Post by EmmaWoods007 on Apr 5, 2019 12:50:30 GMT
SCARLET SINCLAIR Vs. IRMA IRONS
SCARLET SINCLAIR
IRMA IRONS
…Scarlet was in a bad way, exemplified by the fact that she currently couldn’t feel her legs. Beaten and exhausted, the miniature Brit had been forced to sit idle in the corner after her opponent, Iron’s, had gone to considerable lengths to bury her there, the youngest of the Sinclair’s finding herself on the wrong end of Irma’s volatile frustrations, the Manchester Malcontent furious concerning her recent losing streak. Others had been involved, but the Dark-Haired Destroyer blamed only one person for it, the People’s Princess, Samantha Sinclair.
Scarlet was related to her.
She made the smallest of grimaces as she tried to get back up, but Iron’s was there like a peel of thunder, the bulkier of the two Brits snarling as she seized the top ropes for leverage and proceeded to unload a veritable BARRAGE of Big Boots! She rained down one after another, pounding the smaller girl with a rabid tornado of stomps that produced short, sharp grunts, groans and moans from her adversary for the evening, a display that resulted in a resounding round of boos from the watching FAWNatics.
MUDHOLE STOMPS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QzEa5AZZmg
It was the Official that was in a position to intervene however, and there was only so much is was going to let slide before he stepped in. “That’s enough, Irma,” he warned, fully aware of the violence she had once been renowned for unleashing upon those in black and white, “out of the corner!!”
Iron’s didn’t listen, her volatile nature well and truly off the leash now, raining down at least three more heavy impacts before the Official began his count. He got to four before, with a nerve shredding cry of frustration, Irma peeled away from her victim and stormed across the ring. She turned about quickly enough, snorting heavily through her nose, before turning her eyes full of murder back towards the quivering Sinclair.
“Happy now!?!” Iron’s snapped in the direction of the Official, who nodded in the affirmative. “Good, I’m so f*cking pleased for you!!”
She stormed back across the ring and, before the man in black and white could protest, she exercised every iota of will she possessed to not continue her vindictive beating. “What about you, huh!?! Still feeling snippy, Bytch?”
Scarlet inhaled deeply, her torso feeling like a giant bruise, and after she gave the inquiry all of the due consideration that it deserved, the youngest of the Sinclair’s promptly delivered a one fingered salute.
“OH F*CH YOU, BYTCH!!” Irma roared, immediately reaching down and GRABBING the lighter brunette by her own, full mane and YANKED her back up to standing!! She shoved her back against the turnbuckles and brought their features close together, Iron’s hot, heavy breath washing over Sinclair’s apple cheeks.
“I want you to know, Bytch,” Irma explained, the severity of her grip forcing a wince from her victim. “That hurting you, is hurting her,” she went on to elaborate, referring to her most hated foe, “so I aint giving a f*ck about winning, I aint gonna stop beating yer until you’re dead!!”
She didn’t elaborate further, not vocally, instead cutting off any potential rebuttal by BURYING her knee deep into Scarlets trim tummy, forcing the girl to fold over with a heavy moan.
With her opponent limp limbed, she exchanged her grip for the diminutive Brits firm thighs, hoisting her up to sitting on the top turnbuckles with concerning ease. She followed quickly after, Iron’s climbing one rope after another until she was appropriately positioned to lift Scarlet even higher, hoisting her up to standing. Satisfied with how precarious their position was, she relished in the dismay of the FAWNatics as she thrust one of her powerful arms between the open hips of her adversary, and circled her slender shoulders with the other.
With a heave and shout, she suddenly flipped Scarlet’s forcibly submissive frame up and over through the air, hurling herself from the turnbuckles at the same time, instigating a hellacious drop back down towards the canvas by way of an Avalanche Scoop Slam!!
AVALANCHE SCOOP SLAM: @1:04
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SObNk3nM73A
The ring rattled as Scarlet was sent crashing into the deck, the Rebel Princess sputtering as she popped back up to sitting, her head bobbing this way and then before she collapsed into a heap. She stayed there with no signs of moving, her right leg spasming as though she were being prodded.
Iron’s, by comparison, was looking far better following their landing, up on her knees again in a flash and eyeing the wreckage of her opponent. She thought the matter over as she eyed her fellow Brit, drumming her fist against the canvas before coming to a decision. She snorted, shaking her head before she dropped and then rolled outside of the ring, the concern of the watching audience escalating by the moment.
With considerable aggression, she shoved a commentator from out of her chair before taking the steel furniture for herself, snapping it shut with an ominous clang!!
“Oh no you don’t!” the Official warned even before Iron’s could get back into the ring, “I will DQ you, Irma, you know I will!”
