Post by dsb on Jul 15, 2018 23:52:48 GMT
"Ladies and gentlemen...your next contest is scheduled for one fall, with a sixty minute time limit, and is for the FAWN Tag Team Championship!"
That is all the indication the thousands-strong crowd filling the FAWN Arena to capacity needs to hear to begin a deafening roar. For few teams elicit quite such a fervent emotional response than the two slated to square off in mere moments.
Above the din again comes the amplified voice of the announcer: "Introducing first, the challengers. Hailing from Hidden Hills, California..."
But the introduction is rudely interrupted by a new voice cutting through the cacophony. "That'll do," rings out the decidedly more feminine tones, revealing a presence that the fans know very well indeed. A boooooooo begins to rise among the spectators a few seconds before Rachelle Leah steps out from behind the velvet curtain, wireless microphone in her hand. At the sight of the curvaceous cougar in her form-fitting black mini-dress and black heels, that jeer is very nearly matched by wolf whistles.
Bringing the mic up to her red-painted lips, the sultry blonde continues, "It is my pleasure to introduce to you the single finest tag team in the sport of professional wrestling today!"
The noise from the audience grows louder now, as anticipation builds.
"And not only are they the epitome of technical excellence, but back me up if you know what I'm talking about, boys...they are, without a doubt, the most stunningly gorgeous beauties to ever grace a ring!"
This elicits a near-deafening roar of approval...and not simply from the males in the crowd.
With a sly smirk of satisfaction, Rachelle says, "They are the former FAWN Tag Team Champions, and once again tonight, they will wrap those leather straps around their luscious waists!"
The roof of the building seems ready to blow off as the crowd is worked into a frenzy, culminating in Leah proclaiming, "At a combined weight of 250 pounds of the sexiest women to ever step between the ropes, I give to you the INCREDIBLE...the IRREPRESSIBLE...the INVINCIBLE...Alyson and Beverly, the VAAALLLLLLLLLEYYYYY GIIRRRRLLLLSSSSS!"
With that, the curtain parts and out step the identical twins, the blonde beauties looking exactly the same, even down to their sartorial choices for the evening: classic white fightin’ two-pieces with sequined trim, the tops adorned with the bedazzled script “Totally” and the tushes the word “Bitchin’!”
RACHELLE LEAH
ALYSON VALLEY
BEVERLY VALLEY
Indeed, the sisters look exactly the same as they did the night they first won the belts in a chaotic battle against not one, but two rival teams, Krazy K and the British Bombshells. For some in the audience, it's easy for their minds to slip back to that evening, and to embrace the idea that the Valleys will make history repeat again tonight.
The pulsing beat of Pink's "Trouble" pumps through the arena's speakers, and all three gorgeous creatures...all blonde hair, sculpted legs and sashaying hips...make their way like royalty down the runway. They pause before one fan holding aloft a sign that declares...
It's as easy as
Alyson +
Beverly =
CHAMPS!
Spotting the iPhone in his front shirt pocket, Rachelle pulls it out and the twins consent to pose for a photo on either side of him, the blondes flashing surfer shaka signs with their hands, sparkly nail polish glistening from the camera flash. Leah then tosses the fan his phone back and the trio return to their trek to the ring.
All three climb up the steps to the apron, and Rachelle barks a command to the referee; he dutifully comes over, sits on the middle rope, and lifts the top cable up on his shoulder, making it easier for the threesome to step into the ring. They continue to bask in the cheers (although to be fair, the jeers rain down in roughly equal measure) until their entrance music fades out, and Rachelle and her sultry stepdaughters go over to their corner for some last minute strategy talk.
Now comes the time to introduce the other half of tonight's match equation. "And their opponents..."
The announcers finds himself utterly drowned out by a sound that can only be explained as aural bedlam. The roar from the crowd grows, reaching ever-rising crescendos. The Who at their wildest never generated a deafening noise quite like this. Shouting into his microphone in the hopes of being heard, the referee continues, "They are from Charlotte, North Carolina and Uriah, Alabama respectively...tipping the scales at a collective 240 pounds...accompanied by their mentor, Belle Butler Armstrong...they are the reigning FAWN Tag Team Champions...Cynthia Mitchell and Ivy Armstrong...BELLLLLLLSSS HELLLLLLIONNNNSSS!"
CYNTHIA MITCHELL
IVY ARMSTRONG
A trio of spotlights knife through the gloom, all merging at the head of the ramp. Simultaneous with this, the mournful tolling of a bell and plaintive guitar riff that mark the opening moments of AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” roil through the stadium’s speakers. The curtains part, and suddenly hell is unleashed.
For tonight’s contest, both partners wear bustiers, Ivy's a dark scarlet trimmed in black, and Cynthia's the opposite color scheme, with black lace panties; each also wears a black lace garter around the upper right thigh. Both go barefoot. Their hair, which usually hangs wild and loose, is now teased up in a manner that suggests both sophistication and tempestuousness, and each is adorned with a red carnation, which they remove and toss to fans. Each has a title belt slung over her shoulder as their sylphlike legs carry them confidently toward the ring.
Walking behind them is Belle, who is Ivy's mother by right of birth, and who has earned a paternal role in Cynthia's life. She is clad impressively in a black mini-dress with silver printed fan patterns, and black heels. The older Armstrong only rarely accompanies her Hellions to ringside, and when she does, it's only for scenarios when she feels her presence could prove valuable. She clearly considers this such a night. And given Rachelle's reaction to her presence, she may just have something there. The step-manager is throwing a fit in the ring, shrieking at the announcer that Belle has no right to be there, and she must be ejected. She is duly informed that Mrs. Armstrong has the same manager's license which Leah has, and thus she has just as much right to stand at ringside.
They blow kisses to their fans as they work their way down the aisle, each giving appreciative winks to fans who brandish signs of support. When they pass one placard that reads HOLLAH FOR THE HELLIONS!!!, both Southern gals give a whooping rebel yell that is answered in kind by thousands.
Thus fortified by such support, the Hellions make their way to the ring in an atmosphere of supreme self-confidence, their mouths graced by small grins, their black-rimmed eyes locked firmly on their opponents. The eyes of every man…and more than a few women, too…were riveted upon the duo, feasting upon their forbidden beauty, drinking in their gloriousness. Ivy and Cyn knew this…felt it in the air like an electric charge…and it invigorated them.
THIS was their calling. THIS was their gift. THIS was their destiny. The gold was theirs, and they weren't about to surrender it without one hell of a fight.
Climbing up to the apron, each Hellion enters the ring in her own inimitable style. For Cynthia, this means bending over and stepping between the ropes slooooooowly, so as to give the appreciative crowd behind her a healthy display of her fabled backside. As for Ivy, she leans back against the ropes, then does a backward flip over them, one of the best pairs of legs in the sport on full outstretched display as she slowly does a 360 degree arc into the ring.
With both teammates in the ring, they each dash for corners, bounding up the turnbuckles to the middle ropes, and holding their title straps aloft over their heads as the cheers cascade over them. Alighting back to the canvas, they turn the belts over to the ref, who in turn hands them to a ringside attendant, who delivers them to the announcer's table for safekeeping.
The showboating by both teams now concluded, the referee calls each to center ring, where he gives the perfunctory remarks about wanting a clean match, and so on and so forth. Both duos patently ignore him, instead focusing their attention on the other, their eyes locked. The faces of the Hellions are masks of simmering intensity, while the Valleys display the sort of insolent half-smirks that have infuriated rivals since their days on the junior high school playground.
Instructions duly given, the zebra dismisses both teams to go back to their corners to await the opening bell. However, only the Valleys turn around, but instead of departing, they go into wide-legged stances and begin twerking, their "Bitchin'!" emblazoned booties tauntingly thrust at their opponents. The Hellions smirk with amusement; These ring rats are our challengers?, their expressions seem to say. Bringing their display to a close, Bev and Aly turn back around to face their adversaries, their sneering facing daring 'Top that!' As the crowd urges them to respond, the daughters of Dixie accept that they have no other choice but to put these two blonde bimbos in their place. Armstrong and Mitchell turn around, assume the stances, and begin to twerk in response. The cameras zoom in, and the tantalizing tushes are splashed across the FAWNtron, much to the delight of the crowd.
But just as delighted are the Valleys. Smiling, they turn to look at one another, sharing some unspoken communication. Turning their eyes back to their twerking rivals, the blondes suddenly unleash kicks up between the Hellions' wide-stanced stems, connecting solidly with their unguarded womanhood. Ivy and Cynthia's eyes go wide as saucers and they give anguished "YEEEEEPS!", dropping to their knees and moaning as their hands cover their throbbing mounds.
Simultaneously with this dastardly assault, Rachelle dashes out from behind her girls; no one had noticed during the Twerk-off that she had surreptitiously reached into the cleavage of her dress and produced a small metal cylinder, which she now palms. Belle, startled by the sneak attack on her charges from the Valleys, reacts too slowly as the challengers' step-MILF rushes up on her and throws her loaded fist, landing a blow to the side of Butler's head and drops her to one knee in a daze.
The zebra is howling for the Valleys to go back to their corner, but Leah looks over her shoulder and shoots him a look that is downright chilling and she commands, "Ring the damn bell and start the match!" Realizing that the fight had already erupted, he complies, and the contest officially begins.
