Post by bigfan on Apr 3, 2018 18:52:20 GMT
TRIXIE “JINX” DECKER:
Backstage, Trixie Decker peeks through the curtain. Even after almost a decade of wrestling, seeing a crowd excites her. She's still not used to having fans – her pre-FAWN career was usually centered on being the out-of-towner or the woman everyone loved to hate or the oddball. But, her, she has fans. People make shirts with her face on them. People ask for autographs and pictures. People send fan letters.
Frankly, it unnerves her a little.
Behind the goth, a throat clears. She turns to look.
SELIA BRACH:
“Hi, Trixie,” Selia says in almost a whisper. The power lifter-turned-wrestler's shyness is unbearable to most, but Trixie likes her.
“Hey, Muscles!” Trixie replies, almost sing-songy. “They ever list you on the FAWN Proper roster?”
Selia shrugs. “I mean, I'm part of the roster, but they've never done any promotion.” The pixie powerhouse looks around nervously. “Look, uh, Kylie is… well, I know you can beat her, but she has a buddy and --”
“Washington,” Trixie says, “yeah, I know.”
“Well, I was wondering, since you try to look out for people and have backs… you should.. have someone… have your back,” Selia stumbles through her words.
Trixie smiles and hugs the younger grappler. “I'll take the risk. You can stay back here.” Selia, obviously worried, opens her mouth, but the sound system sparks to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is for the Intercontinental Belt! First up, hailing from Flint, Michigan and standing at five feet three inches and one hundred seventeen pounds… TRIXIE 'JINX' DECKER!”
“GET JINXED”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nlJuwO0GDs
Trixie leans over and pecks her friend on the cheek. “I'm a big girl. I take risks. Thanks, though.” Before Brach can protest, Trixie bursts through the curtain to her entrance music. She runs down the aisle, slapping hands with male fans and occasionally stopping to flirt with ladies. Eventually she makes it to the ring's skirt and hops up, jumping over the top rope before running up the turnbuckles to blow kisses to the FAWNatics.
“Aw, yes, you all love me today, but will you respect me in the morning?” she yells out. She jumps back to the ring where the official stares at her, warily.
“Clean fight, okay, Trixie?” he says.
“I'll even scrub behind her ears,” Decker replies.
The ref only heaves a long sigh. “I always get the talky ones,” he mutters.
“You really need me tonight?” Jasmine asks earnestly. “I mean you’re Vanilla Chill and well, she’s a Jinx. There’s a watch party on City Walk where I could sell a shitload of merch and I…”
[***Jasmine Washington***]
The platinum blonde pixie from hell gives her partner the eye.
“Jazzy,” Sanders says softly but accusingly. “I’m a champ. She’s a challenger. I NEEEED you.”
[***Kylie Sanders***]
“Damn Chill. Don’t be buggin’. I’m here, OK. Just askin’. And you’ll do the same for me when I’m champ.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sanders offers dismissively. “When you’re a champ. You got it.”
Jasmine rolls her eyes out of sight her partner and yet somehow the FAWN original still sees.
“I don’t appreciate that,” Ky responds blindly. “Seriously. I got you WHEN not if you become champ.”
“Y’know. Eliza and Olivia are facing off for the World Title later tonight, Wash continues. “Maybe you could give your partner a shot at that.”
Jasmine points toward Ky’s belt, but the Hawkeye pretends not to hear as Iggy and Charlie start to belt H&B’s anthem ‘Fancy’ throughout the arena. The ignominious Iowan and the Badass from Hotlanta respond to the call.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-zpOMYRi0w )
Chill and J-Dogg push through the curtain and stride to the middle of the stage, Washington at the newly-minted champion’s side.
Kylie, having traded in her Louis Vuitton clutch for FAWN’s Intercontinental belt, sports new gear, her title run apparently prompting a makeover drawing on echoes of her original gear. Sanders sports a unique, multi-strapped yellow-gold sports bra topside with black boy-cut shorts, black boots and pads.
(https://www.yandy.com/Multi-Strapped-Microfiber-Sports-Bra.php )
Behind, on the FAWNtron, ‘‘VANILLA CHILL IN DA HOUSE BYTCHES!’ appears in ten-foot high, gold letters. Jazzy shows Sanders off, the Nubian beauty raising a wrist of the former fan favorite, the boos falling like a downpour.
Vanilla Chill smirks at the Orlando lowlifes as the women head down the ramp and aisle together, Washington talking shyt about everyone and everything, including the woman in the ring.
Reaching the squared circle, Sanders dabs her partner, the Hawkeye sharing a moment of silent focus with her teammate. The elfin blonde turns a much sterner gaze to the multitudes heaping their disdain and tossing less than complimentary remarks at the turncoat.
Becoming agitated when a ‘TROLL’ chant breaks out, Kylie heads up the steps, leaving J-Dogg to her station on the outside, Washington dressed in a tiny black hoodie, (black version of the following: i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/biggerb/Jasmine-clothing.jpg~original ), the grappler snapping her head back to clear the hood from her cranium and shoulder-length ebony locks. Beneath Jazzy wears camo boy-cut trunks ( s2.photobucket.com/user/biggerb/media/Jasmine-clothing%20below.jpg.html ) which accentuate her bootylicious backside.
As Sanders moves to the middle, the ring announcer picks up his cue.
“AND her opponent. First, from da space where Da Man ain’t got no place…standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in at 112 pounds…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders!”
Ky, stick already in hand, waves at the crowd to shut the hell up. They only turn up the volume of their hatred. Sanders shoves the belt overhead and the “TROLL” chant starts anew.
“This shows I’m not a…what you say I am…SO SHUT THE HELL UP!” Kylie shouts.
The words only spur the FAWNatics on and a flustered Sanders throws the microphone away drawing a momentary cheer from the crowd before they begin again.
“TROLL…TROLL…TROLL”.
Many in the audience lift up a stick with a little troll doll strung from the end, usually around the neck but occasionally by the ankle by the more squeamish.
