Post by dsb on Dec 19, 2018 21:19:22 GMT
The crowd had just settled down to a dull roar when the Announcer went about riling them up all over again. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Falls Count Anywhere Match and it is for the FAWN Intercontinental Championship! Introducing first, representing FIC, she hails from Santa Fe, New Mexico, stands at five feet ten inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and forty four pounds. She is the Hollow Girl…HARRIET LARKIN!”
The lights dimmed again as the Dance Floor Destroyer entered the arena for her championship opportunity. Trained to expect Placebo, the throng was still mildly surprised to hear Wolf Alice in its place.
MOANING LISA SMILE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=z71df68qLp0
HARRIET LARKIN:
Things stayed dim and the song quieted for few bars. And then suddenly everything changed, the roar of grungy guitars answered by bursts of real fire roaring out from beside the stage while the ‘tron was engulfed in digital flame. Stepping into the middle of this conflagration was the statuesque tyro with a cascade of coppery locks, Harriet Larkin emerging from the crucible of her three part war with the Raven ready, willing and able to contend for FAWN’s second biggest prize. Pausing for just a moment atop the stage, Larkin nodded to herself before storming down the aisle.
For her first encounter with the Witch of Razorback Holler, Harriet sported a slight variation on her regular attire, choosing a sturdy white sports bra to contain her modest chest. Her schoolgirl-style plaid skirt was as short as ever, exposing white booty shorts then leading down to a length of long luscious and impeccably toned leg. White ankle boots completed Larkin’s look, and as usual she had left her flame-red hair long and flowing over her shoulders. She also sported the usual chevrons of war-paint over her right eye, one charcoal grey, the other burnished copper.
Those long legs carried her to the ring quickly, and became faster still as she broke into a sprint to slide under the bottom rope. As she clambered to her feet those green eyes stared daggers at the FAWNatics, while a mirthless smile played across her cherry lips. Dismissing the jeers with a casually raised middle finger, the Hollow Girl made her way to the far corner where she settled in to better observe the arrival of the soon to be former champion.
“And introducing her opponent, hailing from Jackson, Tennessee she stands at five feet ten inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and forty-eight pounds, she is the Coutrycidal Maniac, the Vicious Volunteer and the current FAWN Intercontinental Champion, this is HARLEY JO COLLINS!”
SHINE DOWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xACHH5-QwY
HARLEY JO COLLINS:
Accompanied by Godsmack, some Fireball and a little band of leather and gold she’d picked up at ’Mania, Harley Jo Collins herownself strode through the curtain and raised her prize for all to see. Nodding her thanks at the round of applause, the Tennessee Terror ‘clinked’ her libation against the faceplate, then took a long swig before heading down the ramp. The Florida weather might’ve changed for the cooler but HJC’s sartorial sense stayed exactly the same, as she wore her usual pair of ancient denim overalls, at least for the time being.
Drawing close to the squared circle with no sight of Lyra Faulk or the as of yet unnamed third member of FIC, Harley Jo drew that much more noise from the crowd once she put a hand to one shoulder and undid the clasps on the overalls, leaving them in a puddle at her feet. Stripped to the essentials, she wore a black fightin’ rumble-kini, white pads and plain black boots. From there she slid under the bottom rope, pushed to her feet and strode to the middle of the ring to raise the belt for all those in attendance, Larkin included. Harriet smirked and beckoned the brunette to come closer, but Collins only waggled a finger and backed into the opposite corner, draping her prize over the shoulder of one Al Carpenter as she did so.
An audible rumble passed through the crowd when the bell sounded, particularly among those FAWNatics enamored with heavy brawling and minimal emphasis on such trifles as rope breaks, referee stoppages or mercy. Practically salivating at the prospect of an opponent who wouldn’t duck and dodge like that f*cking Raven, Harriet gave the top rope a single violent tug before she set out for the center of the ring. As for Harley Jo she was already en route, the Vicious Volunteer quick to leave the confines of the corner just in case the big redhead wanted to start things in blitzkrieg fashion. Slowing as she closed on the Intercontinental Champion, Larkin made a show of rolling her wrists and cracking her knuckles, but she didn’t bother with making fists, at least not yet.
“The Open Challenge format is… interesting.” Harriet said. “Some might even say brave.”
Collins took the bait to see what the Hollow Girl might do with it. “And tell me, darlin’. What would you call it?”
“Suicidal.” Larkin answered simply. “Especially considering that there are far bigger… and far better, lurking in the shadows as of late.”
Harley Jo raised her hands without beckoning the challenger forward. “Might want to turn down the base on your theme music, girl. From where I stand we’re looking each other dead in the eye… and I’ve got almost twenty pounds on you.”
“Too much cheap whiskey, that’s all that is.” Harriet countered, her hands were up and curled into loose claws now. “You’ll gas out in five minutes or less, assuming you don’t blow up the first time I punch you in the--”
Collins stormed in for a Collar & Elbow only to catch Harriet flat footed with a rough claw grip on the lower half of her face and a huge handful of hair. Larkin’s surprise gave way to fury in the span between heartbeats and she answered the rough housing with her own fistful o’ hair and a blatant grip on Harley Jo’s windpipe!
“I hope you punch harder than you squeeze.” HJC rasped. “Otherwise you won’t last long enough to crumple anywhere other than HUUURRRGGGGHH!”
The muzzle strapped across her mouth meant Harriet couldn’t reply with words so she bore down on Collins’s throat and twisted another thick hank of dark hair around her hand.
“Ok dammit, knock that shyt off!” Al barked when his charges made no effort to transition to something even slightly legal. “Harriet, let go of her throat! Harley, get outta her hair!” Brunette and redhead didn’t even glance in his direction, they only had eyes for each other and any sign of weakness in the-- “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Harriet let loose the tiniest bit sooner, meaning she got to land a Headbutt and a looping Haymaker to the jaw one right after the other! Collins’s head snapped back but otherwise she didn’t give ground so Larkin doubled over and wedged her head between the champ’s thighs. Cupping her hands over Harley Jo’s calves, Harriet set her feet and lifted the heavier wrestler up for an Alabama Sl--
“UNGH!” Larkin grunted in pained surprise when the brunette stomped in place to short-circuit the lift attempt. “Tryin’ to sweep me off my feet already, darlin’?” the Tennessee Terror chided after a pair of heavy Forearm Smashes THWHUMPED across Harriet’s lower back. “’Fraid you’re gonna have to buy me a drink fireeerrrhhh. Nice claws, bytch.”
Harriet continued to gouge her fingers into the dense meat of Collins’s thighs. “You think this is nice? Just wait until I get my hands on something softooooohhhhhh let go you trashy slut!”
Harley Jo, who’d hiked up Harriet’s blouse just enough to affix stereo claws above the redhead’s hips, did nothing of the sort. Indeed she squeezed a little harder just to send another angry shiver through the challenger. “Far be it from me to denigrate the technique of another,” Collins purred, “but if you gotta grab something soft to make me hurt, you need to improve your grip strenWHOOAAAAHHH OOOFFFFHH!”
Larkin straightened up as fast as she could, the powerful redhead shoving at Collins’s knees in the same motion to send the veteran tumbling to the canvas as recipient of a truncated Back Body Drop! HJC hit flat, rolled onto one side and immediately threw herself to the right to avoid the THWHUMPING Stomp Larkin aimed at her temple! Smirking as the other woman scrambled to one knee, Harriet ran her down and lashed out with a Penalty Kick aimed between Collins’s--
The Witch of Razorback Holler caught Larkin’s boot in both hands and pushed back hard enough to keep the FIC’er off balance while she got to her feet. “Tryin’ to cave in my head and the match isn’t even two minutes old?” Harley Jo noted with just a trace of admiration. “Perhaps you’re more Blassenville than Michalka after all.”
Harriet hunched forward and swiped at Collins’s nose but came up an inch or two shy of her nose. Forced to bounce in place for the moment, she flipped hair out of her face, then snapped, “And perhaps you’ll last long enough for me to see how your blood looks stippled against the stepSNGH!”
The champ halved her grip to drive the point of one elbow into Larkin’s knee, then doubled down again just to send the Hollow Girl onto her tush with a heavy shove! “Bit of advice, red.” Collins said quietly. “Best not to wish for blood too loudly in my presence. Otherwise you could get a whole lot more than you wanted.”
Harriet scrambled to boot-leather, stormed forward and rocked HJC back several steps with a brisk two-handed shove. “Save the soft-spoken sadist garbage for Sanders and her toads.” Larkin growled. “I signed that contract because I need your blood on my knuckles and your gold around my--”
PWAAAK!
