Post by dsb on Dec 19, 2018 21:21:31 GMT
Sierra Mist’s dream of Pit dominance by her rehabilitated Lisa had been put to an inglorious, breathtaking end by the Baroness, the one dominating in oil rather than the one from Dubai born into the profit made from it. Thus, the return to the squared circle of the Ultimate Image seemed only a matter of time and Mist turned to Cold November Pain to reestablish the reborn Dream into the world between the ropes.
Apparently not believing in half-measures, the PhD-to-be cum manager somehow convinced both Bethany Christian and Lisa that Dream was ready to sink or swim in the deep end after being pushed out of the Pit by Lenore, such was her foe at CNP.
Whatever the circumstances, the crowd understood that the opportunity to see a living legend in action, even a reduced version, was a rare gift and they moved from the edge of their seats to their collective feet when the opening chords of the classic ‘O Fortuna’ burst from the speakers.
O FORTUNA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AdIpoE2LEps
Since her return under Sierra’s guidance, some would say heavy-handed manipulation, the jeers of FAWNatics past were, if not replaced with cheers, joined with signs of encouragement.
The assembled knew well, through Mist’s constant promotion over the past months, the stirring ‘heroic’ story of escape, retribution against the Sisters of Mercy, and reclamation of a career. Although the last bit had gone sideways against the Raven, tonight’s match against her all-time nemesis in an underdog role seemed to catch the imagination and forgiveness of many in the arena.
LISA DREAM:
So when The Dream emerged simultaneous to a familiar burst of blazing white pyrotechnics, the slender brunette moved to center stage to the sound of a decidedly mixed response, the Dreamophiles matching the Dreamophobes nearly person for person. Mist quickly took her spot beside Lisa, whispering in the ear of the Personification of Perfection.
Having been focusing on the Pit for several months, it’s a shock to the system to see The Dream back in glaring and garish white leather, Sierra’s choice for her reformed and reclaimed future Hall of Famer, the opposite of Lisa’s iconic black cowskin garb. The skin-tight sheath consisted of her customary sleeveless vest, cut to give her pert bosom room to breathe, this version showing significantly more of her alabaster tummy. Her long pants reached down to ivory boots. Any long-time Dreamophiles in the audience remained frustrated at having the flawless, pale stems of the Ultimate Image hidden from view. A series of leather ‘strings’ cobweb across her back to keep the vest in place, though they also leave a considerable portion of her pale back in view.
Beside her, in slacks and a button-down, covered partially by a white lab coat, was the bespectacled Sierra Mist, Lisa’s liberator from the looney bin. The Dream appeared a bit confused by the enduring hatred of a fair portion of the assembled and Sierra gave Lisa constant support, both verbal and physical, reaching an arm around the flustered Dream’s shoulders.
Mist covered Lisa like a protective cloak all the way to the ring, trying to make sure the prodigal daughter’s focus was on the squared circle and the woman that had owned her like no other rival in her storied career. Sierra followed the Ultimate (but strikingly different) Image up the ring steps, then sat on the middle rope, pushing the top up for easy entry for the legendary Lisa.
Dream halted and took a long look around the confines before sticking a leather-clad leg through then followed the cowskin-covered limb into the battleground. Sierra joined her charge with microphone already in hand. When the two reached the middle and the music faded, Mist offers the stick to Lisa but The Dream demurely declined. That alone drew down the volume of hatred and when Sierra brought the microphone to her lips, the crowd quieted further, if only out of curiosity.
“The Dream is renewed!” Sierra shouted, again receiving a very mixed response. “We have built slowly to this moment and the ride has not been without its pitfalls, but tonight, you will see this great wrestler and greater woman become the phoenix that will burn down the Blackbird. Saved from the flames and tempered in the crucible, my Lisa, your Dream is ready to ascend. Consider yourselves fortunate to witness the beginning of the Dream made real.”
The enthused crowd seemed to eat what Mist was serving and the beaming Sierra led Lisa to her corner as the Ring Announcer picked up in the manager’s place.
“Ladies and gentlemen tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, in the corner to my right…from the Dreamscape that is New York, New York, standing five feet six inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and fifteen pounds, the Sweetest of Dreams…LISA!”
The beautiful, dark-haired damsel nodded softly, seemingly embarrassed by the attention, more good than bad at the moment, until that interest turned to the upper stage, the FAWNatics waiting for the Oncoming Storm.
With Lisa settled in and Sierra taking notes, the Announcer raised his mic. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Richmond, England in the United Kingdom, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and fifteen pounds. She is the Oncoming Storm, this is… OLIVIA DARE!"
The roar for her name was followed by another crash of throat-born thunder when the speakers produced the somnolently aggressive drumbeat of Hooverphonic’s ‘2Wicky’. And the auditory storm raged all the louder once the lithesome Englishwoman appeared atop the stage to greet her fans with an index finger raised high overhead.
OLIVIA DARE:
For this latest row with her most tenacious adversary of her carrier, the first bendyback Champion of the modern era wore a pair of stormy black bikini briefs edged with silver trim and cut high enough to offer the audience a tantalizing view of her sculpted hips, thighs and calves. The other half of her ensemble included a matching bustier, also done in black and edged with silver. Short black wrestling shoes and silver knee and elbow pads rounded out the rest of her outfit. Thusly greeted, the Oncoming Storm started down the aisle, Olivia offering palms and smiles to all those that reached in her general direction. She was almost to the foot of the aisle when she paused to note a sign:
IS TONIGHT THE NIGHT LISA FINALLY BEATS OLIVIA?
DREAM ON!
“Don’t EVER underestimate this particular maniac.” Olivia advised with a wry smile. “Especially not with yet another burgeoning mad scientist in her corner. But if I have my way history will repeat itself once again.”
Continuing her way to the squared circle, Olivia strode up the steps, glided out onto the apron and set her back to the strands. Gifting the whole of the arena with a grin as she draped her arms over the top rope, Olivia dipped her knees and tumbled backward to land on her feet as her anthem reached a crescendo.
“Good evening, Algernon.” Dare greeted the lanky official as he strode over to check her knees and elbows. “I see The Dream didn‘t try to divest you of any digits during your perusal. Can I take that as a good sign?””
Al shrugged once he’d checked over the Brit’s pads and boots. “I’m not sure, honestly. She seems… oddly calm for Lisa. Lenore’s got some weird ideas about what’s going on there.”
Olivia nodded. “She told me. Not sure I believe it, but stretching Lisa is always good business and if I can solve a mystery in the same stroke? Win-win!”
Dare eased along the ropes to her right once the bell sounded, the Oncoming Storm especially wary of her longtime adversary now that she had Mist in her corner. Lisa noted her approach but rather than intercept she moved to the center of the squared circle. Dark eyes locked on the Briton, the Personification of Perfection raised both hands and challenged Dare forward, a far less imperious take on the single beckoning finger she’d seen in her earlier encounters with The Dream.
Perpetually ready for a cheap shot where Lisa was concerned, Olivia checked Sierra’s position (without taking her eyes off the other wrestler) before moving forward to meet FAWN’s favorite Waking Nightmare. Hands held at shoulder level, Dare closed the gap in a slowly tightening corkscrew and couldn’t decide if she was more surprised by Lisa’s willingness to turn with the blonde or her continued silence. Questions laid heavy on ‘Liv’s mind, though they quickly faded into the background as she drew within dancing distance and her fingers started to twitch.
They sprang without a word yet spoken, the pair of bendy-backed legends going up on tiptoe in a nose to nose, tummy to tummy Collar & Elbow that had the crowd roaring with anticipation of violence to come. Leaned in mouth on shoulder, Dare and Dream twisted around in several sharp little circles before the Englishwoman got a shoulder against Lisa’s sternum and marched her into the nearest set of strands.
“Keep out of there, Lisa!” Sierra called from the other side of the ring. “Don’t let her dictate terms, you’re better than--YES! That’s it!”
The Ultimate Image twisted her hips to switch their positions then pressed in as close as she could, though Al noted the former World Champion didn’t get a hand on Olivia’s face for the sort of mean-spirited chin push he would’ve expected under these circumstances. Instead Dream only held her rival in place, tummying up on her to such a degree that Dare would have to drape a foot over the bottom rope to force a bre--
Olivia did a little barrel rolling of her own to once again put the Dream’s perfect posterior snug against the middle strand. “What’s with the silent treatment, Lisa?” ‘Liv muttered to the brunette. “We’ve been in the locked up for a good twenty seconds and you haven’t called me a Wanna-Dream once. You haven’t called me anything in fact, which would be refreshing if it wasn’t so disconcert--”
Lisa twisted her Brit into the rubber-coated steel but didn’t even get a chance to set her feet before Dare continued their waltz. And so it went, blonde and brunette skidding along the strands until the Dream finally BWUUUUNGED her nemesis into the buckles.
“KEEP HER THERE!” Sierra emphasized the command by pounding a fist against the apron. “DON’T LET HER OUT UNTIL SHE ACKNOWLEDGES YOUR SUPERIORITY!”
Lisa nodded ever so slightly, then climbed onto the bottom rope and bore down on the trapped Brit until Al strode over and said, “Ok Lisa, let’s get it out of the corner.” He’d fully expected to repeat himself several times before ensuring compliance with a four count, so the ref was understandably surprised when The Dream hopped down, raised her hands high and cleared off to the middle of the ring. Genuinely bum-fuzzled, Carpenter glanced from Olivia to Lisa and back again. “Is she ok?” he asked the Blackbird.
Dare offered him a shrug, but the woman in question was far more direct. “I’m Lisa Dream.” she said with no trace of her usual conceit. “I’m perfect.”
“That’s right you are!” Sierra agreed. “Now get after her, Lisa!”
Lisa did as bade with a lunging Forearm Smash that would’ve clouted ‘Liv’s clavicle if the blonde hadn’t dipped aside with a whisper to spare. Lisa grunted as she collided with the top turnbuckle but it was only a matter of heartbeats before she’d turned around and CRAAACK! Olivia tagged her on the chest with a huge Knife-Edge Chop, then hooked her left arm around the back of Dream’s head to ensure she was looking down when the former World Champion THWHACKED the point of her chin with a European Uppercut!
Lisa’s head snapped back on impact and Olivia almost clouted her with a second on instinct alone. Instead she swept the brunette into a Collar & Elbow of her own and aggressively mounted the bottom rope to repeat the tummy on face grind that Lisa inflicted on her only moments prior. Curtailing her natural urge to pour on as much punishment as quickly as possible, Dare kept the pressure steady but otherwise waited for Carpenter or Dream to call for the break. The demand actually came from a third source, Sierra Mist hurried around to that side of the ring and called, “Make her break the hold, Mr. Carpenter! My patient is in the ropes!”
“She’s right, ‘Liv.” Al agreed. “Ease off.”
The Oncoming Storm let go and raised her hands to the rafters before dropping down in front of the lissome brunette. Very much aware that she was leaving herself open for a Slap, an Eye Rake or something far worse, Olivia nonetheless held the vulnerable position for a good five seconds before she retreated to the center of the ring.
Lisa seemed unfazed by the clean break, Sierra however was far less pleased. “Don’t let her play mind games with you, Lisa! That woman has disrespected, disparaged and flat out DENIED your perfection for years! So get out there and show her why you’re The Dream!”
“I’m Lisa Dream.” she agreed with a quick nod. “Cuhlearly.”
“This is weird.” Al Carpenter said to no one in particular. “It’s like somebody wished her into the cornfield and this is who came back.”