Kylie stomps back to her corner, hands placed as earmuffs, face turning red as she stews. On the outside, Jasmine demands silence from Da Man’s army but gets none.
Kylie turns when reaching the home buckles and insists the ref stop the crowd’s libelous mantra. He shrugs and calls for the bell.
A defiant finger thrusts into the referee's face. "NO! Nothing starts until I'm shown the respect I deserve!" Seeing Trixie advancing Kylie holds up a hand. "Wednesday Addams, you can WAIT! The Champ is talking."
Trixie cocks her head to the side, mouthing, "Really?" She looks at the timekeepers table and motions to Kylie. The timekeeper shrugs, motions to the bell, and mouths, "Match started." For Trixie, that's good enough. While Kylie gives a load of verbal rage to the hapless official, Trixie breaks into a sprint, lowering and driving her shoulder into Kylie's side. The champ squawks as she's flung back into the turnbuckles behind her.
Outside the ring Jasmine goes into full rage. "How DARE you touch her? She wasn't ready!" She slams her hands on the mat furiously. "Ref, disqualify her!"
Trixie, making total eye contact with Washingston, slams the palm of her hand on Sanders’ dazed mug and mashes her face around. "How DARE I touch her?! Why, it's almost like there's a wrestling match going on!"
Trixie removes her mitt from Sanders face and looks to the FAWNatics. "Remind me, everybody! I'm s'posed to rub a troll's tummy for luck right?" To the approval of the fans, Trixie rubs Sanders' gut before driving her knee up into the vet's midsection.
Jasmine fumes, swiping at Decker's feet, but Trixie pulls away, yanking Kylie with her. Trixie points at the interloper. "Ref, she's reaching in the ring!"
The official turns, seeing Jasmine's hands well beyond the ropes and gives her a warning about interfering. As soon as his back's turned, Trixie rakes Kylie's eyes. Sanders pulls away, shrieking, but Trixie grabs her by the wrist and whips her to the cables behind her. Kylie bounds off of them but ducks an outstretched arm meant to knock her block off. Instead, Sanders baseball slides out of the ring, where her partner waits to comfort her.
"SHE CHEATED!" Kylie shrieks at the ref as Jasmine checks her eyes.
The official looks back at Trixie, who shrugs innocently. "I didn't see anything," he tells the champ.
"Neither did Kylie," Trixie calls cheerfully. "Pretty sure she had something in her eye." If the look Sanders gives Decker could kill, there's be a decimated corpse in the ring.
"C'mon, Kylie, get in the ring," the ref demands. He begins a count. "One..."
The FAWN vet points accusingly at the Jinx. "Keep her away til I get in!" The referee looks but Trixie has already returned to her corner, smiling.
"Two!"
Sanders storms up to the ring, sliding between the top and middle ropes. Trixie breaks into a sprint, sending a kick towards Kylie's head.
The brunette’s boot CRUNCHES into Sanders’ left temple, whipping Kylie’s head around and almost sending the platinum blonde pixie over the top and flopping out to the floor. But as the champ wobbles on the uppermost cable, teetering, Decker snatches a wrist and pulls the Hawkeye back within the confines.
“You wouldn’t want people to think you’re avoiding me, would you?”
Throwing Sanders off with an Irish whip, Kylie sprints across the canvas, hitting the opposite ropes at full speed. She rebounds out of the u-turn and races toward Trixie, who’s stationed herself dead center. Jinx dips and presses her hands into the front of Kylie’s thighs, pushing up with her palms as she straightens.
Hazel eyes bulging wide, FAWN’s most infamous traitor is sent into the sky with a back body drop. Ky soars over the brunette’s head, front flips at the top of her flight and plummets back to earth, THUMPING into the thinly-sheathed plywood across her spinal column.
Outside, J-Dogg winces as Kylie arches in pain from the impact, reaching for the base of her backbone. Turning to face her downed foe, Decker sinks a set of nails into the silvery crop top and tugs the champ to a kneeling position.
Settling in behind the Pleasant Valley Pariah, Trixie grabs both wrists and draws the arms of her foe backward. She stuffs her right knee into the back of Sanders’ neck to complete the modified surfboard, working the top end of Ky’s vertebrae.
The official doesn’t hesitate, asking Sanders if she wants to call it a night. Chill curses out a combative refusal to which Decker pulls back further on her “handles” and thrusts her bony joint forward.
“Are you sure?” the challenger asks.
Kylie only groans this time. With the pressure building, Ky leans into her foe’s knee. Sanders mewls from the added pain, but it gives her some leverage with which to rise to her feet. Having to hop to keep her knee in place, Jinx cashes in her surfboard for a waistlock around Kylie’s ivory midsection.
Decker cinches her reverse bearhug in tight and gives Sanders’ frame a rattle from side to side. She then lifts Kylie off her boot soles in front of her and genuflects to the canvas, PLANTING Chill’s privates atop the plank of her elevated thigh and knee.
Kylie howls in pain, trying to hop away from the explosion of pain in her crotch. Unable, her hands bury between her thighs and she lands knock-kneed, the crowd showing their appreciation for the devastation with a roaring round of applause as Trixie takes a bow behind the waddling blonde.
Enjoying her evening immensely, Trixie loiters in her celebration long enough for Kylie to stick her head and chest through the ropes before Decker can reach her and continue her white-hot start. The ref steps between.
“Let her out of the ropes,” the man requests.
“She put herself in them, buddy. I’m gonna help her out.”
Decker slides by the arbiter and snatches Sanders by her silvery mop, yanking back and adding a cupped palm under Kylie’s chin to force Vanilla Chill to stare at the rafters, her back pressed against the top rope as Decker forces the champ to curl in pain.
The brunette adds a forearm smash to Ky’s modest chest for good measure before the official starts his count. The incorrigible Jinx lands another that rocks the reeling champion before lifting her arms highs, palms pushing to the sky in a symbol of innocence.
