Post by bigfan on Feb 5, 2017 18:24:14 GMT
“Two minutes!” warns a product assistant as some of his co-workers set about clearing the ring of the previous match’s carnage.
Camille Cosworth blows out a puff of air, directing it upwards so that it makes her bangs float briefly. The magnitude of the upcoming match has her a bit jittery, and she has a lot on her mind, not the least of which is the fact that her girlfriend is throwing wicked combinations of punches and knees into a padded wall nearby. Camille sees the anger in her eyes, and more importantly, she sees and the fabric wrapping her girlfriend’s hands. Having been denied an official match for two straight pay-per-view events, Yoona is itching for a fight, and both of them know it.
“Maybe you should stay backstage,” Cosworth mutters.
“Fuck no!” Park dismisses with a snort. “You saw what they did to Lily! No goddamned way I’m letting you walk out there alone!”
Camille doesn’t appear to be fully convinced, so Yoona puts their foreheads together and tries again in a softer tone.
“Look, Cam, I get it. This is important to you, and what’s important to you is important to me too. I’m not going to get you DQ’ed. I’m not going to turn into a mindless rage monster. I’m not going to fly off the handle and attack them unprovoked. What I am going to do is keep the rest of Team Oreo out of your hair if they try any funny business. Can you trust me to do that?”
Despite herself, Cosworth sniggers slightly at the nickname for the opposing faction, and then she wordlessly nods her consent.
“Ten seconds!” the production assistant calls again.
“This is the next chapter of your legend, Girl of Tomorrow,” Park says as she cups her girlfriend’s cheeks between her palms. “Show them what it means to have no limits.”
The couple break apart, and Yoona mimics putting on a mask with her right hand just as the PA blares to life.
“Ladies and gentleman, our next match is scheduled for one fall, with the victor advancing to the next round of the Rookie of the Year tournament! Introducing first -- at five foot six inches and one hundred thirty pounds, hailing from San Antonio, Texas -- she is the Girl of Tomorrow, Camille Cosworth!”
Wonder Woman’s theme from Batman v Superman pumps through the arena speakers, and Camille bursts through curtains at the top of the entrance ramp, followed half a step later by Yoona. Normally Cosworth would have preferred to enter the ring via a leap from the crowd, but Park could not make the same jump despite her most valiant efforts, so instead they opt for a more traditional entrance.
CAMILLE COSWORTH:
YOONA PARK:
Camille turns to look at the enlarged image of herself on the FAWNtron, taking in the details of her new ring gear. A royal blue and electric green sports bra covers her chest while revealing her sculpted abdomen and shoulders, a matching pair of skintight shorts extends from hip to mid-thigh, and a pair of low-cut royal blue wrestling shoes completes the ensemble. The material is sturdy but permeable to the cool arena air, going a long way towards alleviating her problems with heat exhaustion that had plagued her in a few earlier matches.
The fans appreciate the more revealing attire as well, showering her with wolf whistles and catcalls that were normally the fare of her more provocative girlfriend, although for now Park is conservatively dressed in a pair of slim fitting sweatpants and a T-shirt, her hands wrapped in white cloth and her feet bare. The Korean ingenue appears to be enthusiastically playing air guitar to the beat of the music, banging her head and shaking her free-flowing black hair into rhythmic waves.
“I -- I don’t think this is a guitar,” Camille says. “Maybe a cello or something…”
“I’d look ridiculous playing air cello though,” Yoona replies, demonstrating for effect.
“Yeah, okay. That does look stupid. Go back to air guitar.”
With Park rocking out behind her, Cosworth walks down the ramp with arms outstretched, brushing her hands against those of the fans who reach for her. Opposing the much reviled Kylie Sanders, if only by proxy, immediately earns them a standing ovation, and Camille feels goosebumps prickle her skin as she approaches the ring and the cheering reaches a crescendo. They slide under the bottom rope in unison -- another concession to the more earthbound Korean -- and rise to a stand in the center of the canvas.
“You’re the baddest motherfucker on the planet, babe,” Yoona offers as final words of encouragement, thumping her fist against Camille’s sternum just as the music fades out. “I believe it, make them all believe it too!”
With the two reprobates in the ring, soft melodic hip-hop flows through the arena and the crowd’s collective gaze turns to the upper stage. Having made a big booty-sized impression in her debut, then working with Chill to take out Bootyshock, then helping Lily Burlingame find out dat even Da Man couldn’t save her, there’s no mistaking from the music that it’s time the ba-donka-donkiest rookie on the roster take the spotlight.
youtube.com/watch?v=8tEyAAniu5U
‘That’s Me Right There’ from Jasmine V turns the crowd sour immediately. The newly minted African-American dazzler emerges from stage right, her manager Demetria Andrews close behind, the former FAWN grappler showing Washington off like her most precious possession. Shifting her hips in a delicious sashay, the crowd is seemingly mesmerized by the action of Jasmine’s hips and booty, the newbie built with an abundance of junk in the trunk.
The duo holds for a moment, and lets the former FAWN World Champion get her own curtain call, Sanders taking a spot next to Washington and Andrews. Kylie daps both women, the Hawkeye sharing a beaming smile with her new compatriots. The elfin blonde turns a much sterner gaze to the multitudes heaping their disdain and tossing less than complimentary remarks at the turncoat and her new allies.
JASMINE WASHINGTON:
DEMETRIA ANDREWS:
KYLIE SANDERS:
Breaking out of a mini-huddle, J-Dogg flashes signs and shakes dat ass, Washington working her way down the ramp first. Dressed in a tiny black hoodie (black version of the following: i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/biggerb/Jasmine-clothing.jpg
The grappler snaps her head back to clear the hood and her shoulder-length ebony locks behind. She waggles her way down the aisle as if she owns the place, her face only turning sour when shying away from the extended hands of the crowd.
Beneath the woman wears camo boy-cut trunks s2.photobucket.com/user/biggerb/media/Jasmine-clothing%20below.jpg.html
) which accentuate her bootylicious backside all the more. Below are black pads and boots.
Behind the rookie, Sanders and Andrews traverse the ramp and aisle, the former tag partner of Bates with a microphone in hand, and Kylie with her ever present Louis Vuitton handbag. The former fan favorite wears a tight sparkly Vuitton dress that leaves plenty of ivory leg visible.
Reaching the ring, Washington hops to the apron and swishes her rump from side to side before swinging a leg through. Kylie, having joined her, sits on the middle cable and pushes the top up for her partner. Chill makes a move like she’ll join J-Dogg but spins to the outside of the cables and drops to the floor next to Demetria.
