Post by hawkeye on Apr 9, 2019 0:08:08 GMT
Noting the next pair of names in his discreet little stack of index cards, the Announcer steeled his nerves before raising the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit! Introducing first, representing the Church of Eternal Midnight, hailing from Raven’s Fair, Virginia, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and nineteen pounds, she is the Straight-Edge Siren, the Prophet of Pain, the Beacon of Dark in this sad, lonely light… MIRANDA WAINRIGHT!”
Darkness fell upon the FAWN Arena even as the heathens raised their voice in a belligerent chorus. From the gloom an angry, judgmental voice promised, ‘And we will see how godless a nation we have become.’ From that bitter fruit blossomed Green Day’s ‘East Jesus Nowhere’, a simple riff that was repeated four times. Following every cycle a spotlight lit up to reveal a scarecrow-ish effigy mounted to a tall wooden stave that had grown up seemingly in an instant. The effigies, done up in a style best described as ‘Early American Psychopath’, were simple but easily recognizable. First came Becky Clayton, then Lenore Lemarchand and Susannah Burlingame. When the light illuminated a eerily accurate Emily-figure on the last stake the drums started to pound and a fifth spotlight revealed the Deacon of Despair.
MIRANDA WAINRIGHT:
For the first panel in this triptych of terror, Miranda wore the pitch black version of her usual vinyl one-piece. Scooped low in the back and high over the hips, it was accompanied by clunky knee-high gray boots and black elbow-length mesh gloves. As for her hair, it was still a lustrous, gleaming gold, its radiance seemingly in defiance of all the vile filth surrounding her. Immune to the ranting and raving of that astounding number of heathens, Miranda started down the aisle and kept her eyes on the squared circle until she reached the foot of the steel steps. Taking them slowly, she reached the apron, dipped her head and carefully removed her hat, which she set atop the ring post.
Once in the ring, she turned to the stage and extended both arms out at shoulder level in a rough ‘T’. A heartbeat later she brought her palms together in emphatic prayer and that was enough to make the quartet of effigies burst into flame. Smiling into the dancing fire, Wainright held her position until they were reduced to cinder and ash. Then she backed into a corner on the opposite side of the ring and allowed Nick Castle to inspect her boots and pads. The Senior Official found nothing, just as Miranda knew he would.
“Don’t look so surprised, arbiter. The false queen and I have made a deal and I intend to honor it if only to see the expression on her face when she realizes my congregation is the only true power in FAWN.”
Castle had nothing to say to that, so he moved to the center of the squared circle while Miranda turned her attention to the curtain and the nauseating idol that lurked just behind.
Only a few seconds passed before the FAWN’tron went heavy with static fuzz and the light linked out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of the architect of FAWN’s grand design. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth to survey her game board.
Cool and composed as a marble bust, Emily took her rightful place at center stage then raised a hand and tapped her temple. Taking that as his cue, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Amazing Academic and the Black Queen, I give to you… EMILY WEST!”
EMILY WEST:
For her first official match in the FAWN Arena in more than four years, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. This regal style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.
Finally ready to address a problem she should‘ve quashed long ago, Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of her board, the Black Queen paused to mull just what sort of theological knots she could tie in the malevolent blonde. Satisfied with the answers that presented themselves, she waited for the lights to return to normalcy and then slipped through the ropes. Claiming the nearest corner, she trained her attention on the nearest camera then tapped her temple once, twice, three times.
I’m. So. Smart.
Once one of the most reviled proclamations in FAWN, the crowd replied with an enthusiastic roar. West didn’t actually smile, though she did offer those assembled a slight nod before hopping back to the canvas with a brisk little ‘thump’. Though she only had eyes for Miranda the former World Champion made sure to offer Nick Castle her elbows and knees when he approached for final inspections. Once that was done she settled in against the buckles to await the bell. Catching Wainright’s eye from across the canvas, she mouthed, ‘Game on, sister.’
Considering the women on opposite sides of the squared circle often waged their wars through any number of allies, catspaws, hired guns and other intermediaries, the FAWNatics expected a deliberate, if not downright cautious start to tonight’s proceedings. So they were understandably surprised when Wainright and West came forward at the sound of the bell. It wasn’t quite the headlong rush of a Burlingame-Faulk encounter to be sure, but no one in their right mind would’ve thought to call it cautious.
Left hand raised high, Emily kept her right extended straight ahead a little below chest level, just in case Wainright decided on a direct attack. As for Miranda, she also led with one extended hand (albeit her left) while the other twitched no higher than knee-level. Blonde and brunette met at center ring for a brief bit of hand-fighting that transformed into a Knucklelock for a span of heartbeats before neither decided it was to her liking and broke away without comment. Circling now, they swatted at the other’s leading hand a few times before settling into a far sturdier example of the Knucklelock.
This link stopped their rotating, though it didn’t immediately transition to a Test of Strength because West had to bring her hand down while Wainright brought hers-- the Septa of Sorrow slashed up n’ across, bringing her right forearm down onto Emily’s wrist to break the Knucklelock as neat as you please. Spinning away as soon as they were un-tethered, Miranda smiled ever so slightly as she shook out her left hand and resumed the earlier circling.
The Amazing Academic joined her without comment, West once again leading with her left-- Miranda grabbed for her but Emily caught that wrist in a tight grip and deftly pivoted around behind the blonde to force that arm up between her shoulders at a rather awkward angle. There were any of number of maneuvers she could’ve initiated from this position, as Wainright well knew. Thus it was quite telling when West merely mussed the zealot’s hair before relinquishing with no other hostilities.
A soft murmur passed through those assembled, the fans coming to understand that these two wrestlers simply did not like, let alone respect, one another. Taking a moment to smooth her hair before rounding on the Black Queen, Miranda offered Emily a soft, almost shy smile. “This contest has been a long time coming, sister.” she murmured. “And now that the night is finally upon us I can say with all certainty--” Wainright’s left hand flicked out like a snake in a garden, the Prophet of Pain swiveling Emily’s head to one side with a scintillating Bytch Slap, “--that you are in fact the single sorriest excuse for a leader that I have ever laid my eyes up--”
West interrupted with a heavy Elbow Smash that THWAPPED Miranda’s mouth! Turned around by the blow, she made it two good steps before Emily stepped in behind and RAKED her fingers down the other woman’s back! Miranda snarled, whipped around and might’ve swung for the fences if the Sensual Scholar hadn’t stepped out of range.
“No civility at all tonight, Miranda?” Emily asked. “I was almost certain you’d start by damning with faint praise, but since we’ve skipped the pleasantries I must say that it is DEEPLY painful to see a woman as intelligent and charismatic as yourself utterly buried under the nihilistic tripe you’ve passed off as some sort of dark salvatNNNGGGHHH!”
Wainright CRAAACKED West ‘crost the chest with a Knife-Edge Chop, then followed with two more when the blaspheming heathen wasn’t smart enough to raise a defense. Snatching a huge handful of hair just so she could wrench the brunette’s head at an awkward angle, Miranda mashed Em’s cheeks between thumb and forefinger in a galling fish-face and snarled, “Who are YOU to criticize ME, sister?” Wainright hissed. “Believe my words or not, at least I’ve BEEN here to deliver them night in and night out lo these last four years. And where were you until last summer, false queen? Where were you when your beloved pawns needed you the--”
Emily tore the encroaching grip away, then raised a welt on the blonde’s pale cheek with a backhand that was really more of a Back Fist. Rubbing at her face while Miranda did the same, Emily noted, “It would seem the core of our disagreements stem from a difference in leadership philosophies. I created the Court to raise the next generation of FAWN leadership. You raised a congregation just so you’d have a choir to parrot back that half baked narcissism you call--”
The Messiah of Misery came on like a whirlwind, Wainright lashing out with a left-handed Palm Strike aimed at the point of Emily’s chi-NO! Emily dipped beneath it, got around behind and trapped her opponent’s left arm overhead in a Half Nelson. In the same instant she reached over with her right hand, caught Wainright’s thrashing wrist and-- Miranda snatched a huge handful of hair and pulled down, bouncing West’s jaw against her right shoulder! That stalled the Cobra Clutch long enough for the zealot to go down on one knee and sling Emily over her shoulder with a makeshift Snapmare. Em landed on her right shoulder and hip, rolled through and bounced to vertical-- Wainright caught her with the second attempt, a straight Palm Strike that saw the heel of her left hand just CRAAACK off the side of Emily’s face!
THE LEFT HAND OF RIGHTEOUSNESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=icCnruwjVjg
Emily’s head snapped back and the rest of her soon followed, the former World Champion stepping in half a dozen fencepost holes en route to a shambling stop in the nearest turnbuckles. Oh so eager to let some illuminating darkness into that heathen’s blasphemous skull, Miranda charged, hopped to the second rope on one foot and THWHO NKED her other knee between the brunette’s eyes! West jolted in place but the proximity of the turnbuckles meant she had nowhere to go, at least not until Wainright twisted / dropped into a snug Side Headlock and loped back the way she’d come with the Black Queen firmly in tow. They’d just crossed mid-ring when Miranda left her feet in a high, floaty arc that took her another few feet before gravity brought her down with a soft ‘thump’ all but obliterated by the THWHUNK of Emily’s forehead hitting the deck! West bounced hard, got a hand against the mat and clambered to her feet, though she did so facing away from the Septa of Sorrow.
CORNER HIGH KNEE & RUNNING BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ud9IvUyQcE
Quick to capitalize on this lapse, Miranda ran the ropes on Emily’s six and took to the skies just as the discombobulated brainiac spun around to find her. Landing easily on the second strand, Wainright dipped into a deep crouch and launched herself backward, the usually ground-bound True Believer getting some serious air on the Springboard Moonsault that caught Em high on the chest and right shoulder. Knocked flat beneath the freefalling fanatic, West lost her breath on impact and could only suck wind when Miranda swung around into a Crossbody with the far leg hooked for…
SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tnt-5DkFbms
ONE…
TWO…
Emily bucked clear simultaneous with ‘TWO!’ as Wainright had expected she would. “You made a grave mistake accepting my challenge, sister.” Miranda murmured as she hauled the brunette to a seat. “The illusion of your invulnerability only remains intact as long as you stay hidden behind Lenore, Rebecca and Susan. But the instant you step forward to fight on your own?” The Prophet of Pain secured that West’s left arm in a Half Nelson, seized that wrist in her right hand and tugged it tight across the Black Queen’s windpipe. “That’s when the whole of FAWN realized the empress had no clothes.” With that she pulled up and yanked back, Wainright hauling the heathen to her feet to better show West just what torment awaited her in the depths of the Cobra Clutch.