Decker steps away and, when she does, Jasmine hops to the apron to untangle her partner from the rubber-coated steel strands. She gives her compatriot in Hot&Bothered an embrace and some whispered words of encouragement the goth princess doesn’t particularly feel are necessary. Rushing in from Kylie’s blindside, Trixie leaps toward the duo, hoping to splash both.
Seeing the approach over Chill’s shoulder, Washington shoves her teammate to the side and takes the brunt of Trixie’s charge, Decker smashing into the Badass from Hotlanta. The African-American grappler is sent flying to the floor, careening into the steel barricade in front of the first row.
As Decker leans over the top rope to wish a grimacing Jasmine buh-bye, Kylie slips in from the side and STOMPS the outer portion of Trixie’s right knee sending the yelping brunette down to that knee. While clutching at the joint, the challenger is too distracted to notice Kylie swing around a soccer kick that THUMPS into her chest.
Decker is knocked to her haunches. She snatches the rope at her side to keep from falling to her back but that sets Kylie up for kicks two, three, four and five, the Hawkeye delivering kick after kick into Trixie’s bosom.
Satisfied, she’s tenderized her challenger’s chest, Kylie spins Decker toward her growing number of fans. She leans the brunette’s throat across the middle rope and climbs on board, pressing her shin into the back of Trixie’s neck. Jinx flails wildly as her windpipe is compressed across the steel cable, Ky adding all her weight to make sure her foe can’t breathe.
A belated call for a break comes from the official and a growling Kylie rides it out for the full ‘FOUR’ count, Jasmine cheering her partner on from the outside while a vindictive Sanders shouts about payback for the earlier eye rake.
Grabbing two handfuls of dark locks, Chill draws a gasping, redfaced Decker off the ropes and lifts Trixie to her feet. Sanders heaves Jinx toward the nearest corner, Decker momentarily airborne, her forehead landing into the top buckle. The impact sends Trixie whiplashing in a 180 away from the collision and stumbling drunkenly back toward the advancing blonde.
In the flash of an eye, the FAWN original shoots a toe kick into her foe’s tummy, doubling over Decker. Without hesitation, Kylie again sinks her claws into Trixie’s dark chocolate mane and sits out. Ky yips in pain when her butt crashes to the canvas, but it’s a small price to pay when Trixie’s face joins Kylie’s backside via an X-factor.
X-Factor (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sll-3Pm7RqM)
The starch SMASHED out of Trixie, Sanders clamps her hooks under the challenger’s opposite side and rolls the face-down Decker toward her to climb on top in a crossbody pin. Chill hooks the far leg for insurance and gets the…
ONE…
TWO…
Trixie kicks her way free forcefully, not nearly ready to give up the opportunity for FAWN gold AND beating the organization’s most hated woman.
Still, Kylie is feeling her oats and, as Trixie reaches all fours, Sanders is on her feet and ready to push her advantage. The Pleasant Valley Pariah mounts the brunette in a forward straddle. She slips her arms under and around those of Decker and laces her fingers behind the neck of the challenger, securing a full nelson.
The Hawkeye starts to raise her rump to thump it into Trixie’s spine and force her foe flat to the canvas where she can torture Decker with her favorite version of the camel clutch. But before Ky can accomplish the task, Jinx wraps her arms around Sanders’ thighs and begins to rise, first to her knees, then, as Kylie shakes her head in worried disbelief, the brunette takes one step up and another.
Hanging on for dear life, as Decker tries to shake her off like a platinum blonde flea, Kylie clamps her nelson tighter to regain control. However, Decker backs her way to a corner and sandwiches Vanilla Chill into the buckles with a modified splash. Kylie’s grip loosens with the first collision and, when Trixie steps out a couple steps and smashes her again, the Intercontinental Champion can’t hold on, dropping to the canvas behind her foe.
A cheeky Trixie thrusts her backside into Kylie’s pelvis and Sanders doubles over, grunting. The brunette turns to face the champ and, with her foe’s face a beckoning target, Trixie slaps the taste from Sanders’ mouth with a wicked bytch slap that spins Sanders’ head to the side. Her cheek growing rosy, a pissed Ky grabs the challenger by the shoulders and flips positions on her, throwing Jinx into the corner, Trixie’s back banging against the buckles.
Chill jogs to the middle to get a running start and charges the challenger, dipping a shoulder to dig it into Trixie’s midriff. But when Sanders goes low, Decker goes high, hopping to a seat on the top and letting Kylie slide under. Scooting atop the back of elfin blonde, Decker rolls to her left, across the ropes, and lies over, locking her legs in a scissors under the arms of her foe. Draped over the cables and down Ky’s back, the crowd roars with delight as she collects Kylie’s legs and puts Sanders in the Tarantula.
Tarantula (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akTx1rMOBrE )
Chill howls in pain from the innovative attack, demanding then pleading with the ref to get Jinx off. The official starts his count and Trixie to takes it to a full ‘FOUR’ before releasing and dropping to the floor below with a flip. Not far, Jasmine hovers in a predatory stance, but Trixie is immediately aware and beckons Washington forward. J-Dogg declines and Trixie has an uninterrupted re-entry into the squared circle, Sanders on her knees in front of her.
Kylie pushes to her feet, one arm stretched behind her, grasping at her lower backbone. Trixie snatches the proffered arm, wrenching it high in a chickenwing. Decker whispers sweet nothings in the left ear of the grimacing Kylie before giving it a nibble. The brunette then genuflects behind the champion and swings a forearm uppercut between Kylie’s alabaster stems.
Sanders rises to tiptoes, her jaw dropping wide, hazel eyes bugging. Decker faces scolding from the referee but also an enormous ‘YES’ chant from the former members of her foe’s Corps. For her part, Trixie tries to look innocent or at least contrite, but no one, particularly Jasmine, is buying it. Washington lays into the ref, then Decker in turn for the “cheapass tactics”.
Trixie grins and slaps Kylie on a lower cheek in response.
“There’s your cheap ass,” Decker retorts.