“We all know what Da Man wants and who Da Man wants to be his prized rookie,” Demetria bellows. “And it ain’t my Jasmine girl. But you know what? Chill and I here to make sure Da Man ain’t gettin’ Wonder Bread or her personal geisha into Round Two.”
The crowd lets their disapproval bounce off the walls of the arena, the noise reaching ear-pounding decibels.
“So you get used to dat, crackas. You and Da Man get good-n-used to dat.”
Andrews drops the mic to the canvas in front of her as Kylie offers some last words of advice through the ropes to Jasmine.
“Hey Wonder Bread, what’s good?!” Jasmine shouts as she throws her arms out in a T, challenging her fellow rookie.
Camille’s only response is to sigh and shake her head, although her girlfriend prompts her to respond with a verbal barb of her own, “Come on, Cam! Hit her with a sick burn!”
“Sick burns aren’t really my thing,” Cosworth says flatly.
“What?! You had a whole fucking poem ready to go for when you smacked down Brewster! Light her fat, saggy ass up with some wicked Robert Frost quotes or something!”
“I don’t have anything appropriate for the moment,” Camille replies with a shrug. “If you have some wicked Robert Frost quotes, then by all means, feel free.”
Park collects her thoughts for a moment and then yells at Jasmine and her crew, “The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, so go fuck yourselves, you worthless pieces of shit.”
Her rather dubious quote draws a round of cheers and applause from the firmly anti-Kylie audience, and Yoona gives her girlfriend a playful smack on the rear for good luck and slips out of the ring, leaving Cosworth and Washington alone in the squared circle.
The bell officially signals the start of the match, and Camille and Jasmine lock horns in an Elbow and Collar tie up. Unable to gain an advantage over her slightly larger opponent, Washington opts to shove the crown of her head underneath Cosworth’s chin and then grabs Camille’s head and drops to her knees. The Jawbreaker makes Cosworth’s teeth rattle, and she stumbles backwards into the turnbuckles holding the side of her face.
“Yeah, bitch!” J-Dogg exclaims as she pops up to her feet. “Dat’s how da cracka crumbles!”
“That’s how the cookie crumbles,” Yoona snorts derisively from the floor. “Learn how to English, dumbfuck!”
Jasmine bares her teeth in a snarl, but she does not let the Korean distract her further. She backs up to mid ring and gives her own backside a couple of slaps, drawing a few cheers from the FAWNatics who are appreciative of how Washington jiggles in all the right places. After making her intent known, J-Dogg dashes forward and leaps at her opponent who is still in the corner, turning in mid-air so that her hip is aligned with Cosworth’s face.
Her showboating cost her precious seconds, however, and Camille is able to brace herself against the turnbuckles and catch Jasmine in a bridal carry. Cosworth quickly takes a few steps towards the center of the ring to prevent her captured foe from latching onto the ropes, then she turns 180 degrees and explosively hurls herself backwards to throw Washington up, over, and back with a Fallaway Slam.
Even as J-Dogg is hurtling through the air, Camille follows through with the momentum of the Fallaway Slam and tosses herself into a backroll on the canvas. She comes out of her roll and finds her feet in perfect position just as she hears the loud THWAM of Jasmine making a hard landing on the mat just a couple of feet behind her. Without a moment of hesitation, Camille immediately launches herself into a gorgeous, high-arching backflip that ends with her opponent pancaked underneath her.
The belly-to-belly impact of the Standing Moonsault causes Jasmine’s legs to jackknife upwards, and Cosworth immediately hooks one limb and settles into a pin. It’s all for naught, however, as Demetria reaches under the bottom rope, grabs one of Camille’s ankles, and yanks her off of J-Dogg before the referee can even manage a one-count.
“What?! Wha’choo lookin’ at, Wonder Bread?!” Andrews defiantly shouts when Cosworth directs a silent, irritated look at her.
Camille is about to lodge a complaint with the referee when she hears Park’s voice call out, “Focus on the match, babe. I’ll handle cookies and cream over there.”
Cosworth rolls her eyes at Yoona’s epithet for the opposing duo at ringside, and then she says, “Be careful, Kylie was a world champion. Don’t underestimate her.”
“Oh, bullshit! Kylie’s a world champion the same way that Dr. Pepper is a doctor!” Yoona retorts at a volume loud enough for everyone to hear, drawing a few laughs from the front row fans and making Sanders’ face flush red in anger.
Camille turns her attention back towards Jasmine, and she sends her opponent running towards the corner again with an Irish Whip then follows behind looking for a Splash against the corner. More acrobatic than credited, Washington counters by leaping onto the middle turnbuckle then launching herself backwards into a corkscrew Roundhouse Kick.
Eyes widening in surprise, Cosworth throws herself onto her back just in time for J-Dogg’s Tornado Kick to safely pass over her head. She spreads her arms out to safely distribute the impact against the mat, then smoothly kips up second later. That turns out to be a mistake when Jasmine hits her across the collarbone with a Clothesline just as she lands on her feet, sending Camille to the deck again.
Washington presses her hard-won advantage and drags her fellow rookie upright before securing a Front Facelock. After treating her opponent’s head to a couple of hard squeezes, Jasmine dips her head under Camille’s arm while cradling a leg, then bridges backwards to power Cosworth into the canvas with a perfect Northern Lights Suplex. Maintaining her bridge, J-Dogg counts along as the referee pounds out a…
ONE!
TW --
...before Camille bucks free, breaking the pin.
“Dat was a three count! Three count!” Demetria furiously shouts at the official as she climbs onto the apron.
“Uh, yeah! Learn to count! I just pinned her pale, cracka-ass!” Jasmine adds, following her manager’s lead.
Perhaps surprised that anyone would try to argue that a one and a half count was actually three, the referee only stares stoically as J-Dogg gets in his face and unleashes a torrent of withering invective, jabbing a finger into his chest the whole time.
“Eyes on the prize,” Kylie says, apparently the voice of reason among the trio. “They’re just all stooges of Da Man. You do you, J-Dogg. Don’t get caught up in their games.”
Washington aggressively shoves a pair of upturned middle fingers into the referee’s face, then turns her attention back to her opponent.
“A’ight. A’ight. I hear ya, Chill,” Jasmine says while she secures another Front Facelock on Camille.
Again dipping her head under one of Cosworth’s arms, this time Washington doesn’t bother hooking a leg and instead grabs a handful of Camille’s blue and green trunks. She hoists her opponent vertical with a grunt of effort, and after a stall of a second or two, J-Dogg lays out on her back to complete the Vertical Suplex.
Or at least she would have completed the Vertical Suplex, if Camille hadn’t arched her back and flexed her legs to land on her toes, thus putting the two wrestlers into an awkward looking two-person bridge. With a sudden twist of her hips, Cosworth throws the both of them into a barrel roll that results in them being bent forwards rather than backwards at the waist, and then she shoves her way free of the Front Facelock.