“Like I give a single, solitary f*ck!” Iron’s dismissed with a scarcely repressed snap, diving back into the ring and finding her feet in a flash. “I want the real Sinclair, and this is how I get the Bytch!!”
She zeroed in on the downed Scarlet and raised the steel chair up high, fully prepared to put the girl on the shelf for good…
…before the loud speakers BURST into life and the FAWNatics erupted in relief, Iron’s snapping her attention to the ramp in a moment of distraction.
TROUBLEMAKER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYZTScW7Qqc
Irma surged to the ropes, weapon of choice gripped tightly in hand as the entirety of her physique thrummed with scarcely repressed aggression, ready to explode into an avalanche of violence the moment the People’s Princess dared to show her face.
Only it didn’t happen and, as Iron’s grimaced in anticipation, she wasn’t the only one in the arena who had been slow on the uptake. Caught up in the moment, even the crowd had failed to realise that the music blaring over the sound speakers didn’t belong to Samantha Sinclair…
…it belonged to the sibling who was already in the ring!!
So distracted was she by who may or may not be coming to the rescue, Irma failed to notice the rapid change in the tenor of the FAWNatics, enthusiasm rippling across the crowd watching as a weary yet game Scarlet, having been given time to regain her equilibrium, slid up against her blindside and, with swift movements, swept her arms up beneath Irma’s shoulders and lock the Weaponised Wolverine in a surprisingly firm Full Nelson.
Iron’s had time to spit out a curse as she was forced to drop her steel chair, the weapon clanging to the deck just moments before the diminutive brunette who had ensnared her threw them both forwards, DRIVING the Manchester Malcontent face first into the furniture with an audible CLANG!!
FULL NELSON FACEBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBS7DOD8-oI
With her face inadvertently meeting steel, Iron’s both bucked and spasmed into a sweaty heap, Scarlet shaking her own head before being forced to huff with exertion as she rolled the stouter young woman over. The youngest of the Sinclair’s flopped over her opponent and, with the Official deciding that the collision with the foreign object had been Irma’s own damn fault, dropped to the canvas to begin his count.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
With a visible relief, Scarlet rolled away from the pinfall, secure in her victory with a smirk plastered across her youthful features, the Rebel Princess evidently pleased with herself no end. She did, however, scrunch up her button nose every so slightly as a thought occurred to her, the diminutive Brit furrowing her brow before forcing herself to get up.
“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” she asked the Official sweetly enough and, before he could think better of it, he produced one for her to use.
“Cheers,” she thanked him with a renewed smirk, “you’re a gem.”
Dropping back down to one knee, she straddled her opponent for the evening and stuck out the tip of her tongue in concentration, tilting her head as she drew a nice, big, phallic shaped symbol on Iron’s immobile forehead.
“Something to remember me by,” Scarlet tapped Irma on the cheek once she was finished, pushing herself back up to standing before returning the pen that she had borrowed.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” the Official questioned, now genuinely concerned for the Brits continued well-being.
“Oh, absolutely,” Scarlet nodded, her hands set on her hips, “I live in no-one’s shadow, not even Samantha’s. So, this is just a little reminder,” she smirked, plenty pleased with herself, “the next time Iron’s comes at me, it’ll be plenty personal.”
CAROL COURAGE Vs. SUMMER HOPKINS
CAROL COURAGE
SUMMER HOPKINS
Given that Summer Hopkins had spent much of her time in Developmental being picked up, dusted off and pointed in the right direction by her infinitely patient tutor, Carol Courage, she could freely confess to feeling more than a little bad about trying really hard to drop the beloved Veteran repeatedly on her face.
Needs must, however, and try as she might, the rookie just couldn’t keep her former instructor down on the canvas for the full three count. The previous four attempts had been met with a discernible lack of success, so she would just have to try again.
She slipped in behind the brunette, whilst the Paladin of Power was momentarily dazed and, hooking both of her arms in a sleek looking chickenwing, she inhaled a deep breadth before hupping her briefly skywards. With the FAWNatics in high spirits during the hotly contested match, Summer suddenly dropped herself down to sitting, swinging her cargo forwards at the same time to forcibly PLANT!! her into the canvas both face and chest first!!
DOUBLE CHICKENWING FACEBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcC3Vpc9otQ
The ring rattled from the impact, and Baby Hopkins made the smallest of winces as that seed of guilt continued to spread roots inside of her bosom, finding herself feeling that she would have been much happier for the likes of Isabelle Kane to have been on the wrong end of that impact. Instead, it was one of her mentors, and while Summer bounced harmlessly on her toosh, Courage recoiled with a breathy groan, her strong shoulders twitching as her brain attempted to process the damage.
Summer forcibly buried her feelings of trepidation as her heart skipped a painfully nervous beat, the Supergirl of Sheffield grasping the brunette by her stems and rolling the All-American Heroine over onto her back. Hopkins claimed those same legs for her own as she rolled the blue clad warrior up into a tight ball.