COBRA CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdZrXooO7lM
Understandably preoccupied by the traitorous forearm snugged against her windpipe, Emily took shallow breaths and managed to set her feet after only a few seconds and from there she slammed her right elbow into the blonde’s midsection once, twice, three-- Wainright twisted to one side to avoid the blow, then made West pay for her insolence with half a dozen Kneelifts THUMPED directly into the small of her opponent’s back. The Insidious Intellectual groaned and tried to pivot away from the retaliation, but that only put her off balance and made it that much easier for Miranda to set her flailing with a sharp twist of her hips.
Wrenching the hold tighter than ever, the Septa of Sorrow leaned in close enough to plant a taunting kiss on Em’s left temple. “All your machinations have come to naught, sister.” Miranda murmured. “You may be a queen on every other board, but presented before the altar of Eternal Midnight you quaver and quail like any other heathERRRRHHHH!”
Emily filled her free hand with the blonde’s long locks and pulled until she could almost feel Wainright’s eyes watering. “You forget your place, Miranda. This Church you’ve built sits on the board just like every other woman in FAWN. And it will continue to do so only as long as I see--”
Nick was closing in to tend to the hair-pull, however Miranda had neither the time or inclination to wait for the arbiter’s brand of justice so she went up on tiptoe and dropped to one knee, all the better to THWHUMP the brunette’s shoulders against the stern expanse of her thigh. West jolted hard and landed on her rump, the former World Champion’s position effectively unchanged since Wainright first secured the Cobra Clutch.
COBRA CLUTCH BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdRIcsxLmVY
“Beg your pardon sister, but it is you who are mistaken.” the Prophet of Pain corrected her heathen adversary. “All your planning and manipulation falls apart when confronted with the strength of my… OUR convictions.” Miranda dragged Emily to her feet, the Clutch still doggedly in place. “And it is those convictions that will see your own beloved sisters bend the knee to me once I’ve exposed you for the trumpery idol you’ve always NGH! NGH! EERRRRHHHHH!”
Emily gouged the dagger-tip of her elbow into Wainright’s right thigh, then stamped on that foot and twisted her heel like she meant to pulp the Churchgoer’s toes! “Yuuuuhhhh… you do your best work behind a pulpit, Miranda.” the brunette huffed. “Between these ropes I’ll expose you as nothing more than the world’s most nihilistic televangeHUUURRRK!”
Miranda took a giant step backward and torqued her hips hard enough to jerk Emily off her feet. It would’ve been a resounding slam if Wainright had let go, but she did not, in fact she didn’t even stop moving! Spinning in place as fast as she could, the Messiah of Misery swung her heathenish burden through three full rotations before she abruptly released her hooks to send Emily sprawling to the deck with an ungainly THUD!
SWINGING COBRA CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lIAsRcXssI
West’s back arched on impact, though she managed to roll onto her stomach to prevent Wainright from attempting an easy pin. This stratagem did exactly what it was supposed to do, unfortunately it did so in a Monkey’s Paw sort of way because Miranda skipped over her downed opposition en route to a nimble landing on the second strand. Launching herself into the void a heartbeat after she touched down, the Septa of Sorrow floated through another gorgeous Moonsault, one that brought her THWHAMMING down atop the defenseless expanse of her foe’s back! Emily moaned in distress, another pitiful measure that didn’t stop the blonde from shoveling her over and going for the cover! Nick swooped in quick, the Senior Official tolling off…
SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mohNt58vU6Y
ONE…
TWO…
Emily kicked out just after ‘TWO!’ and while the effort wasn’t lacking in strength, Miranda did not miss the grimace that played over the brunette’s face as she did so. “You should have stayed gone, sister.” Wainright chided once she’d hauled the both of ‘em to boot-leather. “The rest of the Black Court had learned to thrive in your absence, more importantly, they’d learned to coexist with my sisters and I. It was your return that brought about this conflict. Your return that provoked Adelaide to new heights of violence. Your return that will bring about the ultimate destruction of your beloved CourtOOOFFFHH!”
West stormed in with a Kneelift to the gut that knocked Wainright clear out of her sermon. Catching hold of the blonde’s wrist to make sure she couldn’t create any separation, Emily dropped her hips and slung the zealot into the ropes with an Irish NOPE! Miranda dug in her heels, clamped down on Em’s wrist and tugged her into a Kneelift so stiff it doubled the former World Champion up on the spot. Snorting as West tried to hold her roiling guts in place, Wainright spun around and ran the ropes to her foe’s left. Already honed in on that vaunted rack, Miranda pistoned her right knee-- the Black Queen swatted it down and spun to one side, effectively putting her behind the startled blonde. Wainright rounded on her in a heartbeat, the Messiah of Misery leading with another of those scintillating Palm Stri-- Emily intercepted Miranda’s strike at the elbow, the brunette hooking her left arm around the exposed limb to spin under Wainright and turn her around in the same motion. A hand shoved against the back of her head forced Miranda to bend over, which in turn allowed West to butterfly her arms with a snug Double Underhook. Hands locked, the Amazing Academic muscled Miranda up for a Suplex, only to halve her grip at the apex. Descending alongside the zealot with Wainright’s left wrist in her possession, West Scissored her thighs around Miranda’s bicep on impact and CRANKED backward, the curvaceous brunette thrusting her hips to the rafters in an effort to hyperextend her opponent’s elbow.
DOUBLE MAJOR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-DWD6h6SxI
“AAAAAAARRRRRRRRHHHHH! LET ME GO, HEATHEN!” Miranda twisted like a fox caught in a snare, the blonde swinging this way and that as she tried to free her arm from the Amazing Academic’s clutches.
“Submit and I’ll consider it.” Em replied simply. Drawing her right knee close in an effort to expedite the decision making process, she placed that heel against the side of Miranda’s face and scuffed it no less than half a dozen times! Wainright snarled in distress, grabbed hold of West’s boot and ended up stretched out that much flatter when Emily redoubled her efforts on the Cross Armbreaker.
“What do you say, Miranda?” Nick asked after another five seconds. “Need me to call for the bell?”
Wainright waggled a finger ‘no, no, no!’ rather than waste precious oxygen on such a foolish endeavor. Down to one good arm thanks to the heathen’s hellish predicament, Miranda fumbled for Emily’s ankles with her free hand and secured a decent grip after a short bout of fumbling. Pushing up on those encroaching stems with every ounce of strength she could muster, the Prophet of Pain slowly but surely rolled onto her left hip and ‘smecked’ her hands together in a righteous Knucklelock to alleviate the worst of the pain.
Beneath the blonde, Emily was careful to keep a shoulder off the mat at all times just in case Wainright tried to counter into a cradle. Such a thought did in fact cross Miranda’s mind, but the presence of the corner only a few feet away turned her attention to a more certain escape hatch. Knees set as best she could, the zealot clambered and crawled her way toward the turnbuckles until she was close enough to drape a leg over the bottom strand. “Break the hold, sisteerrrrrrrrrhhh!”
Emily poured on the pressure, forcing Wainright to grit her teeth while Castle bustled over to count, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Emily let loose and rolled to one knee, leaving Miranda to sidle into the rubber-coated steel, one cheek resting heavily on the middle strand. Quick to note Nick’s proximity to the action, Emily raised both hands to shoulder level and kept them there as she returned to full verticality. A few steps back to the center of the squared circle seemed to ease the official’s mind, as he cleared away from both of his charges without a word to either. West noted this without taking her eyes off Wainright, in fact the veteran battler was motionless save for the quick ‘flick’ of her index fingers as she snapped distended bottoms snug across her glutes. The sound was quiet, yet it must’ve reached the True Believer because she groaned and grabbed hold of the middle rope directly to the right of her-- Emily darted in, reared back and delivered a stinging kick to the underside of the strand on Miranda’s left!
WHIPLASH KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JY8tGCsINKE
The sudden jolt drove the roughly-padded steel ring up into Wainright’s cheek, the startled blonde cringing in pain as she dripped out of the buckles to spread out on the canvas at Emily’s feet. “It’s not my place to cast doubt on anyone’s faith, Miranda, even yours.” The Black Queen noted in the midst of circling her prey. “Certainly the devotion of your followers cannot be questioned, especially Adelaide. But all of those women have endured personal trials since entering into your service whereas you yourself have seen content to remain safe well behind their lines.” Emily bent down, filled her hands with Wainright’s hair and scraped her off the mat. Snuggling in close so her right shoulder was wedged into the blonde’s right armpit, West cupped the nape of Miranda’s neck with her right hand and continued, “Therefore I will be your test, Miranda. Your crucible, if you NGH!”
The Prophet of Pain balled her left hand into a fist and slammed it into the Courtier’s exposed flank several times before transitioning to a remarkably heathenish claw that she affixed to Emily’s right breast. Giggling even as her fingers went to work on the former World Champion’s curves, Wainright regained control of herself and huffed, “I apologize sister, the absurdity of that assertion caught me off guard. You cannot TRULY believe that you stand as a worthy test of my faith, do you? If so, I fear your delusions are beyond even my OOFFH! OOFFH! OOOOFFFFHHHH!”
Emily punished her blonde’s midsection with a trio of quick, stiff Kneelifts, the last of which doubled Wainright over with a breathy grunt. Catching Miranda’s head in a Three Quarters Facelock before she turned around, the Amazing Academic led her righteous opposition over to the edge of the ring, where she promptly flipped her through a Snapmare that saw Miranda’s hip strike the bottom strand while the pit of her knee ‘TWANGED’ off the second.
KNEES TO GUT & SNAPMARE TO ROPES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFnCTWheC4A
An awkward, unpleasant landing to be sure, one that left Wainright stretched out on her stomach gasping for air. “Now is not the time for bravado, Miranda.” Emily kicked one of her foe’s questing hands away from the ropes, then positioned herself between the blonde and sanctuary. “The fate of our respective efforts hang in the outcome of this little contest and I for one do not intend to drop a single match.”
Wainright groaned, planted her feet and rose to all fours. “Your intentions do not interest me in the slightest, sister. Your lamentations however, those excite me a great deaEEEERRRRRGGGGHHH!”