Disoriented by everything that happened in the last second, Jasmine doesn’t offer any resistance when Camille re-engages by clasping both hands around the back of her head. Rather than using the Muay Thai clinch to land a dozen liver-pulverizing Knee Strikes, Cosworth pulls J-Dogg into a stooped-over position and launches into a stunning vertical leap. Splaying her legs in mid-air as if she were playing a game of Leapfrog, Camille sails clear over Washington’s head as she releases the clinch. Cosworth ends up sitting in between her opponent’s shoulder blades, and then with one smooth motion she hooks her calves into Jasmine’s armpits and throws herself into a Front Somersault. Equal parts Sunset Flip and Sit-out Powerbomb, the Yoshi Tonic pulls J-Dogg along for the ride and slams her head and shoulders into the mat.
The official slides down to get a better viewing angle on Washington’s shoulders, and when he’s satisfied that they’re down, he counts out a…
ONE!
TWO!
...before Jasmine kicks her way free of Camille’s grasps and rolls out under the bottom rope to regroup in the arms of her comrades.
“That’s what you get for taking wrestling lessons from Kylie Fucking Sanders, and whoever the fuck that other person is!” Yoona loudly taunts.
Kylie turns to the referee, clearly confused by the presence of the woman in Camille’s corner.
“I know Bethany is trying to reach out to the fans and put them closer to the action, but can we clear off the stooge and let the women on the roster decide this?”
The official informs Sanders Yoona is indeed on the FAWN roster and a look of mock embarrassment floods Vanilla Chill.
“No. Really? I thought they found a foul-mouthed street-walker and paid her a pipe full of crack to stand in some nobody’s corner.”
Demetria instantly corrects, “Oh no, Chill. That’s what they did. And then they put her on the roster.”
Kylie nods her head knowingly and turns to the crowd.
“And let me guess, you love her, right?”
If to piss off FAWN’s Benedict Arnold and nothing more, the FAWNatics respond with a ‘yes’ chant.
“Even though she’s a crack-smoking whore?” Kylie bellows.
“YES…YES…YES…”
Kylie and Demetria break into hysterics, dapping as they direct Jasmine back up the steps. Washington slips carefully into the ring, giving her head a rattle to push a few more senses back into place.
Apparently, Wonder Bread wasn’t much into pistols or rifles. The bytch brought out the heavy artillery not much more than a minute into the match and Jasmine looks unsure how to attack her fellow rookie.
Straightforward seems best and she meets a willing dance partner in Camille, both colliding in the middle in a collar-and-elbow that Jasmine quickly turns into a side headlock. Washington grinds Cosworth’s face into her hip, wrenching on the neck of her first round foe.
“Feel good, flippy? You ain’t gonna be playing Supergirl with me in here. You got assigned to be the victim the second the pairings came out.”
J-Dogg rams a couple left fists into her fellow rookie’s forehead.
While Kylie and Demetria provide their vocal support and Jasmine readies another punch to her foe, Camille creates enough slack in the headlock to scoop behind the glutes of LaKeisha’s heir and backflip Washington off her feet.
Unfortunately for ‘Wonder Bread’, Jasmine shows her athletic prowess, landing on her boot leather behind Camille. Leaping into a tuck tight to Cosworth’s back, she thrusts her knees into the brunette’s shoulderblades while grabbing the outside of her challenger’s shoulders. Letting gravity do the rest, she lays out and rips Camille off her feet, into a Backstabber.
Backstabber
The impact sends Camille flopping to her side, an arm reaching around to massage her back. Nearby, J-Dogg kips to her feet and stares at Yoona.
“Bytch, take your comedy act on the road. We already got the loud-mouthed brat checked off with Maddy. Don’t need another version with a fried rice side.”
Jasmine turns back toward Camille, but throws some more shade over her shoulder.
“Which is why Bethany picked Wonder Bread over you for the tournament.”
Jasmine snaps her fingers high over her head and collects a rising Camille around the noggin, ‘helping’ her up the rest of the way.
J-Dogg grabs a wrist and slings it over her stooped shoulders, dipping and driving into an embrace. Washington throws her body in reverse, bringing Camille over with a Northern Lights Suplex. The Hot in Hot & Bothered ends in a beautiful bridge, tiptoes pointing to the canvas as she holds the pin on Camille for…
ONE…
TWO…
Cosworth throws a shoulder up, spilling Jasmine to her side while Camille moves to one of hers in the opposite direction.
Northern Lights Suplex
Both women fight to their feet in unison and turn to each other, but it’s Jasmine who flashes a lightning-quick, toe kick to Camille’s tummy, doubling her over, Cosworth wide-eyed, her breath bursting from between parted lips.
Immediately, Jasmine takes off for the ropes at Wonder Bread’s side. She hits the cables and returns, leaping toward the folded Camille with right leg extended. She drops the limb over the back of Cosworth’s neck, folding it tight around her foe’s head, and plummets to the deck, SLAMMING Camille’s face into the thinly-sheathed plywood with the appropriately named FameAsser.
FameAsser
Camille flops to her back and Jasmine covers in a cross body pin while Kylie points at Yoona with the index finger from one hand and raises those of her opposite set with the slaps of the mat.
ONE…
TWO…
But no THREE.
Kylie turns to the ring in astonishment to see what went wrong, namely Cosworth kicking her way out in time. But the brunette is still splayed in the middle of the ring.
From Washington’s corner, Demetria shouts out, “Spring it on the bytch!”
Jasmine nods and backs to the ropes. She bounds out of the strands and skips over the downed Cosworth, moving to the opposite cables. The grappler handstands her way into a rebound from the rubber-coated steel, backflipping to a splash onto Camille’s ivory-skinned midriff.
Handspring Splash
Camille jackknifes around the slapping impact of gut to gut then fades to horizontal, looking spent. J-Dogg hooks a leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Pushed up to her haunches, Jasmine runs her fingers through her hair in disbelief. She turns to Yoona, Park supporting her friend, and holds her right index finger and thumb an inch apart.
“Where’s the smartass remark, Tokyo?” she asks.
Not waiting for a response, the African-American rookie pops to her feet under the direction of the rabid verbal support of Vanilla Chill and scoots to the neutral corner. She climbs to the top turning to face the starfished Cosworth.
“Second round, bytches,” she shouts and launches from the buckle, soaring toward her target while twisting through a half-turn into her Jazzy Jump splash.