“Oh lord, that’s a terrifying prosp--”
Dare’s response ended in a breathy grunt when Lisa came off the buckles for the most emphatic clench yet. Forward momentum meant The Dream controlled things well beyond the center of the ring, but it took far more than simple physics to ride the proverbial lightning, as Olivia demonstrated when she clamped down on Lisa’s left wrist and twisted that arm in a wide, taut circle. Bending Dream’s hand backward to keep constant pressure on that wrist, Olivia went up on her toes and said, “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing but you can stop it right now.” Dare halved the grip long enough to PAK the point of one elbow into Lisa’s bicep, then she resumed the Wristlock for a second snug twist on the Arm Wringer. “The only thing I’m less likely to believe than ‘Lisa Dream: Hero’, is ‘Lisa Dream: Thrall’ so let me hear some of that fabled trash talk and we can get back to beating the hell out of one anothEERRHHH!”
The Ultimate Image twisted out of her rival’s grip, spun around behind for a quick Hammerlock that quickly segued into a Side Headlock. “Yeah, great work Lis!” Sierra clapped approval as the Dream ground Olivia’s temple against the point of one hip. “Squeeze that Wanna-Dream’s head until--”
Dare spun out of the brunette’s grasp, took her back and caught Lisa’s right arm in a Half Nelson neat as you please. In the next instant she reached across Dream’s throat in search of that wrist and the Cobra Clutch that it promised. She was inches away from success when Lisa cupped the back of ‘Liv’s head, pushed up on her toes and dropped to one knee to send the Englishwoman tumbling across the canvas with a makeshift Snapmare.
Dare came to a stop on one knee, pushed up and rounded on the brunette all in the same motion. History said Lisa should’ve been on top of her, but the Ultimate Image was waiting for Olivia at a safe, some might even say respectful distance. “You’re Lisa Dream, no one doubts that.” Olivia spoke as if picking up the thread of an old conversation. “But that last somersault seems to have disoriented me somewhat. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell me who I am.”
Lisa’s brow crinkled and her lips pursed as though Dare had presented an extremely challenging philosophical quandary. “You… you’re… a Wanna-Dream.” she said after some hesitation. “You’re jealous because I’m Lisa Dream. Cuhlearly.”
Olivia’s dark eyes narrowed to slots. Either her old enemy was experimenting with some genuinely odd psychological warfare… or she was dealing with a very different incarnation of Lisa Dream.
Both women threw their bodies into the other, linking in another Collar-and-Elbow. In an instant, the Storm found Dream behind her with a Hammerlock in place, possessing her left arm. Olivia reached back with her right, wrapping that limb under and around Lisa’s braincase and it’s the brunette’s turn to be flipped through a Snapmare.
Tailbone spiked into the canvas from the landing, the remade Dream grimaced, reflexively reaching for her bum. Dare was on her horse, racing to the ropes in front of the seated Lisa. She hurled herself into a Sliding Lariat that nearly removed Lisa’s head from her body and laid her out in a dazed spread eagle.
SLIDING LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWcTlyCovIo
Olivia reached back and collected each of The Dream’s elevated legs, folding her into a Matchbook pin, Dare’s crotch pressed against the crown of Dream’s head, Olivia’s lithe lower limbs bracketing the crumpled Lisa for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Mist nearly leapt out of her skin in worry and thankfully for her, it’s matched by a flinch from Lisa that drew a shoulder off the canvas. The Ultimate Image spilled to her side, still placed within Olivia’s outstretched stems. Dare quickly scrambled atop Lisa as Dream rolled to her chest and elevates.
Ending astride the lower spine of the Luscious One in a forward straddle, Olivia lifted and drove her diminutive but dangerous booty into The Dream’s vertebrae and flattened Lisa from all fours back to chest on canvas.
Olivia poped to a handstand then dropped on Lisa in a full body pin of her back and backside, providing a mini-splash that forces a breathy exhale from the flustered Lisa. Dream grew all the more concerned when Dare’s legs slunk around her ivory-skinned pins in dual Grapevines. Olivia stretched her foe’s limbs wide to take away any base and perhaps to see if any embarrassment could be coaxed from showing off The Dream’s legs in such a display.
Beyond Lisa’s grunts of struggle to extricate herself and Sierra’s calls for The Dream to meet fire with fire, there was a lack of ferocity in the verbal response that continued to catch Olivia by surprise.
“No offense Pod Person who took over Lisa Dream, but it’s time for me to put an end to this charade.”
The Oncoming Storm captured Lisa’s flawless features in a Chinlock to complete her signature Dare Snare. Olivia yanked Lisa’s head to and fro while continuing to spread her gams closer to a set of splits.
“Ask her…it,” Olivia corrected herself, and Carpenter acceded.
Dream groaned out an apprehensive ‘no’, unable to shake her head.
“Whomever you are, you will break like anyone else,” Dare pledged as she continued to work The Dream like a part-time job in her Snare. But despite the Brit’s best efforts, Lisa won’t give in, whether that be because of her savior’s insistent pleas for her to keep fighting or not.
Olivia finally disengaged and rolled to one knee, staring down Sierra.
“Keep yourself quiet,” Olivia advised. “You’re out of your depth and so apparently is your creation.”
Dare reached absently behind her and sank her digits into Lisa’s dark mane, Dream having made all fours. She pulled the brunette to her knees, grinding Lisa’s face against her hip when a balled fist from the Ultimate Image DROVE into her flat tummy. Dare grunted from the impact but jerked Lisa up the rest of the way and tugged the Ultimate Image into a tight Side Headlock.
Olivia abraded Lisa’s noggin against her ribs, The Dream growling in pained protest.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Olivia questioned.
Dream moved her hands to Olivia’s hips and heaved Dare off, the Oncoming Storm using the provided momentum to race to the ropes and return. She lowered a shoulder and leveled Lisa, Dream looking up startled as Olivia hovered imperiously above her. The brunette slapped the mat in frustration and the pounding of the canvas acted as a cue for Dare to sprint to her next set of ropes.
As she made the trip, Lisa scurries to her feet and threw her body at the returning Dare, knocking Olivia flat and receiving the same look of shock she’d given moments before. Dream moved to Dare’s side and vaulted into the air, extending her alabaster stems for a Leg Drop across chest and throat, but Dare rolled clear and The Dream only PLANTED her bum again, Lisa yelping in pain, shoving her hands beneath her bruised buns for a massage.
Sierra slammed the canvas with both hands, moving more from concern to aggravation.
“Come on, damn it,” Mist barked. “You’re making yourself look bad, Lisa. Show this witch you’ve still got it!”
The Dream nodded dutifully as she rose. Olivia, only a few steps away, ascended as well. As the old rivals turned to each other, Lisa beat the Brit to the punch, or more precisely the kick, sending a boot deep into Olivia’s tummy. Dare doubled at the waist in a rare moment of vulnerability. The Dream tugged the Blackbird’s head into her arm pit and surged toward the cables in front of her.
Lisa launched, her boot soles pressing against the top strand. As she pushed off in a springboard, she sent both women through a U-turn and delivered Dare’s forehead CRASHING to the thinly-sheathed plywood with a Bulldog.
SPRINGBOARD BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBLYMWBlZpQ
A smattering of applause from the Dreamophiles emerged as a dazed Dare flopped to her back in a wide spread-eagle. Seemingly surprised to see Olivia in such a state, Dream clambered to her feet. She took a moment to consider then headed for the ropes, barreling into them. She sprinted through her return and skipped over the splayed Brit, leaping into the middle cable while grasping the top when reaching her second set.
Looking very much energized, Lisa popped into a graceful back flip to hit her familiar and breathtaking Dreamysault, targeting the open abdomen of the Englishwoman with her own. But the Oncoming Storm gathered herself and drew up both knees, leaving two bony spikes pointed heavenward upon which Lisa’s ivory-skinned tummy was subsequently impaled.
Lisa groaned piteously as she rolled away, hugging her midriff and gasping for air. A rattled Sierra motioned The Dream to come to her and Lisa managed to move in her direction, plopping into the outstretched arms of her psych ward liberator.
“This can’t go on,” Mist informed, “we have to show her you’re perfUHHH.”
Before Sierra could relay the magic word, a diving Olivia flies in from above, taking out both Dream and her manager. Dare left them in a smoking pile of wreckage while landing on her feet after the impact. The Englishwoman hovered over the twosome as Lisa started to pick her way free of Sierra.
“It’s not all your fault of course,” Olivia informed Mist. “If that sad creature of yours wasn’t so weak-minded, she wouldn’t abide being your slave.”
Mist muttered something about medical waivers and hold harmless agreements, but Olivia wasn’t listening, she’d already buried her hands in Lisa’s dark hair to return the woozy brunette to verticality. Quick to note the early stage of Carpenter’s count, Olivia hooked her rival in a Half Nelson, then took hold of Lisa’s waistband and muscled her up just high enough to toss the Ultimate Image into a ‘TWANGING’ collision with the middle strand!
Bounced from the rubber-coated steel with a nasty case of whiplash, Dream’s landed on the apron only for ‘Liv to claim a wrist almost at once. Stepping away from the discombobulated Dream, Dare dropped a shoulder and slung Lisa across the narrow aisle to BWAAAANG gut-first into the steel guardrail. Front row FAWNatics scattered in both directions to avoid a collision with Sierra’s star patient though they needn’t have worried because Olivia caught hold of the brunette’s trunks and yanked her back onto the playing field in short order.
“The Raven says you’re brainwashed.” the Englishwoman chirped just before she hupped Lisa onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. “I’m not sure I can bring myself to believe that, it runs counterintuitive to everything I know about thee, ahem, legend of Lisa Dream.” The sound of her name earned a bit of squirming from The Dream, but it wasn’t nearly enough to get her loose, not with Dare draping an arm over the nape of her neck and one thigh. “But it’s quite obvious that SOMETHING is wrong with you, my poor hapless nemesis. So I’m going to do my level best to quite literally knock some sense into that head of yours.”
Somewhere below the action, Sierra Mist sat up and extended a hand toward her patient. “Luuuhhh.. leave her alone.” she croaked. “Lisa’s perNGH!”
Olivia Hip Checked the Medicinal Mite with one pert British buttock, then strolled over to the steel steps and casually boosted the Dream from her perch so that she BWOOONGED forehead-first into the rough steel! Lisa crumpled hard against the side of the steps, probably would’ve dropped to her knees if she hadn’t grabbed hold of the far side. Even with the continued verticality she didn’t look very Dreamy when Dare peeled her off the steps and slung her under the bottom rope like a bag of laundry. Quite content following this bit of roughhousing, Olivia made her way up the steps to dip between the top and middle rop--
Sierra rushed in and grabbed hold of her ankle, preventing the Storm from entering the squared circle. “What do you think you’re doing, skag?” Olivia bristled. “Let go or I’ll--”
“SNAP OUT OF IT, LISA!” Mist called over the blonde’s protestations. “WE ALL KNOW YOU’RE PERFECT!”
The Ultimate Image didn’t quite snap to attention, but her dark eyes were most definitely shining when she looked up a heartbeat later. Scrambling away from Al Carpenter with an almost feral hiss, Lisa charged her opponent, drew back a leg and snapped a kick into the underside of the second strand! Olivia groaned aloud, the former World Champion wrapping an arm around the top rope to support her suddenly-shimmying knees. Alas this proved meager defense for the revitalized Dream, who gripped the middle rope on either side of her foe and jounced it up ‘n down as hard as she could!
Jaw clenched to hold back a scream, a pigeon-toed Dare crawled her way free of the strands only for Lisa to intercept with a Front Waistlock secured beneath the slim curve of her rival’s glutes. Just like that The Dream went up on tiptoe and went to one knee, all the better to THWHUMP Olivia’s center against the point of her posted knee! The resultant jolt of agony straightened Dare out like a tent spike, what it did not do was free her from Lisa’s clutches. No escape only came after the Luscious One stood up, spun around and let Olivia freefall into a throat-first collision with the top rope! Jolted into shock by the vicious Stun Gun, the Blackbird collapsed to her back whereupon she was immediately stretched out flat via a Double Leg Grapevine from The Dream.