ONE!
TWO!!
Carol kicked out with a full second to spare, and the blonde was left wondering what it would take to bring her down for good.
“SUMMER!!” Jaime London called out from ringside, the red headed Upstart on hand tonight to lend morale support to her Tag Team partner. The Sensational Spin-Off slapped the canvas to ensure that she was noticed and, as Baby Hopkins looked in her best friends’ direction for guidance, London 2.0 slapped the turnbuckles as though that was all of the advice that needed to be given.
JAIME LONDON
The FAWNatics, it seemed, were well versed in such sign language and (with the exception of the Courage Cavalry in attendance), they yelled out their own support for the idea, and Summer nodded in understanding.
As Carol was beginning to stir and find her feet, Hopkins was on the move, darting towards the corner and, at the last moment, rapidly scaled the turnbuckles as though she were some manner of spider monkey. She didn’t pause, she didn’t hesitate, leaping the moment she reached the apex of her ascent, flipping backwards into a beautiful Moonsault!!
Which she would have been able to appreciate later on replay had Courage not instead caught her clean out of the air!!
Summer panicked, suddenly finding herself being suspended upside down in the middle of the wring, tummies pressed up against bosoms, and her long legs pointed upwards towards the rafters. The Paladin of Power pivoted the Supergirl of Sheffield about, preparing to Piledriver her into next week in the middle of the ring.
Desperation leant her adrenaline and, just as Courage was about to solidify her grip, Hopkins braced her palms against the veteran’s thighs and suddenly pushed herself upwards. The unexpected movement shoved her into a swing that managed to break her former tutors grip before it could be fully secured, rolling herself up into cradle position over Carol’s strong shoulder. Finding herself in a new (equally precarious) position, the Athletic Academic immediately braced herself before forcibly rolling herself forwards with just enough added UMPFH!! to throw herself into a jaw dropping, forward flip, one that took her clean to safety and landing on her feet.
The FAWNatics lost their collective sh*t at the audacious display, but Baby Hopkins wasn’t done yet, flying on instinct now as she threw herself backwards into a roll that popped her up into a handstand. Momentum alone proved to be all that she needed to vault her way back up onto her opponents’ shoulder, and while that may seem like the last place that she wanted to settle her tummy, Summer just kept on spinning.
Faster than anyone could comfortably track, the Supergirl of Sheffield spun herself about on her perch, exchanging one of her foes shoulders for the other and soon finding herself pointing the other way. She secured Carol in a Front Headlock and, with every ounce of power, momentum and gravity that she could summon, she THREW herself backwards into a blistering DDT!!
PILEDRIVER ESCAPE/DDT: @0:59
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsipdPIYW8g&t=464s
The FAWNatics erupted as Carol’s head was SPIKED!! into the canvas, the veteran spasming with a sharp jolt as she thudded down onto the mat. She popped right back up to sitting, but the glazed expression of her features betrayed that no-one was present as she flopped over onto her side.
Summer scrambled to cover her former tutor and, snagging both of the woman’s legs for the pinfall, she hoped that was enough to secure victory.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
With visible relief, Baby Hopkins exhaled deeply at the pronouncement, Jaime London punching the air outside the squared circle before ensuring the audience were being appropriately vocal.
Summer felt positively giddy, beside herself even as the Official helped her up and the Ring Announcer called out her name, the young blonde securing a singles victory for the first time since emerging on the main roster. She grinned sheepishly as her hand was held aloft, doing her best to strike a pose as Susan Style had taught her (and ensuring that her booty shorts, with the expression ‘You Wish!!’ were pointed towards at least one camera), and she almost forgot where she was given how relieved she was feeling.
A pained groan from nearby reminded her of there here and now, and the Supergirl of Sheffield felt immediately fretful as her former tutor dragged herself slowly off the mat. That seed of guilt returned a hundred-fold, and she felt a powerful need to apologise.
Not unkindly, Carol stopped her before she could, “Don’t.”
Summer blinked, “Don’t what?”
“Apologise,” Courage smiled wryly, the All-American Heroine pushing herself up onto her feet. “You really need to stop doing that.”
“But,”
“But nothing,” Carol interrupted again and, watching on, the FAWNatics waited with baited breath.
Courage took Summers hand and, standing beside her, the veteran held the rookies high in victory, and those in attendance renewed their cheers with gusto.
“All’s fair,” Carol reminded the protegee of her best friend, “remember that the next time we cross paths.”
ALEXIS ATLANTIC Vs. CARLA CRASH
ALEXIS ATLANTIC
CARLA CRASH
When Carla Crash had hupped Alexis Atlantic up to sitting on her shoulders for a Stalling Powerbomb, she hadn’t expected those extra few seconds of exhibition to be rewarded with a swift CRACK!! delivered against her forehead! That was what she was to receive however, three times in quick succession as the labouring blonde within her grasp grabbed the taller competitor by her half shaven scalp and yanked her head backwards, delivering a swift salvo of blistering punches as soon as she had spotted the opening.