Jazzy Jump
But at the last second, Camille tucks, her knees raised for the descending Washington, Jasmine impaling herself on the bony joints. Gasping and sputtering, J-Dogg rolls away, hugging her blasted tummy.
She ends on her back, swaddling her aching abs, shifting from shoulder to shoulder, trying to respond to Kylie’s demands to “Get your ass up!”
A few feet away, Camille is slowly managing to do just that.
“Hey babe, you doing alright?” Yoona asks as she climbs up onto the apron and rests her elbows on the top rope.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Cosworth huffs while she catches her breath and gives her head a quick shake to get the last of the cobwebs out. “Any advice, Yoona?”
“Stop letting her kick your ass,” Park says with a nonchalant shrug.
“Ugh. Anything else?”
“Zap her with your magic lightning fingers!” Yoona not-so-helpfully suggests, holding out her hands with palms down and fingers extended.
“Riiiiight,” Camille sarcastically replies. “And what makes you think I can do that?”
“Because you can do anything, Cam,” Yoona encourages with a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Don’t forget that.”
Surprisingly, that does seem to bolster Camille’s spirit and confidence. She takes a few more seconds to recover, walks over to her still-grounded opponent, and secures a Standing Achilles Lock, tucking Jasmine’s left foot under her right armpit and clamping it in place by locking her left forearm under J-Dogg’s heel. Washington shrieks as she feels the hard bones of Cosworth’s arm crush into her Achilles tendon when Camille rises to full height and starts dragging her backwards, both increasing the pressure on the hold and pulling her away from the safety of the ropes. Once the two wrestlers are in the center of the ring, the referee asks Washington if she wants to submit and take an early exit from the tournament. Before J-Dogg can say anything, however, her opponent answers on her behalf.
“What?! No! Of course she doesn’t want to give up!” Camille says incredulously. “I haven’t even gotten to the cool part yet!”
That cool part turns out to be a Giant Swing, as Cosworth spins in place faster and faster while dragging Jasmine along for the ride by the ankle. After a couple of revolutions she builds up enough speed to get Washington completely airborne, making the Achilles Lock even more effective as J-Dogg’s trapped foot now has to bear the complete brunt of her body weight.
“AAAaaaaAAAAAaaahhhHHHHhhhhHHH -- !” Washington screams, the volume and pitch of her voice rising and falling with each cycle in a dramatic demonstration of the Doppler effect for all scientifically minded fans in attendance.
“Powwaaahh! UNLIMITED POOWWWAAAHHH!” Park madly cackles from ringside.
“Shut yo mouth, crack-whore!” Demetria snarls in response, although she’s mostly drowned out by the FAWNatics enthusiastically counting off each rotation of the Giant Swing.
“NOW YOU CAN ASK HER!” Camille instructs the referee.
“Do… uhh… Do you want to submit?” the man tentatively asks as he tries to get as close as possible without encroaching on Jasmine’s orbital path.
“NOOooooOOOOooooOOO!” comes the response, sounding like the wail of an ambulance’s siren.
Cosworth throws in one final spin to bring the total up to a baker’s dozen, then she suddenly lays out on her back to transition her one-legged Giant Swing into a one-legged Wheelbarrow Facebuster, catapulting Washington over and down onto canvas. J-Dogg manages to cover her head with her arms to protect her face and Camille thankfully unclamps the Achilles Lock after impact, but slamming into the deck still knocks the wind out of her and leaves her writhing and gasping for air. Even so, she finds the fortitude to crawl and squirm her way to the ropes, earning herself a five-count reprieve.
“C’mon, J-Dogg!” Andrews shouts as she slaps the apron with both hands. “She ain’t nuthin’ but a cracka-ass spot monkey! King Kong ain’t got SHIT on YOU!”
“Shake it off, J-Dogg! We’ve practiced this before!” Kylie encourages, despite the fact that in her long and storied career she has rarely, if ever, utilized an Achilles Lock, Giant Swing, or Wheelbarrow Facebuster, let alone all three at the same time.
“Yeah, J-Dogg! Remember what Sanders taught you! Do that move where you swallow an entire microphone with your va-jay-jay!” Yoona yells from the other side of the ring, drawing a mixture of laughter and groans from the fans who recall an ill-fated match with Lisa Dream from many years ago, back when the Pleasant Valley Princess still fought on the side of angels.
“Dat just ain’t right…” Demetria mumbles while shaking her head, as Kylie angrily sputters and fumes.
Meanwhile in the ring, Jasmine hobbles to her feet with some aid from the steel cables. She shakes off the dizzying effects of the Giant Swing and recovers enough of her senses just in time to see Camille flying at her with a Dropkick. Washington takes a step to the side and leans to dodge the blow, but Cosworth manages to twist in mid-air and plant both feet on the middle rope after she sails past her target. Before J-Dogg can even fully turn around to get eyes on her opponent, Camille comes rebounding back with a massive springboard Shoulder Block that hits Washington square in the chest and flips her head over heels.
Following through with the strike, Cosworth lands on the mat with a graceful front roll and comes out of her tumble in a sprinter’s four point stance in the center of the ring. Jasmine manages to stagger upright a couple of seconds later with a hand pressed to her aching sternum, and her manager and tag partner both shout a warning about the human missile pointed in her direction.
They’re much too late, however, as Camille explodes off the mat, closes the distance in the blink of an eye, and slams a shoulder into J-Dogg’s gut before she can even process what her crew are saying. Carried forward by the momentum of her Spear, Cosworth drives her opponent into the corner, adding a second devastating impact as Washington’s back is slammed against the turnbuckles.
The twin collisions leave Jasmine a wheezing wreck folded in half over Camille’s right shoulder, which is the last place she wants to be when Cosworth plants both hands on J-Dogg’s hips, springs to a stand, and tosses her backwards with a ridiculously high Back Body Drop. Not content to let gravity do all the work, Camille pivots around on her left foot and whips her right leg into a Roundhouse Kick that finds its mark on the side of Jasmine’s head even as the airborne wrestler is mid-fall.
“Wha -- What the shit was that?!” Park stammers as Washington crashes into the mat. “Why didn't you start off with that?! We could already be having celebration sex in the locker room showers by now!”
Cosworth only rolls her eyes and sighs as she lays across Jasmine’s chest and hooks a leg. Accompanied by thousands of fans, the referee counts out…
ONE!
TWO!
THR --- NO!
...as Washington shivers weakly and manages to get a shoulder up, apparently also possessing her tag partner’s prodigious capacity for absorbing punishment and somehow staying alive. Camille releases the pin, sits back on her haunches, then runs a hand through her long, brown hair as she sets about deciding what spectacular maneuver to try next. She’s mentally tallying the pros and cons of a 630 Senton versus a Phoenix Splash versus a Double Inverted Moonsault when her thoughts are interrupted by Demetria’s voice calling out behind her.