“THAT’S RIGHT, LISA!” Sierra was all smiles as Al swooped in to check the Brit’s shoulders. “SHOW THAT WANNADREAM WHO’S BOSS!”
Neither wrestler paid much attention to the shouting, they were far more focused on the tally of…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Olivia popped her hips in time with a short Headbutt to the bridge of the brunette’s perfect nose to escape with half a second to spare. Mist pounded a fist against the apron, though this was much more an ‘Almost got ‘er!’ as opposed to the frustrated drumming of only moments prior. Lisa herself was similarly galvanized as she buried her hands in Dare’s locks and powered her off the canvas without a single comment about a slow count to Carpenter. Halving her hair-hold so she could more easily direct her opposition toward the opposite corner, Lisa practically loped across the ring to BWUUUNG Olivia’s noggin off the top turnbuckle.
The Oncoming Storm jolted, grabbed the ropes on either side of the ring-post to keep from losing her footing. This proved rather detrimental because Lisa simply took it as encouragement to bounce her enemy’s features against the turnbuckle two more times in rapid succession! Three proved the magic number for unlocking Dare’s knees and she collapsed like a penitent just so the Personification of Perfection could BWUNG-BWUNG-BWUNG her pate against the middle turnbuckle.
“VERY GOOD, LISA! VERRRRRRRRY GOOD!” Sierra heaped on the praise while Lisa finished her bludgeoning tour on the bottom turnbuckle. “SILENCE THAT WANNADREAM FOR GOOD! SHOW HER WHAT HAPPENS TO THE PEOPLE THAT CROSS US!”
DREAMY TURNBUCKLE SMASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4PYx6eTr5s
Finally extracting her hand from the Englishwoman’s hair, Dream raised a knee to stomp a mudhole in Dare’s back but was stalled by the timely intervention of the referee. “She’s in the corner, Lisa. Clear off and let her catch her breath.”
The lunatic shine in The Dream’s eyes faded ever so slightly and she actually nodded assent to the request before backpedaling to the middle of the ring. Al Carpenter was quite pleased by this show of understanding from his charge, Sierra Mist on the other hand was less than thrilled by the idea of anyone other than her commanding the Ultimate Image. “Don’t let that Wannadream push you around, Lisa! Get back in there! Show that miscreant the error of her ways!”
Lisa did just that, the leather-clad lovely plowing a shoulder into Dare’s belly as the Brit struggled to her feet. Several more Shoulderblocks followed, as did a rude, bullying lift that set Dare butt-first in the high rent district. Nodding with pleasure over the stunned, pain-slackened expression on Olivia’s face, Dream tagged her cheek with a Forearm Smash, then reached up and pulled the blonde’s head down into an awkward Front Facelock. From there she hooked the Blackbird behind her left knee and backed out of the buckles with her fellow bendyback suspended directly overhead. The FAWNatics couldn’t help offering Dream some grudging applause as she laid out for huge Rolling Fisherman’s Suplex, then somersaulted through the landing just to get back to her feet with the woozy blonde still hobbling in her clutches! Lisa muscled her burden skyward for the second time in almost as many seconds and let ‘Liv hang there long enough to let her know what was in the offering. Then she kicked a leg forward and dropped down to THAWHUNK the back of Dare’s head and shoulders into the canvas with a gorgeous Fisherman’s Buster. Floating over immediately thereafter, she hooked the far leg for…
ODE TO PERFECTION VERSES ONE & TWO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjpbbpSVOt8
ONE…
TWO…
Dare shoved a shoulder up with Castle’s hand about to come down for the third slap. Undeterred, The Dream scrambled to her knees beside the stunned Brit and roughly tugged Olivia to a seated position. From behind, Lisa locked on tight with a nasty Chinlock, wrenching Dare’s head to the right side. She pushed a knee between the Storm’s shoulderblades, forcing Olivia’s back to arch, modest chest thrust forward, then sank a fish hook into the right corner of her foe’s mouth, ripping back like she’s got a whopper on the line.
Dare gurgled in pain, trying to speak but not fully able. Al was. He demanded Dream relent, which she did, only to swing Dare around to her haunches and, with fingers sinking into the Brit’s dirty blonde locks, she THWAPPED knee after knee into the Blackbird’s forehead, only relenting when Olivia was a marionette with her strings cut.
“Perfect…perfect,” Sierra assures.
Lisa didn’t take the words as reward or confirmation. Instead, she ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, dark locks, seething to the point of frothing. She tugged the jelly-legged Dare to her feet and showed the glassy-eyed Englishwoman a balled right fist. The Dream drew the clenched digits to her lips and gave them a smooch then sendt them toward a dissection of Dare’s dark peepers.
Thankfully for fans of the Blackbird, Olivia had the sense to duck. Lisa went stumbling past, so intent was she in driving the fist THROUGH Olivia’s face. Dream grabbed the ropes to steady herself, staring out at the crowd, eyes showing a maniacal glint with the realization her attempt to knock Olivia into next week has been less than impeccable. She lifted the top cable up and down wildly, without rhyme or reason, screeching in anger.
“SHE SAID I WAS PERFECT, BYTCH!” The Dream screamed at Dare, finally unclenching the rubber-coated steel and turning.
“WEREN’T YOUUHHHH…”
Olivia, partially recovered and fully taken aback at the unhinging, Lisa swinging from one extreme that smelled of calm resignation, past her usual arrogant self, right to rabid, nevertheless was ready with a Super Kick AND NAILED the chin of the spinning Dream.
Rabid or not, the perfect placement sent a whiplash through Lisa’s neck, the brunette’s noggin snapping away from the impact. Lisa stumbled in a stupor to the nearest corner. She threw her arms over the top rope on either side of the buckles, keeping herself vertical if barely and shaking out the cobwebs.
Olivia, unsure if the webs being cleared would bring emotional stability along with Lisa’s senses, wasn’t about to wait and find out. She hustled to the opposite corner and U-turned into a full sprint at the dazed Dream. As she lowered a shoulder from a few feet away, hoping to gut the alabaster midriff of The Dream, Lisa managed to push to a seat on the top buckle and Olivia passed beneath, her right shoulder RAMMING into the steel ring post.
The crowd groaned in sympathy as the Oncoming Storm struggled to extricate herself from under the seated Lisa, Dream still looking the worse for wear herself. The Ultimate Image strangely applied a couple echoing slaps to her own cheeks, her face reddening from the impacts and the residual fury reignited when Mist reiterates how “PERFECT” the Luscious One truly was.
As Dare pulled out from the corner and turned to face the center of the ring, Lisa climbed atop her foe’s shoulders and began pounding away at the crown of the Blackbird’s skull feverishly. Olivia staggered toward the middle with the bombardment accumulating.
Still, the veteran maintained the ring awareness amidst the assault to reach her arms upward and linked her hands behind the neck of the dipped Dream. Tugging her foe’s head lower, forcing Dream further into a ball, Olivia somersaulted Lisa forward, off her shoulders, while sitting out, delivering Dream to the deck in devastating fashion with her signature English Breakfast.
ENGLISH BREAKFAST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-Swo1_qQa4
The Storm kept the brunette stacked on her shoulders in a tight cradle for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
An eardrum-piercing scream emerged from the ball as did Lisa, Dream saving herself from yet another loss to her nemesis. The Dream clambers to her feet surprisingly quickly and stared down a risen Dare with evil intent. Unaccustomed to anyone shaking off the Breakfast so quickly, the Blackbird seemed hesitant and confused. The snorting, wild-eyed Dream was not, leaping into a Thesz Press that knocked Olivia off her feet.
Lisa pounded away with wild, right-left combos whose accuracy left plenty to be desired but whose furor and quantity set a frantic Dare scrambling into some Olympic—level butt-scooting that saw the Brit roll out under the ropes. Wobbling, she retreated to the barricade behind her, looking up saucer-eyed at a pacing, frenetic Dream, seemingly not in control of her faculties, fully or otherwise.
With Olivia’s attention rightly on the Dream-become-Nightmare, she moved back to the apron’s edge. Carpenter desperately tried to push back Lisa as The Dream muttered incoherently to herself, only the occasional grunting of the word PERFECTION comprehensible. As he did, Sierra attacked from Dare’s blindspot, her PhD thesis apparently including an investigation of what happened to the knee when hit with a chop block from behind.
Mist threw her shoulder competently enough into the pit of Dare’s right knee, Olivia dropping to the bony ball of the joint, yelping in pain, cursing at the quickly retreating Sierra. Mist raised her hands in innocence as an unaware Al interrogated, Mist moving back to Lisa’s corner, away from an angered and rising Storm.
Olivia limped after Sierra, but The Dream reached through the ropes and sank a set of nails into Dare’s dirty blonde mop, tugging the Blackbird to a perch on the apron then flipping her rival over the top rope with a squeal of rage, Dare’s spine PLANTING into the thinly-covered plywood of the ring’s interior.
“You worry about me?” Lisa spat at a wincing Dare, “I’M PERFECTION!”
Dream raced to the ropes to Olivia’s left side and leapt onto the middle cable, grabbing the top version. The wrath of The Dream not preventing some recollection of her arsenal, the brunette back-flipped into a flawless Dreamysault, no knees rising to meet her this time. Instead, Lisa CRUSHED the Blackbird’s open midriff with the acrobatic SPLASH, leaving Olivia a retching, jackknifed shell.
DREAMYSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gy-GoXEiXqY
Instead of going for the pin, Lisa grabbed the flaxen locks of her foe near either ear, lifts Olivia’s braincase off the canvas and battered it into the unforgiving mat a half-dozen times. Only then did Lisa dive across the blasted carcass of the Blackbird for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Olivia lifted a shoulder off the canvas a few inches. A manic Dream, on all fours above the splayed Dare, couldn’t believe her shifting, wide eyes. Dream tore at her dark locks, screaming.
“BUT I’M PERFECT!”
Visibly worried by her patient’s loss of control, Sierra climbed onto the apron and called, “Look at me, Lisa!” Al didn’t much care for Mist’s encroachment but he allowed it because the PhD candidate seemed to steady Dream’s nerves ever so slightly. “You ARE perfect.” Sierra went on once she had the brunette’s attention. “It’s just that some Wannadreams are…more durable than others.”
Lisa got up and took several steps forward, seemingly unaware that Olivia had rolled in the opposite direction. “But… but I’m perfect.” the former World Champion replied, her tone heavy with uncertainty.
“Yes! Yes you are!” Mist agreed as the Dream drew to within a couple steps. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! Not Shea London. Not Jenny Jacobs, not that vile redheaded witch doctor and CERTAINLY not Olivia Dare! You are the Ultimate Image, the Luscious One, the Reflection of Perfec--”
“Look at me, Lisa.” Mist and Dream both turned their attention to Olivia Dare, freshly risen thanks to the ropes on the far side of the squared circle. “She’s lying to you, Lisa. I thought you would have had enough of that after Celia.”
Lisa’s upper lip twitched at mention of the Crimson Cagliostro and she took a step forward despite Sierra’s hand on one shoulder. “I’m Lisa Dream. And you’re not.” she replied quietly.
“No, I’m not.” the Englishwoman agreed. “I am Olivia Dare, a woman who has bested you in this very ring no less than five times. Do you want to know how I did it, Lisa? Do you want to know my secret?”
