunts as she increases the pace. This might never happen again and she is going to enjoyuuuhhhhh it. Spent, the blonde falls forward atop London's torso, Shea's face reappearing coated in more than sweat, the face of the Brit glazed in Portia's victory. Only now do her fellow Associates enter, each scooping under an arm and lifting the champion to her feet, Alexis handing over the gaudy golden belt. Portia hugs it close and places a boot atop Shea's softly rolling chest.
Handed a microphone by Rachel, she brings it to her lips. "Clean as a whistle, Jerseys. That's the way I beat this bytch."
“Except for her face," Alexis interrupts with a giggle. "True," Portia responds, "but even that shows that WITHOUT A DOUBT I am the best ever." Portia drops the mic on Shea's tummy with a meaty 'clop' and the Associates bolt arm in arm, leaving the arena clean-up crew to scrape up what's left of Shea and cart the carcass to the back.