Harley Jo put the challenger’s head on a swivel with a booming Haymaker that earned a ‘YAY!’ from the crowd. “That what you had in mind, dar--”
PWAAAK! Harriet answered with a similarly stiff shot that rocked the big brunette back on her heels. “Pretty much that exactly.” the Dance Floor Destroyer smirked. “Well, almost. Way I’d imagined it you’d already spit out a tooth by now.”
Harley Jo finally raised a hand to invite the redhead forward. “You’re gonna have to hit me a helluva lot harder then, darlin’.”
“I can do that.” They closed fast, Collins and Larkin leading with an opened hand not to defend, but simply to snatch a handful of her foe’s hair, thus steadying her head for the barrage of straight jabs that caromed off hairline, eyebrow and chin.
“Oh COME ON!” Carpenter groaned from his spot a short distance away. “Couldn’t you at least PRETEND to open your hands?”
Neither paid him the slightest bit of attention, or perhaps they did, because those heavy hands went south for several unprotected shots to the tummy and ribs that hit with the sound of a baseball bat striking damp clay. Gritting her teeth after a particularly stiff shot hooked in beneath her right elbow, Larkin stopped punchin’ and started pulling, FIC’s heavy hitter doubling down on the hair hold so she could march Harley Jo toward the nearest corner. Of course one did not simply lead Harley Jo Collins, so Harriet encouraged her progress with frequent (nay, constant) Kneelifts to the belly and upper thighs. Harley endured these shots for the privilege of landing more than half a dozen Bionic Elbows to the crown of Larkin’s skull, cursed when her butt hit the buckles, then ‘OOOFFFFHED!’ in startled shock when Harriet buried a Kneelift just below her navel.
“This is usually the time where I’d offer up a quote that pertained to whatever bit of humiliation you’re about to endure.” Larkin explained as she wrapped her arms around Collins’s left thigh and muscled it just high enough to drape that leg over the second strand. “But something tells me Elliot would be lost on you, so I’ll just ruin your thigh to pass the time.”
The champ didn’t take this threat lightly as evidenced by the Forearm Smash she clubbed against the redhead’s chest, yet that *almost* Low Blow had robbed the reply of much of its power and Larkin immediately answered back with a CRAAACKING Overhand Slap! Smirking at the ‘WOOOO’s!’ this drew from the FAWNatics, Harriet took the top rope in both hands to keep her balance while she blasted half a dozen Toe Kicks into the meat of her opponent’s vulnerable thigh. Collins grimaced, got a stiff hand under the Hollow Girl’s chin, but Larkin squirmed free and leaned in closer, just putting every bit of her hundred and thirty so pounds behind the knee she duuuuuuuuug into the IC champ’s hanging leg. “Gonna hobble you right here, Hee Haw.” Harriet promised Collins. “The only question is should I take one leg or botEERRRGGHHHHHH!”
HJC’s leg might’ve been compromised, her hands however were utterly unoccupied until the moment she reached out and affixed an Iron Claw to Larkin’s unsuspecting face! Her vision obscured by the brunette’s crushing mitt, Harriet forgot about the leg-work and grabbed Harley Jo’s wrist in both hands. Collins didn’t mind, in fact she laid her free hand over Larkin’s and pushed forward, all the better to mash her palm into the redhead’s nose. “Go on, darlin’. Quote something for me.” the Vicious Volunteer prodded even as she tried to dig her fingertips into the challenger’s scalp. “Speak real clear like though, it can be hard to understand a bytch when she’s whimpering into my UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHH!”
Prizing the backwood freak’s bear trap hand was taking too goddamned long, so Larkin surged in and THUMPED the bony point of her knee into Harley Jo’s undercarriage. There was nothing *almost* about that Low Blow, it disintegrated the Claw at once and left Collins sucking wind in the buckles even after Harriet dragged her throbbing leg off the second strand. “So you want a quote, do you shytheel?” Harriet put a hand in Harley Jo’s face and ground it back n’ forth, a simple, mean-spirited payback for the Iron Claw. After a few seconds of that treatment she climbed onto the middle rope, grabbed a handful of hair and forced the brunette’s head back at a sharp angle.
“Here’s one I think you’ll actually appreciate. Genuine poetry has the ability to communicate before it is understood.” She punctuated that little bon mot with a sharply angled punch that PWAAAKED against the Tennessean’s hairline. This was followed by another and then another, Larkin’s pace steady enough to get the crowd tolling the score for her. ‘THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!’ Larkin palmed Collins’s head in both hands, Harriet holding the champ steady so she could swing her hips to a beat no one else could hear. Once she’d found her groove the challenger raised both hands overhead, knotted them in a Double Axehandle and brought it TWHUMPING down on the crown of Collins’s skull!
“All right Harriet, take it out of the damned corner!” Al demanded once the FIC’er hopped down from her perch. “I’ve been lenient enough as it is!”
Larkin flipped him a casual middle finger, but she did in fact bury her hands in Harley Jo’s hair to drag her out of the corner. Of course she immediately smeared her against the ropes and peeled off a Clothesline that sent the Tennessee Terror tumbling over the rubber-coated steel to the floor in a discombobulated heap! Sparing the ref a glance only after she’d seen Collins start to stir, the Hollow Girl sniped, “A Thank You would be appreciated.”
“Not until you learn the difference between the letter and the spirit of the law.” Al deadpanned.
Larkin flipped him off again, then returned her attention to HJC, who’d grabbed hold of the bottom rope in a bid to haul herself to boot-leather. Harriet took off for the far side of the ring, those long legs cutting the distance with dangerous ease. She doubled back with a full head of steam, Larkin sprinting like a lightweight up until the moment she took to the skies for a headlong dive over the second ro--THWHACK!
Collins belted her mid-flight with a huge right hand that left the New Mexico native with her arms draped over the middle strand. “I don’t know if I’d be bold enough to call what we’re doing poetry.” the Witch of Razorback Holler told her stunned rival. “But it can certainly communicate, I’ll give it that. Tell me darlin’, what does this say to you?” Harley Jo secured the Iron Claw again, only this time she cupped her other hand against the base of Larkin’s skull so the redhead couldn’t squirm away without one hell of an effort.
Huffing and moaning as the crushing grip burned away that Haymaker-induced fog, Harriet worried at Collins’s shoulders for a few seconds before she realized where she’d landed. “BREAGH!” she demanded even before she’d snatched the bottom rope. “BREAGH ID, IM IN EEERRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
HJC took several steps toward the center of the apron, thus forcing Larkin to follow along and have her neck draaaaaaaaaaagged across the rope.
“Ease up Harley, she IS in the ropes.” Al reminded the champ perhaps a beat or two later than usual. “Falls count anywhere doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you strangle her in the ropes.”
“Not strangling her, Algernon, though I am slowing the blood flow to her brain. You want it out of the ropes, you know what I want to hear.”
The referee obliged her with a ‘FOUR!’ second lullaby that ended with Harley Jo’s hands overhead and Harriet facedown on the mat with both hands pressed to her flushed features. Far from satisfied with the redhead’s current state of affairs, Collins caught a fistful of hair with one hand and a big ol’ hank of apron in the other. She pulled forward on the former and backward on the latter, HJC opening up a narrow black cave that quickly swallowed Harriet’s head and arms. The apron trap wasn’t so much painful as it was disorienting, at least that’s what Larkin’s sudden bout of thrashing seemed to indicate. This reaction didn’t trouble Harley Jo in the slightest, she merely kept one hand tight on the apron so she could THWHAP no less than ten heavy Overhand Forearm Smashes against her foe’s upper back!
APRON TRAP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWp8ieUpAmM
Still holding the ring skirt, Collins treated herself to a grip on Larkin’s blouse and used it to drag the challenger all the way into the trap she’d crafted. Landing in an awkward sprawl just behind the damned apron, Harriet clambered to all fours, flipped the fabric up and climbed out into the-- Harley Jo charged in from the right and THWHUNKED a Kneelift into the side of Larkin’s skull.
Dropping to her knees as Harriet crumpled onto her face, Collins called, “Falls count anywhere, remember Carpenter?” She hooked the Half Nelson, rolled the redhead onto her back and hooked the far leg in a deep cradle just before Al hit the floor beside ‘em to count off…
ONE…
TWO…
Larkin shoved her away just after ‘TWO’, then shifted onto her right hip to prevent a follow-up cover. “Neat trick, freak.” the Hollow Girl growled. “I can’t wait to show you a few of my ownNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHH!”