Carla’s posture, previously so secured, began to wobble with a tremble running down her spine and, before the third and final blow had even been struck, her grasp of her smaller opponents’ thighs had already been released, the FAWNatics willing her to fail with their chanting.
Their support for the Little Lioness, by comparison, was overwhelming positive, the Pocket Warrior scrapping her way free from her impending predicament with the tenacity installed in her by a tour of duty in the marine core. With her stems no longer ensnared, she threw herself backwards from her involuntary perch and rolled herself to freedom with a neat little backflip.
While she didn’t exactly stick the landing with an abundance of grace, it was flashy enough to get the FAWNatics all riled up anew as the shell-shocked Crash stumbled backwards, the Hollywood Hooligan clutching at her bruised forehead with a vocal hiss. Distance, however, was the last thing the dark haired street fighter should have wanted to create, not with Alexis creaking her own neck before she charged forwards with a shout, leaping at the last moment to launch herself forwards with a gut busting SPEAR!!
SPEAR
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHV2pLRn4Pk
Folding like a matchbook, Carla’s physique crumpled about the smaller woman’s penetrating shoulder, air exploding from her body with a puffing of her cheeks before both young women hit the deck. Crash wretched with a great, hacking coughs as she tried to curl into a protective ball while Alexis powered up onto her knees and looked all the world as though she was just getting started.
“Let me guess,” Alexis questioned rhetorically, securing her opponent by the scruff of her neck before dragging her up to the barest semblance of vertical, Crash struggling to just keep her lungs inside of her body. “This whole wrestling thing not the cake walk you were expecting? Been there, your turn.”
With a sharp pivot and firm toss, the All-American Ass Kicker bum rushed the former stuntwoman towards the nearest corner. Carla tumbled until she slammed back first against the waiting turnbuckles, sat on the canvas where she had been forcibly deposited with a pained grimace etched across her features, one arm still folded across her previously impaled midriff.
Crash summoned a snarl, pushing her next words out from between her teeth.
“Laugh it up, runt,” she warned, preparing to power through the pain to regain her footing, “you won’t be so cocky when I…”
Her threat was undercut by the fact that Alexis wasn’t listening, the Pocket Warrior too busy whipping her hands up onto the air as she toured the ring, getting the FAWNatics braying for blood before she turned about and charged! Carla’s eyes had time to open wide, but she didn’t have time to complete her sentence before Atlantic leapt, grasped the top ropes of leverage and swung herself down like a pendulum, her fantastically firm backside leading the way as she SLAMMED her buttocks (with her full weight behind them) directly down onto her opponents exposed bosom!
ASSALANCHE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jek8naRpbzw
Crash HEAVED with a pained exhale of air as she was forcibly compressed between a rapidly moving blonde and the turnbuckles to her back, recoiling from the corner the moment Alexis popped away from the impact. Struggling to inhale a fresh breath, she stumbled up onto her feet, swaying this way and that as her body trembled from head to toe. She made it about two thirds across the canvas before she was able to secure some manner of firm footing but, in the grand scheme of things, she should have probably have just fallen over.
Alexis, however, was fully prepared to exploit just such a stubborn streak seemingly born and bred into wrestling types the world over and braced herself to attack. She folded her posture forwards, preparing to pounce and, just as the opening was about to present itself, she punched both of her fists up into the air in quick succession, the FAWNatics not missing a beat as they took their cue from the two words stencilled across the back of her shirt.
“F*CK!! YEAH!!”
She charged, Carla turning herself about on cue and Atlantic leapt, securing her taller opponent in a wickedly firm headlock during mid-flight. With gravity as her ally, Alexis whipped both of their bodies around before she plummeted back down to earth, bringing her foes noggin with her to PLANT!! the crown of her skull into the mat by way of a Tornado DDT!!
INTO THE BREACH!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lat__jA0_LM
The reaction of the crowd exploded as Crash was SPIKED into the canvas, her impressive physique jolting up into a peculiar looking handstand, before she flopped into a boneless heap. Alexis collected one of the women’s rapidly descending legs just before it could hit the deck, and folded Carla up into a firm pin.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
The Official called for the bell and Alexis released her opponent, repressing a grimace of her own as she rolled up onto up her feet. The man in black and white went to hold her hand up in victory, but the All-American Ass Kicker was already out of reach, the pocket blonde sheeted in a layer of sweat, yet triumphant all the same, climbing the closest set of turnbuckles and punching her fists up into the air. It didn’t take much for the FAWNatics to join in, the modest arena soon resounding with the chant of her personal motto.