Rachelle and Bev each grab a handful of hair of Belle and Ivy, and proceed to eject the mother and daughter from the ring through the ropes, sending them both crashing to the arena floor, where they lay moaning in crumpled heaps, stunned. The multi-generation blonde bombshells share a smug smile, saunter back across the canvas as if they hadn't a care in the world, and...after each air-kisses Aly... they likewise then exit the ring, albeit of their own accord, with Bev taking her place on the apron and Rachelle going to ringside. The match now officially underway, Alyson hair-hauls the groaning Cynthia up to her feet, and she then secures a side headlock, grinding the pressure to the chestnut haired beauty’s neck. Before Mitchell can foment an effort to break free, Valley releases the hold and spins around, this time putting on a reverse headlock with her other arm. And with her free hand she grabs Cynthia’s briefs. Dipping her knees and giving a small “Hup!”, Alyson lifts her adversary from the mat and suplexes her.
Cyn’s back arches painfully from the impact as Aly swiftly jumps back up to her feet. Taking the brunette by the wrist, she pulls her upright again, then whips her into a neutral corner. The Champ’s face contorts in strong discomfort as her spine slams into the turnbuckle.
Dashing forward, Aly lowers her shoulder and rams it hard into the gasping Hellion's belly. Grasping her hair at the scalp on the back of her head, Valley then pulls Cynthia out of the corner to take her over to where Bev awaits, dragging Mitchell’s face across the top rope along the way, bringing a shriek from the embattled lass. Reaching her sister, Alyson tags her in…but even as the other Valley enters the ring, it’s obvious that Aly isn’t about to depart quite yet.
Joining her sister in the ring, Beverly circles around to face Cynthia, Alyson shuffling over about a half step to accommodate the new arrival. Aly also pulls the chestnut-haired North Carolinian a little ways out of the corner, before the tag challengers each sling an arm--Alyson’s left, Beverly’s right--around the neck of Mitchell. Then, with each Valley grabbing her fill of waistband, the Natural Clones pop their hips and, in eerily perfect unison, muscle Cyn into the air, driving her back into the canvas harshly with a double suplex.
As Cynthia writhes on the canvas, reaching for the base of her backbone, The Valleys kip to their feet simultaneously. The blondes reach over the downed brunette from opposite sides and shake right hands with a grin then drop to the deck, delivering stereo elbows to the chest of the second-generation superstar.
Getting more perplexed by the second on the incessant double-teaming, the official starts his count. Unsure which twin is supposed to be in, he at least understands he shouldn’t be seeing double. Alyson growls and heads for the exit while Beverly drapes her body across Mitchell for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Cynthia kicks free emphatically, shoving Valley up to her haunches. Mitchell rolls to her chest and pushes to all fours before the damage from the previous attacks halts her progress.
Moving quickly, Beverly mounts Cynthia in a forward straddle, treating Mitchell like a prize filly. She lifts off her ‘saddle’ several inches and DRIVES her pear-shaped backside into the base of her foe’s spine, forcing the Carolina native flat to the canvas. Dropping into a crouch over the FAWN veteran, Valley posts Mitchell’s left arm over bended knee then does the same with her right. The blonde laces her hands together, cupping them under the chin of the Hellion and leeeeans back with a spinecracking Camel Clutch.
Teeth clenching in pain, Cynthia’s howls are muted in pained protest, her jaw ‘wired’ shut by the challenger’s submission. Rachelle Leah has no such issue, loudly demanding Belle Butler throw in the towel for her ‘adopted’ daughter. Butler shakes her head, well aware Cynthia is made of tougher stuff. Not hearing the magic words, Beverly bears down all the more, YANKING back on Mitchell until her face is pointed to the rafters, her spinal column drawn to a sickening ‘C’ shape. Still, no surrender.
A frustrated Valley unlaces her digits, sinks her nails into her foe’s dark mop and THRUSTS Cyn’s face into the mat with a nasty THUD. The champ’s noggin bounces off the deck and Beverly plucks the dizzied brunette off the canvas as she rises, guiding Mitchell to the Valley corner where she slaps hands with Alyson.
When Beverly is slow to depart and Mitchell is once again outnumbered by both twins, Ivy can take it no longer. The redhead slides between the ropes. She sprints toward the trio across the ring. But with a shout out assist from Rachelle Leah, the official turns in time to physically intercept Armstrong. As the ref drags the Slamma back to the Hellions’ corner, Alyson heads up hers, turning when she reaches the top. Beverly pulls Cynthia into a shortarm clothesline that decks the veteran emphatically.
Standing astride the dazed Carolina grappler, Bev snatches Mitchell’s ankles and backpedals a few steps. She draws Cyn’s ivory legs into a wide ‘V’ and Aly’s baby blues light up.
Rachelle Leah shouts to her motherly counterpart on the champs’ side of the ring. “Who’s the dirtiest players in the game?”
The question remains hanging until Alyson leaps from her perch and delivers a wrenching headbutt to Cynthia’s crotch, the Valley’s signature Muff Dive wrecking the second- generation superstar. Mitchell flops to her side, hands buried between her alabaster thighs, curling into a mewling fetal ball as Bev releases her grips and hits the eject button, heading outside the ropes.
Muff Dive (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xY1qHucb_i0 )
She’s out just in time for the ref to turn and find Alyson hovering over the demolished champ. Valley cracks open the brunette clamshell with a brutal stomp to the ribs and spreads out Cynthia’s broken body like butter on grits for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The stubborn titleholder somehow forces her shuddering limbs to respond and she throws a shoulder off the deck with the official’s hand a few inches from his third slap.
Valley bangs the canvas, staring baby blue lasers at the zebra but quickly getting back to the task at hand when her stepmom gives her some forceful stage direction.
Grabbing Mitchell by the wrists, Alyson pulls the weakened champ to a vulnerable position within a flight path from the Valleys’ corner. Beverly’s already on the way up when her sister reaches the buckles and tags her twin on the toes. Immediately taking to the skies, Bev flies toward her moaning target, one of Mitchell’s hands still massaging below.
At her zenith, Beverly collapses into a tight tuck and, as she descends, she spreads wide in a frog splash aimed at the ivory tummy of her bullseye. Unfortunately for the natural clone, Cynthina folds into a tuck of her own and offers the challenger a landing pad of her knees instead of her open breadbasket.
Mitchell impales the plummeting blonde with both bony caps. A furious Rachelle Leah pounds the canvas as her stepdaughter wretches, hugging her tummy tight as she rolls from shoulder to shoulder, baby blues bugging.
Inches away, Cynthia rolls to hands and knees and wisely passes on trying to push her hard-won opening. Eschewing a pin or revenge, instead she crawls to her fellow Hellion, Ivy standing on the bottom rope, stretching her arm as far as she can manage. With Beverly making a seated position, still gasping for breath, Cynthia dives to slap hands with Armstrong and the Bama Slamma is shot out of a Crimson Tide cannon, racing at the challenger from behind.
Diving over Bev’s right shoulder, Armstrong grabs Valley’s noggin on the way by and PLANTS Beverly’s face into the deck between the blonde’s extended legs. The challenger’s head snaps back with a wicked whiplash and she ends on the canvas, knees raised, cradling her braincase with both hands. Her boot soles patter against the deck in an involuntary response to the pain.
Meanwhile, Ivy rolls to her feet with a gymnastic flourish, winking a green eye at Alyson and her stepmom. She turns on a dime and sees Beverly rising to a seat once more. The redhead hustles in the opposite direction and THWAPS a soccer kick into Valley’s chest that lays the blonde out again, the crowd roaring with delight as the Slamma skids to a halt and bows with a beaming grin.
“We ain’t champs by mistake, ladies and gents.”
The obstinate twin, this time with an arm swaddling her humming bosom, reaches a seat again and Ivy mounts the challenger from behind, stepping over the blonde’s left shoulder and controlling the arm with both hands. Armstrong spins Beverly to the canvas, chest down, and collects Valley’s left leg, drawing the limbs together in her signature Ivy Trellis.
Ivy Trellis (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTRseK6gQdg )
Bending arm and leg in directions they were not meant to go, the Confederate Calamity works Valley like a part-time job, dribbling a sweet drawl into the Cali girl’s ear.
“Y’never were anythin’ but a novelty act, sweetie. Ain’t no harm in confirmin’ what the world knows.”
But Beverly, with loud, demanding support from her sibling and stepmom, shakes her head violently, adding a shouted ‘No’. It’s not entirely convincing, but, after a dozen seconds, the Damsel of Dixie releases her hold. She rises, turns and STOMPS the arm viciously, Ivy snarling as she makes Valley pay, the auburn-haired grappler clearly enjoying her renaissance to the top of the FAWN hierarchy.
Beverly fights to get her feet underneath her. When she does, Armstrong delivers a toe kick deep into her foe’s lightly tanned tummy. Valley doubles at the waist with a gasp and Ivy immediately slides alongside. She lifts her right knee to Valley’s left temple, her arms latching over the blonde’s opposite shoulder, capturing her foe’s right arm in a tight grip.
The second-generation superstar leans forward, over the twin’s back, then throws her bodyweight in reverse, ripping Bev of her feet and delivering a nasty collision of knee cap to cranium with Mama Knows Best.