Harley slipped her legs around the ingénue’s waist and squeezed with all the power of a hungry anaconda. “Lookin’ to impress me, red?” the brunette murmured. “Getting out of this hold without a few cracked ribs would be a good start.” Harriet didn’t offer any response so Collins leaned in and tucked Larkin’s left arm beneath her right armpit so she could reach around with both hands to complete an S-Grip on the far side of her adversary’s neck. “Tying you up a little tighter each time, red.” the Tennessee Terror continued. “Better find a way out before I decide to put you out of your misery.”
Braced on her right elbow, Larkin waggled a finger at Carpenter to make sure he knew she was still in this fight. “Guuuhhh… gonna take a lot more than an Abdominal Stretch to take me down, CollUUUUGGGGHHH!”
SCISSORED ABDOMINAL STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaCVwSc0OJY
Harley Jo bore down on the Scissors and jostled the S-grip against Harriet’s cheek to punish her on two fronts. “Sure about that, darlin’? This ain’t anything fancy, but it’s sure got you locked down tig--” Collins quieted down when the redhead pounded several short, sharp punches against the curve of her right knee. The pad soaked up the worst of it, but it was still rather annoying and her irritation only grew when the FIC’er began worrying at the laces on that boot. “You’ll want to knock that shyt off before I get angry.” HJC said quietly. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Harriet paid her no mind, or perhaps she did because the demand was barely off Collins’s lips when the struggling redhead grabbed Harley’s laces and yanked hard enough to undo the first two sets of eyelets. With the champ’s footwear noticeably loose, Larkin wormed her fingers beneath the tongue presumably to claw or tear at her opponent’s ankle. I say presumably because Harley Jo abruptly shifted her S-grip to a combination Chinlock and Fishhook that dragged Harriet’s smile an inch or two to the right! Making a point to drag her finger up and down the inside of the challenger’s mouth, Collins leaned in to murmur, “Darlin, when I give you a suggestion it’d be better for your long term prospects to treat it like a demanDEEERRRRRHHH!”
Harriet wrenched her braced arm off the floor and raked her nails across the brunette’s eyes! The Vicious Volunteer snarled in displeasure but wasn’t about to abandon her trap so easily which was why the Hollow Girl palmed her face and leaaaaaaaaaaned her weight into Collins until she’d forced the other woman onto her back. Al noted the possible cover, stepped forward, then pulled back when Harriet used her grip to thum-thum-thum-THUMP the back of Harley Jo’s skull against the barely-padded concrete.
Give the champ credit, she maintained the Stretch and that Fishhook for as long as she could, but the pounding in her temples grew to deafening levels and she extracted the latter to PWAAAK a quick Bell Ringer against Larkin’s ears! Harriet snarled, then crooked her right arm into a tire iron which she THWHAPPED against Collins’s chest. That disintegrated what remained of the Scissors, so Harriet clambered to boot-leather and cleared off, the New Mexico native skidding backward along the apron until she was almost to the steel steps. Glad to be free of the brunette’s clutches, Larkin took a breath, started to say something, then frowned and ran her tongue along the inside of her right cheek.
“Filthy skank.” Harriet grunted at Harley Jo, who was on one knee setting her loosened boot to rights. “We’re supposed to clip our nails before a match.”
Collins looked up from her work to flip Larkin the bird. “Freshly clipped this afternoon, darlin’. Not my fault you got skin like tissue paper.”
“Is it bad, Harriet?” Al had put on rubber gloves to check on his charge. “Here, let me see.”
“F*ck I will.” Harriet muttered. “It’s fine, just help the idiot with her laces and get out of the-- oh for f*ck’s sake, fine!”
Diligent even when it was hazardous to life and limb, Carpenter moved into Harriet’s path and didn’t budge until Larkin cranked her head back and opened her mouth. Certain to make sure Harley Jo hadn’t closed distance before he made his check, Al stepped in close, tilting his head to the side to get the best view possible. “I don’t see a cut, Harriet. I think you’re WHOOOAAAAAHHHH!”
Larkin planted both hands against the referee’s chest and sent him flying with a colossal shove that sent the poor dope tumbling over the still penitent form of one Harley Jo Collins! As for the IC champ, she saw Carpenter hurtling her way with just enough warning to tuck her chin against her chest. It was the best outcome she could’ve hoped for and even then it wasn’t great, considering that the tumbling zebra provided the perfect cover for THWHACK! Larkin came in like a low flying missile, the big redhead leading with her boots to drive a heavy Basement Dropkick between her opponent’s eyes!
BASEMENT FRONT DROPKICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gdQDGz7BLc
Collins went down in a heap, the Vicious Volunteer a lot more docile when she was dealing with foot-induced fireworks. As for Harriet, she hurried to boot leather and administered several quick, hard stomps to her foe’s bicep and ribs before she once again turned her attention to Harley Jo’s boot. A few quick tugs was all it took to undo Collins’s efforts. Once the trophy was hers, she raised it overhead, then pegged into the side of HJC’s head with an awkward THUMP! Down on one knee now, the Hollow Girl snatched hold of Collins’s hair and pulled her head off the mat. “Don’t you EVER try to intimidate me, f*ckwit. That shyt just does not work.”
Slowed by the Dropkick, the stomps and the surreal indignity of a shot from her own boot, Harley Jo still managed a pretty firm grip on the redhead’s encroaching wrist. “Suuuuhhhh… sure about that, darlin’? You sound a little rattled to NNNNGGGGHH!”
Harriet THWHUMPED the champ’s head against the floor, added on another for good measure. “Only thing rattling around here is your teeth. Everything else is going to go snap or crunch when it gives way.” Collins didn’t have anything to say to that, so Larkin doubled up on the fistful of hair and used it to get the both of ‘em back on their feet. Still incensed by the redhead’s deception, the floor seat FAWNatics (not to mention the rest of the arena) gave it to Larkin as loud as they could. That said, their efforts quieted the tiniest bit when several denizens of the front row had to dive out of the way when Harriet switched over to a Wristlock and slung the woozy warrior across the narrow aisle to BWAAANG spine-first into the steel barricade!
Stifling a scream through clenched teeth, Collins collapsed into a deep squat that would’ve been a plain ol’ seat if she hadn’t draped her arms over the guardrail. “That supposed to impress me? You’re too tuff to go down?” Harriet strode over, grabbed the rail for extra leverage and stuffed a trio of stomps into her rival’s exposed midsection. “The only reason you’re not flat on your back is because I’m not quite bored yet. Of course that means you’re not through suffering.”
Larkin clouted a Forearm Smash across her tits for good measure, then hauled the Tennessee Terror up and twisted around so they were standing side by side, backs to the audience. Snugged in on her rival’s left side, Larkin hooked her right arm around Collins’s lower back and wedged her head between the brunette’s left arm. Once that was done she set her left hand against the back of HJC’s left thigh and muscled her onto the point of her right shoulder just to BAWUNK her down atop that poor abused guardrail!
BACKDROP SUPLEX ON BARRICADE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UzKhkR14_A
“AAAAAAAAWWW FAHKING SHYT!” Harley made no effort to control the profanity when she jolted in a rough half circle and collapsed to one knee, her left arm once again draped over the top of the guardrail. Mildly irritated by the veteran’s durability, Harriet flicked out a light kick that caught Collins in the forehead. “Face to the floor, asshole. I want to hear those lips on the mat.”
“And people in Hell want ice water.” Harley Jo grunted. “But they ain’t HHUUUURRRGGGHHHH!”
Larkin collected Collins under the armpits, stood her up straight and earned some grudgingly impressed murmurs from the crowd when she forced HJC up on tiptoe with a rib-crushing Bear Hug. “Guess that weight difference doesn’t mean much, huh country mouse?” Harriet huffed over the sound of her tummy to tummy dominance. Bigger doesn’t mean badder. It means it’s more fun to watch you crumble.”
“Ain’t crumbled nothin’ yet, darHHHRRRRGGGHH!”
The Hollow Girl leaned back on the Hug, forcing Collins to brace her shins against Larkin’s hips to alleviate the worst of the pressure. It helped in that regard, but it robbed the champ of her remaining leverage, meaning it was the easiest thing in the world for Harriet to point ‘em both toward the far corner of the squared circle. “Got an early present for you, darlin’ the FIC’er cooed in her opponent’s ear. “A fashionable new broken back to go with that tacky red neck.”