“F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!!”
SCARLET SINCLAIR
IRMA IRONS
…Scarlet was in a bad way, exemplified by the fact that she currently couldn’t feel her legs. Beaten and exhausted, the miniature Brit had been forced to sit idle in the corner after her opponent, Iron’s, had gone to considerable lengths to bury her there, the youngest of the Sinclair’s finding herself on the wrong end of Irma’s volatile frustrations, the Manchester Malcontent furious concerning her recent losing streak. Others had been involved, but the Dark-Haired Destroyer blamed only one person for it, the People’s Princess, Samantha Sinclair.
Scarlet was related to her.
She made the smallest of grimaces as she tried to get back up, but Iron’s was there like a peel of thunder, the bulkier of the two Brits snarling as she seized the top ropes for leverage and proceeded to unload a veritable BARRAGE of Big Boots! She rained down one after another, pounding the smaller girl with a rabid tornado of stomps that produced short, sharp grunts, groans and moans from her adversary for the evening, a display that resulted in a resounding round of boos from the watching FAWNatics.
MUDHOLE STOMPS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QzEa5AZZmg
It was the Official that was in a position to intervene however, and there was only so much is was going to let slide before he stepped in. “That’s enough, Irma,” he warned, fully aware of the violence she had once been renowned for unleashing upon those in black and white, “out of the corner!!”
Iron’s didn’t listen, her volatile nature well and truly off the leash now, raining down at least three more heavy impacts before the Official began his count. He got to four before, with a nerve shredding cry of frustration, Irma peeled away from her victim and stormed across the ring. She turned about quickly enough, snorting heavily through her nose, before turning her eyes full of murder back towards the quivering Sinclair.
“Happy now!?!” Iron’s snapped in the direction of the Official, who nodded in the affirmative. “Good, I’m so f*cking pleased for you!!”
She stormed back across the ring and, before the man in black and white could protest, she exercised every iota of will she possessed to not continue her vindictive beating. “What about you, huh!?! Still feeling snippy, Bytch?”
Scarlet inhaled deeply, her torso feeling like a giant bruise, and after she gave the inquiry all of the due consideration that it deserved, the youngest of the Sinclair’s promptly delivered a one fingered salute.
“OH F*CH YOU, BYTCH!!” Irma roared, immediately reaching down and GRABBING the lighter brunette by her own, full mane and YANKED her back up to standing!! She shoved her back against the turnbuckles and brought their features close together, Iron’s hot, heavy breath washing over Sinclair’s apple cheeks.
“I want you to know, Bytch,” Irma explained, the severity of her grip forcing a wince from her victim. “That hurting you, is hurting her,” she went on to elaborate, referring to her most hated foe, “so I aint giving a f*ck about winning, I aint gonna stop beating yer until you’re dead!!”
She didn’t elaborate further, not vocally, instead cutting off any potential rebuttal by BURYING her knee deep into Scarlets trim tummy, forcing the girl to fold over with a heavy moan.
With her opponent limp limbed, she exchanged her grip for the diminutive Brits firm thighs, hoisting her up to sitting on the top turnbuckles with concerning ease. She followed quickly after, Iron’s climbing one rope after another until she was appropriately positioned to lift Scarlet even higher, hoisting her up to standing. Satisfied with how precarious their position was, she relished in the dismay of the FAWNatics as she thrust one of her powerful arms between the open hips of her adversary, and circled her slender shoulders with the other.
With a heave and shout, she suddenly flipped Scarlet’s forcibly submissive frame up and over through the air, hurling herself from the turnbuckles at the same time, instigating a hellacious drop back down towards the canvas by way of an Avalanche Scoop Slam!!
AVALANCHE SCOOP SLAM: @1:04
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SObNk3nM73A
The ring rattled as Scarlet was sent crashing into the deck, the Rebel Princess sputtering as she popped back up to sitting, her head bobbing this way and then before she collapsed into a heap. She stayed there with no signs of moving, her right leg spasming as though she were being prodded.
Iron’s, by comparison, was looking far better following their landing, up on her knees again in a flash and eyeing the wreckage of her opponent. She thought the matter over as she eyed her fellow Brit, drumming her fist against the canvas before coming to a decision. She snorted, shaking her head before she dropped and then rolled outside of the ring, the concern of the watching audience escalating by the moment.
With considerable aggression, she shoved a commentator from out of her chair before taking the steel furniture for herself, snapping it shut with an ominous clang!!
“Oh no you don’t!” the Official warned even before Iron’s could get back into the ring, “I will DQ you, Irma, you know I will!”
“Like I give a single, solitary f*ck!” Iron’s dismissed with a scarcely repressed snap, diving back into the ring and finding her feet in a flash. “I want the real Sinclair, and this is how I get the Bytch!!”