Mama Knows Best (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJmrOSHMhwI )
As Ivy scrambles atop the demolished Valley, Mama Butler delights in what she sees, Belle raising fingers high along with slaps of the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
In an astonishing display of rugged perseverance, Bev manages to lift a shoulder up just enough to break the count. Annoyed, Ivy looks up at the ref, holding her left hand up with palm upturned, and rapidly slapping her right palm against it for a quick 1-2-3. Not needing to be told how to do his job, even by a second generation phenom, the zerba holds both of his hands aloft and gives the 'V for Victory' sign with two fingers on each, signifying that the pin only garnered a two count.
The redhead is about to resume her efforts to end the match when sudden a disturbance catches her attention, as well as that of the official: Mama Rachelle has scrambled up onto the ring apron, screeching at the referee for him to disqualify the Hellions for, in her estimation, their dastardly disregard of the sacred rules of wrestling. The ref's only concern however is to get the step-MILF back down on the arena floor where she belongs...a task made more difficult as Ivy angrily jumps to her feet and steps up to Leah, engaging in a shouting match. Having had enough of this, Belle storms over to that side of the ring and grabs Rachelle's right ankle, pulling her leg out from under her and sending the bawdy blonde crashing to the arena floor.
All of which was exactly what Rachelle Leah had planned. For her theatrical performance succeeded in putting all eyes on her...which allowed Alyson to slip around the outside of the ring. Then, slithering in under the ropes, she managed to roll her sister out the same way, and took her place on the mat, and neither the Hellion trio nor the zebra any the wiser. Sometimes it's good to be an identical twin.
Returning her attention to her presumed opponent, Armstrong walks over to her and bends down to grab two handfuls of flaxen mane in order to hair haul "Bev" up to her feet. One can only imagine the Southern gal's shock as her supposedly semi-conscious adversary suddenly sprang to life, snaring the redhead in a small package!
ONE!
TWO!
THRENOOOOOO!
At the last possible instant, Ivy manages to thrash her way out of the pinfall, but the look on her face is one of pure confusion, and that gives Aly the opening she needs to press a new assault. As the 'Bama Slamma struggles back up to her feet, Aly darts behind her and wraps her arms tight around Ivy's waist. With a grunt she then lifts the redhead up and over for a German suplex, the back of Armstrong's head and her shoulders taking the full brunt of the impact. But rather than release her grasp, Valley rolls them over, pulls Ivy up, and suplexes her again. And again. And again. The end result is that the Southern Sensation's lithe body is wracked with pain, and her brain swims in dizziness.
Of course, the exertion proved exhausting for the blonde as well, and she staggers over to the ropes to catch her breath. Armstrong struggles to rise, managing to get up to one knee, when suddenly Aly bolts toward her, raising her right leg so that the sole of her foot smashes into the side of her opponent's skull for a Drive By Boot. Glassy eyed, Ivy collapses to the mat on her side, moaning in pain.
And her anguish only escalates as Valley rolls her over onto her belly, grabs both of the Alabamian's fabled legs, and locks on a Boston Crab. As electric tendrils of agony tear up and down her spine, Ivy howls like a banshee, her right hand desperately trying to reach the ropes. Alas, her adversary made certain that the strands are far enough away to deny the redhead any sanctuary. Belle slaps her hands down on the ring apron in time with the semi-recovered Cynthia's hand claps, which are both in accompaniment with the rhythmic chant of thousands of fans: "DON'T GIVE UP! DON'T GIVE UP! DON'T GIVE UP!"
Whether it's the encouragement of the crowd, or her own native-born cussedness, Armstrong denies herself the relief of submission. Instead, she slowly...agonizingly...begins to drag herself across the canvas, pulling her tormentor along with her despite all of Alyson's attempts to stop her. The anguish is writ deep upon Ivy's alabaster face, but the fire in her teary eyes makes it plain she will not relent, no matter what the cost.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Ivy draws near enough to be able to grab hold of the bottom cable. The official orders "Bev" to break the hold...which, surprisingly to some, she does immediately. Of course, that's just so she can turn around, grab Armstrong's right ankle, lift her leg high, and then send her knee slamming down onto the canvas-covered plywood of the ring floor, drawing a sharp howl from the ravaged redhead.
Nevertheless, Armstrong has a desperately needed respite, and she's able to crawl over to her corner and make the tag. Although far from being back in fighting trim, Cynthia's adrenaline is pumping, and she jumps between the ropes and charges at the blonde. Unfortunately for Mitchell, which the spirit is magnificently willing, the flesh is still not quite up to par, and thus she moves sluggishly, telegraphing the big right fist she throws toward her opponent's deceptively angelic face. Aly easily ducks under it and, in a fluid motion, uses Cyn's own momentum to hoist her up upon her shoulders for a Fireman's Carry. After several quick heartbeats, she shrugs the brunette off, sending Mitchell crashing face-first to the mat. Moaning, the North Carolinian rolls over onto her back, and with a malicious gleam in her eye, Alyson smirks down at her.
“Funny,” the Cali girl says, “you two seem more over the hill than at the top of it.”
Apparently not yet ready to end the Hellions’ run, Alyson snatches Mitchell by the head and drags the wavering brunette to wobbly feet. Valley nuzzles next to Cynthia, chest to chest, applying a tight bearhug to Mitchell’s abdomen. Her biceps flex as she cinches the grip tight, lifts her foe to tiptoes and rattles the already shaken veteran. With Cyn unsteady, the challenger takes advantage, lifting Mitchell high into the air, Cynthia’s legs pointed behind her before she swings back in her foe’s direction, landing across the plank of Valley’s upper thigh with an Inverted Atomic Drop when the blonde genuflects.
Mitchell’s eyes roll white for a moment as her crotch explodes in pain from the impact, Alyson winking a baby blue at the teary eyes of the Carolina grappler. Instead of shoving Mitchell off, Valley grinds her knee deeper into the champ’s privates, a recovering Rachelle Leah loving every second of the payback by proxy.
Finally, the blonde shoves Cyn off, Mitchell ending on her haunches, sagging, hands buried between her thighs. Alyson, on the other hand, is off to the races, surging to the ropes in front of Mitchell. She rebounds at full speed and launches into a thumping Tush Push to Mitchell’s face that topples the brunette.
Running Hip Attack (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxxkrF1618k )
The twin drops across the splayed second-generation star, hooking a leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Cynthia shoves a shoulder up to keep the Hellions’ time at the top continuing for the moment, but Aly seems unconcerned by the delay of her title reign. She snatches a handful of chestnut locks and hauls Cyn to her feet as she rises. Forced to comply, Mitchell is walked to the Valley Girls’ corner where Alyson tags Beverly. As has become custom, both Valleys remain in play after the tag and the duo roughhouse Mitchell to the middle over the complaints of the ref and the Hellions’ corner. Alyson turns and gives Ivy a one-fingered salute and the frustration boils over in the Slamma. The redhead rushes through the ropes to tear the Cali girl limb from limb, but the ref intercepts, dragging her back to the corner.
Meanwhile, the Valleys sprint off in opposite directions from the centered Cynthia and it’s a two-timing demolition when they hit their signature Sweet n’ Sweeter, a synchronized chopblock from Alyson coming from Cyn’s six and a lariat by Beverly from head on. In combination, they send Mitchell through an aerial spin cycle, the brunette backflipping to a calamitous collision with the canvas, face and chest down.
The groan from the FAWNatics is telling as Mitchell is motionless, the Valleys quickly on their feet and sharing a high five over the demolished Carolina native.
“You had your nostalgic moment,” Bev bellows down at the remains of Mitchell. “Time’s up!” adds Alyson. She gives her identical sibling a hug and heads for the exit just as a flustered Ivy is set back in place. Beverly rolls a flaccid Cynthia to her back and lowers a knee atop Mitchell’s chest for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Having escaped the ref’s attention this time, an entering Ivy knocks Valley off her partner with a savage superkick to the chin, the blonde spinning and tumbling halfway back to her corner, dazed and confused. She rises to all fours and massages her aching jaw while Armstrong tries to help Mitchell back to the Hellions’ station. She gets the semiconscious star to her haunches before the zebra whisks Armstrong away.
It’s a race to vertical between the two combatants and each reach their feet simultaneously with one important differnce. Mitchell is turned away from Valley, attention pulled toward the beckoning Ivy. Bev closes the gap quickly and collects a waistlock from behind to make sure the brunette cannot make it to salvation. But before it’s properly cinched, Cyn drops through to the deck, ending on all fours. Blindly, but not without foresight, Mitchell sends a mule kick high and hard, splitting Beverly’s tanned wickets, Cyn’s heel SLAMMING into Valley’s crotch.
On the sidelines, Belle pumps a fist and the crowd roars with delight at the sight of a bug-eyed twin bent after the brutal impact, jaw dropped and eyes watering. Frozen in place, there’s nothing Bev can do as Cynthia finds her feet and her senses. With those in place, Mitchell charges the challenger, leaps and wraps both arms around the head of the blonde as she flies by, SPIKING Valley’s cranium into the canvas with her Carolina Blues.
Carolina Blues (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tXjmTPxmUo )
Cynthia is slow to capitalize, but she finally dives on the splayed blonde for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Valley pushes her way out of trouble, lifting a shoulder off the canvas to the great relief of her twin and stepmom. But the blondes on the Valley bench are in need of further worrying when a recovering Mitchell slides up to the head of the dazed Beverly.