Now Harley Jo Collins loved a good gift exchange as much as anyone, but she had no interest in what Larkin was offering so she buried her hands in the tyro’s hair and tried to denude her scalp in a single colossal-- Harriet charged across the narrow aisle on a sharp diagonal and halved her grip at the last second so she could BWUUUUNG the IC champ’s spine against the steel ring-post without cracking her own arm!
Legs totally undone by the ugly collision, Collins collapsed or at least started to. She’d only made it a third of the way down when Larkin hooked her under the armpits and stood her up straight. This temporary verticality proved just that, as the big redhead doubled over and wedged her head between HJC’s thighs so when she stood up again the Tennessee Terror was draped down her back like the world’s most unwilling cape. Securing Collins across her lower thighs (just above the knee, in fact) Harriet backed off a ways, swung so she was facing the apron.
“Eliot once asked, do I dare disturb the universe?” Larkin said to no one in particular. “The answer is, yes, I goddamned do.”
She yanked down on Harley Jo’s trapped stems and leaned forward sharply, all the better to whip the brunette the rangy brunette into a cringe-worthy shoulders to apron THAWHUMP! The pain was too sudden and too large for Collins to try out, she just bounced away and dropped to the floor, landing awkwardly on her right hip and shoulder before spreading out on her back. Already feeling the leather of the Intercontinental title warm on one shoulder, Harriet dropped to all fours by Harley Jo’s feet and slipped beneath the Southerner’s splayed stems to wedge her shoulders in the pits of Collins’s knees and thus put her ankles somewhere north of her ears in a Matchbook good for…
APRON ALABAMA SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9Wl6ou0Leo
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The Witch of Razorback Holler twitched just enough to slop to one side, denying Larkin her first FAWN gold in the process! Anger and admiration waged a short, ferocious war in Harriet’s heart, a conflict that ended with the former slaughtering the latter in a most unpleasant fashion. “I was content to leave you in the infirmary for a few days.” she muttered to the twitching Terror. “But now you’re going to lose the title and spend a week in the ICU.”
Collins was in no condition to answer, so Larkin collected the brunette at trunks and tresses and scraped her off the floor just to deposit her on the narrow shelf of the apron. The Hollow Girl joined her directly, Harriet once again going to HJC’s hair to return her to boot-leather. Larkin’s control was so thorough her usual Kneelift to the gut proved unnecessary, she simply pushed down on Harley Jo’s shoulders so she could tuck her head under right arm and slip her hands under the champ’s biceps to clinch the Double Underhook. Shadow looming large, Harriet went up on tiptoe and snapped backward to bring CollinsNO! Harley Jo hooked an arm over the middle rope meaning she came to a stop on one knee whereas Larkin THWHUMPED full force into the apron!
Grip demolished in the crash, Harriet tumbled from ring to ringside in a woozy facedown sprawl that only got a little better when she managed to roll onto her back. Somewhere overhead, a penitent Harley Jo Collins didn’t waste any of her flagging resources contemplating the disaster she’d averted. Instead she honed in on the redhead’s position and forced herself to stand. The ropes made this easier than it would’ve been otherwise, but the shimmy didn’t actually leave her knees until the Vicious Volunteer had backed all the way to the corner post. Didn’t take long for the FAWNatics to realize what she had in mind and they urged her to reconsider at the top of their lungs. Might as well have been shouting at a wall because Collins replied with a wink and set off on a shambling run down the apron that’d *just* started to smooth out when she took to the skies and came THAWHAPPING down across Larkin’s midsection with every bit of her nearly hundred and fifty pounds!
APRON DIVING BODY SPLASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ne4P0opNTc
Both wrestlers jolted violently on impact, Harley rearing back on one knee to swaddle her ribs while Harriet rolled over and drew her knees up against her chest. There they stayed for a handful of seconds before Collins tugged Larkin onto her back, dropped across her tummy and hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOO!
Harriet kicked out and rolled onto all fours, the big redhead shaking her head ‘no’ in case anyone thought she’d had her spirit crushed by that damned Splash. Harley Jo appreciated that sort of resilience in that it forced her to dig even deeper to stamp it out once and for all. On her feet thanks to a handful of the ring skirt, she hunched over Harriet to smack the back of her head a few times. “Get up, darlin’.” Collins chided once she’d put several steps between herself and the challenger. “Takin’ all my best shots ain’t gonna impress anyone if all you do is whimper and cry afterward.”
“F*cking bytch.” Larkin croaked as she began to rise. “I’m gonna put you on a stretcher toNNNGGGHH!”
Harley charged faster than she had any right doing at this point in the contest, not that mere incredulity stopped her from THWHUNKING her left shin across Harriet’s forehead like a baseball bat! The Hollow Girl went down like she’d been poleaxed, the perfect crash-pad for an exhausted Collins, who managed to hook the near leg in the process.
MOONSHINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rTdyRs9e_U
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Harriet shot a hand into the air, that ungodly Moonshiner hangover not quite enough to salt her away for good.
Breathing hard after that nearest of near falls, HJC clambered to her feet and took a look around for something that’d help close the big redhead out. Several seconds of exhausted perusal finally drew her to an older gray-bearded fellow in the front row who just so happened to be sporting a WOLF vintage Molly Sue Lawrence tee-shirt. Sensing a kindred soul, she trudged over to the man and said, “Sir if you would be so kind as to offer me your chair I will speak of generosity the next time Mol’ and me get together at the range.”
“Ohhhh, jeeze. Yeah, yeah I can do that, here ya go ma’am!” He sprang up, closed the chair with a flat ‘snap’ and offered it to Harley so quickly she didn’t even fault him for use of the M-word.
Nodding her thanks, Collins turned and raised it over her head only to pause at the last instant. A moment’s consideration produced a new plan, one that saw the Vicious Volunteer open the chair and spin it around so the back was to its former occupant. Elsewhere Harriet Larkin had made it to her knees and no farther. This changed when Harley Jo laid claim to the FIC’ers battle-damp hair and pulled. Larkin protested the shabby treatment with a loose clinch around Collins’s waist, but all that did was make it easier for the champ to walk her into position between the barricade and the lone chair. Prizing free of the redhead’s grasp, Harley Jo doubled her over with a quick Kneelift, then reeled Larkin into a Double Underhook of her own.
“Even now I’m not sure the standard issue Ace of Spades is enough to keep you down, darlin’.” Collins admitted to the vulnerable challenger. “So consider what’s about to happen a sign of respect.”
Harriet tried to wrest her arms loose with no success. “Fuuuhhh…. f*ck you and your respect, CollWHOOOOAAAAOOOOOOFFFFFFHHH!”
Harley Jo hoisted her foe upside town, turned toward the crowd and THUMPED her burden gut-first across the top of the barricade! The last little bit of air in her lungs took its leave in a breathy little wheeze that transformed into a reedy groan when Collins dipped down and hoisted her back up via tha Double Underhook! Twisting around in a half circle, she didn’t pause to let the crowd or Larkin think about what was on her mind, she just dropped Harriet tummy-first across the back of the carefully placed chair! Larkin’s knees banged against the seat hard enough to knock it over, Harriet however stayed on her knees because Harley Jo simply refused to relinquish the Double Underhook. Peeling off a quarter turn to get the Hollow Girl clear of the chair, Collins took a single deep breath, then upended her foe for the third and final time. Everyone and their mother knew what was coming, still didn’t make things any easier to watch when Harley Jo swung Harriet back the way she’d came and laid out flat, the Tennessee Terror bringing her knees up high and tight so Larkin landed with a meaty THWHUMP!
ACE OF SPADES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrshSobqt1M
Harriet didn’t bounce away from the Ace of Spades like so many previous victims, rather she slid off in a sort of delirious slow motion, the devastated redhead coming to rest on hip and shoulder until Collins muscled her onto her back and collapsed on her chest in a Lateral Press good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Visibly relieved, Al got up and threw a signal to the Timekeeper, which summoned the bell and the Announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall and STILL the FAWN Intercontinental Champion… HARLEY JO COLLINS!”
Harley got up, accepted the strap from Al and hoisted to the rafters. Dropping it onto one shoulder once the first round of cheers died down, the victorious brunette glanced around for her overalls, then offered up a genuine smile when Al handed her the bottle of Fireball. “Bless you, Algernon.”
“No problem, Harl. You mind if I get a swig? My nerves are fried what with Jenny in the, oh, never mind.”
Collins finished it off in one long pull, put on the cap and asked, “You say something?”
“Good win, Harley.” he swatted her on the shoulder and dipped out of frame so the cameraman could focus on the Vicious Volunteer. Seeing it, she noted, “The Harley Jo Collins Intercontinental Open Challenge still stands, ladies. Think you’ve got what it takes to wear this gold? Then step up and show me what you’ve got. But be warned, come up short and you’ll end up sleepin’ it off just like dear Harriet. Cheers.”