She draws a yip and flinch from the otherwise frozen platinum blonde. Sanders tries to waddle away but Decker wraps her up from behind, cinching in a bearhug. She lifts the similarly-sized Chill off her boot soles then drops to a knee between the legs of the champion, splitting Ky’s thighs with the plank of her femur in an Inverted Atomic Drop.
Privates pounded a second time, Kylie hops to a bow-legged stance, eyes welling, hands buried between her legs. Trixie presses an open palm to her lips, pantomiming an ‘ooops’ moment, infuriating J-Dogg all the more. She spins the champ to face her and buries a toe kick deep into Ky’s gut, doubling over Chill. Decker hops onto the back of the bent blonde pixie, straddling her, facing in the opposite direction.
Trixie throws her bodyweight forward, flipping and RIPPING Kylie off her moorings and DRIVING the reeling champ into the deck with a Leg-Trap Sunset Powerbomb.
Leg-Trap Sunset Powerbomb (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSNOJdkxsEs )
In the brunette’s clutches while on her back, Kylie is blasted into oblivion and the anxious fans chant along with the slaps of the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Sanders spasms and slops to her side, ending on her chest next to an impressed Decker. Trixie gives her foe a few claps, but quickly pushes to her feet, hovering over the blasted Chill, Vanilla gamely pushing to all fours but stuck there. Trixie stomps Ky’s spine and flattens her back to the canvas, Chill on her chest.
Jinx gathers up both of Kylie’s stems at the ankles and steps onto the back of Sanders’ thighs. Instantly, the Hawkeye understands what the challenger has in mind and she struggles for freedom. After the sustained beating from Trixie, she can manage little and when Decker posts Chill’s legs around hers and slaps the silvery-bobbed grappler’s sides to reflexively bring Kylie’s arms within grabbing range, Trixie is set.
She rocks back with the champ and, on the third time, forces Sanders overhead in a Mexican Surfboard.
Mexican Surfboard (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrIoXLd26_w ) @ 4:18
Lifted high, all four limbs abused by Decker, Kylie yelps in pain. The ref asks if she wants to surrender and while Chill is noncommittal, Jasmine shouts out an emphatic “HELL NO”.
With Jinx keeping her foe raised for second after long second, J-Dogg takes a more pleading tone with her partner, begging for Vanilla to fight on despite the agony. Sanders’ infamous ability to take punishment outlasts the hold, Trixie dumping her foe to the side when her limbs begin to shake from weariness.
Kylie uses the momentum to roll under the ropes and out of the ring. Jasmine races around the squared circle to catch her partner in her arms. Supporting Chill, she keeps the smaller blonde elevated and they huddle close, Washington offering her support in other ways.
Above, Trixie yells at the twosome to get a room or to send Kylie back in for the coupe de grace. Apparently Jasmine chooses the latter as she breaks from the embrace and turns Sanders back toward the ring.
A battered Kylie heaves in deep breaths appearing unsure how to contain the onslaught Decker is bringing. She demands Jinx move back and the official intercedes, stepping between the grapplers and moving the challenger back while asking for cooperation, noting to Trixie she can’t win the belt unless Sanders is in the confines.
Decker relents, joining the ref at center stage while a tentative Ky rolls under the bottom rope, the glistening, ivory-skinned grappler wearily pushing to vertical.
On the outside, Jasmine slaps the canvas with both hands several times, shouting at the ref that Decker should be even further removed. She hops to the apron riding Da Man’s favoritism toward the challenger, claiming her home slice is receiving the usual biased treatment. The ref moves to Wash, insisting he’s doing good by both women and that Jasmine needs to get on the floor.
Using the distraction to her advantage, Trixie ignores the drama to her side and strides toward the bruised and beleaguered Kylie to finish off the platinum blonde in Jinxed style. But as she gets close, Ky explodes from her slumped, flaccid stance and DRIVES a right cross into the jaw of the brunette.
Decker goes rigid and timbers to the canvas out cold before she hits the deck. She lands in a wide spreadeagle next to the dilapidated Sanders, who’s stumbled to her knees after the brutal impact. Noticeable to half the FAWNatics, Kylie slips a pair of gleaming, gilded knuckles offer her hand and stuffs them into the black spandex of her boy-cut trunks.
As Jasmine throws up her hands and drops to the canvas, the official turns to see the damage. Kylie drops across the body of the challenger and the official slides down next to the champ, the crowd booing lustily as he counts out the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Trixie throws a shoulder up, ending on her right side in a daze but in the match. The dismayed Sanders gapes at her partner in disbelief. Wash’s mouth hangs open as well, but she has the sense to motion the Hawkeye to bury the barely conscious Jinx.
A drained Kylie, having taken a beating for most of the match, pulls the ragdolled Trixie up with her, then dips and ‘hups’ the challenger across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The FAWNatics groan at the sight and it becomes disgusted silence when Ky destroys what’s left of Decker with a Chilly Valley Driver.
Chilly Valley Driver (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIRSL_p7klg )
Trixie spreads out in a limp starfish after the ring-rattling impact and Kylie crawls to her deflated foe, dropping her body across, hoping a hooked leg will not be necessary.
The official drops next to blonde and brunette and claps out the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!!
Decker doesn’t so much as twitch and the sigh of relief from Sanders is evident. Jasmine races around the ring to scoop up her partner’s IC gold and scurries up the steps, sliding into the ring to join her teammate.
Kylie wearily heaves herself to hands and knees and disdainfully pie-faces the snoozing Decker.
“Not even close,” Kylie huffs between heaving pulls of oxygen.
From behind, J-Dogg scoops up the sweat-sopped Chill and hands over her property. Kylie shoves the belt high with one hand while the ref raises the other and the announcer makes the result official.
“Your winner and STILL Intercontinental Champion…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders.”
The crowd drowns the arena in disgust, jeering Hot&*Bothered relentlessly to which an exhausted Sanders manages to flip them the bird.
“BEST EVER,” she grunts as loud as she can, unable to overcome the din of the crowd.