Emily dropped to her knees, secured the zealot in a Front Facelock, then reached under Miranda’s left arm (and thus across her chest) to complete the Chancery. Spread out so her chest was pressed to Miranda’s shoulders and her cheek was somewhere near the center of her back, West yoked up on the hold and muttered, “As far as you’re concerned, I only lament that I allowed you and your madness to thrive unchecked for so many--”
Miranda reached for Em’s crotch with her left hand, forcing the brunette to stretch out full length to avoid those fanatical talons. This was merely a partial success. She avoided the Crotch Claw true enough, but the Septa of Sorrow had no qualms digging into her belly instead. Not only that, Wainright made her attacker’s position even more uncomfortable by raking her nails across West’s left thigh over and over and over again.
“Allowed? YOU ALLOWED ME?” Miranda scrambled to her knees despite the Insidious Intellectual’s best efforts. “Does your arrogance know no bounds, you heathen cow?” If anything it was I who should be remonstrated for letting your silly little junta to survive long enough for you to achieve even the faintest air of legitimacNGH! NGH! NGH!”
Hunched over Miranda’s back on both knees, Emily shifted her weight to the left so she could draw her right leg all the way back and then THUNK a few quick Kneelifts into the top of Wainright’s noggin. That dulled the efficacy of the blonde’s claws quite a great deal, so Emily clambered to boot-leather with Miranda firmly in the grip of the Chancery. Without warning she dropped into a deep crouch, halved her grip (the Front Facelock was still quite snug, but her right hand was free) and spun beneath the blonde to bring Miranda down on the back of her head and shoulders with a snappy Swinging Neckbreaker!
GROUNDED SWINGING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuYhgFvKJPM
Wainright hit hard and tumbled onto her stomach, the zealot once again in prime position to endure West’s chancery. But rather than duplicate her earlier strategy Emily swung into position on Miranda’s left side and deftly Scissored that bicep between her thighs. In the same breath she stretched out atop Wainright’s shoulders, threaded her right arm beneath Miranda’s exposed bicep and cranked up to complete the Half Nelson. The Deacon of Despair must’ve sensed Emily’s intentions because her eyes went wide and she reaaaaaaaached for the ropes, unfortunately the Black Queen plucked that wrist from the air and drew it tight beneath the blonde’s chin. Trap secure, Emily sat up and reefed back so that the fusion of Cobra Clutch and Crossface put intense pressure on Wainright’s neck and back.
COBRA CLUTCH CROSSFACE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qXpn3sq_ms
“Snake handling loses some of the charm when their fangs are brushing your own neck, wouldn’t you agree, Miranda?” Emily asked. Wainright offered no comment on the subject, she was too busy trying to free her left arm from the clamp of heathen thighs. Emily didn’t seem to mind the silence, indeed she was smiling quite prettily as the True Believer suffered under the yoke of her own traitorous arm.
Far less sanguine about these developments (particularly the flush creeping into Miranda’s pale features) Nick Castle crouched down beside the tangled grapplers and asked, “How are you doing, Miranda? Do I need to call for the bell?”
“Nuuuuhhh… not at all, arbiter.” she grunted. “All you need to do is silence that wagging tongUUUUUURRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
Emily stretched her legs out full length and leaaaaaaaaaaaaaned back as far as gravity would permit. While this did let Miranda wrest her arm from the brunette’s thighs, it also increased the pressure on her neck to such a degree that the zealot could do little more than plant that hand against the mat for additional leverage. “Watch her hands, Nicholas.” the Sensual Scholar advised. “Miranda’s will is strong, but her body will betray her when oxygen grows scar--”
Wainright reached back with her left arm, curled it around the brunette’s right thigh and rolled into Emily’s body to somersault out of the Cobra Clutch and into an almost Back-Press that still stacked the former World Champion on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Emily broke the hold and kicked Miranda away, thus escaping the predicament with a good half second to spare. More annoyed than flustered by the near-fall, Emily got to her feet and circled around to make sure she was on Wainright’s six when the blonde joined her a couple seconds later. A single swift kick to the pit of Miranda’s left knee dropped her to an unwilling penance and made the blonde’s noggin easy pickin’s for the Inverted Facelock that followed. “Interesting that you’d try to end the game in such a way that almost guarantees you’d lose face among your followers.” West mused once she’d used a handful of waistband to bring Wainright to her feet. “Certainly Adelaide wouldn’t be thrilled if her fearless leader resorted to mere leverage to defeat a heathen of my standieeerrrrrhhhhhh!”
Miranda reached up and across with her right hand, the True Believer snatching hold of her rival’s dark hair. “Your precious game is only part of our conflict, sister.” Wainright hissed. “What comes after will prove just as--”
The Amazing Academic kicked both feet forward and dropped to her butt to THAWHUMP the back of Miranda’s head and shoulders against the deck with a textbook Inverted DDT! Stretched out flat in the wake of the ring-rattling maneuver, Wainright burbled incoherencies when West stretched out across her chest and hooked the far leg for…
SNAP REVERSE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRcPz6d3HCs
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Prophet of Pain jolted loose with half a second to spare, much to the displeasure of those assembled. Emily didn’t share their distress, indeed she looked quite content as she helped herself to a double handful of blonde hair, all the better to peel Miranda off the canvas. Transitioning to a Front Facelock before Nick could disrupt her concentration with a warning, West slung Wainright’s near arm across her shoulders, then caught hold of her blonde’s trunks just above the left hip and tugged hard enough to show off some righteous glute with a decidedly sinful wedgie. Miranda hissed, delivered a couple hard punches to the brunette’s ribs, but it wasn’t enough to keep the Black Queen from muscling from six to noon (or perhaps midnight?) in a single emphatic lift.
Suddenly gripped by a panic she hadn’t experienced in quite some time, Wainright kicked her feet frantically, yet it wasn’t enough to free her from that dangerous position, nor did it silence the cacophony of heathens chanting, ‘ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NI-OOOOOOHHHHHH!’
Far more desperate than she’d care to admit, Miranda crooked her right hand into a spade and raaaaaaaked it across Emily’s eyes! The Courtier wailed and her grip slipped for the blonde to float through to the other side, Wainright landing awkwardly behind her adversary. Instantly reassured by the presence of canvas under her feet, Miranda laced both hands over the brunette’s chin and laid out flat on her back to THWONK Emily’s much vaunted (and in Wainright’s opinion, over-hyped) braincase against the unforgiving mat.
RIGHTEOUS REVERSAL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPIb4Jdb0PM
Emily bounced to a seat but made it to one knee almost immediately despite the fact that she had both arms crisscrossed over the back of her head. No one could argue the former World Champ’s tenacity, though some questioned the wisdom of such an abrupt return to verticality because it meant she was effectively defenseless when Miranda stepped in and pistoned a savage Back Kick deep into Em’s tummy. West ‘oooffffhed’, dropped to one knee and promptly got her head swiveled by the low Super Kick Wainright stapled to her cheek. The Septa of Sorrow was on her as soon as Emily crashed down, Miranda hooking both legs for a tawdry Back Press that pointed West’s buns at the rafters for a count of…
BACK KICK & LOW SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rgCim5qmf0
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
West got a shoulder off the canvas with a whisper between herself and defeat, the nearness of the near fall earning Castle a cold, speculative look from the blonde. “Steady yourself, arbiter.” she sighed. “You wouldn’t want a slow count to be responsible for a second injured Courtier, would you?”
“Nothing wrong with the count, Miranda.” Nick replied at once. “And if anyone in this ring needs to claim responsibility for Adelaide’s actions, it’s you.”
Wainright’s eyes narrowed to slots and she shot to her feet only regain her composure a heartbeat later. “A clever ruse, heathen. Attempting to trick me into smiting you so you can award this preening martinet a victory she didn’t earn.”
The Senior Official protested this quite vehemently, but Miranda dismissed his lies with nothing more than a flicked wrist. Attention wholly on West now, Wainright dragged the woozy brunette to her feet and settled in behind, the Messiah of Misery once again welcoming her prey into the confines of a Cobra Clutch. No wrenching or squeezing this time, however. Miranda didn’t even bother to spin her burden in the direction of the hard camera, she simply dipped into a low crouch then peeled off a high speed bridge that tore West from her moorings and THAWHUNKED the Black Queen down on the back of her head an instant before turning her inside out.
COBRA CLUTCH SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEkPQQ9OauA
The Suplex left Em sprawled out flat with Wainright just beside, but the Septa of Sorrow made no effort at a cover. Instead she laid claim to West’s wrists and got to her feet. “You’re not a queen.” she told the vulnerable brunette. “You’re just another supplicant begging for the merciful gloom of Eternal Midnight. And while I am more merciful than most, I believe your transgressions will require a great deal of groveling to properly atone.” Wainright raised her right knee to chest level so that the shadow of her foot hung threateningly over Emily’s vulnerable face. “You can start by cleaning the grime from my boot.”
“Yuuuhhh… you’re the one in need of atonement, sisNNNNGGGHHH!”
A wail from Emily was almost swallowed by a resounding groan from the FAWNatics when the Deacon of Despair STAMPED down on her face. Of course a single smiting wasn’t nearly enough to cover all of Emily’s sins against her congregation, so Miranda unleashed a veritable flood of fire and brimstone, the vindictive battler putting her sole to West’s soul with no less than nine more bone-jarring stomps!
SMITING STOMPS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzQbZZjLqSk
Still holding the brunette’s wrists after that vile mugging, Wainright set her foot across Emily’s windpipe and ground down while pulling up on those captured arms. Those spiteful Stomps had been vile, but otherwise acceptable within the confines of the rules. A literal boot on the throat was most certainly not, so Castle hurried over and barked, “Get off her neck, Miranda. I’m warning you!”
The Prophet of Pain ground her heel back and forth. “Your words hold no power over me, arbi--”
“ONE! TWO! THREE! FO--”
Wainright relinquished the choke, tossed Emily’s wrists aside and dropped into a haughty straddle of the Courtier’s chest, her tush pressing West’s rack flat against her sternum while the ref counted…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Emily bridged at the last possible moment, dumping Miranda from her perch.
“Is that all you’ve got left?” Wainright slapped her opponent’s flushed face. “The desperate twitchings of a cornered rat?”
“Suuuuuhhhh… seems adequate to hold you NNNNGGGGHHH!”
Miranda slapped her again, buried both hands in the brunette’s hair and scraped her off the mat just long enough to scoop her up on one shoulder. The Scoop Slam that followed wasn’t a match ender even at this late stage, it did however give the Messiah of Misery all the time she needed to stalk to the nearest corner and slip out onto the apron. From there she climbed to the high rent district and rose to her full height, Wainright offering a silent benediction to gathering dark while the FAWNatics tried to rouse Em from her stupor.