The lights dimmed again as the Dance Floor Destroyer entered the arena for her championship opportunity. Trained to expect Placebo, the throng was still mildly surprised to hear Wolf Alice in its place.
MOANING LISA SMILE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=z71df68qLp0
HARRIET LARKIN:
Things stayed dim and the song quieted for few bars. And then suddenly everything changed, the roar of grungy guitars answered by bursts of real fire roaring out from beside the stage while the ‘tron was engulfed in digital flame. Stepping into the middle of this conflagration was the statuesque tyro with a cascade of coppery locks, Harriet Larkin emerging from the crucible of her three part war with the Raven ready, willing and able to contend for FAWN’s second biggest prize. Pausing for just a moment atop the stage, Larkin nodded to herself before storming down the aisle.
For her first encounter with the Witch of Razorback Holler, Harriet sported a slight variation on her regular attire, choosing a sturdy white sports bra to contain her modest chest. Her schoolgirl-style plaid skirt was as short as ever, exposing white booty shorts then leading down to a length of long luscious and impeccably toned leg. White ankle boots completed Larkin’s look, and as usual she had left her flame-red hair long and flowing over her shoulders. She also sported the usual chevrons of war-paint over her right eye, one charcoal grey, the other burnished copper.
Those long legs carried her to the ring quickly, and became faster still as she broke into a sprint to slide under the bottom rope. As she clambered to her feet those green eyes stared daggers at the FAWNatics, while a mirthless smile played across her cherry lips. Dismissing the jeers with a casually raised middle finger, the Hollow Girl made her way to the far corner where she settled in to better observe the arrival of the soon to be former champion.
“And introducing her opponent, hailing from Jackson, Tennessee she stands at five feet ten inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and forty-eight pounds, she is the Coutrycidal Maniac, the Vicious Volunteer and the current FAWN Intercontinental Champion, this is HARLEY JO COLLINS!”
SHINE DOWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xACHH5-QwY
HARLEY JO COLLINS:
Accompanied by Godsmack, some Fireball and a little band of leather and gold she’d picked up at ’Mania, Harley Jo Collins herownself strode through the curtain and raised her prize for all to see. Nodding her thanks at the round of applause, the Tennessee Terror ‘clinked’ her libation against the faceplate, then took a long swig before heading down the ramp. The Florida weather might’ve changed for the cooler but HJC’s sartorial sense stayed exactly the same, as she wore her usual pair of ancient denim overalls, at least for the time being.
Drawing close to the squared circle with no sight of Lyra Faulk or the as of yet unnamed third member of FIC, Harley Jo drew that much more noise from the crowd once she put a hand to one shoulder and undid the clasps on the overalls, leaving them in a puddle at her feet. Stripped to the essentials, she wore a black fightin’ rumble-kini, white pads and plain black boots. From there she slid under the bottom rope, pushed to her feet and strode to the middle of the ring to raise the belt for all those in attendance, Larkin included. Harriet smirked and beckoned the brunette to come closer, but Collins only waggled a finger and backed into the opposite corner, draping her prize over the shoulder of one Al Carpenter as she did so.
An audible rumble passed through the crowd when the bell sounded, particularly among those FAWNatics enamored with heavy brawling and minimal emphasis on such trifles as rope breaks, referee stoppages or mercy. Practically salivating at the prospect of an opponent who wouldn’t duck and dodge like that f*cking Raven, Harriet gave the top rope a single violent tug before she set out for the center of the ring. As for Harley Jo she was already en route, the Vicious Volunteer quick to leave the confines of the corner just in case the big redhead wanted to start things in blitzkrieg fashion. Slowing as she closed on the Intercontinental Champion, Larkin made a show of rolling her wrists and cracking her knuckles, but she didn’t bother with making fists, at least not yet.
“The Open Challenge format is… interesting.” Harriet said. “Some might even say brave.”
Collins took the bait to see what the Hollow Girl might do with it. “And tell me, darlin’. What would you call it?”
“Suicidal.” Larkin answered simply. “Especially considering that there are far bigger… and far better, lurking in the shadows as of late.”
Harley Jo raised her hands without beckoning the challenger forward. “Might want to turn down the base on your theme music, girl. From where I stand we’re looking each other dead in the eye… and I’ve got almost twenty pounds on you.”
“Too much cheap whiskey, that’s all that is.” Harriet countered, her hands were up and curled into loose claws now. “You’ll gas out in five minutes or less, assuming you don’t blow up the first time I punch you in the--”
Collins stormed in for a Collar & Elbow only to catch Harriet flat footed with a rough claw grip on the lower half of her face and a huge handful of hair. Larkin’s surprise gave way to fury in the span between heartbeats and she answered the rough housing with her own fistful o’ hair and a blatant grip on Harley Jo’s windpipe!
“I hope you punch harder than you squeeze.” HJC rasped. “Otherwise you won’t last long enough to crumple anywhere other than HUUURRRGGGGHH!”
The muzzle strapped across her mouth meant Harriet couldn’t reply with words so she bore down on Collins’s throat and twisted another thick hank of dark hair around her hand.
“Ok dammit, knock that shyt off!” Al barked when his charges made no effort to transition to something even slightly legal. “Harriet, let go of her throat! Harley, get outta her hair!” Brunette and redhead didn’t even glance in his direction, they only had eyes for each other and any sign of weakness in the-- “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Harriet let loose the tiniest bit sooner, meaning she got to land a Headbutt and a looping Haymaker to the jaw one right after the other! Collins’s head snapped back but otherwise she didn’t give ground so Larkin doubled over and wedged her head between the champ’s thighs. Cupping her hands over Harley Jo’s calves, Harriet set her feet and lifted the heavier wrestler up for an Alabama Sl--
“UNGH!” Larkin grunted in pained surprise when the brunette stomped in place to short-circuit the lift attempt. “Tryin’ to sweep me off my feet already, darlin’?” the Tennessee Terror chided after a pair of heavy Forearm Smashes THWHUMPED across Harriet’s lower back. “’Fraid you’re gonna have to buy me a drink fireeerrrhhh. Nice claws, bytch.”
Harriet continued to gouge her fingers into the dense meat of Collins’s thighs. “You think this is nice? Just wait until I get my hands on something softooooohhhhhh let go you trashy slut!”
Harley Jo, who’d hiked up Harriet’s blouse just enough to affix stereo claws above the redhead’s hips, did nothing of the sort. Indeed she squeezed a little harder just to send another angry shiver through the challenger. “Far be it from me to denigrate the technique of another,” Collins purred, “but if you gotta grab something soft to make me hurt, you need to improve your grip strenWHOOAAAAHHH OOOFFFFHH!”
Larkin straightened up as fast as she could, the powerful redhead shoving at Collins’s knees in the same motion to send the veteran tumbling to the canvas as recipient of a truncated Back Body Drop! HJC hit flat, rolled onto one side and immediately threw herself to the right to avoid the THWHUMPING Stomp Larkin aimed at her temple! Smirking as the other woman scrambled to one knee, Harriet ran her down and lashed out with a Penalty Kick aimed between Collins’s--
The Witch of Razorback Holler caught Larkin’s boot in both hands and pushed back hard enough to keep the FIC’er off balance while she got to her feet. “Tryin’ to cave in my head and the match isn’t even two minutes old?” Harley Jo noted with just a trace of admiration. “Perhaps you’re more Blassenville than Michalka after all.”
Harriet hunched forward and swiped at Collins’s nose but came up an inch or two shy of her nose. Forced to bounce in place for the moment, she flipped hair out of her face, then snapped, “And perhaps you’ll last long enough for me to see how your blood looks stippled against the stepSNGH!”
The champ halved her grip to drive the point of one elbow into Larkin’s knee, then doubled down again just to send the Hollow Girl onto her tush with a heavy shove! “Bit of advice, red.” Collins said quietly. “Best not to wish for blood too loudly in my presence. Otherwise you could get a whole lot more than you wanted.”
Harriet scrambled to boot-leather, stormed forward and rocked HJC back several steps with a brisk two-handed shove. “Save the soft-spoken sadist garbage for Sanders and her toads.” Larkin growled. “I signed that contract because I need your blood on my knuckles and your gold around my--”
PWAAAK!