Didn’t matter. They knew it.
Backstage, Trixie Decker peeks through the curtain. Even after almost a decade of wrestling, seeing a crowd excites her. She's still not used to having fans – her pre-FAWN career was usually centered on being the out-of-towner or the woman everyone loved to hate or the oddball. But, her, she has fans. People make shirts with her face on them. People ask for autographs and pictures. People send fan letters.
Frankly, it unnerves her a little.
Behind the goth, a throat clears. She turns to look.
SELIA BRACH:
“Hi, Trixie,” Selia says in almost a whisper. The power lifter-turned-wrestler's shyness is unbearable to most, but Trixie likes her.
“Hey, Muscles!” Trixie replies, almost sing-songy. “They ever list you on the FAWN Proper roster?”
Selia shrugs. “I mean, I'm part of the roster, but they've never done any promotion.” The pixie powerhouse looks around nervously. “Look, uh, Kylie is… well, I know you can beat her, but she has a buddy and --”
“Washington,” Trixie says, “yeah, I know.”
“Well, I was wondering, since you try to look out for people and have backs… you should.. have someone… have your back,” Selia stumbles through her words.
Trixie smiles and hugs the younger grappler. “I'll take the risk. You can stay back here.” Selia, obviously worried, opens her mouth, but the sound system sparks to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is for the Intercontinental Belt! First up, hailing from Flint, Michigan and standing at five feet three inches and one hundred seventeen pounds… TRIXIE 'JINX' DECKER!”
“GET JINXED”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nlJuwO0GDs
Trixie leans over and pecks her friend on the cheek. “I'm a big girl. I take risks. Thanks, though.” Before Brach can protest, Trixie bursts through the curtain to her entrance music. She runs down the aisle, slapping hands with male fans and occasionally stopping to flirt with ladies. Eventually she makes it to the ring's skirt and hops up, jumping over the top rope before running up the turnbuckles to blow kisses to the FAWNatics.
“Aw, yes, you all love me today, but will you respect me in the morning?” she yells out. She jumps back to the ring where the official stares at her, warily.
“Clean fight, okay, Trixie?” he says.
“I'll even scrub behind her ears,” Decker replies.
The ref only heaves a long sigh. “I always get the talky ones,” he mutters.
“You really need me tonight?” Jasmine asks earnestly. “I mean you’re Vanilla Chill and well, she’s a Jinx. There’s a watch party on City Walk where I could sell a shitload of merch and I…”
[***Jasmine Washington***]
The platinum blonde pixie from hell gives her partner the eye.
“Jazzy,” Sanders says softly but accusingly. “I’m a champ. She’s a challenger. I NEEEED you.”
[***Kylie Sanders***]
“Damn Chill. Don’t be buggin’. I’m here, OK. Just askin’. And you’ll do the same for me when I’m champ.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sanders offers dismissively. “When you’re a champ. You got it.”
Jasmine rolls her eyes out of sight her partner and yet somehow the FAWN original still sees.
“I don’t appreciate that,” Ky responds blindly. “Seriously. I got you WHEN not if you become champ.”
“Y’know. Eliza and Olivia are facing off for the World Title later tonight, Wash continues. “Maybe you could give your partner a shot at that.”
Jasmine points toward Ky’s belt, but the Hawkeye pretends not to hear as Iggy and Charlie start to belt H&B’s anthem ‘Fancy’ throughout the arena. The ignominious Iowan and the Badass from Hotlanta respond to the call.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-zpOMYRi0w )
Chill and J-Dogg push through the curtain and stride to the middle of the stage, Washington at the newly-minted champion’s side.
Kylie, having traded in her Louis Vuitton clutch for FAWN’s Intercontinental belt, sports new gear, her title run apparently prompting a makeover drawing on echoes of her original gear. Sanders sports a unique, multi-strapped yellow-gold sports bra topside with black boy-cut shorts, black boots and pads.
(https://www.yandy.com/Multi-Strapped-Microfiber-Sports-Bra.php )
Behind, on the FAWNtron, ‘‘VANILLA CHILL IN DA HOUSE BYTCHES!’ appears in ten-foot high, gold letters. Jazzy shows Sanders off, the Nubian beauty raising a wrist of the former fan favorite, the boos falling like a downpour.
Vanilla Chill smirks at the Orlando lowlifes as the women head down the ramp and aisle together, Washington talking shyt about everyone and everything, including the woman in the ring.
Reaching the squared circle, Sanders dabs her partner, the Hawkeye sharing a moment of silent focus with her teammate. The elfin blonde turns a much sterner gaze to the multitudes heaping their disdain and tossing less than complimentary remarks at the turncoat.
Becoming agitated when a ‘TROLL’ chant breaks out, Kylie heads up the steps, leaving J-Dogg to her station on the outside, Washington dressed in a tiny black hoodie, (black version of the following: i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/biggerb/Jasmine-clothing.jpg~original ), the grappler snapping her head back to clear the hood from her cranium and shoulder-length ebony locks. Beneath Jazzy wears camo boy-cut trunks ( s2.photobucket.com/user/biggerb/media/Jasmine-clothing%20below.jpg.html ) which accentuate her bootylicious backside.
As Sanders moves to the middle, the ring announcer picks up his cue.
“AND her opponent. First, from da space where Da Man ain’t got no place…standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in at 112 pounds…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders!”
Ky, stick already in hand, waves at the crowd to shut the hell up. They only turn up the volume of their hatred. Sanders shoves the belt overhead and the “TROLL” chant starts anew.
“This shows I’m not a…what you say I am…SO SHUT THE HELL UP!” Kylie shouts.
The words only spur the FAWNatics on and a flustered Sanders throws the microphone away drawing a momentary cheer from the crowd before they begin again.
“TROLL…TROLL…TROLL”.
Many in the audience lift up a stick with a little troll doll strung from the end, usually around the neck but occasionally by the ankle by the more squeamish.