It worked at least in part, West slowly sat up and rolled over to all fours, though this new arrangement left her back pointed at the ascendant Churchgoer. As of yet aware of this lurking doom, the Black Queen gathered her considerable wits and clambered to her feet. An exhausted half turn swung her to face the most dangerous corner just as Miranda took flight through the void with a Missile Dropkick aimed at-- Emily slapped the ol’ holy hell outta Miranda’s incoming legs and twisted to one side as she did so, leaving the confounded zealot to THWHAM down flat upon unoccupied canvas.
Blotting out the near disaster to better focus on finishing the match, West seized Wainright’s left wrist and used it to roll the blonde onto her stomach. Em dropped to one knee once she reached the other side, the icy-eyed brunette making sure to twine her foe’s trapped arm around her left thigh in the process. With Miranda’s arm thus caught in the vise of her left calf and bicep, the Amazing Academic pivoted so that the full weight of that knee was bearing down on the small of Wainright’s back. In the same instant she snagged hold of Miranda’s right ankle and drew that leg back in a tight curve. Trapping the other woman’s shin under her arm, West set her plant foot and CRAAAAAAAAAAANKED back, the former World Champion earning an instant shriek courtesy of the hellacious torque of Mind Over Matter.
MIND OVER MATTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjF6GGHpWIA
“Ask her.” Emily told Nick over Miranda’s snarling protestations. “She certainly SOUNDS like someone lamenting poor choices, wouldn’t you agree?”
Nick did as a matter of fact, though he kept the opinion to himself in favor of crouching beside Wainright. “What do you--”
“LEAVE ME BE!” she roared loud enough to send the ref scrabbling back on his haunches. “THIS SIMPERING TRAMP HAS NO POWER OVER MEAAAAAARRRRRRRHHHH!”
Emily applied more pressure, thus bringing Miranda’s toes that much closer to the back of her head. “Seems like I’ve got more power than you imagined.” she said softly. “And if the pain doesn’t convince you, perhaps this will.” West’s right hand, which had been cupped over the blonde’s wrenched knee, pulled away and lightly ‘walked’ its way down Miranda’s trim tummy until reaching her waistband. Then they kept on going, West’s fingertips tracing a light but threatening pattern over the other wrestler’s thinly-sheathed center.
Wainright’s frantic trudge to the ropes (she’d already covered almost half the distance) came to a grinding halt at the touch of Em’s fingers. “You wouldn’t dare.” she whispered. “Not even an ego like yours has the… the GALL to inflict such an OOOHHH YOU HEATHEN B*TCH!”
West didn’t just squeeze, she slipped her hand beneath the blonde’s trunks for an unfettered grip, so to speak. Miranda thrashed like a live wire and Emily had to admit the bytch was still closing on the ropes, though she was delighted to see Wainright’s progress was far more ungainly than prior.
“The Black Queen will do just fine, no need for embellishments.” the Sensual Scholar narrowed her claw to a three-fingered hook that made Miranda moan for entirely different reasons. “For all your ambitions and pretensions, in the end you’re just another pawn in my grasp. And it’s high time I removed you from this board once and for--”
“BREAK!” the Deacon of Despair howled after a final desperate lunge secured her right hand. “BREAK THE HOLD YOU VILE B*TCHAAAAARRRRRHHHHHH!”
Emily relinquished the Claw only to double down on the Mind Over Matter until the referee reached ‘FOUR!’ on his count.
Clambering to her knees the very instant West released her vile trap, Miranda closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before she-- “Off your knees, sister.” Emily demanded from far too close for her liking. “Unless you’re ready to concede this round is mine.”
Wainright regarded her with pale, hating eyes. “I will do nothing of the sort, West.”
“Then stand up and fight. Show the congregation why you’re worthy of their leadership.”
Miranda stood, but did not leave the ropes. Rather she ran one hand along the top strand and said, “I’ve earned sanctuary from your slutty clutches, sister. Would you deny me that peace? If so you’d have to violate the rules of your own precious--”
‘Game’ never left her lips because Wainright came off the strands with the mother of all Toe Kicks ‘whicking’ toward Emily’s tru-- West caught the blonde’s ankle with a half inch to spare, stepped back and slung it aside to whip Miranda around on her plant foot CRAAACK! The Insidious Intellectual caught Wainright on the end of her spin cycle with huge Bytch Slap that knocked the taste (and maybe some fillings) from her foe’s mouth. Snagging a double handful of Miranda’s hair, West bent the blonde over and THWHONKED a Kneelift between her eyes. The sound was good, but Em thought the positioning was a little off, so she jostled Wainright’s head from side to side, then administered another Kneelift. This continued for the next ten seconds or so and probably would’ve gone on twice as long if Nick hadn’t grown quite insistent about the hair pull.
Raising her hands overhead as Miranda crumpled to one knee, the Black Queen said, “Really Nicholas, one day you’re going to learn to pick your battEEERRRRGGGGHH!”
The Septa of Sorrow ‘smecked’ a claw between Emily’s thighs, Wainright’s white-knuckle grip more than enough to force her heathen onto tiptoe. “I… I could offer you the same advice, sister.” Miranda grinned like a madwoman as she returned to verticality. “But since you refuse to heed any words other than your own, I am forced to--
West fetched her another Bytch Slap, a backhand that caught Wainright’s jaw with enough force to break the Claw and knock her for a loop. Poised and waiting when the True Believer came back ‘round, Emily lashed out with a retaliatory Toe Kick that-- Miranda caught the brunette’s ankle and made her pay with eye-watering interest, the toe of Wainright’s boot just gouging into the Courtier’s crotch!
Emily’s wheeze was lost in the jeers of FAWNatics, which were themselves lost in a surprised buzz when the Messiah of Misery twisted into place behind West, an adjustment that left the heathen’s captured ankle held snug against Miranda’s right hip. With Emily practically dead weight against her back, Wainright reached up n’ around with her left hand to cup opposing chin. Then she dipped her hips and muscled the Black Queen all the way up so that both of the brunette’s ankles were braced atop the zealot’s upper thighs. Miranda didn’t bother to add a Chinlock like usual, she just palmed Emily’s biceps, hopped up and came down on her butt to THWHUNK the back of West’s head against the crown of her own skull.
THOU SHALT NOT...KICK!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWNpDYeyJTA
That quick & dirty version of Thou Shalt Not sent Emily slopping into a facedown sprawl, not that she had much time to register the canvas beneath because Miranda shoveled her onto her back and pulled both legs into a Back Press good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
West kicked out at half a heartbeat to Midnight and brought a whole arena to its feet in the process. Hands buried in her own hair in hopes of providing at least *some* distraction from this maddening frustration, Miranda Wainright got to her feet and watched in silence as Emily fought to one knee. After a second of indecision even more vexing than her frustration, the Prophet of Pain took Emily’s left wrist in both hands, stepped back and dropped her hips-- Miranda yanked her brunette into the sky with a single jerk, West appearing to fly into a Waistlock applied from her left hip a split second before Wainright bridged backward and THAWHAMMED the Amazing Academic down on the back of her head and shoulders!
EULOGY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=s32fkAXgvj4
Stretched out flat following the delivery of Miranda’s brutal Eulogy, Emily replied with nothing more cogent than a soft groan when the blonde scraped her off the mat and drew her into a Standing Headscissors. Denying the exhaustion creeping into her bones with an act of will so strong it was almost frightening, Wainright leaned over the heathen’s back, coiled both arms around her waist and let out a triumphant howl as she flipped West up ‘n over so she was bent spine-first atop the point of Miranda’s right shoulder. Already nervous, the FAWNatics grew downright nervous as the blonde dipped her knees in such a way that Emily’s ankles were braced / trapped against the firm plains of those righteous thighs.
Elsewhere the Septa of Sorrow moved her hands from chest to chin one after the other until the nape of Emily’s neck was snugged tight against the crown of Wainright’s skull. Reduced though she was, West still wasn’t out of it enough to miss the danger of her predicament and the brunette scraped and claaaaaaaaawed at the True Believer’s wrists in hopes of breaking that damned grip before-- Miranda kicked both feet forward and dropped to her butt to THAWHONK Em’s braincase with the second Thou Shalt Not in as many minutes. Head bobbled by the devastating maneuver, West swayed on her knees for a moment, then slumped over in a facedown sprawl.
THOU SHALT NOT!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rK_HZBHi68Q
As for Wainright, she spun to one knee, grabbed Emily by the kneepads and turned her onto her back. In the same motion she claimed West’s ankles, stood up and folded the vulnerable Courtier in half Matchbook style. Still not done, Miranda stepped over Emily’s hips and dropped to her knees, the Prophet of Pain landing with all her weight upon those upturned haunches. West ‘ooofffhed’ softly and her feet wiggled just enough to send a tremor through her backside, alas it wasn’t nearly dislodge Miranda, who clasped her hands to her chest bowed her head for a bit of solemn reflection while Nick counted off…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The Deacon of Despair didn’t rise when the bell sounded, or rather, she didn’t stand. But she did stretch her arms wide and she did indeed raise her face to the rafters to better show off the beatific smile of a satisfied winner.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… MIRANDA WAINRIGHT!”
Smiling, Miranda looked over one shoulder, flattened a hand into a paddle and treated West’s rump to several light swats. She was about to say something when Nick came over and said, “C’mon Miranda, stand up so I can raise your hand.”
Wainright regarded him benevolently. “Bring me a microphone and I’ll consider it.”
Castle glanced around to make sure none of the other Churchgoers had materialized and was relieved to discover they were nowhere to be found. Satisfied for the moment, he strode over to a FAWN tech, grabbed a mic and took it back to the blonde.
Miranda took it, stood up and waited for Emily to unfold before making a great show of planting a foot atop the brunette’s heaving chest. Thrusting her unoccupied hand toward Castle without taking her eyes from Emily, Miranda drew the mic to her lips and said, “By the mutually agreed rules of our little wager I am fully within my rights to punish, denigrate or otherwise humiliate you as I see fit. But repetition came make even the most egregious depredations mundane and so tonight I embarrass you with nothing more than a display of my mercy… and the knowledge that the NEXT time I humble you before these heathens will be infinitely worse.” She pressed down and worked her heel back ‘n forth to grind Emily’s chest. “I’d usually end the night’s sermon with quote from the Book of Wainright, but since you’re far too deep in the bliss of Eternal Midnight to heed my words, I’ll leave with a warning that should resonate deep within that sinner’s brain of yours.”