Harley Jo put the challenger’s head on a swivel with a booming Haymaker that earned a ‘YAY!’ from the crowd. “That what you had in mind, dar--”
PWAAAK! Harriet answered with a similarly stiff shot that rocked the big brunette back on her heels. “Pretty much that exactly.” the Dance Floor Destroyer smirked. “Well, almost. Way I’d imagined it you’d already spit out a tooth by now.”
Harley Jo finally raised a hand to invite the redhead forward. “You’re gonna have to hit me a helluva lot harder then, darlin’.”
“I can do that.” They closed fast, Collins and Larkin leading with an opened hand not to defend, but simply to snatch a handful of her foe’s hair, thus steadying her head for the barrage of straight jabs that caromed off hairline, eyebrow and chin.
“Oh COME ON!” Carpenter groaned from his spot a short distance away. “Couldn’t you at least PRETEND to open your hands?”
Neither paid him the slightest bit of attention, or perhaps they did, because those heavy hands went south for several unprotected shots to the tummy and ribs that hit with the sound of a baseball bat striking damp clay. Gritting her teeth after a particularly stiff shot hooked in beneath her right elbow, Larkin stopped punchin’ and started pulling, FIC’s heavy hitter doubling down on the hair hold so she could march Harley Jo toward the nearest corner. Of course one did not simply lead Harley Jo Collins, so Harriet encouraged her progress with frequent (nay, constant) Kneelifts to the belly and upper thighs. Harley endured these shots for the privilege of landing more than half a dozen Bionic Elbows to the crown of Larkin’s skull, cursed when her butt hit the buckles, then ‘OOOFFFFHED!’ in startled shock when Harriet buried a Kneelift just below her navel.
“This is usually the time where I’d offer up a quote that pertained to whatever bit of humiliation you’re about to endure.” Larkin explained as she wrapped her arms around Collins’s left thigh and muscled it just high enough to drape that leg over the second strand. “But something tells me Elliot would be lost on you, so I’ll just ruin your thigh to pass the time.”
The champ didn’t take this threat lightly as evidenced by the Forearm Smash she clubbed against the redhead’s chest, yet that *almost* Low Blow had robbed the reply of much of its power and Larkin immediately answered back with a CRAAACKING Overhand Slap! Smirking at the ‘WOOOO’s!’ this drew from the FAWNatics, Harriet took the top rope in both hands to keep her balance while she blasted half a dozen Toe Kicks into the meat of her opponent’s vulnerable thigh. Collins grimaced, got a stiff hand under the Hollow Girl’s chin, but Larkin squirmed free and leaned in closer, just putting every bit of her hundred and thirty so pounds behind the knee she duuuuuuuuug into the IC champ’s hanging leg. “Gonna hobble you right here, Hee Haw.” Harriet promised Collins. “The only question is should I take one leg or botEERRRGGHHHHHH!”
HJC’s leg might’ve been compromised, her hands however were utterly unoccupied until the moment she reached out and affixed an Iron Claw to Larkin’s unsuspecting face! Her vision obscured by the brunette’s crushing mitt, Harriet forgot about the leg-work and grabbed Harley Jo’s wrist in both hands. Collins didn’t mind, in fact she laid her free hand over Larkin’s and pushed forward, all the better to mash her palm into the redhead’s nose. “Go on, darlin’. Quote something for me.” the Vicious Volunteer prodded even as she tried to dig her fingertips into the challenger’s scalp. “Speak real clear like though, it can be hard to understand a bytch when she’s whimpering into my UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHH!”
Prizing the backwood freak’s bear trap hand was taking too goddamned long, so Larkin surged in and THUMPED the bony point of her knee into Harley Jo’s undercarriage. There was nothing *almost* about that Low Blow, it disintegrated the Claw at once and left Collins sucking wind in the buckles even after Harriet dragged her throbbing leg off the second strand. “So you want a quote, do you shytheel?” Harriet put a hand in Harley Jo’s face and ground it back n’ forth, a simple, mean-spirited payback for the Iron Claw. After a few seconds of that treatment she climbed onto the middle rope, grabbed a handful of hair and forced the brunette’s head back at a sharp angle.
“Here’s one I think you’ll actually appreciate. Genuine poetry has the ability to communicate before it is understood.” She punctuated that little bon mot with a sharply angled punch that PWAAAKED against the Tennessean’s hairline. This was followed by another and then another, Larkin’s pace steady enough to get the crowd tolling the score for her. ‘THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!’ Larkin palmed Collins’s head in both hands, Harriet holding the champ steady so she could swing her hips to a beat no one else could hear. Once she’d found her groove the challenger raised both hands overhead, knotted them in a Double Axehandle and brought it TWHUMPING down on the crown of Collins’s skull!
“All right Harriet, take it out of the damned corner!” Al demanded once the FIC’er hopped down from her perch. “I’ve been lenient enough as it is!”
Larkin flipped him a casual middle finger, but she did in fact bury her hands in Harley Jo’s hair to drag her out of the corner. Of course she immediately smeared her against the ropes and peeled off a Clothesline that sent the Tennessee Terror tumbling over the rubber-coated steel to the floor in a discombobulated heap! Sparing the ref a glance only after she’d seen Collins start to stir, the Hollow Girl sniped, “A Thank You would be appreciated.”
“Not until you learn the difference between the letter and the spirit of the law.” Al deadpanned.
Larkin flipped him off again, then returned her attention to HJC, who’d grabbed hold of the bottom rope in a bid to haul herself to boot-leather. Harriet took off for the far side of the ring, those long legs cutting the distance with dangerous ease. She doubled back with a full head of steam, Larkin sprinting like a lightweight up until the moment she took to the skies for a headlong dive over the second ro--THWHACK!
Collins belted her mid-flight with a huge right hand that left the New Mexico native with her arms draped over the middle strand. “I don’t know if I’d be bold enough to call what we’re doing poetry.” the Witch of Razorback Holler told her stunned rival. “But it can certainly communicate, I’ll give it that. Tell me darlin’, what does this say to you?” Harley Jo secured the Iron Claw again, only this time she cupped her other hand against the base of Larkin’s skull so the redhead couldn’t squirm away without one hell of an effort.
Huffing and moaning as the crushing grip burned away that Haymaker-induced fog, Harriet worried at Collins’s shoulders for a few seconds before she realized where she’d landed. “BREAGH!” she demanded even before she’d snatched the bottom rope. “BREAGH ID, IM IN EEERRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
HJC took several steps toward the center of the apron, thus forcing Larkin to follow along and have her neck draaaaaaaaaaagged across the rope.
“Ease up Harley, she IS in the ropes.” Al reminded the champ perhaps a beat or two later than usual. “Falls count anywhere doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you strangle her in the ropes.”
“Not strangling her, Algernon, though I am slowing the blood flow to her brain. You want it out of the ropes, you know what I want to hear.”
The referee obliged her with a ‘FOUR!’ second lullaby that ended with Harley Jo’s hands overhead and Harriet facedown on the mat with both hands pressed to her flushed features. Far from satisfied with the redhead’s current state of affairs, Collins caught a fistful of hair with one hand and a big ol’ hank of apron in the other. She pulled forward on the former and backward on the latter, HJC opening up a narrow black cave that quickly swallowed Harriet’s head and arms. The apron trap wasn’t so much painful as it was disorienting, at least that’s what Larkin’s sudden bout of thrashing seemed to indicate. This reaction didn’t trouble Harley Jo in the slightest, she merely kept one hand tight on the apron so she could THWHAP no less than ten heavy Overhand Forearm Smashes against her foe’s upper back!
APRON TRAP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWp8ieUpAmM
Still holding the ring skirt, Collins treated herself to a grip on Larkin’s blouse and used it to drag the challenger all the way into the trap she’d crafted. Landing in an awkward sprawl just behind the damned apron, Harriet clambered to all fours, flipped the fabric up and climbed out into the-- Harley Jo charged in from the right and THWHUNKED a Kneelift into the side of Larkin’s skull.
Dropping to her knees as Harriet crumpled onto her face, Collins called, “Falls count anywhere, remember Carpenter?” She hooked the Half Nelson, rolled the redhead onto her back and hooked the far leg in a deep cradle just before Al hit the floor beside ‘em to count off…
ONE…
TWO…
Larkin shoved her away just after ‘TWO’, then shifted onto her right hip to prevent a follow-up cover. “Neat trick, freak.” the Hollow Girl growled. “I can’t wait to show you a few of my ownNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHH!”