“Don’t listen to her, Lisa.” Sierra warned. “She’s trying to--”
“It’s very simple, really.” Olivia interrupted. “The same approach every time, in fact. Every time I stepped through that curtain to face you I understood that you could win at any moment. That you would and could do everything in your power to leave me humiliated and broken on the mat.”
Dream was back in center ring, eyes locked on Dare with such intensity that she didn’t note the blonde slowly easing an elbow pad down her forearm.
“Once I understood this, once I… accepted it, beating you was easy. Because I knew deep in my heart that I had to be at my very BEST if I wanted to win. So I was, and I did. But you, Lisa. You could never even tolerate someone as a subordinate, let alone an equal. You couldn’t even fathom a situation where you might lose so when I took your best shots you retreated into histrionics and tantrums until--”
“STOP IT!” Sierra roared. “DON’T LISTEN TO HER, LISA!”
“You know why you never beat me, Lisa?” Olivia went on as though Mist hadn‘t spoken. “Why you’ll never beat me, in fact? It’s because you never had the courage to look yourself in the mirror and admit that you’re NOT PERF--”
“SHUT YOUR LYING MOUTH!” The Dream leapt at the Blackbird with talons extended but Olivia spun away like a cool breeze, leaving Lisa without enough time to twist around before she went chest-first into the rop--THWHACK!
Olivia slammed her bare elbow into the base of Lisa’s skull, dropping the brunette’s hands at her sides. Didn’t stay there for long however, as ‘Liv grabbed hold of her left wrist and pulled that arm under her chin cut-throat style. Using the Wristlock to draw Dream away from the strands, Dare forced her foe to double over as she positioned herself on Lisa’s left flank. Other hand on Lisa’s right hip for good measure, Olivia hopped up, set her knees astride the other wrestler’s back and yanked her down into a spine THWHUMPING Double Dare! Lisa exploded out of the modified Lungblower in a boneless sprawl, leaving an incredulous Sierra to scream over several thousand FAWNatics counting…
DOUBLE DARE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GoRlk7bGW8
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The Ultimate Image lifted a shoulder off the canvas, keeping herself in the contest for another three seconds or so. Olivia sighed, though she looked far from surprised by The Dream’s durability. Treating herself to a Wristlock, she scraped Lisa off the deck, whipped her into the nearest corner and followed her in with a European Uppercut delivered at full gallop! Lisa’s head snapped back (along with the rest of her body) and she might’ve slopped out flat on her face if Olivia hadn’t put a steadying hand on her chest. “Easy sweetness, we’ll go when I’m ready!”
“Would you get in there and break them up!” Sierra commanded of Al Carpenter, who was watching the action from a safe distance. “ My patient is in the corner!”
“Haven’t exhausted the five count, Sierra.” the ref replied as Dare hooked a Front Facelock, then changed places with Lisa to take a seat on the top turnbuckle. “And it doesn’t look like they’re going toUUUUNNNNNGGGGGHHH!”’
Carpenter’s attempt to placate Mist cost him dearly when the Blackbird pushed off her perch with a Tornado DDT in mind. Her execution was flawless, unfortunately the landing proved troublesome as Dream got her hands on ‘Liv’s tummy when the Brit was stretched out straight and pushed as hard as she could. It didn’t just break the Facelock, it sent Dare flying away in an impromptu facedown Dropkick that caught Al square in the mush! Unprepared for the counter, let alone the resistance of a poor oblivious referee, Olivia landed awkwardly on all fours, then scrambled up to check on Al. “Dammit Algernon, you know better than to get in the way like OOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFHHHH!”
Lisa came out of the corner like a Dreamy rocket with a Spear so vitriolic it carried both ladies to and through the ropes on the other side of the ring!
Eyes wide, hand over her mouth, Sierra Mist glanced from side to side in hopes of finding something, anything that’d help her break the ‘Dare Curse’ once and for all. She spied a steel chair, reached for it and hesitated, worried about what a disqualification or a ‘tainted’ win, might do for her patient’s psyche. Then she remembered what happened the last time she was ringside for a Dream loss to the Briton and all those thoughts were pushed to the wayside. Snatching the chair from beside the Timekeeper’s table, she folded it up with a loud ‘CLANK’ and rushed around to the other side of the ring, where Lisa and Olivia were clawing at the apron to assist in their return to verticality.
As of yet unaware of that blunt Sword of Damocles, Dare set her feet and reached out for a huge handful of Dream’s hair. Lisa snarled, reared back for a Bytch Slap and--
“LET GO OF MY PATIENT YOU BYTCH!”
Olivia did as bade, she also threw herself toward the guardrail a heartbeat before Sierra brought the chair BWAAANGING down on the crown of Lisa’s perfect noggin!
Paralyzed by the enormity of her error, Mist couldn’t even lower the chair, she simply held it at waist level while Lisa crumpled to the floor at her feet. “Poor form, dear.” murmured a voice from her left. The would-be PhD turned in that direction and ATE a retaliatory Super Kick from the Oncoming Storm, Sierra basking in the soft glow of Dreamland by the time her butt touched the mat.
Standing amidst the wreckage of the mad scientist and her Dreamy monstrosity, Olivia Dare caught a few deep breaths and raked a hand through her hair. Without taking her eyes off Lisa, she asked, “Have you rousted yourself Algernon?”
“Unnnnnnggggghhh…” came a low groan. “Just gimme five seconds.”
“You have approximately three.”
Clock set, the former World Champion collected Lisa at trunks and tresses, all the better to haul her up and stuff her under the bottom rope. On her feet as soon as she was clear of the strands, ‘Liv cupped the brunette’s ears to peel her off the mat in stages, then helped herself to the Dream’s left leg, which she lifted to waist level. Those gathered for CNP cheered with anticipation and the Blackbird did not disappoint, Dare dipping and spinning beneath the exposed gam. She straightened up on the way out, thus trapping Lisa’s luscious limb in an awkward Standing Cradle that would’ve made it impossible to defend against the Facelock even if Dream was still in possession of her faculties. Alas, The Dream was still under steel grade sedation, a prescription made all the stronger when Olivia dipped her knees and muscled the brunette directly overhead, then twisted in a quick circle and laid out flat to THAWHAM Lisa down on the back of her head and shoulders courtesy of the Quatermass Buster.
QUATERMASS BUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7L3Pt-G7o9U
Reduced to little more than the perfect Rorschach blot by the Briton’s nastiest head drop, the Dream voiced nary a protest when Olivia hooked both legs in a bundle and rolled her into a ‘C’, Lisa’s perfect tush pointed at the lights while Craig counted a weary…
ONE…
TWO….
THREE!
Olivia released the Back Press and sat up, the blonde resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists while the Announcer tallied the latest score. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… OLIVIA DARE!”
Dare wiped her hands after a job well done and a Dream ruined…again. With Lisa’s record of futility and, in its own way, perfection extended, the Blackbird pushed to her feet to the roar of the crowd.
With whatever love Lisa managed to corral from the fans over the past months gone via her wild wayward ride tonight, Olivia was bathed in appreciation from the FAWNatics. The ovation grew all the louder when the dominant Dare placed a boot on Lisa’s chest, raising an arm and an index finger for her Gladiatrix money shot. Olivia stared down at the comatose Dream.
“If I had any pity, I’d offer it,” Dare pronounced, “but even with what that girl did to you, you don’t deserve it.”
Dare walked atop The Dream’s flattened frame, the brunette groaning to life as the receding Storm took her leave with yet another victory in the books versus Lisa.
Only when Olivia stepped through the ropes did Sierra enter, racing to the splayed Dream. Mist lifted the brunette’s head and patted her cheek.
“Lisa,” she offered softly. “Are you OK?”
The Dream shook her noggin.
“Am I whuh?”
Dark eyes clearing slowly, Lisa looked into her savior’s.
“What did you say?”
“Ummm…” Sierra stammered. “You did as well as you…you could. But Olivia.”
“But Olivia?” Lisa growled, sitting up.
The Dream slapped herself across the face on both sides…HARD.
“Calm down, Lisa. You’re going to be fine.”
“Fine? I thought I was perfect?”
“You are. You’re perfect!” Mist assured.
Lisa’s nails shot forward, gouging into Sierra’s dark pools. Mist howled in agony, blinded.
“STAHHHP! PLEEEASE!”
The Dream did, but only to move her talons to Sierra’s scalp. She pulled up her manager as she rose.
The fury in Dream reignited, Lisa DROVE a Toe Kick into Mist’s midriff, doubling her over. Lisa manically tugged Sierra’s lowered head between her thighs and clamped down with a Standing Headscissors.
She undid Sierra’s slacks and ripped them downward, the pants ending in a pool around Mist’s ankles, nothing left but a white thong between the tawny glutes of the PhD-to-be.
“You said I was perfect,” Lisa growled. “And I lost to her AGAIN! And you know why? Because you’re NOT PERFECT! YOU SCREWED ME!”
“I saved you, Lisa. Saved you from your cell!” Sierra sobbed.
The Dream shook any thought of mercy out of her skull and let out a blood-curdling shriek.
“You saved me for this?!”
Dream reached down the back of the bent Mist and spanked out her most echoing Bittersweet Symphony ever, tanning Sierra’s hide, the tawny cheeks turning beet red under Lisa’s ferocity.
“You sent me from one hell to another,” Lisa screamed. “The genie’s not going back in the bottle and she’s not staying anywhere near the fatal imperfection that is you!”
Lisa ended her symphony and wrapped her arms around Sierra’s waist. With a shout, she flipped Mist up her frame, catching Sierra in a seat on her shoulders. Racing to the nearest set of buckles, Lisa heaved Mist into the corner with a Bucklebomb.
BUCKLEBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMf1x7CBBmo
Sierra hit savagely, wobbling out of the corner and into a vicious punt to the pussy from Dream, the crowd unable to stop themselves from emitting an area-wide moan.
With Sierra frozen in place and bent at the waist, hands buried between her thighs, The Dream hit the ropes at her manager’s side and sent her savior to the gates Dreamland with a supercharged Dreamsicle across the back of Mist’s neck that left Sierra laid out and barely conscious.
DREAMSICLE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz6UOy7L21Q
Lisa pushed to her haunches and settled next to Mist, the FAWNatics burying her in jeers. The Dream nearly foamed at the mouth as she tugged at her own dark locks, her eyes showing a rage unleashed.
Wildly she pounds away on the back of the demolished Mist, the bell ringing continuously, the flummoxed Al Carpenter calling zebras of all stripes out from the back to help him try and tear Lisa away.
The man paid for his imperfection when Lisa rose and leaves him a flattened wreck with a near instantaneous Dreamy Buster.
But Lisa hadn’t fully forgotten the object of her wrath, the woman that brought her back to FAWN, but as an impotent shell. She sank her digits into Mist’s mane and yanked the ragdoll to rubbery legs.
“I don’t know what the f*ck I am,” Lisa screamed. “But I’m not this!”
The Dream pivoted so she’s side by side with Sierra, both facing in the same direction. Lisa drew Mist’s near arm over her shoulders and slipped her near arm under and around Sierra’s throat.
The crowd didn’t have to wait long for what they knew what coming as Lisa fell to her chest and relieved Sierra of every one of her senses with a sickening Day Dreamer that SPIKED the crown of Mist’s skull into the canvas.
DAY DREAMER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLJ89fhy0gU
Sierra remained in a headstand for a split second then tumbled to a spread eagle on her back, Mist knocked colder than the Arctic in January just as the cavalry arrived, a half-dozen striped-shirts entering as a snorting Lisa pushed to her feet looking for more.
The men intercepted her, not without one taking a boot to his family jewels, and forced Lisa from the ring, The Dream screaming bloody murder, likely on her way back to the psych ward.