Taking a seat above Valley’s noggin, the brunette latches onto her foe’s braincase with both hands and guides it between her outstretched stems. With Bev’s chin resting dangerously on Cynthia’s mound, Mitchell wraps her legs behind the neck of the captured Valley. Leaning forward, the champ manages to grab a flailing leg of the natural clone and tightens a grip on Valley’s left ankle, pulling the limb toward her. Both Ivy and her mother cheer on their fellow Dixie Destroyer a moment or two before the FAWNatics join, the crowd a split-second late to realize Cynthia is securing her signature Mortal Cyn.
Mortal Cyn (https://i.imgur.com/k4tEriy.jpg)
With her vicious ‘handle’ In place, Mitchell tortures Valley with her combination figure-four head scissors and leglock, the Mortal Cyn having garnered many a victory over Mitchell’s illustrious career, one memorable moment when the Mortal claimed submissions from both Kylie Sanders and Shea London while each was trapped simultaneously. If two likely Hall of Famers could fall to the maneuver, the crowd understands one Valley would certainly succumb. And it’s likely she would have if, on seeing her sister ready to tap, Alyson hadn’t interceded.
Ivy nearly stops the interference with an entrance of her own, but is a tick late and both illegal entrants tumble into their partners, the women end in a jumble of torsos and limbs, but the long and short being Beverly is freed from near certain doom.
The official has a shitstorm on his hands as three of the four fighters are quickly up and swinging roundhouses. It takes a few seconds but the Hellions gain the advantage on the game Alyson. With Valley appropriately pounded, Mitchell and Armstrong each take a wrist and fling her to the ropes. Aly rebounds toward the waiting duo and eats stereo toe kicks to her tanned tummy. Each Hellion claims a front facelock and lays out, delivering a dual DDT that sends Aly somersaulting to her back, sliding to a stop, spread-eagled and out cold.
Cynthia scrambles aboard Alyson in a full body grapevine pin lasting past three seconds, but the ref makes sure the timekeeper understands the wrong twin has been pinned. Beverly is a few feet away, on all fours, crawling to calls of Rachelle Leah to evacuate. But not far from her goal, Bev feels a tug on her left ankle and looks over her shoulder to see a smirking Ivy pulling her back to center stage.
“Did we say y’all could leave?”
But salvation for the blonde battler comes from an unexpected quarter...well, unexpected to anyone who had never seen the Valleys in action before. Ivy suddenly keeps a pair of hands tightening around her own ankle, as Rachelle Leah reaches between the ropes to carry out a quite blatant act of illegal interference.
Her left leg being yanked, the 'Bama Slamma is made to hop on her other foot to stay upright. She is forced to release the ankle of the squirming Bev in order to focus on the problem at hand. But if the redhead had counted on a few moment's respite to determine her course of action, she severely underestimated the ability of the Valleys to capitalize on even the slightest opportunity. To wit, Beverly sweeps her leg out, knocking Armstrong's upright pin out from beneath her, which sends her crashing upon her backside.
With a viper speed that belies her battered condition, Bev slithers out beneath the bottom rope to the arena floor, where she grasps tight Armstrong's right ankle, while Rachelle does likewise with her left. The sinister steps then proceed to yank those fabled gams toward them. The only thing keeping the redhead from being pulled out of the ring is the steel ring post: with each leg on either side of it, Ivy's movement is suddenly and agonizingly halted as her womenhood crashes into the pole, drawing forth a sharp yowl of pain from the beleaguered beauty.
But the cavalry arrives in the form of Belle Butler, who races around the ring to save her daughter from the malevolent ministrations of the blondes. Catching sight of the enraged ring veteran, Leah instantly releases her hold on Ivy's stem and backpedals away, leaving Bev to take the full brunt of a forearm shiver upside her flaxen-maned noggin. The blow staggers Valley, and as the intent all along has been to return her to the ring as she's the actual legal combatant for her team, her condition makes her fully compliant...if not particularly fully aware...as the older woman shoves her under the bottom cable and rolls her in, where Cynthia awaits her.
Peeling the mewling Bev up off of the canvas, Mitchell bulldogs her to the center of the ring, reducing the bodacious blonde to a quivering, curvaceous puddle of twitching flesh. A pin now would be the simplest of things, but these two bitches have crossed more than a few lines tonight, and Cyn knows that her partner wouldn't be satisfied unless she got a few more licks in. So, the brunette climbs back up to her feet and goes over to Ivy, who has slid herself away from the steel ring post and is tenderly massaging her crotch. But despite her soreness, she is still able to rally herself, and with a helping hand from Cynthia she goes vertical.
But the attention of the spectators is torn between the end game playing out inside the squared circle, and the confrontation taking place at ringside. Belle has turned her focus on Rachelle, who is moving backward in a cowering fashion, window wiping the air with her hands as she begs Butler to spare her. The 'Bama legend finally draws close enough to fill her right fist with Leah's expensively styled golden locks while she cocks her other fist, looking to the crowd for encouragement. Suffice it to say, the throng is all in favor of Belle clocking the step-MILF a good one right across the kisser.
But not immediately recalled by most present is that Rachelle Leah was, in her younger days, quite an accomplished wrestler herself. An injury made her continuation as a competitor problematic, which resulted in her turning to training and managing her step-daughters. But she still recalls all of her knowledge, and she puts that to good...if dastardly...use now. A double eye poke leaves Butler shrieking and stumbling backward, hands furiously rubbing her blurred eyeballs, and leaving her defenseless.
This turn of events proves costly for the Southern matriarch quickly enough, as her opposite number grabs a wrist and her hair and flings her forward, Belle's face and chest being rammed into the ring post. Teary eyes glassy she reels backward, turning around...and being met with a clothesline that levels her to the hard arena floor. Fully enjoying herself now, feeling the old familiar rush of adrenaline through her veins, Leah reluctantly tears herself away from her helpless foe, instead knowing her attention is needed on the match unfolding before her. All the same, she's more than happy to try and kill two birds with one stone. thus, she steps out of one of her designer heels, and proceeds to press the sole of her stocking foot down upon Butler's windpipe, even as Leah faces the ring and shouts encouragement to her charges. Belle's legs kick furiously as she's being choked, but as yet she lacks the wherewithal to escape.
Within the ring itself, Bev and Aly need more than the urgently shouted commands of their step-mother cum manager. The Hellions are subjecting them to a wicked little maneuver they whipped up called "The Salon Treatment". With so many of their Southern contemporaries in the hairstyling and manicure business, Armstrong and Mitchell have adapted the concept in a unique...it utterly illegal...manner: Both have grabbed and twisted the long manes of their opponents, causing searing pain to the scalps of the natural clones. But that pain is secondary, as Cyn and Ivy have also put the fingers of one hand of each Valley in their mouth, biting down on the digits, and drawing frenzied shrieks from the Southern Californians. The referee orders the Tag Champs to cease and desist, but perhaps sharing in the sentiment that the twins have brought this down upon themselves, his count is exceedingly slow.
It isn't until the word "five" begins to pass his lips that the strap holders free their victims. Or at least Cynthia has; Ivy maintains her hold on Aly's matted hair so as to escort her out of the ring. She whips the blonde to the ropes...actually through the ropes. Luckily enough for Alyson, her fall to the floor is broken and buffered. Unluckily for Rachelle, she's the buffering, as her step-daughter crashes down on her, sending them both sprawling to the floor in a dazed heap. Ivy is unaware that her action also had the happy benefit of relieving her embattled mama who, although purple faced and panting hard for breath, quickly rouses herself to sit up, and then crawl over to the groaning Rachelle. There, kneeling beside her, Butler pulls Leah up to a seated position and applies a sleeper hold. Rachelle's arms flail to no avail, as a trickle of drool escapes the corner of her mouth. Swiftly enough, her eyes roll up in their sockets and she's sent to slumber land. Aly, still too stunned by her floor crash, makes no effort to save her step-MILF.
Now comes the grand finale to this theater of violence. Back in the ring, Ivy has put Bev down on her back and grabbed her legs. The redhead then suddenly throws herself backward to the mat, pulling her opponent up and, using her momentum, monkey flipping the blonde up and over, sending her sailing toward the center of the canvas.
Ordinarily, the worst she could hope for would be to belly flop to the mat. Unfortunately for her, Cynthia has something else awaiting her. As Beverly flies forward, Mitchell unleashes a superkick, the sole of her boot mashing brutally into the side of Valley's pretty pan. Viewed later in slo mo, Bev's face almost looks cartoon-like as it takes the blow, like Wile E. Coyote impacting with the canyon floor after his impossibly long drop.
One certainty is that Beverly Mitchell is fully and completely unconscious as she lands on the canvas a heartbeat later. Ivy steps out of the ring and resumes her lawful place in the corner as her partner throws herself across the torso of her fallen opponent (not taking any chances and hooking a leg, just in case), and the referee drops to his knees and slaps down...
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!
The announcer's voice comes blaring through the PA system: 'YOU WINNERS, AND STILL TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...CYNTHIA MITCHELL AND IVY ARMSTRONG...BELLE'S HELLIONS!"
Ivy leaps back into the ring and she and Cyn hug. Belle, bedraggled but decidedly flush with satisfaction, joins them, then does the honor of raising their arms high while the ref wraps the ten pounds of leather and gold around their slender waists.
Down on the ring floor Aly, throwing a tearful tantrum over their defeat, tries to rouse her somnolent step-mother while simultaneously screaming at the ref about the blatant cheating of the Hellions, and how she and her sister were robbed of their rightful belts.