Miranda paused, licked her lips. “Check, dear queen. Check.”
Darkness fell upon the FAWN Arena even as the heathens raised their voice in a belligerent chorus. From the gloom an angry, judgmental voice promised, ‘And we will see how godless a nation we have become.’ From that bitter fruit blossomed Green Day’s ‘East Jesus Nowhere’, a simple riff that was repeated four times. Following every cycle a spotlight lit up to reveal a scarecrow-ish effigy mounted to a tall wooden stave that had grown up seemingly in an instant. The effigies, done up in a style best described as ‘Early American Psychopath’, were simple but easily recognizable. First came Becky Clayton, then Lenore Lemarchand and Susannah Burlingame. When the light illuminated a eerily accurate Emily-figure on the last stake the drums started to pound and a fifth spotlight revealed the Deacon of Despair.
MIRANDA WAINRIGHT:
For the first panel in this triptych of terror, Miranda wore the pitch black version of her usual vinyl one-piece. Scooped low in the back and high over the hips, it was accompanied by clunky knee-high gray boots and black elbow-length mesh gloves. As for her hair, it was still a lustrous, gleaming gold, its radiance seemingly in defiance of all the vile filth surrounding her. Immune to the ranting and raving of that astounding number of heathens, Miranda started down the aisle and kept her eyes on the squared circle until she reached the foot of the steel steps. Taking them slowly, she reached the apron, dipped her head and carefully removed her hat, which she set atop the ring post.
Once in the ring, she turned to the stage and extended both arms out at shoulder level in a rough ‘T’. A heartbeat later she brought her palms together in emphatic prayer and that was enough to make the quartet of effigies burst into flame. Smiling into the dancing fire, Wainright held her position until they were reduced to cinder and ash. Then she backed into a corner on the opposite side of the ring and allowed Nick Castle to inspect her boots and pads. The Senior Official found nothing, just as Miranda knew he would.
“Don’t look so surprised, arbiter. The false queen and I have made a deal and I intend to honor it if only to see the expression on her face when she realizes my congregation is the only true power in FAWN.”
Castle had nothing to say to that, so he moved to the center of the squared circle while Miranda turned her attention to the curtain and the nauseating idol that lurked just behind.
Only a few seconds passed before the FAWN’tron went heavy with static fuzz and the light linked out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of the architect of FAWN’s grand design. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth to survey her game board.
Cool and composed as a marble bust, Emily took her rightful place at center stage then raised a hand and tapped her temple. Taking that as his cue, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Amazing Academic and the Black Queen, I give to you… EMILY WEST!”
EMILY WEST:
For her first official match in the FAWN Arena in more than four years, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. This regal style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.
Finally ready to address a problem she should‘ve quashed long ago, Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of her board, the Black Queen paused to mull just what sort of theological knots she could tie in the malevolent blonde. Satisfied with the answers that presented themselves, she waited for the lights to return to normalcy and then slipped through the ropes. Claiming the nearest corner, she trained her attention on the nearest camera then tapped her temple once, twice, three times.
I’m. So. Smart.
Once one of the most reviled proclamations in FAWN, the crowd replied with an enthusiastic roar. West didn’t actually smile, though she did offer those assembled a slight nod before hopping back to the canvas with a brisk little ‘thump’. Though she only had eyes for Miranda the former World Champion made sure to offer Nick Castle her elbows and knees when he approached for final inspections. Once that was done she settled in against the buckles to await the bell. Catching Wainright’s eye from across the canvas, she mouthed, ‘Game on, sister.’
Considering the women on opposite sides of the squared circle often waged their wars through any number of allies, catspaws, hired guns and other intermediaries, the FAWNatics expected a deliberate, if not downright cautious start to tonight’s proceedings. So they were understandably surprised when Wainright and West came forward at the sound of the bell. It wasn’t quite the headlong rush of a Burlingame-Faulk encounter to be sure, but no one in their right mind would’ve thought to call it cautious.
Left hand raised high, Emily kept her right extended straight ahead a little below chest level, just in case Wainright decided on a direct attack. As for Miranda, she also led with one extended hand (albeit her left) while the other twitched no higher than knee-level. Blonde and brunette met at center ring for a brief bit of hand-fighting that transformed into a Knucklelock for a span of heartbeats before neither decided it was to her liking and broke away without comment. Circling now, they swatted at the other’s leading hand a few times before settling into a far sturdier example of the Knucklelock.
This link stopped their rotating, though it didn’t immediately transition to a Test of Strength because West had to bring her hand down while Wainright brought hers-- the Septa of Sorrow slashed up n’ across, bringing her right forearm down onto Emily’s wrist to break the Knucklelock as neat as you please. Spinning away as soon as they were un-tethered, Miranda smiled ever so slightly as she shook out her left hand and resumed the earlier circling.
The Amazing Academic joined her without comment, West once again leading with her left-- Miranda grabbed for her but Emily caught that wrist in a tight grip and deftly pivoted around behind the blonde to force that arm up between her shoulders at a rather awkward angle. There were any of number of maneuvers she could’ve initiated from this position, as Wainright well knew. Thus it was quite telling when West merely mussed the zealot’s hair before relinquishing with no other hostilities.
A soft murmur passed through those assembled, the fans coming to understand that these two wrestlers simply did not like, let alone respect, one another. Taking a moment to smooth her hair before rounding on the Black Queen, Miranda offered Emily a soft, almost shy smile. “This contest has been a long time coming, sister.” she murmured. “And now that the night is finally upon us I can say with all certainty--” Wainright’s left hand flicked out like a snake in a garden, the Prophet of Pain swiveling Emily’s head to one side with a scintillating Bytch Slap, “--that you are in fact the single sorriest excuse for a leader that I have ever laid my eyes up--”
West interrupted with a heavy Elbow Smash that THWAPPED Miranda’s mouth! Turned around by the blow, she made it two good steps before Emily stepped in behind and RAKED her fingers down the other woman’s back! Miranda snarled, whipped around and might’ve swung for the fences if the Sensual Scholar hadn’t stepped out of range.
“No civility at all tonight, Miranda?” Emily asked. “I was almost certain you’d start by damning with faint praise, but since we’ve skipped the pleasantries I must say that it is DEEPLY painful to see a woman as intelligent and charismatic as yourself utterly buried under the nihilistic tripe you’ve passed off as some sort of dark salvatNNNGGGHHH!”
Wainright CRAAACKED West ‘crost the chest with a Knife-Edge Chop, then followed with two more when the blaspheming heathen wasn’t smart enough to raise a defense. Snatching a huge handful of hair just so she could wrench the brunette’s head at an awkward angle, Miranda mashed Em’s cheeks between thumb and forefinger in a galling fish-face and snarled, “Who are YOU to criticize ME, sister?” Wainright hissed. “Believe my words or not, at least I’ve BEEN here to deliver them night in and night out lo these last four years. And where were you until last summer, false queen? Where were you when your beloved pawns needed you the--”
Emily tore the encroaching grip away, then raised a welt on the blonde’s pale cheek with a backhand that was really more of a Back Fist. Rubbing at her face while Miranda did the same, Emily noted, “It would seem the core of our disagreements stem from a difference in leadership philosophies. I created the Court to raise the next generation of FAWN leadership. You raised a congregation just so you’d have a choir to parrot back that half baked narcissism you call--”
The Messiah of Misery came on like a whirlwind, Wainright lashing out with a left-handed Palm Strike aimed at the point of Emily’s chi-NO! Emily dipped beneath it, got around behind and trapped her opponent’s left arm overhead in a Half Nelson. In the same instant she reached over with her right hand, caught Wainright’s thrashing wrist and-- Miranda snatched a huge handful of hair and pulled down, bouncing West’s jaw against her right shoulder! That stalled the Cobra Clutch long enough for the zealot to go down on one knee and sling Emily over her shoulder with a makeshift Snapmare. Em landed on her right shoulder and hip, rolled through and bounced to vertical-- Wainright caught her with the second attempt, a straight Palm Strike that saw the heel of her left hand just CRAAACK off the side of Emily’s face!
THE LEFT HAND OF RIGHTEOUSNESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=icCnruwjVjg
Emily’s head snapped back and the rest of her soon followed, the former World Champion stepping in half a dozen fencepost holes en route to a shambling stop in the nearest turnbuckles. Oh so eager to let some illuminating darkness into that heathen’s blasphemous skull, Miranda charged, hopped to the second rope on one foot and THWHO NKED her other knee between the brunette’s eyes! West jolted in place but the proximity of the turnbuckles meant she had nowhere to go, at least not until Wainright twisted / dropped into a snug Side Headlock and loped back the way she’d come with the Black Queen firmly in tow. They’d just crossed mid-ring when Miranda left her feet in a high, floaty arc that took her another few feet before gravity brought her down with a soft ‘thump’ all but obliterated by the THWHUNK of Emily’s forehead hitting the deck! West bounced hard, got a hand against the mat and clambered to her feet, though she did so facing away from the Septa of Sorrow.
CORNER HIGH KNEE & RUNNING BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ud9IvUyQcE
Quick to capitalize on this lapse, Miranda ran the ropes on Emily’s six and took to the skies just as the discombobulated brainiac spun around to find her. Landing easily on the second strand, Wainright dipped into a deep crouch and launched herself backward, the usually ground-bound True Believer getting some serious air on the Springboard Moonsault that caught Em high on the chest and right shoulder. Knocked flat beneath the freefalling fanatic, West lost her breath on impact and could only suck wind when Miranda swung around into a Crossbody with the far leg hooked for…
SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tnt-5DkFbms
ONE…
TWO…
Emily bucked clear simultaneous with ‘TWO!’ as Wainright had expected she would. “You made a grave mistake accepting my challenge, sister.” Miranda murmured as she hauled the brunette to a seat. “The illusion of your invulnerability only remains intact as long as you stay hidden behind Lenore, Rebecca and Susan. But the instant you step forward to fight on your own?” The Prophet of Pain secured that West’s left arm in a Half Nelson, seized that wrist in her right hand and tugged it tight across the Black Queen’s windpipe. “That’s when the whole of FAWN realized the empress had no clothes.” With that she pulled up and yanked back, Wainright hauling the heathen to her feet to better show West just what torment awaited her in the depths of the Cobra Clutch.