However, the Ultimate Image breaks free halfway up the ramp and hightailed it the back, several steps ahead of the Keystone Kops. The FAWNatics were left in a stilled stupor, wondering just what they’ve witnessed and who would have the unhappy task of scraping up what’s left of Sierra Mist and depositing her in the nearest emergency room.
Apparently not believing in half-measures, the PhD-to-be cum manager somehow convinced both Bethany Christian and Lisa that Dream was ready to sink or swim in the deep end after being pushed out of the Pit by Lenore, such was her foe at CNP.
Whatever the circumstances, the crowd understood that the opportunity to see a living legend in action, even a reduced version, was a rare gift and they moved from the edge of their seats to their collective feet when the opening chords of the classic ‘O Fortuna’ burst from the speakers.
O FORTUNA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AdIpoE2LEps
Since her return under Sierra’s guidance, some would say heavy-handed manipulation, the jeers of FAWNatics past were, if not replaced with cheers, joined with signs of encouragement.
The assembled knew well, through Mist’s constant promotion over the past months, the stirring ‘heroic’ story of escape, retribution against the Sisters of Mercy, and reclamation of a career. Although the last bit had gone sideways against the Raven, tonight’s match against her all-time nemesis in an underdog role seemed to catch the imagination and forgiveness of many in the arena.
LISA DREAM:
So when The Dream emerged simultaneous to a familiar burst of blazing white pyrotechnics, the slender brunette moved to center stage to the sound of a decidedly mixed response, the Dreamophiles matching the Dreamophobes nearly person for person. Mist quickly took her spot beside Lisa, whispering in the ear of the Personification of Perfection.
Having been focusing on the Pit for several months, it’s a shock to the system to see The Dream back in glaring and garish white leather, Sierra’s choice for her reformed and reclaimed future Hall of Famer, the opposite of Lisa’s iconic black cowskin garb. The skin-tight sheath consisted of her customary sleeveless vest, cut to give her pert bosom room to breathe, this version showing significantly more of her alabaster tummy. Her long pants reached down to ivory boots. Any long-time Dreamophiles in the audience remained frustrated at having the flawless, pale stems of the Ultimate Image hidden from view. A series of leather ‘strings’ cobweb across her back to keep the vest in place, though they also leave a considerable portion of her pale back in view.
Beside her, in slacks and a button-down, covered partially by a white lab coat, was the bespectacled Sierra Mist, Lisa’s liberator from the looney bin. The Dream appeared a bit confused by the enduring hatred of a fair portion of the assembled and Sierra gave Lisa constant support, both verbal and physical, reaching an arm around the flustered Dream’s shoulders.
Mist covered Lisa like a protective cloak all the way to the ring, trying to make sure the prodigal daughter’s focus was on the squared circle and the woman that had owned her like no other rival in her storied career. Sierra followed the Ultimate (but strikingly different) Image up the ring steps, then sat on the middle rope, pushing the top up for easy entry for the legendary Lisa.
Dream halted and took a long look around the confines before sticking a leather-clad leg through then followed the cowskin-covered limb into the battleground. Sierra joined her charge with microphone already in hand. When the two reached the middle and the music faded, Mist offers the stick to Lisa but The Dream demurely declined. That alone drew down the volume of hatred and when Sierra brought the microphone to her lips, the crowd quieted further, if only out of curiosity.
“The Dream is renewed!” Sierra shouted, again receiving a very mixed response. “We have built slowly to this moment and the ride has not been without its pitfalls, but tonight, you will see this great wrestler and greater woman become the phoenix that will burn down the Blackbird. Saved from the flames and tempered in the crucible, my Lisa, your Dream is ready to ascend. Consider yourselves fortunate to witness the beginning of the Dream made real.”
The enthused crowd seemed to eat what Mist was serving and the beaming Sierra led Lisa to her corner as the Ring Announcer picked up in the manager’s place.
“Ladies and gentlemen tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, in the corner to my right…from the Dreamscape that is New York, New York, standing five feet six inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and fifteen pounds, the Sweetest of Dreams…LISA!”
The beautiful, dark-haired damsel nodded softly, seemingly embarrassed by the attention, more good than bad at the moment, until that interest turned to the upper stage, the FAWNatics waiting for the Oncoming Storm.
With Lisa settled in and Sierra taking notes, the Announcer raised his mic. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Richmond, England in the United Kingdom, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and fifteen pounds. She is the Oncoming Storm, this is… OLIVIA DARE!"
The roar for her name was followed by another crash of throat-born thunder when the speakers produced the somnolently aggressive drumbeat of Hooverphonic’s ‘2Wicky’. And the auditory storm raged all the louder once the lithesome Englishwoman appeared atop the stage to greet her fans with an index finger raised high overhead.
OLIVIA DARE:
For this latest row with her most tenacious adversary of her carrier, the first bendyback Champion of the modern era wore a pair of stormy black bikini briefs edged with silver trim and cut high enough to offer the audience a tantalizing view of her sculpted hips, thighs and calves. The other half of her ensemble included a matching bustier, also done in black and edged with silver. Short black wrestling shoes and silver knee and elbow pads rounded out the rest of her outfit. Thusly greeted, the Oncoming Storm started down the aisle, Olivia offering palms and smiles to all those that reached in her general direction. She was almost to the foot of the aisle when she paused to note a sign:
IS TONIGHT THE NIGHT LISA FINALLY BEATS OLIVIA?
DREAM ON!
“Don’t EVER underestimate this particular maniac.” Olivia advised with a wry smile. “Especially not with yet another burgeoning mad scientist in her corner. But if I have my way history will repeat itself once again.”
Continuing her way to the squared circle, Olivia strode up the steps, glided out onto the apron and set her back to the strands. Gifting the whole of the arena with a grin as she draped her arms over the top rope, Olivia dipped her knees and tumbled backward to land on her feet as her anthem reached a crescendo.
“Good evening, Algernon.” Dare greeted the lanky official as he strode over to check her knees and elbows. “I see The Dream didn‘t try to divest you of any digits during your perusal. Can I take that as a good sign?””
Al shrugged once he’d checked over the Brit’s pads and boots. “I’m not sure, honestly. She seems… oddly calm for Lisa. Lenore’s got some weird ideas about what’s going on there.”
Olivia nodded. “She told me. Not sure I believe it, but stretching Lisa is always good business and if I can solve a mystery in the same stroke? Win-win!”
Dare eased along the ropes to her right once the bell sounded, the Oncoming Storm especially wary of her longtime adversary now that she had Mist in her corner. Lisa noted her approach but rather than intercept she moved to the center of the squared circle. Dark eyes locked on the Briton, the Personification of Perfection raised both hands and challenged Dare forward, a far less imperious take on the single beckoning finger she’d seen in her earlier encounters with The Dream.
Perpetually ready for a cheap shot where Lisa was concerned, Olivia checked Sierra’s position (without taking her eyes off the other wrestler) before moving forward to meet FAWN’s favorite Waking Nightmare. Hands held at shoulder level, Dare closed the gap in a slowly tightening corkscrew and couldn’t decide if she was more surprised by Lisa’s willingness to turn with the blonde or her continued silence. Questions laid heavy on ‘Liv’s mind, though they quickly faded into the background as she drew within dancing distance and her fingers started to twitch.
They sprang without a word yet spoken, the pair of bendy-backed legends going up on tiptoe in a nose to nose, tummy to tummy Collar & Elbow that had the crowd roaring with anticipation of violence to come. Leaned in mouth on shoulder, Dare and Dream twisted around in several sharp little circles before the Englishwoman got a shoulder against Lisa’s sternum and marched her into the nearest set of strands.
“Keep out of there, Lisa!” Sierra called from the other side of the ring. “Don’t let her dictate terms, you’re better than--YES! That’s it!”
The Ultimate Image twisted her hips to switch their positions then pressed in as close as she could, though Al noted the former World Champion didn’t get a hand on Olivia’s face for the sort of mean-spirited chin push he would’ve expected under these circumstances. Instead Dream only held her rival in place, tummying up on her to such a degree that Dare would have to drape a foot over the bottom rope to force a bre--
Olivia did a little barrel rolling of her own to once again put the Dream’s perfect posterior snug against the middle strand. “What’s with the silent treatment, Lisa?” ‘Liv muttered to the brunette. “We’ve been in the locked up for a good twenty seconds and you haven’t called me a Wanna-Dream once. You haven’t called me anything in fact, which would be refreshing if it wasn’t so disconcert--”
Lisa twisted her Brit into the rubber-coated steel but didn’t even get a chance to set her feet before Dare continued their waltz. And so it went, blonde and brunette skidding along the strands until the Dream finally BWUUUUNGED her nemesis into the buckles.
“KEEP HER THERE!” Sierra emphasized the command by pounding a fist against the apron. “DON’T LET HER OUT UNTIL SHE ACKNOWLEDGES YOUR SUPERIORITY!”
Lisa nodded ever so slightly, then climbed onto the bottom rope and bore down on the trapped Brit until Al strode over and said, “Ok Lisa, let’s get it out of the corner.” He’d fully expected to repeat himself several times before ensuring compliance with a four count, so the ref was understandably surprised when The Dream hopped down, raised her hands high and cleared off to the middle of the ring. Genuinely bum-fuzzled, Carpenter glanced from Olivia to Lisa and back again. “Is she ok?” he asked the Blackbird.
Dare offered him a shrug, but the woman in question was far more direct. “I’m Lisa Dream.” she said with no trace of her usual conceit. “I’m perfect.”
“That’s right you are!” Sierra agreed. “Now get after her, Lisa!”
Lisa did as bade with a lunging Forearm Smash that would’ve clouted ‘Liv’s clavicle if the blonde hadn’t dipped aside with a whisper to spare. Lisa grunted as she collided with the top turnbuckle but it was only a matter of heartbeats before she’d turned around and CRAAACK! Olivia tagged her on the chest with a huge Knife-Edge Chop, then hooked her left arm around the back of Dream’s head to ensure she was looking down when the former World Champion THWHACKED the point of her chin with a European Uppercut!
Lisa’s head snapped back on impact and Olivia almost clouted her with a second on instinct alone. Instead she swept the brunette into a Collar & Elbow of her own and aggressively mounted the bottom rope to repeat the tummy on face grind that Lisa inflicted on her only moments prior. Curtailing her natural urge to pour on as much punishment as quickly as possible, Dare kept the pressure steady but otherwise waited for Carpenter or Dream to call for the break. The demand actually came from a third source, Sierra Mist hurried around to that side of the ring and called, “Make her break the hold, Mr. Carpenter! My patient is in the ropes!”
“She’s right, ‘Liv.” Al agreed. “Ease off.”
The Oncoming Storm let go and raised her hands to the rafters before dropping down in front of the lissome brunette. Very much aware that she was leaving herself open for a Slap, an Eye Rake or something far worse, Olivia nonetheless held the vulnerable position for a good five seconds before she retreated to the center of the ring.
Lisa seemed unfazed by the clean break, Sierra however was far less pleased. “Don’t let her play mind games with you, Lisa! That woman has disrespected, disparaged and flat out DENIED your perfection for years! So get out there and show her why you’re The Dream!”
“I’m Lisa Dream.” she agreed with a quick nod. “Cuhlearly.”
“This is weird.” Al Carpenter said to no one in particular. “It’s like somebody wished her into the cornfield and this is who came back.”