Exhausted but exuberant, the Hellions and their manager make their way up the aisle, basking in the cheers of the crowd. There will be other battles in the days to come, but tonight they intend to fully enjoy their triumph.
That is all the indication the thousands-strong crowd filling the FAWN Arena to capacity needs to hear to begin a deafening roar. For few teams elicit quite such a fervent emotional response than the two slated to square off in mere moments.
Above the din again comes the amplified voice of the announcer: "Introducing first, the challengers. Hailing from Hidden Hills, California..."
But the introduction is rudely interrupted by a new voice cutting through the cacophony. "That'll do," rings out the decidedly more feminine tones, revealing a presence that the fans know very well indeed. A boooooooo begins to rise among the spectators a few seconds before Rachelle Leah steps out from behind the velvet curtain, wireless microphone in her hand. At the sight of the curvaceous cougar in her form-fitting black mini-dress and black heels, that jeer is very nearly matched by wolf whistles.
Bringing the mic up to her red-painted lips, the sultry blonde continues, "It is my pleasure to introduce to you the single finest tag team in the sport of professional wrestling today!"
The noise from the audience grows louder now, as anticipation builds.
"And not only are they the epitome of technical excellence, but back me up if you know what I'm talking about, boys...they are, without a doubt, the most stunningly gorgeous beauties to ever grace a ring!"
This elicits a near-deafening roar of approval...and not simply from the males in the crowd.
With a sly smirk of satisfaction, Rachelle says, "They are the former FAWN Tag Team Champions, and once again tonight, they will wrap those leather straps around their luscious waists!"
The roof of the building seems ready to blow off as the crowd is worked into a frenzy, culminating in Leah proclaiming, "At a combined weight of 250 pounds of the sexiest women to ever step between the ropes, I give to you the INCREDIBLE...the IRREPRESSIBLE...the INVINCIBLE...Alyson and Beverly, the VAAALLLLLLLLLEYYYYY GIIRRRRLLLLSSSSS!"
With that, the curtain parts and out step the identical twins, the blonde beauties looking exactly the same, even down to their sartorial choices for the evening: classic white fightin’ two-pieces with sequined trim, the tops adorned with the bedazzled script “Totally” and the tushes the word “Bitchin’!”
RACHELLE LEAH
ALYSON VALLEY
BEVERLY VALLEY
Indeed, the sisters look exactly the same as they did the night they first won the belts in a chaotic battle against not one, but two rival teams, Krazy K and the British Bombshells. For some in the audience, it's easy for their minds to slip back to that evening, and to embrace the idea that the Valleys will make history repeat again tonight.
The pulsing beat of Pink's "Trouble" pumps through the arena's speakers, and all three gorgeous creatures...all blonde hair, sculpted legs and sashaying hips...make their way like royalty down the runway. They pause before one fan holding aloft a sign that declares...
It's as easy as
Alyson +
Beverly =
CHAMPS!
Spotting the iPhone in his front shirt pocket, Rachelle pulls it out and the twins consent to pose for a photo on either side of him, the blondes flashing surfer shaka signs with their hands, sparkly nail polish glistening from the camera flash. Leah then tosses the fan his phone back and the trio return to their trek to the ring.
All three climb up the steps to the apron, and Rachelle barks a command to the referee; he dutifully comes over, sits on the middle rope, and lifts the top cable up on his shoulder, making it easier for the threesome to step into the ring. They continue to bask in the cheers (although to be fair, the jeers rain down in roughly equal measure) until their entrance music fades out, and Rachelle and her sultry stepdaughters go over to their corner for some last minute strategy talk.
Now comes the time to introduce the other half of tonight's match equation. "And their opponents..."
The announcers finds himself utterly drowned out by a sound that can only be explained as aural bedlam. The roar from the crowd grows, reaching ever-rising crescendos. The Who at their wildest never generated a deafening noise quite like this. Shouting into his microphone in the hopes of being heard, the referee continues, "They are from Charlotte, North Carolina and Uriah, Alabama respectively...tipping the scales at a collective 240 pounds...accompanied by their mentor, Belle Butler Armstrong...they are the reigning FAWN Tag Team Champions...Cynthia Mitchell and Ivy Armstrong...BELLLLLLLSSS HELLLLLLIONNNNSSS!"
CYNTHIA MITCHELL
IVY ARMSTRONG
A trio of spotlights knife through the gloom, all merging at the head of the ramp. Simultaneous with this, the mournful tolling of a bell and plaintive guitar riff that mark the opening moments of AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” roil through the stadium’s speakers. The curtains part, and suddenly hell is unleashed.
For tonight’s contest, both partners wear bustiers, Ivy's a dark scarlet trimmed in black, and Cynthia's the opposite color scheme, with black lace panties; each also wears a black lace garter around the upper right thigh. Both go barefoot. Their hair, which usually hangs wild and loose, is now teased up in a manner that suggests both sophistication and tempestuousness, and each is adorned with a red carnation, which they remove and toss to fans. Each has a title belt slung over her shoulder as their sylphlike legs carry them confidently toward the ring.
Walking behind them is Belle, who is Ivy's mother by right of birth, and who has earned a paternal role in Cynthia's life. She is clad impressively in a black mini-dress with silver printed fan patterns, and black heels. The older Armstrong only rarely accompanies her Hellions to ringside, and when she does, it's only for scenarios when she feels her presence could prove valuable. She clearly considers this such a night. And given Rachelle's reaction to her presence, she may just have something there. The step-manager is throwing a fit in the ring, shrieking at the announcer that Belle has no right to be there, and she must be ejected. She is duly informed that Mrs. Armstrong has the same manager's license which Leah has, and thus she has just as much right to stand at ringside.
They blow kisses to their fans as they work their way down the aisle, each giving appreciative winks to fans who brandish signs of support. When they pass one placard that reads HOLLAH FOR THE HELLIONS!!!, both Southern gals give a whooping rebel yell that is answered in kind by thousands.
Thus fortified by such support, the Hellions make their way to the ring in an atmosphere of supreme self-confidence, their mouths graced by small grins, their black-rimmed eyes locked firmly on their opponents. The eyes of every man…and more than a few women, too…were riveted upon the duo, feasting upon their forbidden beauty, drinking in their gloriousness. Ivy and Cyn knew this…felt it in the air like an electric charge…and it invigorated them.
THIS was their calling. THIS was their gift. THIS was their destiny. The gold was theirs, and they weren't about to surrender it without one hell of a fight.
Climbing up to the apron, each Hellion enters the ring in her own inimitable style. For Cynthia, this means bending over and stepping between the ropes slooooooowly, so as to give the appreciative crowd behind her a healthy display of her fabled backside. As for Ivy, she leans back against the ropes, then does a backward flip over them, one of the best pairs of legs in the sport on full outstretched display as she slowly does a 360 degree arc into the ring.
With both teammates in the ring, they each dash for corners, bounding up the turnbuckles to the middle ropes, and holding their title straps aloft over their heads as the cheers cascade over them. Alighting back to the canvas, they turn the belts over to the ref, who in turn hands them to a ringside attendant, who delivers them to the announcer's table for safekeeping.
The showboating by both teams now concluded, the referee calls each to center ring, where he gives the perfunctory remarks about wanting a clean match, and so on and so forth. Both duos patently ignore him, instead focusing their attention on the other, their eyes locked. The faces of the Hellions are masks of simmering intensity, while the Valleys display the sort of insolent half-smirks that have infuriated rivals since their days on the junior high school playground.
Instructions duly given, the zebra dismisses both teams to go back to their corners to await the opening bell. However, only the Valleys turn around, but instead of departing, they go into wide-legged stances and begin twerking, their "Bitchin'!" emblazoned booties tauntingly thrust at their opponents. The Hellions smirk with amusement; These ring rats are our challengers?, their expressions seem to say. Bringing their display to a close, Bev and Aly turn back around to face their adversaries, their sneering facing daring 'Top that!' As the crowd urges them to respond, the daughters of Dixie accept that they have no other choice but to put these two blonde bimbos in their place. Armstrong and Mitchell turn around, assume the stances, and begin to twerk in response. The cameras zoom in, and the tantalizing tushes are splashed across the FAWNtron, much to the delight of the crowd.
But just as delighted are the Valleys. Smiling, they turn to look at one another, sharing some unspoken communication. Turning their eyes back to their twerking rivals, the blondes suddenly unleash kicks up between the Hellions' wide-stanced stems, connecting solidly with their unguarded womanhood. Ivy and Cynthia's eyes go wide as saucers and they give anguished "YEEEEEPS!", dropping to their knees and moaning as their hands cover their throbbing mounds.
Simultaneously with this dastardly assault, Rachelle dashes out from behind her girls; no one had noticed during the Twerk-off that she had surreptitiously reached into the cleavage of her dress and produced a small metal cylinder, which she now palms. Belle, startled by the sneak attack on her charges from the Valleys, reacts too slowly as the challengers' step-MILF rushes up on her and throws her loaded fist, landing a blow to the side of Butler's head and drops her to one knee in a daze.
The zebra is howling for the Valleys to go back to their corner, but Leah looks over her shoulder and shoots him a look that is downright chilling and she commands, "Ring the damn bell and start the match!" Realizing that the fight had already erupted, he complies, and the contest officially begins.