COBRA CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdZrXooO7lM
Understandably preoccupied by the traitorous forearm snugged against her windpipe, Emily took shallow breaths and managed to set her feet after only a few seconds and from there she slammed her right elbow into the blonde’s midsection once, twice, three-- Wainright twisted to one side to avoid the blow, then made West pay for her insolence with half a dozen Kneelifts THUMPED directly into the small of her opponent’s back. The Insidious Intellectual groaned and tried to pivot away from the retaliation, but that only put her off balance and made it that much easier for Miranda to set her flailing with a sharp twist of her hips.
Wrenching the hold tighter than ever, the Septa of Sorrow leaned in close enough to plant a taunting kiss on Em’s left temple. “All your machinations have come to naught, sister.” Miranda murmured. “You may be a queen on every other board, but presented before the altar of Eternal Midnight you quaver and quail like any other heathERRRRHHHH!”
Emily filled her free hand with the blonde’s long locks and pulled until she could almost feel Wainright’s eyes watering. “You forget your place, Miranda. This Church you’ve built sits on the board just like every other woman in FAWN. And it will continue to do so only as long as I see--”
Nick was closing in to tend to the hair-pull, however Miranda had neither the time or inclination to wait for the arbiter’s brand of justice so she went up on tiptoe and dropped to one knee, all the better to THWHUMP the brunette’s shoulders against the stern expanse of her thigh. West jolted hard and landed on her rump, the former World Champion’s position effectively unchanged since Wainright first secured the Cobra Clutch.
COBRA CLUTCH BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdRIcsxLmVY
“Beg your pardon sister, but it is you who are mistaken.” the Prophet of Pain corrected her heathen adversary. “All your planning and manipulation falls apart when confronted with the strength of my… OUR convictions.” Miranda dragged Emily to her feet, the Clutch still doggedly in place. “And it is those convictions that will see your own beloved sisters bend the knee to me once I’ve exposed you for the trumpery idol you’ve always NGH! NGH! EERRRRHHHHH!”
Emily gouged the dagger-tip of her elbow into Wainright’s right thigh, then stamped on that foot and twisted her heel like she meant to pulp the Churchgoer’s toes! “Yuuuuhhhh… you do your best work behind a pulpit, Miranda.” the brunette huffed. “Between these ropes I’ll expose you as nothing more than the world’s most nihilistic televangeHUUURRRK!”
Miranda took a giant step backward and torqued her hips hard enough to jerk Emily off her feet. It would’ve been a resounding slam if Wainright had let go, but she did not, in fact she didn’t even stop moving! Spinning in place as fast as she could, the Messiah of Misery swung her heathenish burden through three full rotations before she abruptly released her hooks to send Emily sprawling to the deck with an ungainly THUD!
SWINGING COBRA CLUTCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lIAsRcXssI
West’s back arched on impact, though she managed to roll onto her stomach to prevent Wainright from attempting an easy pin. This stratagem did exactly what it was supposed to do, unfortunately it did so in a Monkey’s Paw sort of way because Miranda skipped over her downed opposition en route to a nimble landing on the second strand. Launching herself into the void a heartbeat after she touched down, the Septa of Sorrow floated through another gorgeous Moonsault, one that brought her THWHAMMING down atop the defenseless expanse of her foe’s back! Emily moaned in distress, another pitiful measure that didn’t stop the blonde from shoveling her over and going for the cover! Nick swooped in quick, the Senior Official tolling off…
SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mohNt58vU6Y
ONE…
TWO…
Emily kicked out just after ‘TWO!’ and while the effort wasn’t lacking in strength, Miranda did not miss the grimace that played over the brunette’s face as she did so. “You should have stayed gone, sister.” Wainright chided once she’d hauled the both of ‘em to boot-leather. “The rest of the Black Court had learned to thrive in your absence, more importantly, they’d learned to coexist with my sisters and I. It was your return that brought about this conflict. Your return that provoked Adelaide to new heights of violence. Your return that will bring about the ultimate destruction of your beloved CourtOOOFFFHH!”
West stormed in with a Kneelift to the gut that knocked Wainright clear out of her sermon. Catching hold of the blonde’s wrist to make sure she couldn’t create any separation, Emily dropped her hips and slung the zealot into the ropes with an Irish NOPE! Miranda dug in her heels, clamped down on Em’s wrist and tugged her into a Kneelift so stiff it doubled the former World Champion up on the spot. Snorting as West tried to hold her roiling guts in place, Wainright spun around and ran the ropes to her foe’s left. Already honed in on that vaunted rack, Miranda pistoned her right knee-- the Black Queen swatted it down and spun to one side, effectively putting her behind the startled blonde. Wainright rounded on her in a heartbeat, the Messiah of Misery leading with another of those scintillating Palm Stri-- Emily intercepted Miranda’s strike at the elbow, the brunette hooking her left arm around the exposed limb to spin under Wainright and turn her around in the same motion. A hand shoved against the back of her head forced Miranda to bend over, which in turn allowed West to butterfly her arms with a snug Double Underhook. Hands locked, the Amazing Academic muscled Miranda up for a Suplex, only to halve her grip at the apex. Descending alongside the zealot with Wainright’s left wrist in her possession, West Scissored her thighs around Miranda’s bicep on impact and CRANKED backward, the curvaceous brunette thrusting her hips to the rafters in an effort to hyperextend her opponent’s elbow.
DOUBLE MAJOR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-DWD6h6SxI
“AAAAAAARRRRRRRRHHHHH! LET ME GO, HEATHEN!” Miranda twisted like a fox caught in a snare, the blonde swinging this way and that as she tried to free her arm from the Amazing Academic’s clutches.
“Submit and I’ll consider it.” Em replied simply. Drawing her right knee close in an effort to expedite the decision making process, she placed that heel against the side of Miranda’s face and scuffed it no less than half a dozen times! Wainright snarled in distress, grabbed hold of West’s boot and ended up stretched out that much flatter when Emily redoubled her efforts on the Cross Armbreaker.
“What do you say, Miranda?” Nick asked after another five seconds. “Need me to call for the bell?”
Wainright waggled a finger ‘no, no, no!’ rather than waste precious oxygen on such a foolish endeavor. Down to one good arm thanks to the heathen’s hellish predicament, Miranda fumbled for Emily’s ankles with her free hand and secured a decent grip after a short bout of fumbling. Pushing up on those encroaching stems with every ounce of strength she could muster, the Prophet of Pain slowly but surely rolled onto her left hip and ‘smecked’ her hands together in a righteous Knucklelock to alleviate the worst of the pain.
Beneath the blonde, Emily was careful to keep a shoulder off the mat at all times just in case Wainright tried to counter into a cradle. Such a thought did in fact cross Miranda’s mind, but the presence of the corner only a few feet away turned her attention to a more certain escape hatch. Knees set as best she could, the zealot clambered and crawled her way toward the turnbuckles until she was close enough to drape a leg over the bottom strand. “Break the hold, sisteerrrrrrrrrhhh!”
Emily poured on the pressure, forcing Wainright to grit her teeth while Castle bustled over to count, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Emily let loose and rolled to one knee, leaving Miranda to sidle into the rubber-coated steel, one cheek resting heavily on the middle strand. Quick to note Nick’s proximity to the action, Emily raised both hands to shoulder level and kept them there as she returned to full verticality. A few steps back to the center of the squared circle seemed to ease the official’s mind, as he cleared away from both of his charges without a word to either. West noted this without taking her eyes off Wainright, in fact the veteran battler was motionless save for the quick ‘flick’ of her index fingers as she snapped distended bottoms snug across her glutes. The sound was quiet, yet it must’ve reached the True Believer because she groaned and grabbed hold of the middle rope directly to the right of her-- Emily darted in, reared back and delivered a stinging kick to the underside of the strand on Miranda’s left!
WHIPLASH KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JY8tGCsINKE
The sudden jolt drove the roughly-padded steel ring up into Wainright’s cheek, the startled blonde cringing in pain as she dripped out of the buckles to spread out on the canvas at Emily’s feet. “It’s not my place to cast doubt on anyone’s faith, Miranda, even yours.” The Black Queen noted in the midst of circling her prey. “Certainly the devotion of your followers cannot be questioned, especially Adelaide. But all of those women have endured personal trials since entering into your service whereas you yourself have seen content to remain safe well behind their lines.” Emily bent down, filled her hands with Wainright’s hair and scraped her off the mat. Snuggling in close so her right shoulder was wedged into the blonde’s right armpit, West cupped the nape of Miranda’s neck with her right hand and continued, “Therefore I will be your test, Miranda. Your crucible, if you NGH!”
The Prophet of Pain balled her left hand into a fist and slammed it into the Courtier’s exposed flank several times before transitioning to a remarkably heathenish claw that she affixed to Emily’s right breast. Giggling even as her fingers went to work on the former World Champion’s curves, Wainright regained control of herself and huffed, “I apologize sister, the absurdity of that assertion caught me off guard. You cannot TRULY believe that you stand as a worthy test of my faith, do you? If so, I fear your delusions are beyond even my OOFFH! OOFFH! OOOOFFFFHHHH!”
Emily punished her blonde’s midsection with a trio of quick, stiff Kneelifts, the last of which doubled Wainright over with a breathy grunt. Catching Miranda’s head in a Three Quarters Facelock before she turned around, the Amazing Academic led her righteous opposition over to the edge of the ring, where she promptly flipped her through a Snapmare that saw Miranda’s hip strike the bottom strand while the pit of her knee ‘TWANGED’ off the second.
KNEES TO GUT & SNAPMARE TO ROPES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFnCTWheC4A
An awkward, unpleasant landing to be sure, one that left Wainright stretched out on her stomach gasping for air. “Now is not the time for bravado, Miranda.” Emily kicked one of her foe’s questing hands away from the ropes, then positioned herself between the blonde and sanctuary. “The fate of our respective efforts hang in the outcome of this little contest and I for one do not intend to drop a single match.”
Wainright groaned, planted her feet and rose to all fours. “Your intentions do not interest me in the slightest, sister. Your lamentations however, those excite me a great deaEEEERRRRRGGGGHHH!”
Emily dropped to her knees, secured the zealot in a Front Facelock, then reached under Miranda’s left arm (and thus across her chest) to complete the Chancery. Spread out so her chest was pressed to Miranda’s shoulders and her cheek was somewhere near the center of her back, West yoked up on the hold and muttered, “As far as you’re concerned, I only lament that I allowed you and your madness to thrive unchecked for so many--”
Miranda reached for Em’s crotch with her left hand, forcing the brunette to stretch out full length to avoid those fanatical talons. This was merely a partial success. She avoided the Crotch Claw true enough, but the Septa of Sorrow had no qualms digging into her belly instead. Not only that, Wainright made her attacker’s position even more uncomfortable by raking her nails across West’s left thigh over and over and over again.