Harley slipped her legs around the ingénue’s waist and squeezed with all the power of a hungry anaconda. “Lookin’ to impress me, red?” the brunette murmured. “Getting out of this hold without a few cracked ribs would be a good start.” Harriet didn’t offer any response so Collins leaned in and tucked Larkin’s left arm beneath her right armpit so she could reach around with both hands to complete an S-Grip on the far side of her adversary’s neck. “Tying you up a little tighter each time, red.” the Tennessee Terror continued. “Better find a way out before I decide to put you out of your misery.”
Braced on her right elbow, Larkin waggled a finger at Carpenter to make sure he knew she was still in this fight. “Guuuhhh… gonna take a lot more than an Abdominal Stretch to take me down, CollUUUUGGGGHHH!”
SCISSORED ABDOMINAL STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaCVwSc0OJY
Harley Jo bore down on the Scissors and jostled the S-grip against Harriet’s cheek to punish her on two fronts. “Sure about that, darlin’? This ain’t anything fancy, but it’s sure got you locked down tig--” Collins quieted down when the redhead pounded several short, sharp punches against the curve of her right knee. The pad soaked up the worst of it, but it was still rather annoying and her irritation only grew when the FIC’er began worrying at the laces on that boot. “You’ll want to knock that shyt off before I get angry.” HJC said quietly. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Harriet paid her no mind, or perhaps she did because the demand was barely off Collins’s lips when the struggling redhead grabbed Harley’s laces and yanked hard enough to undo the first two sets of eyelets. With the champ’s footwear noticeably loose, Larkin wormed her fingers beneath the tongue presumably to claw or tear at her opponent’s ankle. I say presumably because Harley Jo abruptly shifted her S-grip to a combination Chinlock and Fishhook that dragged Harriet’s smile an inch or two to the right! Making a point to drag her finger up and down the inside of the challenger’s mouth, Collins leaned in to murmur, “Darlin, when I give you a suggestion it’d be better for your long term prospects to treat it like a demanDEEERRRRRHHH!”
Harriet wrenched her braced arm off the floor and raked her nails across the brunette’s eyes! The Vicious Volunteer snarled in displeasure but wasn’t about to abandon her trap so easily which was why the Hollow Girl palmed her face and leaaaaaaaaaaned her weight into Collins until she’d forced the other woman onto her back. Al noted the possible cover, stepped forward, then pulled back when Harriet used her grip to thum-thum-thum-THUMP the back of Harley Jo’s skull against the barely-padded concrete.
Give the champ credit, she maintained the Stretch and that Fishhook for as long as she could, but the pounding in her temples grew to deafening levels and she extracted the latter to PWAAAK a quick Bell Ringer against Larkin’s ears! Harriet snarled, then crooked her right arm into a tire iron which she THWHAPPED against Collins’s chest. That disintegrated what remained of the Scissors, so Harriet clambered to boot-leather and cleared off, the New Mexico native skidding backward along the apron until she was almost to the steel steps. Glad to be free of the brunette’s clutches, Larkin took a breath, started to say something, then frowned and ran her tongue along the inside of her right cheek.
“Filthy skank.” Harriet grunted at Harley Jo, who was on one knee setting her loosened boot to rights. “We’re supposed to clip our nails before a match.”
Collins looked up from her work to flip Larkin the bird. “Freshly clipped this afternoon, darlin’. Not my fault you got skin like tissue paper.”
“Is it bad, Harriet?” Al had put on rubber gloves to check on his charge. “Here, let me see.”
“F*ck I will.” Harriet muttered. “It’s fine, just help the idiot with her laces and get out of the-- oh for f*ck’s sake, fine!”
Diligent even when it was hazardous to life and limb, Carpenter moved into Harriet’s path and didn’t budge until Larkin cranked her head back and opened her mouth. Certain to make sure Harley Jo hadn’t closed distance before he made his check, Al stepped in close, tilting his head to the side to get the best view possible. “I don’t see a cut, Harriet. I think you’re WHOOOAAAAAHHHH!”
Larkin planted both hands against the referee’s chest and sent him flying with a colossal shove that sent the poor dope tumbling over the still penitent form of one Harley Jo Collins! As for the IC champ, she saw Carpenter hurtling her way with just enough warning to tuck her chin against her chest. It was the best outcome she could’ve hoped for and even then it wasn’t great, considering that the tumbling zebra provided the perfect cover for THWHACK! Larkin came in like a low flying missile, the big redhead leading with her boots to drive a heavy Basement Dropkick between her opponent’s eyes!
BASEMENT FRONT DROPKICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gdQDGz7BLc
Collins went down in a heap, the Vicious Volunteer a lot more docile when she was dealing with foot-induced fireworks. As for Harriet, she hurried to boot leather and administered several quick, hard stomps to her foe’s bicep and ribs before she once again turned her attention to Harley Jo’s boot. A few quick tugs was all it took to undo Collins’s efforts. Once the trophy was hers, she raised it overhead, then pegged into the side of HJC’s head with an awkward THUMP! Down on one knee now, the Hollow Girl snatched hold of Collins’s hair and pulled her head off the mat. “Don’t you EVER try to intimidate me, f*ckwit. That shyt just does not work.”
Slowed by the Dropkick, the stomps and the surreal indignity of a shot from her own boot, Harley Jo still managed a pretty firm grip on the redhead’s encroaching wrist. “Suuuuhhhh… sure about that, darlin’? You sound a little rattled to NNNNGGGGHH!”
Harriet THWHUMPED the champ’s head against the floor, added on another for good measure. “Only thing rattling around here is your teeth. Everything else is going to go snap or crunch when it gives way.” Collins didn’t have anything to say to that, so Larkin doubled up on the fistful of hair and used it to get the both of ‘em back on their feet. Still incensed by the redhead’s deception, the floor seat FAWNatics (not to mention the rest of the arena) gave it to Larkin as loud as they could. That said, their efforts quieted the tiniest bit when several denizens of the front row had to dive out of the way when Harriet switched over to a Wristlock and slung the woozy warrior across the narrow aisle to BWAAANG spine-first into the steel barricade!
Stifling a scream through clenched teeth, Collins collapsed into a deep squat that would’ve been a plain ol’ seat if she hadn’t draped her arms over the guardrail. “That supposed to impress me? You’re too tuff to go down?” Harriet strode over, grabbed the rail for extra leverage and stuffed a trio of stomps into her rival’s exposed midsection. “The only reason you’re not flat on your back is because I’m not quite bored yet. Of course that means you’re not through suffering.”
Larkin clouted a Forearm Smash across her tits for good measure, then hauled the Tennessee Terror up and twisted around so they were standing side by side, backs to the audience. Snugged in on her rival’s left side, Larkin hooked her right arm around Collins’s lower back and wedged her head between the brunette’s left arm. Once that was done she set her left hand against the back of HJC’s left thigh and muscled her onto the point of her right shoulder just to BAWUNK her down atop that poor abused guardrail!
BACKDROP SUPLEX ON BARRICADE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UzKhkR14_A
“AAAAAAAAWWW FAHKING SHYT!” Harley made no effort to control the profanity when she jolted in a rough half circle and collapsed to one knee, her left arm once again draped over the top of the guardrail. Mildly irritated by the veteran’s durability, Harriet flicked out a light kick that caught Collins in the forehead. “Face to the floor, asshole. I want to hear those lips on the mat.”
“And people in Hell want ice water.” Harley Jo grunted. “But they ain’t HHUUUURRRGGGHHHH!”
Larkin collected Collins under the armpits, stood her up straight and earned some grudgingly impressed murmurs from the crowd when she forced HJC up on tiptoe with a rib-crushing Bear Hug. “Guess that weight difference doesn’t mean much, huh country mouse?” Harriet huffed over the sound of her tummy to tummy dominance. Bigger doesn’t mean badder. It means it’s more fun to watch you crumble.”
“Ain’t crumbled nothin’ yet, darHHHRRRRGGGHH!”
The Hollow Girl leaned back on the Hug, forcing Collins to brace her shins against Larkin’s hips to alleviate the worst of the pressure. It helped in that regard, but it robbed the champ of her remaining leverage, meaning it was the easiest thing in the world for Harriet to point ‘em both toward the far corner of the squared circle. “Got an early present for you, darlin’ the FIC’er cooed in her opponent’s ear. “A fashionable new broken back to go with that tacky red neck.”
Now Harley Jo Collins loved a good gift exchange as much as anyone, but she had no interest in what Larkin was offering so she buried her hands in the tyro’s hair and tried to denude her scalp in a single colossal-- Harriet charged across the narrow aisle on a sharp diagonal and halved her grip at the last second so she could BWUUUUNG the IC champ’s spine against the steel ring-post without cracking her own arm!