“What now, Wonder Bread?! Outta moves, bitch?!”
“That’s what happens when your cornerman is a crack-addled bimbo!” Kylie adds. “All sizzle and no steak!”
Camille locks eyes with her girlfriend at ringside, the couple wordlessly exchanging their thoughts with a few glances, an arched eyebrow, and a subtle nod. Cosworth suddenly spins around in her seat and sprints for the ropes in front of Sanders and Andrews. They smirk at the charging rookie, but when Camille makes a Suicide Dive over the top rope their looks of disdain turn into alarm. Eyes wide as saucers, Demetria dives in one direction and Kylie the other, both wrestlers laying facedown on the thinly padded concrete with arms over their heads in an attempt to take guard against the imminent aerial assault.
One second passes without impact.
Then two.
Then three.
The pair of wrestlers uncover their heads and roll onto their backs to look around, first Kylie followed shortly by Demetria. To their surprise, Cosworth is still in the ring, leaning casually against the ropes and looking out with a toothy grin on her face. Sensing their confusion, she silently directs their attention to the FAWNtron with a pointed finger. The massive plasma screen shows Camille leaping out of the ring, only for her to grab the top rope at the last second and pull herself back inside, turning her Suicide Dive into a Tiger Feint Kick.
“Hey guys, after the match, could I get your autographs?” Cosworth asks while smiling brightly.
As far as trash talk goes, it was hardly what Yoona would call a “sick burn” but the audience still responds with peals of laughter and applause, delighting in the way that Kylie and Demetria had been sent cowering by the fakeout.
“Really, Cam?! Taunting the Job Squad?! You’re such a douchebag!” Park yells over the din of the crowd. “I’m so proud of you!”
Turning away from the seething veterans on the floor, Camille returns to the task at hand. Jasmine has crawled over to a corner and is trying to pull herself upright with the ropes, a task which is made much easier when her opponent helps her up with a Rear Waist Lock. Cosworth spins Washington around, bends her over at the waist, and then slaps on a standing Headscissor, trapping J-Dogg’s head between a pair of toned, powerful thighs. Whatever she is planning, however, is short-circuited when Jasmine powers to a stand and gets some measure of revenge by subjecting Camille to a Back Body Drop of her own.
Washington doesn’t quite get the same height, nor does she have it in her to follow up with a mid-air kick to the head, but the proximity to the corner means she doesn’t have to. Cosworth yelps as her back crashes into the top turnbuckle, then she slips off and starts falling to the mat until the crooks of her knees get caught on the top ropes, sparing her a second rough landing though at the same of time trapping her in a perilous Tree of Woe.
“Flip your way outta that one, Wonder Bread!” Jasmine taunts as she backs into the corner and gives her backside a couple of more smacks so that everyone in the building knows what’s coming next.
J-Dogg grabs onto the ropes for support then thrusts backwards over and over again, using the plentiful junk in her trunk as a battering ram to crush Camille’s exposed abdomen.
“You think you’re the hero of this story?!”
Slam!
“Think again, Wonder Bread! Your clueless, cracka-ass is just another expendable grunt in Da Man’s army!”
Slam!
“So I’mma tear through all you bitches!”
Slam!
“One --”
Slam!
“-- after another --”
Slam!
“-- after another --”
Slam!
“-- until there ain’t none of you left --”
Slam!
“-- and Da Man is dead!”
Slam!
Having seemingly taken the fight out of her once dynamic opponent, Jasmine squats down low and treats Camille to an up-close and personal view of her greatest weapon, buffeting Cosworth’s face with her backside. Kylie and Demetria are ecstatic, and they exchange a complex, well-rehearsed series of celebratory daps, slaps, and handshakes. Meanwhile, Yoona looks on with arms crossed as she licks her teeth.
“Hey, cockbag!” the Korean barks from the floor. “You’re in my fucking seat!”
“Hah, that’s actually kind of funny,” Washington chuckles while rising to a stand as Camille finally slips off her perch and crumples to the mat.
Not that being freed from the Tree of Woe helps her much, as Jasmine immediately lays into her with a vicious combination of kicks and stomps. Otherwise defenseless under the withering assault, Cosworth is forced to roll under the bottom ropes and out of the ring, taking a nasty fall to the floor and then lying in a heap.
As soon as Camille is out of the ring, J-Dogg and crew put their diabolical plans to action. Washington drags the referee to the other side of the ring where Sanders climbs onto the apron, and the two of them engage the official in an argument about whether or not Cosworth is on performance-enhancing drugs.
“Flippy little spot-monkey moves like she’s from the Matrix! Did you check her for steroids? HGH? Testosterone? Or are you part of Da Man’s conspiracy?!” Kylie asks while she jabs an accusing finger into the referee’s chest.
“Mmm-HMMM!” Jasmine agrees with a sassy snap of her fingers. “She was a track and field girl, and you know them bitches ain’t clean!”
“Probably been juicing this whole time,” Sanders adds with a sagely nod of her head.
“And she’s got springs in her shoes too,” J-Dogg posits.
“And cyborg implants, of course! Why else would she call herself the Girl of Tomorrow?!” Kylie exclaims.
While her sisters-in-arms distract the official, Demetria sneaks around the ring until she has Camille in her sights. A sneer spreads across her face when she sees that Cosworth hasn’t fully regained her senses and is just now crawling to hands and knees. Andrews breaks into a run, planning to send a brutal Soccer Punt into Camille’s drooping, unguarded head.
The sneer twists into a savage snarl as Demetria gets within kicking range, but her bloodlust has given her a severe case of tunnel vision, and she doesn’t see the other woman sprinting at her head-on. Just as Andrews is about to unleash her kick, Yoona leaps over her girlfriend’s prostrate body and smashes her upraised right knee directly into veteran’s jaw. With a full head of steam behind it, Park’s Flying Knee hits so hard that it actually lifts Demetria off the ground before she falls on her back, then she tumbles backwards one more time, flopping into a facedown position with nary a twitch.
“Waahh, wwaaaaaaaahhhh,” Yoona nasally grunts, imitating the sound of a very sad trombone.
Striding over to her insensate victim, Park drags Andrews to a kneeling position with two handfuls of hair. Holding Demetria’s head at hip level, Yoona delivers three hateful pelvic thrusts, battering Andrews’ face with her pubic mound while the FAWNatics roar with approval. Those hoping for another display of sexual dominance would be disappointed, however, when the Korean stops after three and slams Demetria’s head into the adjacent ring post, skull colliding against unpadded steel with a loud CLANG that makes even the most ardent of Andrews’ haters shift uncomfortably in their seats.