“Oh lord, that’s a terrifying prosp--”
Dare’s response ended in a breathy grunt when Lisa came off the buckles for the most emphatic clench yet. Forward momentum meant The Dream controlled things well beyond the center of the ring, but it took far more than simple physics to ride the proverbial lightning, as Olivia demonstrated when she clamped down on Lisa’s left wrist and twisted that arm in a wide, taut circle. Bending Dream’s hand backward to keep constant pressure on that wrist, Olivia went up on her toes and said, “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing but you can stop it right now.” Dare halved the grip long enough to PAK the point of one elbow into Lisa’s bicep, then she resumed the Wristlock for a second snug twist on the Arm Wringer. “The only thing I’m less likely to believe than ‘Lisa Dream: Hero’, is ‘Lisa Dream: Thrall’ so let me hear some of that fabled trash talk and we can get back to beating the hell out of one anothEERRHHH!”
The Ultimate Image twisted out of her rival’s grip, spun around behind for a quick Hammerlock that quickly segued into a Side Headlock. “Yeah, great work Lis!” Sierra clapped approval as the Dream ground Olivia’s temple against the point of one hip. “Squeeze that Wanna-Dream’s head until--”
Dare spun out of the brunette’s grasp, took her back and caught Lisa’s right arm in a Half Nelson neat as you please. In the next instant she reached across Dream’s throat in search of that wrist and the Cobra Clutch that it promised. She was inches away from success when Lisa cupped the back of ‘Liv’s head, pushed up on her toes and dropped to one knee to send the Englishwoman tumbling across the canvas with a makeshift Snapmare.
Dare came to a stop on one knee, pushed up and rounded on the brunette all in the same motion. History said Lisa should’ve been on top of her, but the Ultimate Image was waiting for Olivia at a safe, some might even say respectful distance. “You’re Lisa Dream, no one doubts that.” Olivia spoke as if picking up the thread of an old conversation. “But that last somersault seems to have disoriented me somewhat. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell me who I am.”
Lisa’s brow crinkled and her lips pursed as though Dare had presented an extremely challenging philosophical quandary. “You… you’re… a Wanna-Dream.” she said after some hesitation. “You’re jealous because I’m Lisa Dream. Cuhlearly.”
Olivia’s dark eyes narrowed to slots. Either her old enemy was experimenting with some genuinely odd psychological warfare… or she was dealing with a very different incarnation of Lisa Dream.
Both women threw their bodies into the other, linking in another Collar-and-Elbow. In an instant, the Storm found Dream behind her with a Hammerlock in place, possessing her left arm. Olivia reached back with her right, wrapping that limb under and around Lisa’s braincase and it’s the brunette’s turn to be flipped through a Snapmare.
Tailbone spiked into the canvas from the landing, the remade Dream grimaced, reflexively reaching for her bum. Dare was on her horse, racing to the ropes in front of the seated Lisa. She hurled herself into a Sliding Lariat that nearly removed Lisa’s head from her body and laid her out in a dazed spread eagle.
SLIDING LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWcTlyCovIo
Olivia reached back and collected each of The Dream’s elevated legs, folding her into a Matchbook pin, Dare’s crotch pressed against the crown of Dream’s head, Olivia’s lithe lower limbs bracketing the crumpled Lisa for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Mist nearly leapt out of her skin in worry and thankfully for her, it’s matched by a flinch from Lisa that drew a shoulder off the canvas. The Ultimate Image spilled to her side, still placed within Olivia’s outstretched stems. Dare quickly scrambled atop Lisa as Dream rolled to her chest and elevates.
Ending astride the lower spine of the Luscious One in a forward straddle, Olivia lifted and drove her diminutive but dangerous booty into The Dream’s vertebrae and flattened Lisa from all fours back to chest on canvas.
Olivia poped to a handstand then dropped on Lisa in a full body pin of her back and backside, providing a mini-splash that forces a breathy exhale from the flustered Lisa. Dream grew all the more concerned when Dare’s legs slunk around her ivory-skinned pins in dual Grapevines. Olivia stretched her foe’s limbs wide to take away any base and perhaps to see if any embarrassment could be coaxed from showing off The Dream’s legs in such a display.
Beyond Lisa’s grunts of struggle to extricate herself and Sierra’s calls for The Dream to meet fire with fire, there was a lack of ferocity in the verbal response that continued to catch Olivia by surprise.
“No offense Pod Person who took over Lisa Dream, but it’s time for me to put an end to this charade.”
The Oncoming Storm captured Lisa’s flawless features in a Chinlock to complete her signature Dare Snare. Olivia yanked Lisa’s head to and fro while continuing to spread her gams closer to a set of splits.
“Ask her…it,” Olivia corrected herself, and Carpenter acceded.
Dream groaned out an apprehensive ‘no’, unable to shake her head.
“Whomever you are, you will break like anyone else,” Dare pledged as she continued to work The Dream like a part-time job in her Snare. But despite the Brit’s best efforts, Lisa won’t give in, whether that be because of her savior’s insistent pleas for her to keep fighting or not.
Olivia finally disengaged and rolled to one knee, staring down Sierra.
“Keep yourself quiet,” Olivia advised. “You’re out of your depth and so apparently is your creation.”
Dare reached absently behind her and sank her digits into Lisa’s dark mane, Dream having made all fours. She pulled the brunette to her knees, grinding Lisa’s face against her hip when a balled fist from the Ultimate Image DROVE into her flat tummy. Dare grunted from the impact but jerked Lisa up the rest of the way and tugged the Ultimate Image into a tight Side Headlock.
Olivia abraded Lisa’s noggin against her ribs, The Dream growling in pained protest.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Olivia questioned.
Dream moved her hands to Olivia’s hips and heaved Dare off, the Oncoming Storm using the provided momentum to race to the ropes and return. She lowered a shoulder and leveled Lisa, Dream looking up startled as Olivia hovered imperiously above her. The brunette slapped the mat in frustration and the pounding of the canvas acted as a cue for Dare to sprint to her next set of ropes.
As she made the trip, Lisa scurries to her feet and threw her body at the returning Dare, knocking Olivia flat and receiving the same look of shock she’d given moments before. Dream moved to Dare’s side and vaulted into the air, extending her alabaster stems for a Leg Drop across chest and throat, but Dare rolled clear and The Dream only PLANTED her bum again, Lisa yelping in pain, shoving her hands beneath her bruised buns for a massage.
Sierra slammed the canvas with both hands, moving more from concern to aggravation.
“Come on, damn it,” Mist barked. “You’re making yourself look bad, Lisa. Show this witch you’ve still got it!”
The Dream nodded dutifully as she rose. Olivia, only a few steps away, ascended as well. As the old rivals turned to each other, Lisa beat the Brit to the punch, or more precisely the kick, sending a boot deep into Olivia’s tummy. Dare doubled at the waist in a rare moment of vulnerability. The Dream tugged the Blackbird’s head into her arm pit and surged toward the cables in front of her.
Lisa launched, her boot soles pressing against the top strand. As she pushed off in a springboard, she sent both women through a U-turn and delivered Dare’s forehead CRASHING to the thinly-sheathed plywood with a Bulldog.
SPRINGBOARD BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBLYMWBlZpQ
A smattering of applause from the Dreamophiles emerged as a dazed Dare flopped to her back in a wide spread-eagle. Seemingly surprised to see Olivia in such a state, Dream clambered to her feet. She took a moment to consider then headed for the ropes, barreling into them. She sprinted through her return and skipped over the splayed Brit, leaping into the middle cable while grasping the top when reaching her second set.
Looking very much energized, Lisa popped into a graceful back flip to hit her familiar and breathtaking Dreamysault, targeting the open abdomen of the Englishwoman with her own. But the Oncoming Storm gathered herself and drew up both knees, leaving two bony spikes pointed heavenward upon which Lisa’s ivory-skinned tummy was subsequently impaled.
Lisa groaned piteously as she rolled away, hugging her midriff and gasping for air. A rattled Sierra motioned The Dream to come to her and Lisa managed to move in her direction, plopping into the outstretched arms of her psych ward liberator.
“This can’t go on,” Mist informed, “we have to show her you’re perfUHHH.”
Before Sierra could relay the magic word, a diving Olivia flies in from above, taking out both Dream and her manager. Dare left them in a smoking pile of wreckage while landing on her feet after the impact. The Englishwoman hovered over the twosome as Lisa started to pick her way free of Sierra.
“It’s not all your fault of course,” Olivia informed Mist. “If that sad creature of yours wasn’t so weak-minded, she wouldn’t abide being your slave.”
Mist muttered something about medical waivers and hold harmless agreements, but Olivia wasn’t listening, she’d already buried her hands in Lisa’s dark hair to return the woozy brunette to verticality. Quick to note the early stage of Carpenter’s count, Olivia hooked her rival in a Half Nelson, then took hold of Lisa’s waistband and muscled her up just high enough to toss the Ultimate Image into a ‘TWANGING’ collision with the middle strand!
Bounced from the rubber-coated steel with a nasty case of whiplash, Dream’s landed on the apron only for ‘Liv to claim a wrist almost at once. Stepping away from the discombobulated Dream, Dare dropped a shoulder and slung Lisa across the narrow aisle to BWAAAANG gut-first into the steel guardrail. Front row FAWNatics scattered in both directions to avoid a collision with Sierra’s star patient though they needn’t have worried because Olivia caught hold of the brunette’s trunks and yanked her back onto the playing field in short order.
“The Raven says you’re brainwashed.” the Englishwoman chirped just before she hupped Lisa onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. “I’m not sure I can bring myself to believe that, it runs counterintuitive to everything I know about thee, ahem, legend of Lisa Dream.” The sound of her name earned a bit of squirming from The Dream, but it wasn’t nearly enough to get her loose, not with Dare draping an arm over the nape of her neck and one thigh. “But it’s quite obvious that SOMETHING is wrong with you, my poor hapless nemesis. So I’m going to do my level best to quite literally knock some sense into that head of yours.”
Somewhere below the action, Sierra Mist sat up and extended a hand toward her patient. “Luuuhhh.. leave her alone.” she croaked. “Lisa’s perNGH!”
Olivia Hip Checked the Medicinal Mite with one pert British buttock, then strolled over to the steel steps and casually boosted the Dream from her perch so that she BWOOONGED forehead-first into the rough steel! Lisa crumpled hard against the side of the steps, probably would’ve dropped to her knees if she hadn’t grabbed hold of the far side. Even with the continued verticality she didn’t look very Dreamy when Dare peeled her off the steps and slung her under the bottom rope like a bag of laundry. Quite content following this bit of roughhousing, Olivia made her way up the steps to dip between the top and middle rop--
Sierra rushed in and grabbed hold of her ankle, preventing the Storm from entering the squared circle. “What do you think you’re doing, skag?” Olivia bristled. “Let go or I’ll--”
“SNAP OUT OF IT, LISA!” Mist called over the blonde’s protestations. “WE ALL KNOW YOU’RE PERFECT!”
The Ultimate Image didn’t quite snap to attention, but her dark eyes were most definitely shining when she looked up a heartbeat later. Scrambling away from Al Carpenter with an almost feral hiss, Lisa charged her opponent, drew back a leg and snapped a kick into the underside of the second strand! Olivia groaned aloud, the former World Champion wrapping an arm around the top rope to support her suddenly-shimmying knees. Alas this proved meager defense for the revitalized Dream, who gripped the middle rope on either side of her foe and jounced it up ‘n down as hard as she could!
Jaw clenched to hold back a scream, a pigeon-toed Dare crawled her way free of the strands only for Lisa to intercept with a Front Waistlock secured beneath the slim curve of her rival’s glutes. Just like that The Dream went up on tiptoe and went to one knee, all the better to THWHUMP Olivia’s center against the point of her posted knee! The resultant jolt of agony straightened Dare out like a tent spike, what it did not do was free her from Lisa’s clutches. No escape only came after the Luscious One stood up, spun around and let Olivia freefall into a throat-first collision with the top rope! Jolted into shock by the vicious Stun Gun, the Blackbird collapsed to her back whereupon she was immediately stretched out flat via a Double Leg Grapevine from The Dream.
