Post by dsb on May 13, 2019 18:10:18 GMT
With the throng ready for another battle, they’re brought to attention By Sanctum’s Fifth Dimension, a haunting tableau the FAWNatics now understood meant a most disturbing Dream was about to befall them.
FIFTH DIMENSION:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ez87LbaBgOA
Instead of the oh so familiar boos or indeed short-lived cheers of Sierra Mist’s creation, the crowd watched in eerie silence as one of the most familiar figures in the history of FAWN and indeed other federations appeared. And while the face and frame were known to all, the striking blood-red leather covering the Ultimate Image of Human Perfection, strategically placed streaks of red in her shoulder-length brunette locks, and the half-dozen, red ‘tear streaks’ leading from the lower lid of Lisa’s eyes to mid-cheek were stirring and frightening at once.
’RED’ LISA:
Having gone into isolation after destroying her psych ward savior Mist in a fit of post-match pique after losing to Olivia Dare AGAIN, the psychic break transformed the Ultimate Image into Red Lisa and the arterial color of her gear and war paint was a portend to her destroying one of her former jailers, Nurse Deborah, at March to War.
Confusion governed an audience unsure how to react to the shifting eyes of madness. Wariness abounds as this incarnation of the legendary Lisa seemed poised to jump into the stands and bite ears off.
Dream headed down the ramp, her head on a swivel. She turned from one side to the other, a murderous glint in her dark pools. One man dared to speak toward The Dream and she rushed the barricade, tying to tear at him until some late arriving FAWN security pulled her away and guided her back in the direction of the ring.
She shook off the grip of the six and a half-footers, Dream freeing herself as she reached the ring’s edge. Snarling and frothing, The Dream turned Nightmare climbed the steps and enters. She throws herself to the deck, slamming her spine into the canvas, talking to herself in a mumbling jibberish.
The Dream’s attire was a skin-tight sheath of cowskin, her customary sleeveless vest, cut low and showing plenty of her alabaster tummy, the pale skin contrasting sharply with the flaming cherry of her gear. Lisa’s long leather pants reached to ivory boots, any Dreamophiles in the audience frustrated at having the flawless, pale stems of the Personification of Perfection hidden from view. A series of leather ‘strings’ cobweb across her back to keep the vest in place, though they also left a considerable portion of her ivory back in view. Red pads at knees and elbows finished the wardrobe.
The solitary Dream clenched her fists as she stared into the rafters, the crowd murmuring with excitement and uncertainty.
Lisa kipped to her feet and looked far and wide throughout the arena, seemingly seeking out her next victim. There was no customary microphone in her clutches tonight, and it seemed no significant loss, as it’s unclear she’s able to form a coherent sentence from the spits and growls emanating from her blood red lips.
She moved to the corner nearest the entrance from which she’d appeared as her music faded, hands in a white-knuckle grip on the top rope, painted nails matching her lips in hue.
The Announcer declared the arrival of this unnerving reincarnation of perfection.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit and it is a No Disqualification, Falls Count Anywhere Match! Introducing first, from New York, New York; standing five feet six inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and eighteen pounds, the Perfect Nightmare…Red Lisa!”
The Ultimate Image SLAMMED her forehead into the top buckle a half dozen times before mounting the middle ropes on either side and screaming incoherently toward the upper stage, apparently demanding her foe enter The Dream World.
Unable to wrap their collective head around who might be brave or foolish enough to confront the rampaging maniac waiting in the squared circle, the Spring Breakers let out a low ‘Oooooooohhhhh’ when ‘Passive’ burbled through the speakers.
PASSIVE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMe4kVNKvNk
Doing his damndest to suppress the shiver that ran up his spine, the Announcer proclaimed, “And introducing her opponent, hailing from New Cannan Louisiana, she stands at five feet nine inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty five pounds. She is the Crimson Cagliostro, the Mistress of Puppets and the Eighth Deadly Sin. She is TEMPRESS… CELIA BLASSENVILLE!”
CELIA BLASSENVILLE:
Vaguely amused by the concerned burblings of the denizens of her favorite Petri dish, the not-so-good doctor scanned the arena from one end to the other until her gaze fell upon her former patient. “Oh my poor, poor Lisa.” she said softly. “Whatever did that monster do to you?” Determined and intrigued in equal measure, the Destroyer-class redhead started down the ramp.
For her first pay-per-view outing since a most amusing experiment involving one Camille Cosworth, Blassenville sported a gleaming black lycca one-piece with long ‘sleeves’ that were comprised of a pair of thin ebon bands that wound around her arms, ending just above the wrists. Her ensemble finished with matching kneepads and gleaming white wrestling boots, while her long copper-colored hair was pulled back into a tight braid that hung almost to the small of her back. Disappointed (albeit hardly surprised) to discover that no one in her immediate vicinity had resolved to take up either bathing or proper grammar, Celia didn’t bother containing a sigh when she spotted a placard noting:
FREE SIERRA MIST!
“Not if I have my way.” Celia said casually. “That meddling reprobate is experiencing our wonderful mental health care system from the other side of the glass even as we speak.”
That brought the sign down in a hurry, allowing Blassenville to continue on her way with a smile on her face and vivisection in her heart.
Closing her eyes to better savor the silence that only happened before an experiment began in earnest, Celia made her way up the steps, wiped her boots on the apron and dipped through the ropes. Quick to claim the center as her own, she turned in a circle that ended with her staring down the former World Champion. Lisa started forward but Al Carpenter stepped in her path. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, the ref asked, “Head to your corner for me, huh Celia? I’ll check your pads and boots there.”
Celia replied with a small shrug that suggested his inspection would have no bearing whatsoever on what happened next, but she obliged him if only to have a few more seconds to study Lisa before the final bell.