Rachelle and Bev each grab a handful of hair of Belle and Ivy, and proceed to eject the mother and daughter from the ring through the ropes, sending them both crashing to the arena floor, where they lay moaning in crumpled heaps, stunned. The multi-generation blonde bombshells share a smug smile, saunter back across the canvas as if they hadn't a care in the world, and...after each air-kisses Aly... they likewise then exit the ring, albeit of their own accord, with Bev taking her place on the apron and Rachelle going to ringside. The match now officially underway, Alyson hair-hauls the groaning Cynthia up to her feet, and she then secures a side headlock, grinding the pressure to the chestnut haired beauty’s neck. Before Mitchell can foment an effort to break free, Valley releases the hold and spins around, this time putting on a reverse headlock with her other arm. And with her free hand she grabs Cynthia’s briefs. Dipping her knees and giving a small “Hup!”, Alyson lifts her adversary from the mat and suplexes her.
Cyn’s back arches painfully from the impact as Aly swiftly jumps back up to her feet. Taking the brunette by the wrist, she pulls her upright again, then whips her into a neutral corner. The Champ’s face contorts in strong discomfort as her spine slams into the turnbuckle.
Dashing forward, Aly lowers her shoulder and rams it hard into the gasping Hellion's belly. Grasping her hair at the scalp on the back of her head, Valley then pulls Cynthia out of the corner to take her over to where Bev awaits, dragging Mitchell’s face across the top rope along the way, bringing a shriek from the embattled lass. Reaching her sister, Alyson tags her in…but even as the other Valley enters the ring, it’s obvious that Aly isn’t about to depart quite yet.
Joining her sister in the ring, Beverly circles around to face Cynthia, Alyson shuffling over about a half step to accommodate the new arrival. Aly also pulls the chestnut-haired North Carolinian a little ways out of the corner, before the tag challengers each sling an arm--Alyson’s left, Beverly’s right--around the neck of Mitchell. Then, with each Valley grabbing her fill of waistband, the Natural Clones pop their hips and, in eerily perfect unison, muscle Cyn into the air, driving her back into the canvas harshly with a double suplex.
As Cynthia writhes on the canvas, reaching for the base of her backbone, The Valleys kip to their feet simultaneously. The blondes reach over the downed brunette from opposite sides and shake right hands with a grin then drop to the deck, delivering stereo elbows to the chest of the second-generation superstar.
Getting more perplexed by the second on the incessant double-teaming, the official starts his count. Unsure which twin is supposed to be in, he at least understands he shouldn’t be seeing double. Alyson growls and heads for the exit while Beverly drapes her body across Mitchell for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Cynthia kicks free emphatically, shoving Valley up to her haunches. Mitchell rolls to her chest and pushes to all fours before the damage from the previous attacks halts her progress.
Moving quickly, Beverly mounts Cynthia in a forward straddle, treating Mitchell like a prize filly. She lifts off her ‘saddle’ several inches and DRIVES her pear-shaped backside into the base of her foe’s spine, forcing the Carolina native flat to the canvas. Dropping into a crouch over the FAWN veteran, Valley posts Mitchell’s left arm over bended knee then does the same with her right. The blonde laces her hands together, cupping them under the chin of the Hellion and leeeeans back with a spinecracking Camel Clutch.
Teeth clenching in pain, Cynthia’s howls are muted in pained protest, her jaw ‘wired’ shut by the challenger’s submission. Rachelle Leah has no such issue, loudly demanding Belle Butler throw in the towel for her ‘adopted’ daughter. Butler shakes her head, well aware Cynthia is made of tougher stuff. Not hearing the magic words, Beverly bears down all the more, YANKING back on Mitchell until her face is pointed to the rafters, her spinal column drawn to a sickening ‘C’ shape. Still, no surrender.
A frustrated Valley unlaces her digits, sinks her nails into her foe’s dark mop and THRUSTS Cyn’s face into the mat with a nasty THUD. The champ’s noggin bounces off the deck and Beverly plucks the dizzied brunette off the canvas as she rises, guiding Mitchell to the Valley corner where she slaps hands with Alyson.
When Beverly is slow to depart and Mitchell is once again outnumbered by both twins, Ivy can take it no longer. The redhead slides between the ropes. She sprints toward the trio across the ring. But with a shout out assist from Rachelle Leah, the official turns in time to physically intercept Armstrong. As the ref drags the Slamma back to the Hellions’ corner, Alyson heads up hers, turning when she reaches the top. Beverly pulls Cynthia into a shortarm clothesline that decks the veteran emphatically.
Standing astride the dazed Carolina grappler, Bev snatches Mitchell’s ankles and backpedals a few steps. She draws Cyn’s ivory legs into a wide ‘V’ and Aly’s baby blues light up.
Rachelle Leah shouts to her motherly counterpart on the champs’ side of the ring. “Who’s the dirtiest players in the game?”
The question remains hanging until Alyson leaps from her perch and delivers a wrenching headbutt to Cynthia’s crotch, the Valley’s signature Muff Dive wrecking the second- generation superstar. Mitchell flops to her side, hands buried between her alabaster thighs, curling into a mewling fetal ball as Bev releases her grips and hits the eject button, heading outside the ropes.
Muff Dive (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xY1qHucb_i0 )
She’s out just in time for the ref to turn and find Alyson hovering over the demolished champ. Valley cracks open the brunette clamshell with a brutal stomp to the ribs and spreads out Cynthia’s broken body like butter on grits for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The stubborn titleholder somehow forces her shuddering limbs to respond and she throws a shoulder off the deck with the official’s hand a few inches from his third slap.
Valley bangs the canvas, staring baby blue lasers at the zebra but quickly getting back to the task at hand when her stepmom gives her some forceful stage direction.
Grabbing Mitchell by the wrists, Alyson pulls the weakened champ to a vulnerable position within a flight path from the Valleys’ corner. Beverly’s already on the way up when her sister reaches the buckles and tags her twin on the toes. Immediately taking to the skies, Bev flies toward her moaning target, one of Mitchell’s hands still massaging below.
At her zenith, Beverly collapses into a tight tuck and, as she descends, she spreads wide in a frog splash aimed at the ivory tummy of her bullseye. Unfortunately for the natural clone, Cynthina folds into a tuck of her own and offers the challenger a landing pad of her knees instead of her open breadbasket.
Mitchell impales the plummeting blonde with both bony caps. A furious Rachelle Leah pounds the canvas as her stepdaughter wretches, hugging her tummy tight as she rolls from shoulder to shoulder, baby blues bugging.
Inches away, Cynthia rolls to hands and knees and wisely passes on trying to push her hard-won opening. Eschewing a pin or revenge, instead she crawls to her fellow Hellion, Ivy standing on the bottom rope, stretching her arm as far as she can manage. With Beverly making a seated position, still gasping for breath, Cynthia dives to slap hands with Armstrong and the Bama Slamma is shot out of a Crimson Tide cannon, racing at the challenger from behind.
Diving over Bev’s right shoulder, Armstrong grabs Valley’s noggin on the way by and PLANTS Beverly’s face into the deck between the blonde’s extended legs. The challenger’s head snaps back with a wicked whiplash and she ends on the canvas, knees raised, cradling her braincase with both hands. Her boot soles patter against the deck in an involuntary response to the pain.
Meanwhile, Ivy rolls to her feet with a gymnastic flourish, winking a green eye at Alyson and her stepmom. She turns on a dime and sees Beverly rising to a seat once more. The redhead hustles in the opposite direction and THWAPS a soccer kick into Valley’s chest that lays the blonde out again, the crowd roaring with delight as the Slamma skids to a halt and bows with a beaming grin.
“We ain’t champs by mistake, ladies and gents.”
The obstinate twin, this time with an arm swaddling her humming bosom, reaches a seat again and Ivy mounts the challenger from behind, stepping over the blonde’s left shoulder and controlling the arm with both hands. Armstrong spins Beverly to the canvas, chest down, and collects Valley’s left leg, drawing the limbs together in her signature Ivy Trellis.
Ivy Trellis (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTRseK6gQdg )
Bending arm and leg in directions they were not meant to go, the Confederate Calamity works Valley like a part-time job, dribbling a sweet drawl into the Cali girl’s ear.
“Y’never were anythin’ but a novelty act, sweetie. Ain’t no harm in confirmin’ what the world knows.”
But Beverly, with loud, demanding support from her sibling and stepmom, shakes her head violently, adding a shouted ‘No’. It’s not entirely convincing, but, after a dozen seconds, the Damsel of Dixie releases her hold. She rises, turns and STOMPS the arm viciously, Ivy snarling as she makes Valley pay, the auburn-haired grappler clearly enjoying her renaissance to the top of the FAWN hierarchy.
Beverly fights to get her feet underneath her. When she does, Armstrong delivers a toe kick deep into her foe’s lightly tanned tummy. Valley doubles at the waist with a gasp and Ivy immediately slides alongside. She lifts her right knee to Valley’s left temple, her arms latching over the blonde’s opposite shoulder, capturing her foe’s right arm in a tight grip.
The second-generation superstar leans forward, over the twin’s back, then throws her bodyweight in reverse, ripping Bev of her feet and delivering a nasty collision of knee cap to cranium with Mama Knows Best.
Mama Knows Best (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJmrOSHMhwI )
As Ivy scrambles atop the demolished Valley, Mama Butler delights in what she sees, Belle raising fingers high along with slaps of the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
In an astonishing display of rugged perseverance, Bev manages to lift a shoulder up just enough to break the count. Annoyed, Ivy looks up at the ref, holding her left hand up with palm upturned, and rapidly slapping her right palm against it for a quick 1-2-3. Not needing to be told how to do his job, even by a second generation phenom, the zerba holds both of his hands aloft and gives the 'V for Victory' sign with two fingers on each, signifying that the pin only garnered a two count.