“THAT’S RIGHT, LISA!” Sierra was all smiles as Al swooped in to check the Brit’s shoulders. “SHOW THAT WANNADREAM WHO’S BOSS!”
Neither wrestler paid much attention to the shouting, they were far more focused on the tally of…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Olivia popped her hips in time with a short Headbutt to the bridge of the brunette’s perfect nose to escape with half a second to spare. Mist pounded a fist against the apron, though this was much more an ‘Almost got ‘er!’ as opposed to the frustrated drumming of only moments prior. Lisa herself was similarly galvanized as she buried her hands in Dare’s locks and powered her off the canvas without a single comment about a slow count to Carpenter. Halving her hair-hold so she could more easily direct her opposition toward the opposite corner, Lisa practically loped across the ring to BWUUUNG Olivia’s noggin off the top turnbuckle.
The Oncoming Storm jolted, grabbed the ropes on either side of the ring-post to keep from losing her footing. This proved rather detrimental because Lisa simply took it as encouragement to bounce her enemy’s features against the turnbuckle two more times in rapid succession! Three proved the magic number for unlocking Dare’s knees and she collapsed like a penitent just so the Personification of Perfection could BWUNG-BWUNG-BWUNG her pate against the middle turnbuckle.
“VERY GOOD, LISA! VERRRRRRRRY GOOD!” Sierra heaped on the praise while Lisa finished her bludgeoning tour on the bottom turnbuckle. “SILENCE THAT WANNADREAM FOR GOOD! SHOW HER WHAT HAPPENS TO THE PEOPLE THAT CROSS US!”
DREAMY TURNBUCKLE SMASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4PYx6eTr5s
Finally extracting her hand from the Englishwoman’s hair, Dream raised a knee to stomp a mudhole in Dare’s back but was stalled by the timely intervention of the referee. “She’s in the corner, Lisa. Clear off and let her catch her breath.”
The lunatic shine in The Dream’s eyes faded ever so slightly and she actually nodded assent to the request before backpedaling to the middle of the ring. Al Carpenter was quite pleased by this show of understanding from his charge, Sierra Mist on the other hand was less than thrilled by the idea of anyone other than her commanding the Ultimate Image. “Don’t let that Wannadream push you around, Lisa! Get back in there! Show that miscreant the error of her ways!”
Lisa did just that, the leather-clad lovely plowing a shoulder into Dare’s belly as the Brit struggled to her feet. Several more Shoulderblocks followed, as did a rude, bullying lift that set Dare butt-first in the high rent district. Nodding with pleasure over the stunned, pain-slackened expression on Olivia’s face, Dream tagged her cheek with a Forearm Smash, then reached up and pulled the blonde’s head down into an awkward Front Facelock. From there she hooked the Blackbird behind her left knee and backed out of the buckles with her fellow bendyback suspended directly overhead. The FAWNatics couldn’t help offering Dream some grudging applause as she laid out for huge Rolling Fisherman’s Suplex, then somersaulted through the landing just to get back to her feet with the woozy blonde still hobbling in her clutches! Lisa muscled her burden skyward for the second time in almost as many seconds and let ‘Liv hang there long enough to let her know what was in the offering. Then she kicked a leg forward and dropped down to THAWHUNK the back of Dare’s head and shoulders into the canvas with a gorgeous Fisherman’s Buster. Floating over immediately thereafter, she hooked the far leg for…
ODE TO PERFECTION VERSES ONE & TWO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjpbbpSVOt8
ONE…
TWO…
Dare shoved a shoulder up with Castle’s hand about to come down for the third slap. Undeterred, The Dream scrambled to her knees beside the stunned Brit and roughly tugged Olivia to a seated position. From behind, Lisa locked on tight with a nasty Chinlock, wrenching Dare’s head to the right side. She pushed a knee between the Storm’s shoulderblades, forcing Olivia’s back to arch, modest chest thrust forward, then sank a fish hook into the right corner of her foe’s mouth, ripping back like she’s got a whopper on the line.
Dare gurgled in pain, trying to speak but not fully able. Al was. He demanded Dream relent, which she did, only to swing Dare around to her haunches and, with fingers sinking into the Brit’s dirty blonde locks, she THWAPPED knee after knee into the Blackbird’s forehead, only relenting when Olivia was a marionette with her strings cut.
“Perfect…perfect,” Sierra assures.
Lisa didn’t take the words as reward or confirmation. Instead, she ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, dark locks, seething to the point of frothing. She tugged the jelly-legged Dare to her feet and showed the glassy-eyed Englishwoman a balled right fist. The Dream drew the clenched digits to her lips and gave them a smooch then sendt them toward a dissection of Dare’s dark peepers.
Thankfully for fans of the Blackbird, Olivia had the sense to duck. Lisa went stumbling past, so intent was she in driving the fist THROUGH Olivia’s face. Dream grabbed the ropes to steady herself, staring out at the crowd, eyes showing a maniacal glint with the realization her attempt to knock Olivia into next week has been less than impeccable. She lifted the top cable up and down wildly, without rhyme or reason, screeching in anger.
“SHE SAID I WAS PERFECT, BYTCH!” The Dream screamed at Dare, finally unclenching the rubber-coated steel and turning.
“WEREN’T YOUUHHHH…”
Olivia, partially recovered and fully taken aback at the unhinging, Lisa swinging from one extreme that smelled of calm resignation, past her usual arrogant self, right to rabid, nevertheless was ready with a Super Kick AND NAILED the chin of the spinning Dream.
Rabid or not, the perfect placement sent a whiplash through Lisa’s neck, the brunette’s noggin snapping away from the impact. Lisa stumbled in a stupor to the nearest corner. She threw her arms over the top rope on either side of the buckles, keeping herself vertical if barely and shaking out the cobwebs.
Olivia, unsure if the webs being cleared would bring emotional stability along with Lisa’s senses, wasn’t about to wait and find out. She hustled to the opposite corner and U-turned into a full sprint at the dazed Dream. As she lowered a shoulder from a few feet away, hoping to gut the alabaster midriff of The Dream, Lisa managed to push to a seat on the top buckle and Olivia passed beneath, her right shoulder RAMMING into the steel ring post.
The crowd groaned in sympathy as the Oncoming Storm struggled to extricate herself from under the seated Lisa, Dream still looking the worse for wear herself. The Ultimate Image strangely applied a couple echoing slaps to her own cheeks, her face reddening from the impacts and the residual fury reignited when Mist reiterates how “PERFECT” the Luscious One truly was.
As Dare pulled out from the corner and turned to face the center of the ring, Lisa climbed atop her foe’s shoulders and began pounding away at the crown of the Blackbird’s skull feverishly. Olivia staggered toward the middle with the bombardment accumulating.
Still, the veteran maintained the ring awareness amidst the assault to reach her arms upward and linked her hands behind the neck of the dipped Dream. Tugging her foe’s head lower, forcing Dream further into a ball, Olivia somersaulted Lisa forward, off her shoulders, while sitting out, delivering Dream to the deck in devastating fashion with her signature English Breakfast.
ENGLISH BREAKFAST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-Swo1_qQa4
The Storm kept the brunette stacked on her shoulders in a tight cradle for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
An eardrum-piercing scream emerged from the ball as did Lisa, Dream saving herself from yet another loss to her nemesis. The Dream clambers to her feet surprisingly quickly and stared down a risen Dare with evil intent. Unaccustomed to anyone shaking off the Breakfast so quickly, the Blackbird seemed hesitant and confused. The snorting, wild-eyed Dream was not, leaping into a Thesz Press that knocked Olivia off her feet.
Lisa pounded away with wild, right-left combos whose accuracy left plenty to be desired but whose furor and quantity set a frantic Dare scrambling into some Olympic—level butt-scooting that saw the Brit roll out under the ropes. Wobbling, she retreated to the barricade behind her, looking up saucer-eyed at a pacing, frenetic Dream, seemingly not in control of her faculties, fully or otherwise.
With Olivia’s attention rightly on the Dream-become-Nightmare, she moved back to the apron’s edge. Carpenter desperately tried to push back Lisa as The Dream muttered incoherently to herself, only the occasional grunting of the word PERFECTION comprehensible. As he did, Sierra attacked from Dare’s blindspot, her PhD thesis apparently including an investigation of what happened to the knee when hit with a chop block from behind.
Mist threw her shoulder competently enough into the pit of Dare’s right knee, Olivia dropping to the bony ball of the joint, yelping in pain, cursing at the quickly retreating Sierra. Mist raised her hands in innocence as an unaware Al interrogated, Mist moving back to Lisa’s corner, away from an angered and rising Storm.
Olivia limped after Sierra, but The Dream reached through the ropes and sank a set of nails into Dare’s dirty blonde mop, tugging the Blackbird to a perch on the apron then flipping her rival over the top rope with a squeal of rage, Dare’s spine PLANTING into the thinly-covered plywood of the ring’s interior.
“You worry about me?” Lisa spat at a wincing Dare, “I’M PERFECTION!”
Dream raced to the ropes to Olivia’s left side and leapt onto the middle cable, grabbing the top version. The wrath of The Dream not preventing some recollection of her arsenal, the brunette back-flipped into a flawless Dreamysault, no knees rising to meet her this time. Instead, Lisa CRUSHED the Blackbird’s open midriff with the acrobatic SPLASH, leaving Olivia a retching, jackknifed shell.
DREAMYSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gy-GoXEiXqY
Instead of going for the pin, Lisa grabbed the flaxen locks of her foe near either ear, lifts Olivia’s braincase off the canvas and battered it into the unforgiving mat a half-dozen times. Only then did Lisa dive across the blasted carcass of the Blackbird for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Olivia lifted a shoulder off the canvas a few inches. A manic Dream, on all fours above the splayed Dare, couldn’t believe her shifting, wide eyes. Dream tore at her dark locks, screaming.
“BUT I’M PERFECT!”
Visibly worried by her patient’s loss of control, Sierra climbed onto the apron and called, “Look at me, Lisa!” Al didn’t much care for Mist’s encroachment but he allowed it because the PhD candidate seemed to steady Dream’s nerves ever so slightly. “You ARE perfect.” Sierra went on once she had the brunette’s attention. “It’s just that some Wannadreams are…more durable than others.”
Lisa got up and took several steps forward, seemingly unaware that Olivia had rolled in the opposite direction. “But… but I’m perfect.” the former World Champion replied, her tone heavy with uncertainty.
“Yes! Yes you are!” Mist agreed as the Dream drew to within a couple steps. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! Not Shea London. Not Jenny Jacobs, not that vile redheaded witch doctor and CERTAINLY not Olivia Dare! You are the Ultimate Image, the Luscious One, the Reflection of Perfec--”
“Look at me, Lisa.” Mist and Dream both turned their attention to Olivia Dare, freshly risen thanks to the ropes on the far side of the squared circle. “She’s lying to you, Lisa. I thought you would have had enough of that after Celia.”
Lisa’s upper lip twitched at mention of the Crimson Cagliostro and she took a step forward despite Sierra’s hand on one shoulder. “I’m Lisa Dream. And you’re not.” she replied quietly.
“No, I’m not.” the Englishwoman agreed. “I am Olivia Dare, a woman who has bested you in this very ring no less than five times. Do you want to know how I did it, Lisa? Do you want to know my secret?”
“Don’t listen to her, Lisa.” Sierra warned. “She’s trying to--”
“It’s very simple, really.” Olivia interrupted. “The same approach every time, in fact. Every time I stepped through that curtain to face you I understood that you could win at any moment. That you would and could do everything in your power to leave me humiliated and broken on the mat.”