“Allowed? YOU ALLOWED ME?” Miranda scrambled to her knees despite the Insidious Intellectual’s best efforts. “Does your arrogance know no bounds, you heathen cow?” If anything it was I who should be remonstrated for letting your silly little junta to survive long enough for you to achieve even the faintest air of legitimacNGH! NGH! NGH!”
Hunched over Miranda’s back on both knees, Emily shifted her weight to the left so she could draw her right leg all the way back and then THUNK a few quick Kneelifts into the top of Wainright’s noggin. That dulled the efficacy of the blonde’s claws quite a great deal, so Emily clambered to boot-leather with Miranda firmly in the grip of the Chancery. Without warning she dropped into a deep crouch, halved her grip (the Front Facelock was still quite snug, but her right hand was free) and spun beneath the blonde to bring Miranda down on the back of her head and shoulders with a snappy Swinging Neckbreaker!
GROUNDED SWINGING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuYhgFvKJPM
Wainright hit hard and tumbled onto her stomach, the zealot once again in prime position to endure West’s chancery. But rather than duplicate her earlier strategy Emily swung into position on Miranda’s left side and deftly Scissored that bicep between her thighs. In the same breath she stretched out atop Wainright’s shoulders, threaded her right arm beneath Miranda’s exposed bicep and cranked up to complete the Half Nelson. The Deacon of Despair must’ve sensed Emily’s intentions because her eyes went wide and she reaaaaaaaached for the ropes, unfortunately the Black Queen plucked that wrist from the air and drew it tight beneath the blonde’s chin. Trap secure, Emily sat up and reefed back so that the fusion of Cobra Clutch and Crossface put intense pressure on Wainright’s neck and back.
COBRA CLUTCH CROSSFACE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qXpn3sq_ms
“Snake handling loses some of the charm when their fangs are brushing your own neck, wouldn’t you agree, Miranda?” Emily asked. Wainright offered no comment on the subject, she was too busy trying to free her left arm from the clamp of heathen thighs. Emily didn’t seem to mind the silence, indeed she was smiling quite prettily as the True Believer suffered under the yoke of her own traitorous arm.
Far less sanguine about these developments (particularly the flush creeping into Miranda’s pale features) Nick Castle crouched down beside the tangled grapplers and asked, “How are you doing, Miranda? Do I need to call for the bell?”
“Nuuuuhhh… not at all, arbiter.” she grunted. “All you need to do is silence that wagging tongUUUUUURRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
Emily stretched her legs out full length and leaaaaaaaaaaaaaned back as far as gravity would permit. While this did let Miranda wrest her arm from the brunette’s thighs, it also increased the pressure on her neck to such a degree that the zealot could do little more than plant that hand against the mat for additional leverage. “Watch her hands, Nicholas.” the Sensual Scholar advised. “Miranda’s will is strong, but her body will betray her when oxygen grows scar--”
Wainright reached back with her left arm, curled it around the brunette’s right thigh and rolled into Emily’s body to somersault out of the Cobra Clutch and into an almost Back-Press that still stacked the former World Champion on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Emily broke the hold and kicked Miranda away, thus escaping the predicament with a good half second to spare. More annoyed than flustered by the near-fall, Emily got to her feet and circled around to make sure she was on Wainright’s six when the blonde joined her a couple seconds later. A single swift kick to the pit of Miranda’s left knee dropped her to an unwilling penance and made the blonde’s noggin easy pickin’s for the Inverted Facelock that followed. “Interesting that you’d try to end the game in such a way that almost guarantees you’d lose face among your followers.” West mused once she’d used a handful of waistband to bring Wainright to her feet. “Certainly Adelaide wouldn’t be thrilled if her fearless leader resorted to mere leverage to defeat a heathen of my standieeerrrrrhhhhhh!”
Miranda reached up and across with her right hand, the True Believer snatching hold of her rival’s dark hair. “Your precious game is only part of our conflict, sister.” Wainright hissed. “What comes after will prove just as--”
The Amazing Academic kicked both feet forward and dropped to her butt to THAWHUMP the back of Miranda’s head and shoulders against the deck with a textbook Inverted DDT! Stretched out flat in the wake of the ring-rattling maneuver, Wainright burbled incoherencies when West stretched out across her chest and hooked the far leg for…
SNAP REVERSE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRcPz6d3HCs
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Prophet of Pain jolted loose with half a second to spare, much to the displeasure of those assembled. Emily didn’t share their distress, indeed she looked quite content as she helped herself to a double handful of blonde hair, all the better to peel Miranda off the canvas. Transitioning to a Front Facelock before Nick could disrupt her concentration with a warning, West slung Wainright’s near arm across her shoulders, then caught hold of her blonde’s trunks just above the left hip and tugged hard enough to show off some righteous glute with a decidedly sinful wedgie. Miranda hissed, delivered a couple hard punches to the brunette’s ribs, but it wasn’t enough to keep the Black Queen from muscling from six to noon (or perhaps midnight?) in a single emphatic lift.
Suddenly gripped by a panic she hadn’t experienced in quite some time, Wainright kicked her feet frantically, yet it wasn’t enough to free her from that dangerous position, nor did it silence the cacophony of heathens chanting, ‘ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NI-OOOOOOHHHHHH!’
Far more desperate than she’d care to admit, Miranda crooked her right hand into a spade and raaaaaaaked it across Emily’s eyes! The Courtier wailed and her grip slipped for the blonde to float through to the other side, Wainright landing awkwardly behind her adversary. Instantly reassured by the presence of canvas under her feet, Miranda laced both hands over the brunette’s chin and laid out flat on her back to THWONK Emily’s much vaunted (and in Wainright’s opinion, over-hyped) braincase against the unforgiving mat.
RIGHTEOUS REVERSAL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPIb4Jdb0PM
Emily bounced to a seat but made it to one knee almost immediately despite the fact that she had both arms crisscrossed over the back of her head. No one could argue the former World Champ’s tenacity, though some questioned the wisdom of such an abrupt return to verticality because it meant she was effectively defenseless when Miranda stepped in and pistoned a savage Back Kick deep into Em’s tummy. West ‘oooffffhed’, dropped to one knee and promptly got her head swiveled by the low Super Kick Wainright stapled to her cheek. The Septa of Sorrow was on her as soon as Emily crashed down, Miranda hooking both legs for a tawdry Back Press that pointed West’s buns at the rafters for a count of…
BACK KICK & LOW SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rgCim5qmf0
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
West got a shoulder off the canvas with a whisper between herself and defeat, the nearness of the near fall earning Castle a cold, speculative look from the blonde. “Steady yourself, arbiter.” she sighed. “You wouldn’t want a slow count to be responsible for a second injured Courtier, would you?”
“Nothing wrong with the count, Miranda.” Nick replied at once. “And if anyone in this ring needs to claim responsibility for Adelaide’s actions, it’s you.”
Wainright’s eyes narrowed to slots and she shot to her feet only regain her composure a heartbeat later. “A clever ruse, heathen. Attempting to trick me into smiting you so you can award this preening martinet a victory she didn’t earn.”
The Senior Official protested this quite vehemently, but Miranda dismissed his lies with nothing more than a flicked wrist. Attention wholly on West now, Wainright dragged the woozy brunette to her feet and settled in behind, the Messiah of Misery once again welcoming her prey into the confines of a Cobra Clutch. No wrenching or squeezing this time, however. Miranda didn’t even bother to spin her burden in the direction of the hard camera, she simply dipped into a low crouch then peeled off a high speed bridge that tore West from her moorings and THAWHUNKED the Black Queen down on the back of her head an instant before turning her inside out.
COBRA CLUTCH SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEkPQQ9OauA
The Suplex left Em sprawled out flat with Wainright just beside, but the Septa of Sorrow made no effort at a cover. Instead she laid claim to West’s wrists and got to her feet. “You’re not a queen.” she told the vulnerable brunette. “You’re just another supplicant begging for the merciful gloom of Eternal Midnight. And while I am more merciful than most, I believe your transgressions will require a great deal of groveling to properly atone.” Wainright raised her right knee to chest level so that the shadow of her foot hung threateningly over Emily’s vulnerable face. “You can start by cleaning the grime from my boot.”
“Yuuuhhh… you’re the one in need of atonement, sisNNNNGGGHHH!”
A wail from Emily was almost swallowed by a resounding groan from the FAWNatics when the Deacon of Despair STAMPED down on her face. Of course a single smiting wasn’t nearly enough to cover all of Emily’s sins against her congregation, so Miranda unleashed a veritable flood of fire and brimstone, the vindictive battler putting her sole to West’s soul with no less than nine more bone-jarring stomps!
SMITING STOMPS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzQbZZjLqSk
Still holding the brunette’s wrists after that vile mugging, Wainright set her foot across Emily’s windpipe and ground down while pulling up on those captured arms. Those spiteful Stomps had been vile, but otherwise acceptable within the confines of the rules. A literal boot on the throat was most certainly not, so Castle hurried over and barked, “Get off her neck, Miranda. I’m warning you!”
The Prophet of Pain ground her heel back and forth. “Your words hold no power over me, arbi--”
“ONE! TWO! THREE! FO--”
Wainright relinquished the choke, tossed Emily’s wrists aside and dropped into a haughty straddle of the Courtier’s chest, her tush pressing West’s rack flat against her sternum while the ref counted…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Emily bridged at the last possible moment, dumping Miranda from her perch.
“Is that all you’ve got left?” Wainright slapped her opponent’s flushed face. “The desperate twitchings of a cornered rat?”
“Suuuuuhhhh… seems adequate to hold you NNNNGGGGHHH!”
Miranda slapped her again, buried both hands in the brunette’s hair and scraped her off the mat just long enough to scoop her up on one shoulder. The Scoop Slam that followed wasn’t a match ender even at this late stage, it did however give the Messiah of Misery all the time she needed to stalk to the nearest corner and slip out onto the apron. From there she climbed to the high rent district and rose to her full height, Wainright offering a silent benediction to gathering dark while the FAWNatics tried to rouse Em from her stupor.