The redhead is about to resume her efforts to end the match when sudden a disturbance catches her attention, as well as that of the official: Mama Rachelle has scrambled up onto the ring apron, screeching at the referee for him to disqualify the Hellions for, in her estimation, their dastardly disregard of the sacred rules of wrestling. The ref's only concern however is to get the step-MILF back down on the arena floor where she belongs...a task made more difficult as Ivy angrily jumps to her feet and steps up to Leah, engaging in a shouting match. Having had enough of this, Belle storms over to that side of the ring and grabs Rachelle's right ankle, pulling her leg out from under her and sending the bawdy blonde crashing to the arena floor.
All of which was exactly what Rachelle Leah had planned. For her theatrical performance succeeded in putting all eyes on her...which allowed Alyson to slip around the outside of the ring. Then, slithering in under the ropes, she managed to roll her sister out the same way, and took her place on the mat, and neither the Hellion trio nor the zebra any the wiser. Sometimes it's good to be an identical twin.
Returning her attention to her presumed opponent, Armstrong walks over to her and bends down to grab two handfuls of flaxen mane in order to hair haul "Bev" up to her feet. One can only imagine the Southern gal's shock as her supposedly semi-conscious adversary suddenly sprang to life, snaring the redhead in a small package!
ONE!
TWO!
THRENOOOOOO!
At the last possible instant, Ivy manages to thrash her way out of the pinfall, but the look on her face is one of pure confusion, and that gives Aly the opening she needs to press a new assault. As the 'Bama Slamma struggles back up to her feet, Aly darts behind her and wraps her arms tight around Ivy's waist. With a grunt she then lifts the redhead up and over for a German suplex, the back of Armstrong's head and her shoulders taking the full brunt of the impact. But rather than release her grasp, Valley rolls them over, pulls Ivy up, and suplexes her again. And again. And again. The end result is that the Southern Sensation's lithe body is wracked with pain, and her brain swims in dizziness.
Of course, the exertion proved exhausting for the blonde as well, and she staggers over to the ropes to catch her breath. Armstrong struggles to rise, managing to get up to one knee, when suddenly Aly bolts toward her, raising her right leg so that the sole of her foot smashes into the side of her opponent's skull for a Drive By Boot. Glassy eyed, Ivy collapses to the mat on her side, moaning in pain.
And her anguish only escalates as Valley rolls her over onto her belly, grabs both of the Alabamian's fabled legs, and locks on a Boston Crab. As electric tendrils of agony tear up and down her spine, Ivy howls like a banshee, her right hand desperately trying to reach the ropes. Alas, her adversary made certain that the strands are far enough away to deny the redhead any sanctuary. Belle slaps her hands down on the ring apron in time with the semi-recovered Cynthia's hand claps, which are both in accompaniment with the rhythmic chant of thousands of fans: "DON'T GIVE UP! DON'T GIVE UP! DON'T GIVE UP!"
Whether it's the encouragement of the crowd, or her own native-born cussedness, Armstrong denies herself the relief of submission. Instead, she slowly...agonizingly...begins to drag herself across the canvas, pulling her tormentor along with her despite all of Alyson's attempts to stop her. The anguish is writ deep upon Ivy's alabaster face, but the fire in her teary eyes makes it plain she will not relent, no matter what the cost.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Ivy draws near enough to be able to grab hold of the bottom cable. The official orders "Bev" to break the hold...which, surprisingly to some, she does immediately. Of course, that's just so she can turn around, grab Armstrong's right ankle, lift her leg high, and then send her knee slamming down onto the canvas-covered plywood of the ring floor, drawing a sharp howl from the ravaged redhead.
Nevertheless, Armstrong has a desperately needed respite, and she's able to crawl over to her corner and make the tag. Although far from being back in fighting trim, Cynthia's adrenaline is pumping, and she jumps between the ropes and charges at the blonde. Unfortunately for Mitchell, which the spirit is magnificently willing, the flesh is still not quite up to par, and thus she moves sluggishly, telegraphing the big right fist she throws toward her opponent's deceptively angelic face. Aly easily ducks under it and, in a fluid motion, uses Cyn's own momentum to hoist her up upon her shoulders for a Fireman's Carry. After several quick heartbeats, she shrugs the brunette off, sending Mitchell crashing face-first to the mat. Moaning, the North Carolinian rolls over onto her back, and with a malicious gleam in her eye, Alyson smirks down at her.
“Funny,” the Cali girl says, “you two seem more over the hill than at the top of it.”
Apparently not yet ready to end the Hellions’ run, Alyson snatches Mitchell by the head and drags the wavering brunette to wobbly feet. Valley nuzzles next to Cynthia, chest to chest, applying a tight bearhug to Mitchell’s abdomen. Her biceps flex as she cinches the grip tight, lifts her foe to tiptoes and rattles the already shaken veteran. With Cyn unsteady, the challenger takes advantage, lifting Mitchell high into the air, Cynthia’s legs pointed behind her before she swings back in her foe’s direction, landing across the plank of Valley’s upper thigh with an Inverted Atomic Drop when the blonde genuflects.
Mitchell’s eyes roll white for a moment as her crotch explodes in pain from the impact, Alyson winking a baby blue at the teary eyes of the Carolina grappler. Instead of shoving Mitchell off, Valley grinds her knee deeper into the champ’s privates, a recovering Rachelle Leah loving every second of the payback by proxy.
Finally, the blonde shoves Cyn off, Mitchell ending on her haunches, sagging, hands buried between her thighs. Alyson, on the other hand, is off to the races, surging to the ropes in front of Mitchell. She rebounds at full speed and launches into a thumping Tush Push to Mitchell’s face that topples the brunette.
Running Hip Attack (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxxkrF1618k )
The twin drops across the splayed second-generation star, hooking a leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Cynthia shoves a shoulder up to keep the Hellions’ time at the top continuing for the moment, but Aly seems unconcerned by the delay of her title reign. She snatches a handful of chestnut locks and hauls Cyn to her feet as she rises. Forced to comply, Mitchell is walked to the Valley Girls’ corner where Alyson tags Beverly. As has become custom, both Valleys remain in play after the tag and the duo roughhouse Mitchell to the middle over the complaints of the ref and the Hellions’ corner. Alyson turns and gives Ivy a one-fingered salute and the frustration boils over in the Slamma. The redhead rushes through the ropes to tear the Cali girl limb from limb, but the ref intercepts, dragging her back to the corner.
Meanwhile, the Valleys sprint off in opposite directions from the centered Cynthia and it’s a two-timing demolition when they hit their signature Sweet n’ Sweeter, a synchronized chopblock from Alyson coming from Cyn’s six and a lariat by Beverly from head on. In combination, they send Mitchell through an aerial spin cycle, the brunette backflipping to a calamitous collision with the canvas, face and chest down.
The groan from the FAWNatics is telling as Mitchell is motionless, the Valleys quickly on their feet and sharing a high five over the demolished Carolina native.
“You had your nostalgic moment,” Bev bellows down at the remains of Mitchell. “Time’s up!” adds Alyson. She gives her identical sibling a hug and heads for the exit just as a flustered Ivy is set back in place. Beverly rolls a flaccid Cynthia to her back and lowers a knee atop Mitchell’s chest for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Having escaped the ref’s attention this time, an entering Ivy knocks Valley off her partner with a savage superkick to the chin, the blonde spinning and tumbling halfway back to her corner, dazed and confused. She rises to all fours and massages her aching jaw while Armstrong tries to help Mitchell back to the Hellions’ station. She gets the semiconscious star to her haunches before the zebra whisks Armstrong away.
It’s a race to vertical between the two combatants and each reach their feet simultaneously with one important differnce. Mitchell is turned away from Valley, attention pulled toward the beckoning Ivy. Bev closes the gap quickly and collects a waistlock from behind to make sure the brunette cannot make it to salvation. But before it’s properly cinched, Cyn drops through to the deck, ending on all fours. Blindly, but not without foresight, Mitchell sends a mule kick high and hard, splitting Beverly’s tanned wickets, Cyn’s heel SLAMMING into Valley’s crotch.
On the sidelines, Belle pumps a fist and the crowd roars with delight at the sight of a bug-eyed twin bent after the brutal impact, jaw dropped and eyes watering. Frozen in place, there’s nothing Bev can do as Cynthia finds her feet and her senses. With those in place, Mitchell charges the challenger, leaps and wraps both arms around the head of the blonde as she flies by, SPIKING Valley’s cranium into the canvas with her Carolina Blues.
Carolina Blues (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tXjmTPxmUo )
Cynthia is slow to capitalize, but she finally dives on the splayed blonde for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Valley pushes her way out of trouble, lifting a shoulder off the canvas to the great relief of her twin and stepmom. But the blondes on the Valley bench are in need of further worrying when a recovering Mitchell slides up to the head of the dazed Beverly.
Taking a seat above Valley’s noggin, the brunette latches onto her foe’s braincase with both hands and guides it between her outstretched stems. With Bev’s chin resting dangerously on Cynthia’s mound, Mitchell wraps her legs behind the neck of the captured Valley. Leaning forward, the champ manages to grab a flailing leg of the natural clone and tightens a grip on Valley’s left ankle, pulling the limb toward her. Both Ivy and her mother cheer on their fellow Dixie Destroyer a moment or two before the FAWNatics join, the crowd a split-second late to realize Cynthia is securing her signature Mortal Cyn.