“What the hell happened out there?!” a confused and angry referee demands from inside the ring.
“Nothing to see here, bro,” Yoona says with a nonchalant shrug. “Crack whores need love too. I was just getting my dick sucked by…by... uhh… hmm… well, shit, it’s been fifteen minutes and I still don’t know who the fuck she is. Ah well…”
Almost as an afterthought, Park digs into the hip pocket of her sweatpants, retrieves a few loose coins, a plastic button, and a ball of lint, and then disdainfully throws the collection onto Demetria’s body.
“Thanks for the BJ, keep the change.”
With the crowd popping from her one-liner, Yoona flashes her coldest, cruelest smile at Jasmine, who silently stares back from over the ropes with barely contained fury in her green eyes.
“You wanna know why Bethany chose Cam and not me to be in this tournament? Because Cam… Cam here will beat your scrubby ass. Show you what real talent looks like. How real talent moves. Next to the goddamned Girl of Tomorrow, you look like a pregnant hippo drowning in molasses. But me? I wouldn’t make you look bad. I wouldn’t embarrass you. No, I wouldn’t even give you the chance to embarrass yourself, because I’d fucking murder you first.”
Park turns her head to the side and sees Kylie staring holes at her too, although the anger in Sanders’ eyes isn’t nearly so intense as the anger in Washington’s.
“Same goes for you too, Sanders. I’ve already skull-fucked one asshat tonight. Step to me and I’ll make it a hattrick.”
“A hattrick is three, you moron,” Kylie scoffs.
“Oh, ho, ho! Guess who’s the dumb bitch who just volunteered to get skull-fucked twice!?” Park retorts.
“Yoona, stop it…” Camille says while walking up from behind, apparently recovered from her mauling in the corner.
“Relax, Cam. Go do your job, I can handle things out here,” Yoona reassures.
“That’s what I’m worried about. You handling things…” Cosworth mumbles.
The referee’s count has reached “SEVENTEEN!” however, and Camille has little time to dawdle. She quickly shoots a concerned glance at Yoona, then Kylie, then back to Yoona. She blows out a breath through puffed cheeks and nods once at her girlfriend, signalling Park to move into position facing the ring and brace herself. Cosworth takes a couple of big steps to gather speed, then leaps from the ground to Yoona’s shoulder to the top rope to the side of the ring opposite from her opponent, drawing a raucous round of applause.
“Eyes on me, Jasmine. We’re not through yet,” Camille calls to her opponent, drawing J-Dogg’s death glare away from Park.
Washington’s attention moves back to her opponent as much as she wants to slide out of the ring and step on the little Asian cockroach in Cosworth’s corner. Jasmine joins Camille in a slow circling of the ring.
On the outside, a fuming Kylie tends to her still semiconscious manager, sitting Demetria up against the apron and lightly slapping her cheek to try and bring her around. Inside, J-Dogg comes together in a collar-and-elbow with Flippy the Snow-woman, trying to knot herself in some manner with the aerialist. If Cosworth is going to go Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon every couple seconds, she’d have to keep her closer. With the tie-up established, almost instantly Jasmine lifts a sturdy knee into Camille’s gut, doubling her foe over with a gasp, and with her foe thusly situated, Jasmine sinks her nails into Camille’s mane to keep her there. She lifts a series of knees to her fellow rookie’s forehead, battering the braincase three, four, five times.
“Not gonna be flyin’ the friendly skies anytime soon are ya?” J-Dogg asks, already knowing the answer.
The Nubian beauty casts a glance at the oddly unconcerned Yoona and BLASTS Park’s partner with one final Rockette-like knee that sends Camille flying through the air, landing in a spread-eagle a few steps away.
With Demetria burbling back to life, Vanilla Chill provides her concentration to the activity in the ring and pumps her fist through the last connection. With Camille decked and the crowd groaning its disapproval, Sanders winks at a more engaged Yoona.
Kylie motions toward the ring and mouths the words “SKULL FUCK.” Or is it one word? No matter, her feelings are conveyed.
Inside, Jasmine stays on her foe, determined to not let Camille get to her feet and let her use those anti-gravity boots she seems to wear. Washington hovers over the brunette, leaps into the air, and mushroom stomps both breasts, flattening the teats to her foe’s breastbone painfully.
A toothy Jasmine grinds her boot leather into the tender tissue, drawing yips of pain from her adversary. She vaults into the air and lands her beautiful booty into the breadbasket of the downed grappler. Lungs made bellows by the impaling derriere, Camille exhales violently, her eyes bulging. Cosworth’s body jackknifes around the seated J-Dogg but slowly melts back to the canvas where the official slaps the mat for…
ONE…
TWO…
And Cosworth kicks out to the demand of Yoona on the outside.
With Andrews trying and, at the moment, failing in pulling herself up, Kylie is providing a one-woman ovation for her partner, calling on her compatriot to keep on the fellow rookie.
Jasmine is quick to comply. She drops down next to and in back of Camille, both women on their right hip. Tugging the brunette back with her and into her lap, Washington ends on her ass cheeks, slipping her arms under and around Camille’s before locking in a Full Nelson.
“How’s about we go for a little ride?” she asks. “It’s not the five-ticket attraction you’re used to, but it has its moments.”
With that, Jasmine leeeeans to her back, pulling a confused Cosworth with her. Once there, the rookie thrusts her pelvis and sends both women jerking upward and forward, only to come plummeting back down, J-Dogg delivering Camille to the deck for a Keester Bounce between her extended stems.
Landing harshly on her tailbone, Camille’s face pinches in pain. She starts to struggle in the Nelson for a moment before Jasmine decides to take her on a second ride, repeating the action of the first and SPIKING her foe’s coccyx into the thinly-sheathed plywood another time…and then another.
A smirking Kylie, loving every second, makes eye contact with Yoona and mouths “ASS FUCK” to the Korean trash bag. She adds a knowing nod and a wink.
“Be gentler with her in the coming days,” she informs Park. “It’s gonna hurt a little.”
Back in the ring, J-Dogg releases her Nelson and slips out from around a wincing Camille, Cosworth’s hands instantly moving to assuage her backside when she’s able. Washington blithely walks a half-circle around her tourney foe, sashaying her hips, and delivers a vicious Soccer Kick to the chops of Camille, flattening her foe into a dazed starfish.
Jasmine raises her arm high and wide to the great displeasure of the crowd and strides confidently to a neutral corner where she climbs to the top, spinning to face the interior of the ring.