She zeroed in on the downed Scarlet and raised the steel chair up high, fully prepared to put the girl on the shelf for good…
…before the loud speakers BURST into life and the FAWNatics erupted in relief, Iron’s snapping her attention to the ramp in a moment of distraction.
TROUBLEMAKER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYZTScW7Qqc
Irma surged to the ropes, weapon of choice gripped tightly in hand as the entirety of her physique thrummed with scarcely repressed aggression, ready to explode into an avalanche of violence the moment the People’s Princess dared to show her face.
Only it didn’t happen and, as Iron’s grimaced in anticipation, she wasn’t the only one in the arena who had been slow on the uptake. Caught up in the moment, even the crowd had failed to realise that the music blaring over the sound speakers didn’t belong to Samantha Sinclair…
…it belonged to the sibling who was already in the ring!!
So distracted was she by who may or may not be coming to the rescue, Irma failed to notice the rapid change in the tenor of the FAWNatics, enthusiasm rippling across the crowd watching as a weary yet game Scarlet, having been given time to regain her equilibrium, slid up against her blindside and, with swift movements, swept her arms up beneath Irma’s shoulders and lock the Weaponised Wolverine in a surprisingly firm Full Nelson.
Iron’s had time to spit out a curse as she was forced to drop her steel chair, the weapon clanging to the deck just moments before the diminutive brunette who had ensnared her threw them both forwards, DRIVING the Manchester Malcontent face first into the furniture with an audible CLANG!!
FULL NELSON FACEBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBS7DOD8-oI
With her face inadvertently meeting steel, Iron’s both bucked and spasmed into a sweaty heap, Scarlet shaking her own head before being forced to huff with exertion as she rolled the stouter young woman over. The youngest of the Sinclair’s flopped over her opponent and, with the Official deciding that the collision with the foreign object had been Irma’s own damn fault, dropped to the canvas to begin his count.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
With a visible relief, Scarlet rolled away from the pinfall, secure in her victory with a smirk plastered across her youthful features, the Rebel Princess evidently pleased with herself no end. She did, however, scrunch up her button nose every so slightly as a thought occurred to her, the diminutive Brit furrowing her brow before forcing herself to get up.
“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” she asked the Official sweetly enough and, before he could think better of it, he produced one for her to use.
“Cheers,” she thanked him with a renewed smirk, “you’re a gem.”
Dropping back down to one knee, she straddled her opponent for the evening and stuck out the tip of her tongue in concentration, tilting her head as she drew a nice, big, phallic shaped symbol on Iron’s immobile forehead.
“Something to remember me by,” Scarlet tapped Irma on the cheek once she was finished, pushing herself back up to standing before returning the pen that she had borrowed.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” the Official questioned, now genuinely concerned for the Brits continued well-being.
“Oh, absolutely,” Scarlet nodded, her hands set on her hips, “I live in no-one’s shadow, not even Samantha’s. So, this is just a little reminder,” she smirked, plenty pleased with herself, “the next time Iron’s comes at me, it’ll be plenty personal.”
CAROL COURAGE Vs. SUMMER HOPKINS
CAROL COURAGE
SUMMER HOPKINS
Given that Summer Hopkins had spent much of her time in Developmental being picked up, dusted off and pointed in the right direction by her infinitely patient tutor, Carol Courage, she could freely confess to feeling more than a little bad about trying really hard to drop the beloved Veteran repeatedly on her face.
Needs must, however, and try as she might, the rookie just couldn’t keep her former instructor down on the canvas for the full three count. The previous four attempts had been met with a discernible lack of success, so she would just have to try again.
She slipped in behind the brunette, whilst the Paladin of Power was momentarily dazed and, hooking both of her arms in a sleek looking chickenwing, she inhaled a deep breadth before hupping her briefly skywards. With the FAWNatics in high spirits during the hotly contested match, Summer suddenly dropped herself down to sitting, swinging her cargo forwards at the same time to forcibly PLANT!! her into the canvas both face and chest first!!
DOUBLE CHICKENWING FACEBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcC3Vpc9otQ
The ring rattled from the impact, and Baby Hopkins made the smallest of winces as that seed of guilt continued to spread roots inside of her bosom, finding herself feeling that she would have been much happier for the likes of Isabelle Kane to have been on the wrong end of that impact. Instead, it was one of her mentors, and while Summer bounced harmlessly on her toosh, Courage recoiled with a breathy groan, her strong shoulders twitching as her brain attempted to process the damage.
Summer forcibly buried her feelings of trepidation as her heart skipped a painfully nervous beat, the Supergirl of Sheffield grasping the brunette by her stems and rolling the All-American Heroine over onto her back. Hopkins claimed those same legs for her own as she rolled the blue clad warrior up into a tight ball.
ONE!