Kylie stomps back to her corner, hands placed as earmuffs, face turning red as she stews. On the outside, Jasmine demands silence from Da Man’s army but gets none.
Kylie turns when reaching the home buckles and insists the ref stop the crowd’s libelous mantra. He shrugs and calls for the bell.
A defiant finger thrusts into the referee's face. "NO! Nothing starts until I'm shown the respect I deserve!" Seeing Trixie advancing Kylie holds up a hand. "Wednesday Addams, you can WAIT! The Champ is talking."
Trixie cocks her head to the side, mouthing, "Really?" She looks at the timekeepers table and motions to Kylie. The timekeeper shrugs, motions to the bell, and mouths, "Match started." For Trixie, that's good enough. While Kylie gives a load of verbal rage to the hapless official, Trixie breaks into a sprint, lowering and driving her shoulder into Kylie's side. The champ squawks as she's flung back into the turnbuckles behind her.
Outside the ring Jasmine goes into full rage. "How DARE you touch her? She wasn't ready!" She slams her hands on the mat furiously. "Ref, disqualify her!"
Trixie, making total eye contact with Washingston, slams the palm of her hand on Sanders’ dazed mug and mashes her face around. "How DARE I touch her?! Why, it's almost like there's a wrestling match going on!"
Trixie removes her mitt from Sanders face and looks to the FAWNatics. "Remind me, everybody! I'm s'posed to rub a troll's tummy for luck right?" To the approval of the fans, Trixie rubs Sanders' gut before driving her knee up into the vet's midsection.
Jasmine fumes, swiping at Decker's feet, but Trixie pulls away, yanking Kylie with her. Trixie points at the interloper. "Ref, she's reaching in the ring!"
The official turns, seeing Jasmine's hands well beyond the ropes and gives her a warning about interfering. As soon as his back's turned, Trixie rakes Kylie's eyes. Sanders pulls away, shrieking, but Trixie grabs her by the wrist and whips her to the cables behind her. Kylie bounds off of them but ducks an outstretched arm meant to knock her block off. Instead, Sanders baseball slides out of the ring, where her partner waits to comfort her.
"SHE CHEATED!" Kylie shrieks at the ref as Jasmine checks her eyes.
The official looks back at Trixie, who shrugs innocently. "I didn't see anything," he tells the champ.
"Neither did Kylie," Trixie calls cheerfully. "Pretty sure she had something in her eye." If the look Sanders gives Decker could kill, there's be a decimated corpse in the ring.
"C'mon, Kylie, get in the ring," the ref demands. He begins a count. "One..."
The FAWN vet points accusingly at the Jinx. "Keep her away til I get in!" The referee looks but Trixie has already returned to her corner, smiling.
"Two!"
Sanders storms up to the ring, sliding between the top and middle ropes. Trixie breaks into a sprint, sending a kick towards Kylie's head.
The brunette’s boot CRUNCHES into Sanders’ left temple, whipping Kylie’s head around and almost sending the platinum blonde pixie over the top and flopping out to the floor. But as the champ wobbles on the uppermost cable, teetering, Decker snatches a wrist and pulls the Hawkeye back within the confines.
“You wouldn’t want people to think you’re avoiding me, would you?”
Throwing Sanders off with an Irish whip, Kylie sprints across the canvas, hitting the opposite ropes at full speed. She rebounds out of the u-turn and races toward Trixie, who’s stationed herself dead center. Jinx dips and presses her hands into the front of Kylie’s thighs, pushing up with her palms as she straightens.
Hazel eyes bulging wide, FAWN’s most infamous traitor is sent into the sky with a back body drop. Ky soars over the brunette’s head, front flips at the top of her flight and plummets back to earth, THUMPING into the thinly-sheathed plywood across her spinal column.
Outside, J-Dogg winces as Kylie arches in pain from the impact, reaching for the base of her backbone. Turning to face her downed foe, Decker sinks a set of nails into the silvery crop top and tugs the champ to a kneeling position.
Settling in behind the Pleasant Valley Pariah, Trixie grabs both wrists and draws the arms of her foe backward. She stuffs her right knee into the back of Sanders’ neck to complete the modified surfboard, working the top end of Ky’s vertebrae.
The official doesn’t hesitate, asking Sanders if she wants to call it a night. Chill curses out a combative refusal to which Decker pulls back further on her “handles” and thrusts her bony joint forward.
“Are you sure?” the challenger asks.
Kylie only groans this time. With the pressure building, Ky leans into her foe’s knee. Sanders mewls from the added pain, but it gives her some leverage with which to rise to her feet. Having to hop to keep her knee in place, Jinx cashes in her surfboard for a waistlock around Kylie’s ivory midsection.
Decker cinches her reverse bearhug in tight and gives Sanders’ frame a rattle from side to side. She then lifts Kylie off her boot soles in front of her and genuflects to the canvas, PLANTING Chill’s privates atop the plank of her elevated thigh and knee.
Kylie howls in pain, trying to hop away from the explosion of pain in her crotch. Unable, her hands bury between her thighs and she lands knock-kneed, the crowd showing their appreciation for the devastation with a roaring round of applause as Trixie takes a bow behind the waddling blonde.
Enjoying her evening immensely, Trixie loiters in her celebration long enough for Kylie to stick her head and chest through the ropes before Decker can reach her and continue her white-hot start. The ref steps between.
“Let her out of the ropes,” the man requests.
“She put herself in them, buddy. I’m gonna help her out.”
Decker slides by the arbiter and snatches Sanders by her silvery mop, yanking back and adding a cupped palm under Kylie’s chin to force Vanilla Chill to stare at the rafters, her back pressed against the top rope as Decker forces the champ to curl in pain.
The brunette adds a forearm smash to Ky’s modest chest for good measure before the official starts his count. The incorrigible Jinx lands another that rocks the reeling champion before lifting her arms highs, palms pushing to the sky in a symbol of innocence.