Dream was back in center ring, eyes locked on Dare with such intensity that she didn’t note the blonde slowly easing an elbow pad down her forearm.
“Once I understood this, once I… accepted it, beating you was easy. Because I knew deep in my heart that I had to be at my very BEST if I wanted to win. So I was, and I did. But you, Lisa. You could never even tolerate someone as a subordinate, let alone an equal. You couldn’t even fathom a situation where you might lose so when I took your best shots you retreated into histrionics and tantrums until--”
“STOP IT!” Sierra roared. “DON’T LISTEN TO HER, LISA!”
“You know why you never beat me, Lisa?” Olivia went on as though Mist hadn‘t spoken. “Why you’ll never beat me, in fact? It’s because you never had the courage to look yourself in the mirror and admit that you’re NOT PERF--”
“SHUT YOUR LYING MOUTH!” The Dream leapt at the Blackbird with talons extended but Olivia spun away like a cool breeze, leaving Lisa without enough time to twist around before she went chest-first into the rop--THWHACK!
Olivia slammed her bare elbow into the base of Lisa’s skull, dropping the brunette’s hands at her sides. Didn’t stay there for long however, as ‘Liv grabbed hold of her left wrist and pulled that arm under her chin cut-throat style. Using the Wristlock to draw Dream away from the strands, Dare forced her foe to double over as she positioned herself on Lisa’s left flank. Other hand on Lisa’s right hip for good measure, Olivia hopped up, set her knees astride the other wrestler’s back and yanked her down into a spine THWHUMPING Double Dare! Lisa exploded out of the modified Lungblower in a boneless sprawl, leaving an incredulous Sierra to scream over several thousand FAWNatics counting…
DOUBLE DARE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GoRlk7bGW8
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
The Ultimate Image lifted a shoulder off the canvas, keeping herself in the contest for another three seconds or so. Olivia sighed, though she looked far from surprised by The Dream’s durability. Treating herself to a Wristlock, she scraped Lisa off the deck, whipped her into the nearest corner and followed her in with a European Uppercut delivered at full gallop! Lisa’s head snapped back (along with the rest of her body) and she might’ve slopped out flat on her face if Olivia hadn’t put a steadying hand on her chest. “Easy sweetness, we’ll go when I’m ready!”
“Would you get in there and break them up!” Sierra commanded of Al Carpenter, who was watching the action from a safe distance. “ My patient is in the corner!”
“Haven’t exhausted the five count, Sierra.” the ref replied as Dare hooked a Front Facelock, then changed places with Lisa to take a seat on the top turnbuckle. “And it doesn’t look like they’re going toUUUUNNNNNGGGGGHHH!”’
Carpenter’s attempt to placate Mist cost him dearly when the Blackbird pushed off her perch with a Tornado DDT in mind. Her execution was flawless, unfortunately the landing proved troublesome as Dream got her hands on ‘Liv’s tummy when the Brit was stretched out straight and pushed as hard as she could. It didn’t just break the Facelock, it sent Dare flying away in an impromptu facedown Dropkick that caught Al square in the mush! Unprepared for the counter, let alone the resistance of a poor oblivious referee, Olivia landed awkwardly on all fours, then scrambled up to check on Al. “Dammit Algernon, you know better than to get in the way like OOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFHHHH!”
Lisa came out of the corner like a Dreamy rocket with a Spear so vitriolic it carried both ladies to and through the ropes on the other side of the ring!
Eyes wide, hand over her mouth, Sierra Mist glanced from side to side in hopes of finding something, anything that’d help her break the ‘Dare Curse’ once and for all. She spied a steel chair, reached for it and hesitated, worried about what a disqualification or a ‘tainted’ win, might do for her patient’s psyche. Then she remembered what happened the last time she was ringside for a Dream loss to the Briton and all those thoughts were pushed to the wayside. Snatching the chair from beside the Timekeeper’s table, she folded it up with a loud ‘CLANK’ and rushed around to the other side of the ring, where Lisa and Olivia were clawing at the apron to assist in their return to verticality.
As of yet unaware of that blunt Sword of Damocles, Dare set her feet and reached out for a huge handful of Dream’s hair. Lisa snarled, reared back for a Bytch Slap and--
“LET GO OF MY PATIENT YOU BYTCH!”
Olivia did as bade, she also threw herself toward the guardrail a heartbeat before Sierra brought the chair BWAAANGING down on the crown of Lisa’s perfect noggin!
Paralyzed by the enormity of her error, Mist couldn’t even lower the chair, she simply held it at waist level while Lisa crumpled to the floor at her feet. “Poor form, dear.” murmured a voice from her left. The would-be PhD turned in that direction and ATE a retaliatory Super Kick from the Oncoming Storm, Sierra basking in the soft glow of Dreamland by the time her butt touched the mat.
Standing amidst the wreckage of the mad scientist and her Dreamy monstrosity, Olivia Dare caught a few deep breaths and raked a hand through her hair. Without taking her eyes off Lisa, she asked, “Have you rousted yourself Algernon?”
“Unnnnnnggggghhh…” came a low groan. “Just gimme five seconds.”
“You have approximately three.”
Clock set, the former World Champion collected Lisa at trunks and tresses, all the better to haul her up and stuff her under the bottom rope. On her feet as soon as she was clear of the strands, ‘Liv cupped the brunette’s ears to peel her off the mat in stages, then helped herself to the Dream’s left leg, which she lifted to waist level. Those gathered for CNP cheered with anticipation and the Blackbird did not disappoint, Dare dipping and spinning beneath the exposed gam. She straightened up on the way out, thus trapping Lisa’s luscious limb in an awkward Standing Cradle that would’ve made it impossible to defend against the Facelock even if Dream was still in possession of her faculties. Alas, The Dream was still under steel grade sedation, a prescription made all the stronger when Olivia dipped her knees and muscled the brunette directly overhead, then twisted in a quick circle and laid out flat to THAWHAM Lisa down on the back of her head and shoulders courtesy of the Quatermass Buster.
QUATERMASS BUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7L3Pt-G7o9U
Reduced to little more than the perfect Rorschach blot by the Briton’s nastiest head drop, the Dream voiced nary a protest when Olivia hooked both legs in a bundle and rolled her into a ‘C’, Lisa’s perfect tush pointed at the lights while Craig counted a weary…
ONE…
TWO….
THREE!
Olivia released the Back Press and sat up, the blonde resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists while the Announcer tallied the latest score. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… OLIVIA DARE!”
Dare wiped her hands after a job well done and a Dream ruined…again. With Lisa’s record of futility and, in its own way, perfection extended, the Blackbird pushed to her feet to the roar of the crowd.
With whatever love Lisa managed to corral from the fans over the past months gone via her wild wayward ride tonight, Olivia was bathed in appreciation from the FAWNatics. The ovation grew all the louder when the dominant Dare placed a boot on Lisa’s chest, raising an arm and an index finger for her Gladiatrix money shot. Olivia stared down at the comatose Dream.
“If I had any pity, I’d offer it,” Dare pronounced, “but even with what that girl did to you, you don’t deserve it.”
Dare walked atop The Dream’s flattened frame, the brunette groaning to life as the receding Storm took her leave with yet another victory in the books versus Lisa.
Only when Olivia stepped through the ropes did Sierra enter, racing to the splayed Dream. Mist lifted the brunette’s head and patted her cheek.
“Lisa,” she offered softly. “Are you OK?”
The Dream shook her noggin.
“Am I whuh?”
Dark eyes clearing slowly, Lisa looked into her savior’s.
“What did you say?”
“Ummm…” Sierra stammered. “You did as well as you…you could. But Olivia.”
“But Olivia?” Lisa growled, sitting up.
The Dream slapped herself across the face on both sides…HARD.
“Calm down, Lisa. You’re going to be fine.”
“Fine? I thought I was perfect?”
“You are. You’re perfect!” Mist assured.
Lisa’s nails shot forward, gouging into Sierra’s dark pools. Mist howled in agony, blinded.
“STAHHHP! PLEEEASE!”
The Dream did, but only to move her talons to Sierra’s scalp. She pulled up her manager as she rose.
The fury in Dream reignited, Lisa DROVE a Toe Kick into Mist’s midriff, doubling her over. Lisa manically tugged Sierra’s lowered head between her thighs and clamped down with a Standing Headscissors.
She undid Sierra’s slacks and ripped them downward, the pants ending in a pool around Mist’s ankles, nothing left but a white thong between the tawny glutes of the PhD-to-be.
“You said I was perfect,” Lisa growled. “And I lost to her AGAIN! And you know why? Because you’re NOT PERFECT! YOU SCREWED ME!”
“I saved you, Lisa. Saved you from your cell!” Sierra sobbed.
The Dream shook any thought of mercy out of her skull and let out a blood-curdling shriek.
“You saved me for this?!”
Dream reached down the back of the bent Mist and spanked out her most echoing Bittersweet Symphony ever, tanning Sierra’s hide, the tawny cheeks turning beet red under Lisa’s ferocity.
“You sent me from one hell to another,” Lisa screamed. “The genie’s not going back in the bottle and she’s not staying anywhere near the fatal imperfection that is you!”
Lisa ended her symphony and wrapped her arms around Sierra’s waist. With a shout, she flipped Mist up her frame, catching Sierra in a seat on her shoulders. Racing to the nearest set of buckles, Lisa heaved Mist into the corner with a Bucklebomb.
BUCKLEBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMf1x7CBBmo
Sierra hit savagely, wobbling out of the corner and into a vicious punt to the pussy from Dream, the crowd unable to stop themselves from emitting an area-wide moan.
With Sierra frozen in place and bent at the waist, hands buried between her thighs, The Dream hit the ropes at her manager’s side and sent her savior to the gates Dreamland with a supercharged Dreamsicle across the back of Mist’s neck that left Sierra laid out and barely conscious.
DREAMSICLE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz6UOy7L21Q
Lisa pushed to her haunches and settled next to Mist, the FAWNatics burying her in jeers. The Dream nearly foamed at the mouth as she tugged at her own dark locks, her eyes showing a rage unleashed.
Wildly she pounds away on the back of the demolished Mist, the bell ringing continuously, the flummoxed Al Carpenter calling zebras of all stripes out from the back to help him try and tear Lisa away.
The man paid for his imperfection when Lisa rose and leaves him a flattened wreck with a near instantaneous Dreamy Buster.
But Lisa hadn’t fully forgotten the object of her wrath, the woman that brought her back to FAWN, but as an impotent shell. She sank her digits into Mist’s mane and yanked the ragdoll to rubbery legs.
“I don’t know what the f*ck I am,” Lisa screamed. “But I’m not this!”
The Dream pivoted so she’s side by side with Sierra, both facing in the same direction. Lisa drew Mist’s near arm over her shoulders and slipped her near arm under and around Sierra’s throat.
The crowd didn’t have to wait long for what they knew what coming as Lisa fell to her chest and relieved Sierra of every one of her senses with a sickening Day Dreamer that SPIKED the crown of Mist’s skull into the canvas.
DAY DREAMER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLJ89fhy0gU
Sierra remained in a headstand for a split second then tumbled to a spread eagle on her back, Mist knocked colder than the Arctic in January just as the cavalry arrived, a half-dozen striped-shirts entering as a snorting Lisa pushed to her feet looking for more.
The men intercepted her, not without one taking a boot to his family jewels, and forced Lisa from the ring, The Dream screaming bloody murder, likely on her way back to the psych ward.
However, the Ultimate Image breaks free halfway up the ramp and hightailed it the back, several steps ahead of the Keystone Kops. The FAWNatics were left in a stilled stupor, wondering just what they’ve witnessed and who would have the unhappy task of scraping up what’s left of Sierra Mist and depositing her in the nearest emergency room.