TWO!!
Carol kicked out with a full second to spare, and the blonde was left wondering what it would take to bring her down for good.
“SUMMER!!” Jaime London called out from ringside, the red headed Upstart on hand tonight to lend morale support to her Tag Team partner. The Sensational Spin-Off slapped the canvas to ensure that she was noticed and, as Baby Hopkins looked in her best friends’ direction for guidance, London 2.0 slapped the turnbuckles as though that was all of the advice that needed to be given.
JAIME LONDON
The FAWNatics, it seemed, were well versed in such sign language and (with the exception of the Courage Cavalry in attendance), they yelled out their own support for the idea, and Summer nodded in understanding.
As Carol was beginning to stir and find her feet, Hopkins was on the move, darting towards the corner and, at the last moment, rapidly scaled the turnbuckles as though she were some manner of spider monkey. She didn’t pause, she didn’t hesitate, leaping the moment she reached the apex of her ascent, flipping backwards into a beautiful Moonsault!!
Which she would have been able to appreciate later on replay had Courage not instead caught her clean out of the air!!
Summer panicked, suddenly finding herself being suspended upside down in the middle of the wring, tummies pressed up against bosoms, and her long legs pointed upwards towards the rafters. The Paladin of Power pivoted the Supergirl of Sheffield about, preparing to Piledriver her into next week in the middle of the ring.
Desperation leant her adrenaline and, just as Courage was about to solidify her grip, Hopkins braced her palms against the veteran’s thighs and suddenly pushed herself upwards. The unexpected movement shoved her into a swing that managed to break her former tutors grip before it could be fully secured, rolling herself up into cradle position over Carol’s strong shoulder. Finding herself in a new (equally precarious) position, the Athletic Academic immediately braced herself before forcibly rolling herself forwards with just enough added UMPFH!! to throw herself into a jaw dropping, forward flip, one that took her clean to safety and landing on her feet.
The FAWNatics lost their collective sh*t at the audacious display, but Baby Hopkins wasn’t done yet, flying on instinct now as she threw herself backwards into a roll that popped her up into a handstand. Momentum alone proved to be all that she needed to vault her way back up onto her opponents’ shoulder, and while that may seem like the last place that she wanted to settle her tummy, Summer just kept on spinning.
Faster than anyone could comfortably track, the Supergirl of Sheffield spun herself about on her perch, exchanging one of her foes shoulders for the other and soon finding herself pointing the other way. She secured Carol in a Front Headlock and, with every ounce of power, momentum and gravity that she could summon, she THREW herself backwards into a blistering DDT!!
PILEDRIVER ESCAPE/DDT: @0:59
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsipdPIYW8g&t=464s
The FAWNatics erupted as Carol’s head was SPIKED!! into the canvas, the veteran spasming with a sharp jolt as she thudded down onto the mat. She popped right back up to sitting, but the glazed expression of her features betrayed that no-one was present as she flopped over onto her side.
Summer scrambled to cover her former tutor and, snagging both of the woman’s legs for the pinfall, she hoped that was enough to secure victory.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
With visible relief, Baby Hopkins exhaled deeply at the pronouncement, Jaime London punching the air outside the squared circle before ensuring the audience were being appropriately vocal.
Summer felt positively giddy, beside herself even as the Official helped her up and the Ring Announcer called out her name, the young blonde securing a singles victory for the first time since emerging on the main roster. She grinned sheepishly as her hand was held aloft, doing her best to strike a pose as Susan Style had taught her (and ensuring that her booty shorts, with the expression ‘You Wish!!’ were pointed towards at least one camera), and she almost forgot where she was given how relieved she was feeling.
A pained groan from nearby reminded her of there here and now, and the Supergirl of Sheffield felt immediately fretful as her former tutor dragged herself slowly off the mat. That seed of guilt returned a hundred-fold, and she felt a powerful need to apologise.
Not unkindly, Carol stopped her before she could, “Don’t.”
Summer blinked, “Don’t what?”
“Apologise,” Courage smiled wryly, the All-American Heroine pushing herself up onto her feet. “You really need to stop doing that.”
“But,”
“But nothing,” Carol interrupted again and, watching on, the FAWNatics waited with baited breath.
Courage took Summers hand and, standing beside her, the veteran held the rookies high in victory, and those in attendance renewed their cheers with gusto.
“All’s fair,” Carol reminded the protegee of her best friend, “remember that the next time we cross paths.”
ALEXIS ATLANTIC Vs. CARLA CRASH
ALEXIS ATLANTIC
CARLA CRASH
When Carla Crash had hupped Alexis Atlantic up to sitting on her shoulders for a Stalling Powerbomb, she hadn’t expected those extra few seconds of exhibition to be rewarded with a swift CRACK!! delivered against her forehead! That was what she was to receive however, three times in quick succession as the labouring blonde within her grasp grabbed the taller competitor by her half shaven scalp and yanked her head backwards, delivering a swift salvo of blistering punches as soon as she had spotted the opening.