Legs totally undone by the ugly collision, Collins collapsed or at least started to. She’d only made it a third of the way down when Larkin hooked her under the armpits and stood her up straight. This temporary verticality proved just that, as the big redhead doubled over and wedged her head between HJC’s thighs so when she stood up again the Tennessee Terror was draped down her back like the world’s most unwilling cape. Securing Collins across her lower thighs (just above the knee, in fact) Harriet backed off a ways, swung so she was facing the apron.
“Eliot once asked, do I dare disturb the universe?” Larkin said to no one in particular. “The answer is, yes, I goddamned do.”
She yanked down on Harley Jo’s trapped stems and leaned forward sharply, all the better to whip the brunette the rangy brunette into a cringe-worthy shoulders to apron THAWHUMP! The pain was too sudden and too large for Collins to try out, she just bounced away and dropped to the floor, landing awkwardly on her right hip and shoulder before spreading out on her back. Already feeling the leather of the Intercontinental title warm on one shoulder, Harriet dropped to all fours by Harley Jo’s feet and slipped beneath the Southerner’s splayed stems to wedge her shoulders in the pits of Collins’s knees and thus put her ankles somewhere north of her ears in a Matchbook good for…
APRON ALABAMA SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9Wl6ou0Leo
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The Witch of Razorback Holler twitched just enough to slop to one side, denying Larkin her first FAWN gold in the process! Anger and admiration waged a short, ferocious war in Harriet’s heart, a conflict that ended with the former slaughtering the latter in a most unpleasant fashion. “I was content to leave you in the infirmary for a few days.” she muttered to the twitching Terror. “But now you’re going to lose the title and spend a week in the ICU.”
Collins was in no condition to answer, so Larkin collected the brunette at trunks and tresses and scraped her off the floor just to deposit her on the narrow shelf of the apron. The Hollow Girl joined her directly, Harriet once again going to HJC’s hair to return her to boot-leather. Larkin’s control was so thorough her usual Kneelift to the gut proved unnecessary, she simply pushed down on Harley Jo’s shoulders so she could tuck her head under right arm and slip her hands under the champ’s biceps to clinch the Double Underhook. Shadow looming large, Harriet went up on tiptoe and snapped backward to bring CollinsNO! Harley Jo hooked an arm over the middle rope meaning she came to a stop on one knee whereas Larkin THWHUMPED full force into the apron!
Grip demolished in the crash, Harriet tumbled from ring to ringside in a woozy facedown sprawl that only got a little better when she managed to roll onto her back. Somewhere overhead, a penitent Harley Jo Collins didn’t waste any of her flagging resources contemplating the disaster she’d averted. Instead she honed in on the redhead’s position and forced herself to stand. The ropes made this easier than it would’ve been otherwise, but the shimmy didn’t actually leave her knees until the Vicious Volunteer had backed all the way to the corner post. Didn’t take long for the FAWNatics to realize what she had in mind and they urged her to reconsider at the top of their lungs. Might as well have been shouting at a wall because Collins replied with a wink and set off on a shambling run down the apron that’d *just* started to smooth out when she took to the skies and came THAWHAPPING down across Larkin’s midsection with every bit of her nearly hundred and fifty pounds!
APRON DIVING BODY SPLASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ne4P0opNTc
Both wrestlers jolted violently on impact, Harley rearing back on one knee to swaddle her ribs while Harriet rolled over and drew her knees up against her chest. There they stayed for a handful of seconds before Collins tugged Larkin onto her back, dropped across her tummy and hooked the far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOO!
Harriet kicked out and rolled onto all fours, the big redhead shaking her head ‘no’ in case anyone thought she’d had her spirit crushed by that damned Splash. Harley Jo appreciated that sort of resilience in that it forced her to dig even deeper to stamp it out once and for all. On her feet thanks to a handful of the ring skirt, she hunched over Harriet to smack the back of her head a few times. “Get up, darlin’.” Collins chided once she’d put several steps between herself and the challenger. “Takin’ all my best shots ain’t gonna impress anyone if all you do is whimper and cry afterward.”
“F*cking bytch.” Larkin croaked as she began to rise. “I’m gonna put you on a stretcher toNNNGGGHH!”
Harley charged faster than she had any right doing at this point in the contest, not that mere incredulity stopped her from THWHUNKING her left shin across Harriet’s forehead like a baseball bat! The Hollow Girl went down like she’d been poleaxed, the perfect crash-pad for an exhausted Collins, who managed to hook the near leg in the process.
MOONSHINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rTdyRs9e_U
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Harriet shot a hand into the air, that ungodly Moonshiner hangover not quite enough to salt her away for good.
Breathing hard after that nearest of near falls, HJC clambered to her feet and took a look around for something that’d help close the big redhead out. Several seconds of exhausted perusal finally drew her to an older gray-bearded fellow in the front row who just so happened to be sporting a WOLF vintage Molly Sue Lawrence tee-shirt. Sensing a kindred soul, she trudged over to the man and said, “Sir if you would be so kind as to offer me your chair I will speak of generosity the next time Mol’ and me get together at the range.”
“Ohhhh, jeeze. Yeah, yeah I can do that, here ya go ma’am!” He sprang up, closed the chair with a flat ‘snap’ and offered it to Harley so quickly she didn’t even fault him for use of the M-word.
Nodding her thanks, Collins turned and raised it over her head only to pause at the last instant. A moment’s consideration produced a new plan, one that saw the Vicious Volunteer open the chair and spin it around so the back was to its former occupant. Elsewhere Harriet Larkin had made it to her knees and no farther. This changed when Harley Jo laid claim to the FIC’ers battle-damp hair and pulled. Larkin protested the shabby treatment with a loose clinch around Collins’s waist, but all that did was make it easier for the champ to walk her into position between the barricade and the lone chair. Prizing free of the redhead’s grasp, Harley Jo doubled her over with a quick Kneelift, then reeled Larkin into a Double Underhook of her own.
“Even now I’m not sure the standard issue Ace of Spades is enough to keep you down, darlin’.” Collins admitted to the vulnerable challenger. “So consider what’s about to happen a sign of respect.”
Harriet tried to wrest her arms loose with no success. “Fuuuhhh…. f*ck you and your respect, CollWHOOOOAAAAOOOOOOFFFFFFHHH!”
Harley Jo hoisted her foe upside town, turned toward the crowd and THUMPED her burden gut-first across the top of the barricade! The last little bit of air in her lungs took its leave in a breathy little wheeze that transformed into a reedy groan when Collins dipped down and hoisted her back up via tha Double Underhook! Twisting around in a half circle, she didn’t pause to let the crowd or Larkin think about what was on her mind, she just dropped Harriet tummy-first across the back of the carefully placed chair! Larkin’s knees banged against the seat hard enough to knock it over, Harriet however stayed on her knees because Harley Jo simply refused to relinquish the Double Underhook. Peeling off a quarter turn to get the Hollow Girl clear of the chair, Collins took a single deep breath, then upended her foe for the third and final time. Everyone and their mother knew what was coming, still didn’t make things any easier to watch when Harley Jo swung Harriet back the way she’d came and laid out flat, the Tennessee Terror bringing her knees up high and tight so Larkin landed with a meaty THWHUMP!
ACE OF SPADES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrshSobqt1M
Harriet didn’t bounce away from the Ace of Spades like so many previous victims, rather she slid off in a sort of delirious slow motion, the devastated redhead coming to rest on hip and shoulder until Collins muscled her onto her back and collapsed on her chest in a Lateral Press good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Visibly relieved, Al got up and threw a signal to the Timekeeper, which summoned the bell and the Announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall and STILL the FAWN Intercontinental Champion… HARLEY JO COLLINS!”
Harley got up, accepted the strap from Al and hoisted to the rafters. Dropping it onto one shoulder once the first round of cheers died down, the victorious brunette glanced around for her overalls, then offered up a genuine smile when Al handed her the bottle of Fireball. “Bless you, Algernon.”
“No problem, Harl. You mind if I get a swig? My nerves are fried what with Jenny in the, oh, never mind.”
Collins finished it off in one long pull, put on the cap and asked, “You say something?”
“Good win, Harley.” he swatted her on the shoulder and dipped out of frame so the cameraman could focus on the Vicious Volunteer. Seeing it, she noted, “The Harley Jo Collins Intercontinental Open Challenge still stands, ladies. Think you’ve got what it takes to wear this gold? Then step up and show me what you’ve got. But be warned, come up short and you’ll end up sleepin’ it off just like dear Harriet. Cheers.”