Mortal Cyn (https://i.imgur.com/k4tEriy.jpg)
With her vicious ‘handle’ In place, Mitchell tortures Valley with her combination figure-four head scissors and leglock, the Mortal Cyn having garnered many a victory over Mitchell’s illustrious career, one memorable moment when the Mortal claimed submissions from both Kylie Sanders and Shea London while each was trapped simultaneously. If two likely Hall of Famers could fall to the maneuver, the crowd understands one Valley would certainly succumb. And it’s likely she would have if, on seeing her sister ready to tap, Alyson hadn’t interceded.
Ivy nearly stops the interference with an entrance of her own, but is a tick late and both illegal entrants tumble into their partners, the women end in a jumble of torsos and limbs, but the long and short being Beverly is freed from near certain doom.
The official has a shitstorm on his hands as three of the four fighters are quickly up and swinging roundhouses. It takes a few seconds but the Hellions gain the advantage on the game Alyson. With Valley appropriately pounded, Mitchell and Armstrong each take a wrist and fling her to the ropes. Aly rebounds toward the waiting duo and eats stereo toe kicks to her tanned tummy. Each Hellion claims a front facelock and lays out, delivering a dual DDT that sends Aly somersaulting to her back, sliding to a stop, spread-eagled and out cold.
Cynthia scrambles aboard Alyson in a full body grapevine pin lasting past three seconds, but the ref makes sure the timekeeper understands the wrong twin has been pinned. Beverly is a few feet away, on all fours, crawling to calls of Rachelle Leah to evacuate. But not far from her goal, Bev feels a tug on her left ankle and looks over her shoulder to see a smirking Ivy pulling her back to center stage.
“Did we say y’all could leave?”
But salvation for the blonde battler comes from an unexpected quarter...well, unexpected to anyone who had never seen the Valleys in action before. Ivy suddenly keeps a pair of hands tightening around her own ankle, as Rachelle Leah reaches between the ropes to carry out a quite blatant act of illegal interference.
Her left leg being yanked, the 'Bama Slamma is made to hop on her other foot to stay upright. She is forced to release the ankle of the squirming Bev in order to focus on the problem at hand. But if the redhead had counted on a few moment's respite to determine her course of action, she severely underestimated the ability of the Valleys to capitalize on even the slightest opportunity. To wit, Beverly sweeps her leg out, knocking Armstrong's upright pin out from beneath her, which sends her crashing upon her backside.
With a viper speed that belies her battered condition, Bev slithers out beneath the bottom rope to the arena floor, where she grasps tight Armstrong's right ankle, while Rachelle does likewise with her left. The sinister steps then proceed to yank those fabled gams toward them. The only thing keeping the redhead from being pulled out of the ring is the steel ring post: with each leg on either side of it, Ivy's movement is suddenly and agonizingly halted as her womenhood crashes into the pole, drawing forth a sharp yowl of pain from the beleaguered beauty.
But the cavalry arrives in the form of Belle Butler, who races around the ring to save her daughter from the malevolent ministrations of the blondes. Catching sight of the enraged ring veteran, Leah instantly releases her hold on Ivy's stem and backpedals away, leaving Bev to take the full brunt of a forearm shiver upside her flaxen-maned noggin. The blow staggers Valley, and as the intent all along has been to return her to the ring as she's the actual legal combatant for her team, her condition makes her fully compliant...if not particularly fully aware...as the older woman shoves her under the bottom cable and rolls her in, where Cynthia awaits her.
Peeling the mewling Bev up off of the canvas, Mitchell bulldogs her to the center of the ring, reducing the bodacious blonde to a quivering, curvaceous puddle of twitching flesh. A pin now would be the simplest of things, but these two bitches have crossed more than a few lines tonight, and Cyn knows that her partner wouldn't be satisfied unless she got a few more licks in. So, the brunette climbs back up to her feet and goes over to Ivy, who has slid herself away from the steel ring post and is tenderly massaging her crotch. But despite her soreness, she is still able to rally herself, and with a helping hand from Cynthia she goes vertical.
But the attention of the spectators is torn between the end game playing out inside the squared circle, and the confrontation taking place at ringside. Belle has turned her focus on Rachelle, who is moving backward in a cowering fashion, window wiping the air with her hands as she begs Butler to spare her. The 'Bama legend finally draws close enough to fill her right fist with Leah's expensively styled golden locks while she cocks her other fist, looking to the crowd for encouragement. Suffice it to say, the throng is all in favor of Belle clocking the step-MILF a good one right across the kisser.
But not immediately recalled by most present is that Rachelle Leah was, in her younger days, quite an accomplished wrestler herself. An injury made her continuation as a competitor problematic, which resulted in her turning to training and managing her step-daughters. But she still recalls all of her knowledge, and she puts that to good...if dastardly...use now. A double eye poke leaves Butler shrieking and stumbling backward, hands furiously rubbing her blurred eyeballs, and leaving her defenseless.
This turn of events proves costly for the Southern matriarch quickly enough, as her opposite number grabs a wrist and her hair and flings her forward, Belle's face and chest being rammed into the ring post. Teary eyes glassy she reels backward, turning around...and being met with a clothesline that levels her to the hard arena floor. Fully enjoying herself now, feeling the old familiar rush of adrenaline through her veins, Leah reluctantly tears herself away from her helpless foe, instead knowing her attention is needed on the match unfolding before her. All the same, she's more than happy to try and kill two birds with one stone. thus, she steps out of one of her designer heels, and proceeds to press the sole of her stocking foot down upon Butler's windpipe, even as Leah faces the ring and shouts encouragement to her charges. Belle's legs kick furiously as she's being choked, but as yet she lacks the wherewithal to escape.
Within the ring itself, Bev and Aly need more than the urgently shouted commands of their step-mother cum manager. The Hellions are subjecting them to a wicked little maneuver they whipped up called "The Salon Treatment". With so many of their Southern contemporaries in the hairstyling and manicure business, Armstrong and Mitchell have adapted the concept in a unique...it utterly illegal...manner: Both have grabbed and twisted the long manes of their opponents, causing searing pain to the scalps of the natural clones. But that pain is secondary, as Cyn and Ivy have also put the fingers of one hand of each Valley in their mouth, biting down on the digits, and drawing frenzied shrieks from the Southern Californians. The referee orders the Tag Champs to cease and desist, but perhaps sharing in the sentiment that the twins have brought this down upon themselves, his count is exceedingly slow.
It isn't until the word "five" begins to pass his lips that the strap holders free their victims. Or at least Cynthia has; Ivy maintains her hold on Aly's matted hair so as to escort her out of the ring. She whips the blonde to the ropes...actually through the ropes. Luckily enough for Alyson, her fall to the floor is broken and buffered. Unluckily for Rachelle, she's the buffering, as her step-daughter crashes down on her, sending them both sprawling to the floor in a dazed heap. Ivy is unaware that her action also had the happy benefit of relieving her embattled mama who, although purple faced and panting hard for breath, quickly rouses herself to sit up, and then crawl over to the groaning Rachelle. There, kneeling beside her, Butler pulls Leah up to a seated position and applies a sleeper hold. Rachelle's arms flail to no avail, as a trickle of drool escapes the corner of her mouth. Swiftly enough, her eyes roll up in their sockets and she's sent to slumber land. Aly, still too stunned by her floor crash, makes no effort to save her step-MILF.
Now comes the grand finale to this theater of violence. Back in the ring, Ivy has put Bev down on her back and grabbed her legs. The redhead then suddenly throws herself backward to the mat, pulling her opponent up and, using her momentum, monkey flipping the blonde up and over, sending her sailing toward the center of the canvas.
Ordinarily, the worst she could hope for would be to belly flop to the mat. Unfortunately for her, Cynthia has something else awaiting her. As Beverly flies forward, Mitchell unleashes a superkick, the sole of her boot mashing brutally into the side of Valley's pretty pan. Viewed later in slo mo, Bev's face almost looks cartoon-like as it takes the blow, like Wile E. Coyote impacting with the canyon floor after his impossibly long drop.
One certainty is that Beverly Mitchell is fully and completely unconscious as she lands on the canvas a heartbeat later. Ivy steps out of the ring and resumes her lawful place in the corner as her partner throws herself across the torso of her fallen opponent (not taking any chances and hooking a leg, just in case), and the referee drops to his knees and slaps down...
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!
The announcer's voice comes blaring through the PA system: 'YOU WINNERS, AND STILL TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...CYNTHIA MITCHELL AND IVY ARMSTRONG...BELLE'S HELLIONS!"
Ivy leaps back into the ring and she and Cyn hug. Belle, bedraggled but decidedly flush with satisfaction, joins them, then does the honor of raising their arms high while the ref wraps the ten pounds of leather and gold around their slender waists.
Down on the ring floor Aly, throwing a tearful tantrum over their defeat, tries to rouse her somnolent step-mother while simultaneously screaming at the ref about the blatant cheating of the Hellions, and how she and her sister were robbed of their rightful belts.
Exhausted but exuberant, the Hellions and their manager make their way up the aisle, basking in the cheers of the crowd. There will be other battles in the days to come, but tonight they intend to fully enjoy their triumph.