Decker steps away and, when she does, Jasmine hops to the apron to untangle her partner from the rubber-coated steel strands. She gives her compatriot in Hot&Bothered an embrace and some whispered words of encouragement the goth princess doesn’t particularly feel are necessary. Rushing in from Kylie’s blindside, Trixie leaps toward the duo, hoping to splash both.
Seeing the approach over Chill’s shoulder, Washington shoves her teammate to the side and takes the brunt of Trixie’s charge, Decker smashing into the Badass from Hotlanta. The African-American grappler is sent flying to the floor, careening into the steel barricade in front of the first row.
As Decker leans over the top rope to wish a grimacing Jasmine buh-bye, Kylie slips in from the side and STOMPS the outer portion of Trixie’s right knee sending the yelping brunette down to that knee. While clutching at the joint, the challenger is too distracted to notice Kylie swing around a soccer kick that THUMPS into her chest.
Decker is knocked to her haunches. She snatches the rope at her side to keep from falling to her back but that sets Kylie up for kicks two, three, four and five, the Hawkeye delivering kick after kick into Trixie’s bosom.
Satisfied, she’s tenderized her challenger’s chest, Kylie spins Decker toward her growing number of fans. She leans the brunette’s throat across the middle rope and climbs on board, pressing her shin into the back of Trixie’s neck. Jinx flails wildly as her windpipe is compressed across the steel cable, Ky adding all her weight to make sure her foe can’t breathe.
A belated call for a break comes from the official and a growling Kylie rides it out for the full ‘FOUR’ count, Jasmine cheering her partner on from the outside while a vindictive Sanders shouts about payback for the earlier eye rake.
Grabbing two handfuls of dark locks, Chill draws a gasping, redfaced Decker off the ropes and lifts Trixie to her feet. Sanders heaves Jinx toward the nearest corner, Decker momentarily airborne, her forehead landing into the top buckle. The impact sends Trixie whiplashing in a 180 away from the collision and stumbling drunkenly back toward the advancing blonde.
In the flash of an eye, the FAWN original shoots a toe kick into her foe’s tummy, doubling over Decker. Without hesitation, Kylie again sinks her claws into Trixie’s dark chocolate mane and sits out. Ky yips in pain when her butt crashes to the canvas, but it’s a small price to pay when Trixie’s face joins Kylie’s backside via an X-factor.
X-Factor (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sll-3Pm7RqM)
The starch SMASHED out of Trixie, Sanders clamps her hooks under the challenger’s opposite side and rolls the face-down Decker toward her to climb on top in a crossbody pin. Chill hooks the far leg for insurance and gets the…
ONE…
TWO…
Trixie kicks her way free forcefully, not nearly ready to give up the opportunity for FAWN gold AND beating the organization’s most hated woman.
Still, Kylie is feeling her oats and, as Trixie reaches all fours, Sanders is on her feet and ready to push her advantage. The Pleasant Valley Pariah mounts the brunette in a forward straddle. She slips her arms under and around those of Decker and laces her fingers behind the neck of the challenger, securing a full nelson.
The Hawkeye starts to raise her rump to thump it into Trixie’s spine and force her foe flat to the canvas where she can torture Decker with her favorite version of the camel clutch. But before Ky can accomplish the task, Jinx wraps her arms around Sanders’ thighs and begins to rise, first to her knees, then, as Kylie shakes her head in worried disbelief, the brunette takes one step up and another.
Hanging on for dear life, as Decker tries to shake her off like a platinum blonde flea, Kylie clamps her nelson tighter to regain control. However, Decker backs her way to a corner and sandwiches Vanilla Chill into the buckles with a modified splash. Kylie’s grip loosens with the first collision and, when Trixie steps out a couple steps and smashes her again, the Intercontinental Champion can’t hold on, dropping to the canvas behind her foe.
A cheeky Trixie thrusts her backside into Kylie’s pelvis and Sanders doubles over, grunting. The brunette turns to face the champ and, with her foe’s face a beckoning target, Trixie slaps the taste from Sanders’ mouth with a wicked bytch slap that spins Sanders’ head to the side. Her cheek growing rosy, a pissed Ky grabs the challenger by the shoulders and flips positions on her, throwing Jinx into the corner, Trixie’s back banging against the buckles.
Chill jogs to the middle to get a running start and charges the challenger, dipping a shoulder to dig it into Trixie’s midriff. But when Sanders goes low, Decker goes high, hopping to a seat on the top and letting Kylie slide under. Scooting atop the back of elfin blonde, Decker rolls to her left, across the ropes, and lies over, locking her legs in a scissors under the arms of her foe. Draped over the cables and down Ky’s back, the crowd roars with delight as she collects Kylie’s legs and puts Sanders in the Tarantula.
Tarantula (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akTx1rMOBrE )
Chill howls in pain from the innovative attack, demanding then pleading with the ref to get Jinx off. The official starts his count and Trixie to takes it to a full ‘FOUR’ before releasing and dropping to the floor below with a flip. Not far, Jasmine hovers in a predatory stance, but Trixie is immediately aware and beckons Washington forward. J-Dogg declines and Trixie has an uninterrupted re-entry into the squared circle, Sanders on her knees in front of her.
Kylie pushes to her feet, one arm stretched behind her, grasping at her lower backbone. Trixie snatches the proffered arm, wrenching it high in a chickenwing. Decker whispers sweet nothings in the left ear of the grimacing Kylie before giving it a nibble. The brunette then genuflects behind the champion and swings a forearm uppercut between Kylie’s alabaster stems.
Sanders rises to tiptoes, her jaw dropping wide, hazel eyes bugging. Decker faces scolding from the referee but also an enormous ‘YES’ chant from the former members of her foe’s Corps. For her part, Trixie tries to look innocent or at least contrite, but no one, particularly Jasmine, is buying it. Washington lays into the ref, then Decker in turn for the “cheapass tactics”.
Trixie grins and slaps Kylie on a lower cheek in response.
“There’s your cheap ass,” Decker retorts.