Carla’s posture, previously so secured, began to wobble with a tremble running down her spine and, before the third and final blow had even been struck, her grasp of her smaller opponents’ thighs had already been released, the FAWNatics willing her to fail with their chanting.
Their support for the Little Lioness, by comparison, was overwhelming positive, the Pocket Warrior scrapping her way free from her impending predicament with the tenacity installed in her by a tour of duty in the marine core. With her stems no longer ensnared, she threw herself backwards from her involuntary perch and rolled herself to freedom with a neat little backflip.
While she didn’t exactly stick the landing with an abundance of grace, it was flashy enough to get the FAWNatics all riled up anew as the shell-shocked Crash stumbled backwards, the Hollywood Hooligan clutching at her bruised forehead with a vocal hiss. Distance, however, was the last thing the dark haired street fighter should have wanted to create, not with Alexis creaking her own neck before she charged forwards with a shout, leaping at the last moment to launch herself forwards with a gut busting SPEAR!!
SPEAR
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHV2pLRn4Pk
Folding like a matchbook, Carla’s physique crumpled about the smaller woman’s penetrating shoulder, air exploding from her body with a puffing of her cheeks before both young women hit the deck. Crash wretched with a great, hacking coughs as she tried to curl into a protective ball while Alexis powered up onto her knees and looked all the world as though she was just getting started.
“Let me guess,” Alexis questioned rhetorically, securing her opponent by the scruff of her neck before dragging her up to the barest semblance of vertical, Crash struggling to just keep her lungs inside of her body. “This whole wrestling thing not the cake walk you were expecting? Been there, your turn.”
With a sharp pivot and firm toss, the All-American Ass Kicker bum rushed the former stuntwoman towards the nearest corner. Carla tumbled until she slammed back first against the waiting turnbuckles, sat on the canvas where she had been forcibly deposited with a pained grimace etched across her features, one arm still folded across her previously impaled midriff.
Crash summoned a snarl, pushing her next words out from between her teeth.
“Laugh it up, runt,” she warned, preparing to power through the pain to regain her footing, “you won’t be so cocky when I…”
Her threat was undercut by the fact that Alexis wasn’t listening, the Pocket Warrior too busy whipping her hands up onto the air as she toured the ring, getting the FAWNatics braying for blood before she turned about and charged! Carla’s eyes had time to open wide, but she didn’t have time to complete her sentence before Atlantic leapt, grasped the top ropes of leverage and swung herself down like a pendulum, her fantastically firm backside leading the way as she SLAMMED her buttocks (with her full weight behind them) directly down onto her opponents exposed bosom!
ASSALANCHE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jek8naRpbzw
Crash HEAVED with a pained exhale of air as she was forcibly compressed between a rapidly moving blonde and the turnbuckles to her back, recoiling from the corner the moment Alexis popped away from the impact. Struggling to inhale a fresh breath, she stumbled up onto her feet, swaying this way and that as her body trembled from head to toe. She made it about two thirds across the canvas before she was able to secure some manner of firm footing but, in the grand scheme of things, she should have probably have just fallen over.
Alexis, however, was fully prepared to exploit just such a stubborn streak seemingly born and bred into wrestling types the world over and braced herself to attack. She folded her posture forwards, preparing to pounce and, just as the opening was about to present itself, she punched both of her fists up into the air in quick succession, the FAWNatics not missing a beat as they took their cue from the two words stencilled across the back of her shirt.
“F*CK!! YEAH!!”
She charged, Carla turning herself about on cue and Atlantic leapt, securing her taller opponent in a wickedly firm headlock during mid-flight. With gravity as her ally, Alexis whipped both of their bodies around before she plummeted back down to earth, bringing her foes noggin with her to PLANT!! the crown of her skull into the mat by way of a Tornado DDT!!
INTO THE BREACH!!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lat__jA0_LM
The reaction of the crowd exploded as Crash was SPIKED into the canvas, her impressive physique jolting up into a peculiar looking handstand, before she flopped into a boneless heap. Alexis collected one of the women’s rapidly descending legs just before it could hit the deck, and folded Carla up into a firm pin.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
The Official called for the bell and Alexis released her opponent, repressing a grimace of her own as she rolled up onto up her feet. The man in black and white went to hold her hand up in victory, but the All-American Ass Kicker was already out of reach, the pocket blonde sheeted in a layer of sweat, yet triumphant all the same, climbing the closest set of turnbuckles and punching her fists up into the air. It didn’t take much for the FAWNatics to join in, the modest arena soon resounding with the chant of her personal motto.
“F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!! F*CK!! YEAH!!”