Beaming and in complete control, Washington feels comfortable enough to disconnect from her foe and go for a bigger move, namely her Jazzy Jump. With Kylie showing her off like a prize pupil from the outside, Jasmine vaults from the penthouse. She dives, twisting in midair, to come SPLASHING down across the open midriff of Camille, driving the air from her foe and perhaps the will.
Jazzy Jump
J-Dogg quickly recovers her position, after a slight bounce off Cosworth’s carcass, and hooks the far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOO!
Camille kicks her way free, sliding on to her side to deny a furious Jasmine her ticket into the next round.
Washington hops to her feet and protests to the striped shirt but a stern call from Sanders puts J-Dogg back on task. Washington tugs Camille to her feet and bullies the brunette to her corner, shoving her in back first before grabbing the collar of the referee and drawing him out to the middle for a conversation.
Jasmine makes sure the man is pointed toward the opposite corner to discuss Trump’s Great Wall and other wide-ranging topics of the day. While she does, Kylie hops to the apron, and from the opposite side of the post, swings her arms around Camille’s neck to start strangling the air and energy from her partner’s opponent. Cosworth flails wildly as Kylie wrenches and throttles, making sure when Camille is delivered back to the Badass from Hotlanta, J-Dogg will be able to bury her bytch like another bone.
Sanders shoots a wink at Jasmine as she feels the fight draining from Cosworth’s body. Both members of Hot & Bothered fail to notice Yoona sneaking up behind Kylie on the arena floor, however, and Vanilla Chill’s elevated position on the ring apron leaves her completely open to Park’s powerful Right Uppercut that splits her thighs and pulverizes her groin. Eyes bulging in hurt and shock, Sanders surrenders her Sleeper Hold as her hands reflexively clasp around her crotch, and then a moment later Yoona grabs two handfuls of her Louis Vuitton dress and forcefully yanks her off the apron, guiding her fall so that Kylie’s shoulders and head take the brunt of the impact against the adjacent ring steps.
The loud, metallic crash and the subsequent OOOH from the audience finally draws the official’s attention away from an animated debate about the merits and feasibility of an American single-payer healthcare system. He turns around and glares at Park, who responds with an insouciant shrug.
“Don't look at me like that. She was already like this when I got here,” Yoona lies while gesturing at Kylie’s crumpled form, even as video replay on the FAWNtron shows otherwise.
The man can do nothing, as his official jurisdiction is limited to only Cosworth and Washington, but J-Dogg’s patience for the Korean nuisance has reached its limits. She shoves the referee aside with a snarl, then races towards Park and slides out under the bottom rope, completely ignoring her tournament opponent who is still recovering from the effects of Kylie’s choke. Unwilling to risk getting her girlfriend disqualified by laying a finger on Jasmine, Yoona opts to run laps around the ring while slinging insults at the enraged Washington who’s hot on her heels.
“Is all that cellulite weighing you down?!” Park calls over her shoulder. “Come and get me, you fat-fuck!”
J-Dogg redoubles her efforts, but with a substantial head start, Yoona remains out of reach.
“Atlanta’s such a shithole shantytown that movies don’t even bother to blow it up!” she yells, taking a jab at Jasmine’s hometown.
Washington manages to narrow the gap to a couple of yards but can’t seem to get any closer as Park’s long, black hair trailing behind her is just barely beyond arm’s reach.
The referee begins his twenty-count towards a ring-out disqualification in an attempt to force the AWOL J-Dogg back into the ring, although Jasmine either ignores him or does not hear him as she continues her pursuit.
“Everyone Sanders associates with turns to failure!” Yoona continues to taunt. “She’s like Loser-Midas!”
Another lap around the ring.
“Partners with Cosette, and Cosette becomes Jobber Queen!”
Another lap.
“Partners with Erway, and Erway blows out her knee!”
Another lap.
“Partners with Shea, and Britain leaves the EU!”
Another lap.
Park seems content to play cat and mouse until Washington is counted out by the official, but the plan is foiled when Demetria recovers enough of her senses to stick her leg out from her seated position and trip the sprinting Korean. Yoona cries out in surprise as she’s sent sprawling to the ground, and then Jasmine immediately pounces, rolling her onto her back and mounting her stomach.
Despite her precarious position, Park makes no move to defend and only smiles, apparently willing to suffer a no-holds-barred beatdown to goad Washington into wasting precious seconds, and J-Dogg is happy to oblige by pounding a trio of Haymakers into the Korean’s unguarded face.
“Pillow-hands...” Yoona hisses through a bloody smirk, her teeth stained red by her busted lip.
Jasmine is about to obliterate the Korean’s nose with a Double Axehandle Smash, but Demetria’s desperate shout of “GET YO ASS BACK IN DA RING!” brings her back to her senses. Washington immediately abandons her assault and dashes for the ring, managing to slide in under the bottom rope a fraction of a second before the official counts “TWENTY!” Her foray outside the ropes still proves costly, however, as it has given Camille much needed time to regroup and recover.
“Are you alright, Yoona?” Cosworth asks as she climbs upright.
Park checks her mouth for missing teeth, and finding none, she groggily staggers to her feet and flashes a thumbs up. Despite the brief beatdown, she seems to be in better shape than Demetria and Kylie, who are still down if not out.
Eager to vent her remaining frustrations on Camille’s face, J-Dogg lunges forward with her right fist chambered, but her opponent snatches her wrist mid-swing. A left-handed punch meets the same fate, and the pair of wrestlers find themselves locked together with arms stretched out in a T. The deadlock is brief, however, as Jasmine quickly gains the advantage with a Headbutt to the nose followed by a knee to the midsection.
Doubling up on her grip on Cosworth’s right arm, Washington gives a hard tug to send her opponent running towards the ropes with an Irish Whip. Camille’s brakes are just as good as her jets though, and she plants her feet, latches onto J-Dogg’s left wrist, and reels in her foe. Rather than fully reverse the Irish Whip, she fires a Super Kick at Jasmine’s chin just when Washington is yanked forward.
Cosworth’s right heel THWACKS into its target, and J-Dogg drops to her knees, Camille’s grip on her arm the only thing keeping her from being completely laid out on the mat. Cosworth gives another sharp tug on the trapped limb, dragging Jasmine back to her feet and sending her stumbling towards her opponent once again.
This time Camille dips under Washington’s right arm while simultaneously looping her own right arm across Jasmine’s chest. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder and facing opposite directions, Cosworth plants her left hand on J-Dogg’s hip and hoists her opponent high into the air. At the peak of her lift, Camille spins 180 degrees on the ball of her left foot to gain more momentum before she dives forward, powering the back of Jasmine’s head and shoulders into the deck with a massive Lifting Side Slam.
Cosworth crawls into a simple Crossbody pin, and the referee drops down to count…
ONE!