She draws a yip and flinch from the otherwise frozen platinum blonde. Sanders tries to waddle away but Decker wraps her up from behind, cinching in a bearhug. She lifts the similarly-sized Chill off her boot soles then drops to a knee between the legs of the champion, splitting Ky’s thighs with the plank of her femur in an Inverted Atomic Drop.
Privates pounded a second time, Kylie hops to a bow-legged stance, eyes welling, hands buried between her legs. Trixie presses an open palm to her lips, pantomiming an ‘ooops’ moment, infuriating J-Dogg all the more. She spins the champ to face her and buries a toe kick deep into Ky’s gut, doubling over Chill. Decker hops onto the back of the bent blonde pixie, straddling her, facing in the opposite direction.
Trixie throws her bodyweight forward, flipping and RIPPING Kylie off her moorings and DRIVING the reeling champ into the deck with a Leg-Trap Sunset Powerbomb.
Leg-Trap Sunset Powerbomb (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSNOJdkxsEs )
In the brunette’s clutches while on her back, Kylie is blasted into oblivion and the anxious fans chant along with the slaps of the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Sanders spasms and slops to her side, ending on her chest next to an impressed Decker. Trixie gives her foe a few claps, but quickly pushes to her feet, hovering over the blasted Chill, Vanilla gamely pushing to all fours but stuck there. Trixie stomps Ky’s spine and flattens her back to the canvas, Chill on her chest.
Jinx gathers up both of Kylie’s stems at the ankles and steps onto the back of Sanders’ thighs. Instantly, the Hawkeye understands what the challenger has in mind and she struggles for freedom. After the sustained beating from Trixie, she can manage little and when Decker posts Chill’s legs around hers and slaps the silvery-bobbed grappler’s sides to reflexively bring Kylie’s arms within grabbing range, Trixie is set.
She rocks back with the champ and, on the third time, forces Sanders overhead in a Mexican Surfboard.
Mexican Surfboard (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrIoXLd26_w ) @ 4:18
Lifted high, all four limbs abused by Decker, Kylie yelps in pain. The ref asks if she wants to surrender and while Chill is noncommittal, Jasmine shouts out an emphatic “HELL NO”.
With Jinx keeping her foe raised for second after long second, J-Dogg takes a more pleading tone with her partner, begging for Vanilla to fight on despite the agony. Sanders’ infamous ability to take punishment outlasts the hold, Trixie dumping her foe to the side when her limbs begin to shake from weariness.
Kylie uses the momentum to roll under the ropes and out of the ring. Jasmine races around the squared circle to catch her partner in her arms. Supporting Chill, she keeps the smaller blonde elevated and they huddle close, Washington offering her support in other ways.
Above, Trixie yells at the twosome to get a room or to send Kylie back in for the coupe de grace. Apparently Jasmine chooses the latter as she breaks from the embrace and turns Sanders back toward the ring.
A battered Kylie heaves in deep breaths appearing unsure how to contain the onslaught Decker is bringing. She demands Jinx move back and the official intercedes, stepping between the grapplers and moving the challenger back while asking for cooperation, noting to Trixie she can’t win the belt unless Sanders is in the confines.
Decker relents, joining the ref at center stage while a tentative Ky rolls under the bottom rope, the glistening, ivory-skinned grappler wearily pushing to vertical.
On the outside, Jasmine slaps the canvas with both hands several times, shouting at the ref that Decker should be even further removed. She hops to the apron riding Da Man’s favoritism toward the challenger, claiming her home slice is receiving the usual biased treatment. The ref moves to Wash, insisting he’s doing good by both women and that Jasmine needs to get on the floor.
Using the distraction to her advantage, Trixie ignores the drama to her side and strides toward the bruised and beleaguered Kylie to finish off the platinum blonde in Jinxed style. But as she gets close, Ky explodes from her slumped, flaccid stance and DRIVES a right cross into the jaw of the brunette.
Decker goes rigid and timbers to the canvas out cold before she hits the deck. She lands in a wide spreadeagle next to the dilapidated Sanders, who’s stumbled to her knees after the brutal impact. Noticeable to half the FAWNatics, Kylie slips a pair of gleaming, gilded knuckles offer her hand and stuffs them into the black spandex of her boy-cut trunks.
As Jasmine throws up her hands and drops to the canvas, the official turns to see the damage. Kylie drops across the body of the challenger and the official slides down next to the champ, the crowd booing lustily as he counts out the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Trixie throws a shoulder up, ending on her right side in a daze but in the match. The dismayed Sanders gapes at her partner in disbelief. Wash’s mouth hangs open as well, but she has the sense to motion the Hawkeye to bury the barely conscious Jinx.
A drained Kylie, having taken a beating for most of the match, pulls the ragdolled Trixie up with her, then dips and ‘hups’ the challenger across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The FAWNatics groan at the sight and it becomes disgusted silence when Ky destroys what’s left of Decker with a Chilly Valley Driver.
Chilly Valley Driver (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIRSL_p7klg )
Trixie spreads out in a limp starfish after the ring-rattling impact and Kylie crawls to her deflated foe, dropping her body across, hoping a hooked leg will not be necessary.
The official drops next to blonde and brunette and claps out the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!!
Decker doesn’t so much as twitch and the sigh of relief from Sanders is evident. Jasmine races around the ring to scoop up her partner’s IC gold and scurries up the steps, sliding into the ring to join her teammate.
Kylie wearily heaves herself to hands and knees and disdainfully pie-faces the snoozing Decker.
“Not even close,” Kylie huffs between heaving pulls of oxygen.
From behind, J-Dogg scoops up the sweat-sopped Chill and hands over her property. Kylie shoves the belt high with one hand while the ref raises the other and the announcer makes the result official.
“Your winner and STILL Intercontinental Champion…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders.”
The crowd drowns the arena in disgust, jeering Hot&*Bothered relentlessly to which an exhausted Sanders manages to flip them the bird.
“BEST EVER,” she grunts as loud as she can, unable to overcome the din of the crowd.
Didn’t matter. They knew it.