It worked at least in part, West slowly sat up and rolled over to all fours, though this new arrangement left her back pointed at the ascendant Churchgoer. As of yet aware of this lurking doom, the Black Queen gathered her considerable wits and clambered to her feet. An exhausted half turn swung her to face the most dangerous corner just as Miranda took flight through the void with a Missile Dropkick aimed at-- Emily slapped the ol’ holy hell outta Miranda’s incoming legs and twisted to one side as she did so, leaving the confounded zealot to THWHAM down flat upon unoccupied canvas.
Blotting out the near disaster to better focus on finishing the match, West seized Wainright’s left wrist and used it to roll the blonde onto her stomach. Em dropped to one knee once she reached the other side, the icy-eyed brunette making sure to twine her foe’s trapped arm around her left thigh in the process. With Miranda’s arm thus caught in the vise of her left calf and bicep, the Amazing Academic pivoted so that the full weight of that knee was bearing down on the small of Wainright’s back. In the same instant she snagged hold of Miranda’s right ankle and drew that leg back in a tight curve. Trapping the other woman’s shin under her arm, West set her plant foot and CRAAAAAAAAAAANKED back, the former World Champion earning an instant shriek courtesy of the hellacious torque of Mind Over Matter.
MIND OVER MATTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjF6GGHpWIA
“Ask her.” Emily told Nick over Miranda’s snarling protestations. “She certainly SOUNDS like someone lamenting poor choices, wouldn’t you agree?”
Nick did as a matter of fact, though he kept the opinion to himself in favor of crouching beside Wainright. “What do you--”
“LEAVE ME BE!” she roared loud enough to send the ref scrabbling back on his haunches. “THIS SIMPERING TRAMP HAS NO POWER OVER MEAAAAAARRRRRRRHHHH!”
Emily applied more pressure, thus bringing Miranda’s toes that much closer to the back of her head. “Seems like I’ve got more power than you imagined.” she said softly. “And if the pain doesn’t convince you, perhaps this will.” West’s right hand, which had been cupped over the blonde’s wrenched knee, pulled away and lightly ‘walked’ its way down Miranda’s trim tummy until reaching her waistband. Then they kept on going, West’s fingertips tracing a light but threatening pattern over the other wrestler’s thinly-sheathed center.
Wainright’s frantic trudge to the ropes (she’d already covered almost half the distance) came to a grinding halt at the touch of Em’s fingers. “You wouldn’t dare.” she whispered. “Not even an ego like yours has the… the GALL to inflict such an OOOHHH YOU HEATHEN B*TCH!”
West didn’t just squeeze, she slipped her hand beneath the blonde’s trunks for an unfettered grip, so to speak. Miranda thrashed like a live wire and Emily had to admit the bytch was still closing on the ropes, though she was delighted to see Wainright’s progress was far more ungainly than prior.
“The Black Queen will do just fine, no need for embellishments.” the Sensual Scholar narrowed her claw to a three-fingered hook that made Miranda moan for entirely different reasons. “For all your ambitions and pretensions, in the end you’re just another pawn in my grasp. And it’s high time I removed you from this board once and for--”
“BREAK!” the Deacon of Despair howled after a final desperate lunge secured her right hand. “BREAK THE HOLD YOU VILE B*TCHAAAAARRRRRHHHHHH!”
Emily relinquished the Claw only to double down on the Mind Over Matter until the referee reached ‘FOUR!’ on his count.
Clambering to her knees the very instant West released her vile trap, Miranda closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before she-- “Off your knees, sister.” Emily demanded from far too close for her liking. “Unless you’re ready to concede this round is mine.”
Wainright regarded her with pale, hating eyes. “I will do nothing of the sort, West.”
“Then stand up and fight. Show the congregation why you’re worthy of their leadership.”
Miranda stood, but did not leave the ropes. Rather she ran one hand along the top strand and said, “I’ve earned sanctuary from your slutty clutches, sister. Would you deny me that peace? If so you’d have to violate the rules of your own precious--”
‘Game’ never left her lips because Wainright came off the strands with the mother of all Toe Kicks ‘whicking’ toward Emily’s tru-- West caught the blonde’s ankle with a half inch to spare, stepped back and slung it aside to whip Miranda around on her plant foot CRAAACK! The Insidious Intellectual caught Wainright on the end of her spin cycle with huge Bytch Slap that knocked the taste (and maybe some fillings) from her foe’s mouth. Snagging a double handful of Miranda’s hair, West bent the blonde over and THWHONKED a Kneelift between her eyes. The sound was good, but Em thought the positioning was a little off, so she jostled Wainright’s head from side to side, then administered another Kneelift. This continued for the next ten seconds or so and probably would’ve gone on twice as long if Nick hadn’t grown quite insistent about the hair pull.
Raising her hands overhead as Miranda crumpled to one knee, the Black Queen said, “Really Nicholas, one day you’re going to learn to pick your battEEERRRRGGGGHH!”
The Septa of Sorrow ‘smecked’ a claw between Emily’s thighs, Wainright’s white-knuckle grip more than enough to force her heathen onto tiptoe. “I… I could offer you the same advice, sister.” Miranda grinned like a madwoman as she returned to verticality. “But since you refuse to heed any words other than your own, I am forced to--
West fetched her another Bytch Slap, a backhand that caught Wainright’s jaw with enough force to break the Claw and knock her for a loop. Poised and waiting when the True Believer came back ‘round, Emily lashed out with a retaliatory Toe Kick that-- Miranda caught the brunette’s ankle and made her pay with eye-watering interest, the toe of Wainright’s boot just gouging into the Courtier’s crotch!
Emily’s wheeze was lost in the jeers of FAWNatics, which were themselves lost in a surprised buzz when the Messiah of Misery twisted into place behind West, an adjustment that left the heathen’s captured ankle held snug against Miranda’s right hip. With Emily practically dead weight against her back, Wainright reached up n’ around with her left hand to cup opposing chin. Then she dipped her hips and muscled the Black Queen all the way up so that both of the brunette’s ankles were braced atop the zealot’s upper thighs. Miranda didn’t bother to add a Chinlock like usual, she just palmed Emily’s biceps, hopped up and came down on her butt to THWHUNK the back of West’s head against the crown of her own skull.
THOU SHALT NOT...KICK!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWNpDYeyJTA
That quick & dirty version of Thou Shalt Not sent Emily slopping into a facedown sprawl, not that she had much time to register the canvas beneath because Miranda shoveled her onto her back and pulled both legs into a Back Press good for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
West kicked out at half a heartbeat to Midnight and brought a whole arena to its feet in the process. Hands buried in her own hair in hopes of providing at least *some* distraction from this maddening frustration, Miranda Wainright got to her feet and watched in silence as Emily fought to one knee. After a second of indecision even more vexing than her frustration, the Prophet of Pain took Emily’s left wrist in both hands, stepped back and dropped her hips-- Miranda yanked her brunette into the sky with a single jerk, West appearing to fly into a Waistlock applied from her left hip a split second before Wainright bridged backward and THAWHAMMED the Amazing Academic down on the back of her head and shoulders!
EULOGY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=s32fkAXgvj4
Stretched out flat following the delivery of Miranda’s brutal Eulogy, Emily replied with nothing more cogent than a soft groan when the blonde scraped her off the mat and drew her into a Standing Headscissors. Denying the exhaustion creeping into her bones with an act of will so strong it was almost frightening, Wainright leaned over the heathen’s back, coiled both arms around her waist and let out a triumphant howl as she flipped West up ‘n over so she was bent spine-first atop the point of Miranda’s right shoulder. Already nervous, the FAWNatics grew downright nervous as the blonde dipped her knees in such a way that Emily’s ankles were braced / trapped against the firm plains of those righteous thighs.
Elsewhere the Septa of Sorrow moved her hands from chest to chin one after the other until the nape of Emily’s neck was snugged tight against the crown of Wainright’s skull. Reduced though she was, West still wasn’t out of it enough to miss the danger of her predicament and the brunette scraped and claaaaaaaaawed at the True Believer’s wrists in hopes of breaking that damned grip before-- Miranda kicked both feet forward and dropped to her butt to THAWHONK Em’s braincase with the second Thou Shalt Not in as many minutes. Head bobbled by the devastating maneuver, West swayed on her knees for a moment, then slumped over in a facedown sprawl.
THOU SHALT NOT!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rK_HZBHi68Q
As for Wainright, she spun to one knee, grabbed Emily by the kneepads and turned her onto her back. In the same motion she claimed West’s ankles, stood up and folded the vulnerable Courtier in half Matchbook style. Still not done, Miranda stepped over Emily’s hips and dropped to her knees, the Prophet of Pain landing with all her weight upon those upturned haunches. West ‘ooofffhed’ softly and her feet wiggled just enough to send a tremor through her backside, alas it wasn’t nearly dislodge Miranda, who clasped her hands to her chest bowed her head for a bit of solemn reflection while Nick counted off…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The Deacon of Despair didn’t rise when the bell sounded, or rather, she didn’t stand. But she did stretch her arms wide and she did indeed raise her face to the rafters to better show off the beatific smile of a satisfied winner.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… MIRANDA WAINRIGHT!”
Smiling, Miranda looked over one shoulder, flattened a hand into a paddle and treated West’s rump to several light swats. She was about to say something when Nick came over and said, “C’mon Miranda, stand up so I can raise your hand.”
Wainright regarded him benevolently. “Bring me a microphone and I’ll consider it.”
Castle glanced around to make sure none of the other Churchgoers had materialized and was relieved to discover they were nowhere to be found. Satisfied for the moment, he strode over to a FAWN tech, grabbed a mic and took it back to the blonde.
Miranda took it, stood up and waited for Emily to unfold before making a great show of planting a foot atop the brunette’s heaving chest. Thrusting her unoccupied hand toward Castle without taking her eyes from Emily, Miranda drew the mic to her lips and said, “By the mutually agreed rules of our little wager I am fully within my rights to punish, denigrate or otherwise humiliate you as I see fit. But repetition came make even the most egregious depredations mundane and so tonight I embarrass you with nothing more than a display of my mercy… and the knowledge that the NEXT time I humble you before these heathens will be infinitely worse.” She pressed down and worked her heel back ‘n forth to grind Emily’s chest. “I’d usually end the night’s sermon with quote from the Book of Wainright, but since you’re far too deep in the bliss of Eternal Midnight to heed my words, I’ll leave with a warning that should resonate deep within that sinner’s brain of yours.”
Miranda paused, licked her lips. “Check, dear queen. Check.”