TWO!
THRNOOOO!
...as Washington kicks out and rolls free, perhaps spared by her opponent neglecting to hook a leg.
Jasmine rolls onto her stomach and starts crawling for a corner where Kylie has managed to drag herself back up, although Sanders still looks to be in no condition to help her partner. At first it seems that Camille is going to allow Washington to make it to the ropes, but then she leaps high into the air and comes down with a two-footed stomp across J-Dogg’s lower back.
Washington’s yelp of pain is still bubbling in the back of her throat when Cosworth uses her spine as a launchpad for a second leap, this time landing atop the nearby set of turnbuckles. Recoiling from the stomp, Jasmine reflexively rolls over onto her back just as Camille turns around on her perch to face the ring. Kylie grasps for Cosworth’s leg, trying to do something -- anything -- to give her partner a fighting chance, though she can’t reach the top turnbuckle from her position on the ground and she can’t muster the strength to climb onto the apron. The best she can manage is a weak, wordless cry of warning, but it’s too little too late as Camille takes flight.
Rocketing to a height that leaves even her own girlfriend astonished, Cosworth tucks her knees and turns one front somersault at the peak of her jump and then three quarters of another on the way down before crashing down onto Jasmine, her shoulderblades impacting against her opponent’s sternum. Flattened by the spectacular 630 Senton, J-Dogg lets out a long, wheezing groan and then lays flat on her back as Camille settles into another pin, this time remembering to hook the far leg.
The official slides to the mat nearby, and the exultant FAWNatics count along for…
“ONE!”
“TWO!”
“THREE!”
[/i] [/span][/div]...but there’s no bell, as Washington’s other foot is resting on the bottom rope, right where Demetria placed it when the referee wasn’t looking.
“Nuh-uh, Snow White!” Andrews snarls. “You gettin’ bounced from dis tourney, or else my name ain’t De -- UNGH!”
She never finishes her thought, as she gets blindsided by Park’s Flying Knee for the second time in the match.
“What the fuck kind of name is DeUngh?” Yoona says as she looks down on Demetria’s starfished body. “Is that German or something?”
“You had one job, Yoona. One job!” Camille groans, clearly exasperated that Andrews was once again allowed to interfere in the match.
“Sorry, babe. I got distracted by your Happy Fun Ball of Doom maneuver. Was there a point to doing all the flips instead of just straight up stomping her head?”
“The force of the rotation creates a vortex at the center of my body, allowing me to siphon latent Spirit Energy from everyone in the building which is then released in a single devastating burst at the moment of impact,” Cosworth deadpans.
“You’re such a dick, Cam,” Yoona grumbles.
Camille quickly dismisses her girlfriend with a wave of her hand, as Jasmine has already recovered enough to crawl to hands and knees. Pushing to her feet, Cosworth walks over to J-Dogg’s left side and scissors her calves around the crawling wrestler’s left thigh. Washington senses that nothing good is about to happen and makes a final lunge for the safety of the bottom rope, but she comes up short as Camille bends over at the waist and wraps both arms around her right thigh.
Her hooks sunk in deep, Cosworth lays out onto her back and straightens her body, twisting and gyrating her body like a breakdancer. Jasmine is pulled along for the ride and forced into a set of splits while her captor rolls her from her back to her shoulders to her stomach to her hips to her rear, over and over again. Despite her predilection for soaring through the air, Camille proves she's willing and capable of tumbling on the mat too, as her Rolling Death Cradle finisher puts J-Dogg through a gut-churning spin cycle in the center of the ring.
The whirling dervish comes to a halt after about fifteen seconds, leaving Jasmine sitting upright with her legs spread in a wide V, each limb still trapped in the grasps of her opponent who’s laid out perpendicular behind her back. It's no accident that the configuration is reminiscent of Portia VanBuren’s Stretching a Buck finisher, as Cosworth’s training partners at Sydney Deschain’s backyard gym had pointed out the resemblance and thus the potential for the Rolling Death Cradle to be used as a submission maneuver.
“Look, Jasmine, this would be a lot easier for both of us if you just give up,” Camille says blithely.
“Dream on, Wonder BreaaaAAAAAHHHHHH!!!” Washington screams as her refusal to surrender immediately prompts her opponent to continue treating her like a ragdoll.
Cosworth steps up her effort, spreading J-Dogg’s legs wider and rolling faster, apparently trying to answer the question of “Will it blend?” using Jasmine as the unwilling test subject. Another fifteen seconds pass, and Camille once again plants her opponent in the center of the ring.
“Do you give up now?” she asks as if cajoling a particularly obstinate child.
Washington feels like her intestines are tied up in knots and the Wishbone threatens to split her up the middle, but she still defiantly shakes her head.
“What kind of cracka-ass move arrrRRRGGHH!!!”
Camille sets the Rolling Death Cradle from “Blend” to “Purée” as the revolutions approach Ludicrous Speed. Determined to punch her ticket to the next round, Cosworth sustains the dizzying ride for fifteen, then twenty, then thirty seconds. Finally, she sets Jasmine in the center of the ring for a third time, J-Dogg’s thighs split apart at a severe angle that would have pushed the limits of even Camille’s notoriously rubber-legged girlfriend.
“Do you want to --”
“I GIVE! I GIVE!” Washington shrieks, slapping at Cosworth with both hands. “GET OFFA ME, YOU ALBINO BITCH!”
Camille immediately releases the hold, muttering a protest under her breath that she’s not albino. The bell dings three times a moment later to make the result official, and Jasmine quickly rolls out of the ring into the waiting arms of her partner and manager, all three women looking worn, haggard, and hateful.
“Your winner, and advancing to the second round, the Girl of Tomorrow, Camille Cosworth!” the PA proclaims.
Cosworth climbs to her feet, and a couple of seconds later Park scrambles into the ring, shoves her head between Camille’s thighs from behind, and pops to a stand to hoist her girlfriend onto her shoulders. Yoona flips a pair of middle fingers at the retreating trio of wrestlers, then does a celebratory jig to cheers from the crowd while Cosworth tries to hold on for dear life. After a couple of victory laps Park sets her down and gives her a long, wet kiss on the lips that prompts the cheering fans to get even louder.
“Gone with the Wind,” Camille whispers a bit breathlessly after Yoona releases her tongue.
“W-what?” Park stutters as her face scrunches in confusion.
“Atlanta was destroyed in Gone with the Wind,” Cosworth clarifies. “You said that movies never bother to destroy Atlanta, but that's not true.”
Yoona sighs in disgust, shakes her head, and clasps her hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders.
“Frankly, my dear,” she says in a false baritone dripping with contempt, “I don't give a fuck.”