Torn by the question of which of these two evils might constitute the lesser, the FAWNatics settled for a round of interested applause when the bell sounded and brunette and redhead left their respective corners. Regarding her former patient / experiment with the same sort of expression she reserved for a particularly interesting car crash, Celia Blassenville strode to the center of the ring and raised a hand, not to challenge, but to reach. “You’re not well, Lisa.” the not so good doctor called. “Certainly someone as obsessed with perfection as yourself must see th--”
Dream leapt on Blassenville, thirty pound weight disadvantage be damned! Curling her right arm across the back of Celia’s neck, she strengthened her hooks with a Scissors around the Destroyer’s waist so she could pwak-pwak-pwak-PWAAAK punches into her opponent’s skull!
“Watch the closed fists, Lisa!” Al barked almost at once. “Don’t make me warn you twice!”
Turned out he didn’t have to, though it was due to Celia’s diligence rather than Lisa’s. Bearing the brunette’s assault with bent knees and a determined grimace, Celia drove a few punches into her opponent’s ribs, then carefully hooked her left arm around the back of Dream’s head to draw her into a snug Front Facelock. That forced Lisa to switch over to body blows of her own, not to mention a single sustained constriction of those Dreamy Sciss-’OOOOOHHHHH!’ An impressed murmur rippled through the FAWNatics once Blassenville took hold of the smaller wrestler’s waistband and popped her hips with enough force to break Lisa’s grip AND swing her from six to midnight in a single go! The temptation to simply drop the Ultimate Image on her poor, cracked head was far stronger than Celia cared to admit, but in the end she rocked back on her heels and laid out flat to THWHUMP Lisa to the deck with a perfect Vertical Suplex.
Dream jolted to a seat, rolled to all fours and slid away from the redhead before returning to boot-leather. Already there, Blassenville noted, “As I was saying, you are not well. You should be back in the hospital on the regimen--”
“NEVER GOING BACK!” Lisa shrieked the proclamation like a banshee as she hurled herself at Celia with claws extended. This time the Temptress was ready and Dream paid for her enthusiasm with a two-handled goozle ‘smecked’ around her slender throat! Powering the former World Champion off her feet like she was little more than a bag of laundry, Blassenville gave her a rough shake and asked, “Did you really think the OHDP would simply ‘lose track’ of a high profile lunatic like yourself? Did you REALLY THINK they didn’t call me within an hour of that ham-fisted intern’s ridiculous jailbreaEERRRHHH!”
Lisa slashed her fingers across Celia’s eyes to return herself to terra firma, unfortunately she didn’t stay there long because the Crimson Cagliostro caught her under one arm and clamped a strong hand over the nape of her neck. Then she put that power to use, Blassenville simply hurling Dream three quarters of the way across the ring with a BOOMING Beal Toss!
FALLING BEAL TOSS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz0SxbGfez0
Dropped to her stomach by the force of her throw, Celia got to her feet as Lisa did the same. “CALM YOURSELF, LISA!” she ordered. “I can repair all the damage that meddling idiot did to your head, but you must get a hold of yourNNGGHHH!”
Lisa came in feet-first for her third assault, a high, snappy Dropkick that thumped off the Destroyer’s chest. Blassenville stumbled without going down so the Ultimate Image tried it again, a gorgeous (dare I say perfect?) Standing Dropkick that THWHAPPED her heels offa Celia’s chin! Celia ceded a couple more steps but that wasn’t nearly good enough for The Dream, so she ran the ropes at her back to build up a glorious head of steam for the third Dropkick she unleashed on Blassenville’s-- the Mistress of Puppets stepped out of the way even as she swatted Lisa’s legs aside to send her tumbling to the canvas like a dropped rock.
Forced to admit that a more intensive sort of therapy was needed to reach whatever remained of Lisa Dream, Celia waited for the former World Champ to make it to all fours before administering a stomp between her shoulders. Lisa cried out and tumbled onto her back but didn’t try to sit up, so Blassenville did a little running of her own, Celia bouncing outta the strands to Dream’s right before getting some serious air on a Leg Drop that brought the full weight of her right thigh THWHUMPING down atop Lisa’s chest! Intrigued to measure The Dream’s vaunted resilience in this semi-feral state, Blassenville transitioned to a Crossbody and hooked the far leg, the redhead tugging Lisa’s knee to within inches of her chin while Carpenter counted…
RUNNING LEG DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQW1bzWuCdM
ONE…
TWO…
Dream kicked out simultaneous with ‘TWO!’, the lissome brunette twisting away from the Temptress to escape a follow-up cover. “Your reflexes are as strong as ever.” Blassenville murmured with a hint of what might have been relief. “Whatever pharmacological hack-job Mist did on your mind, it doesn’t seem to have damaged your body.”
“Missssssssssst.” Lisa sounded like a snake learning to speak as she fought to all fours. “She… she said I was perfNNNNGGGGHH!”
Celia clouted an overhead Forearm Smash across the smaller woman’s shoulders, then cupped her ears so she could finish the job of hauling Dream to verticality. “If you’ll pardon my boldness, I believe you and Ms. Mist have vastly different definitions of that particular ide-NO! No.” Lisa went for Blassenville’s eyes only for Celia to catch her wrist with a few inches to spare. This was followed by a single shot to the gut, Blassenville leading with the broad side of her right thigh to drive the air from Lisa’s lungs in a quick ‘OOFFHH!’ “We’re making progress, Lisa.” The Temptress secured a Wristlock with one hand, braced the other between her patient’s shoulders. “It will be grueling, but you must trust me when I say you’ll be on the road to your old self by the time I’m done.”
The Dream didn’t get a chance to respond one way or the other, as Blassenville sent her hurtling at the far corner with an Irish Whip. As Celia previously noted, there was nothing wrong with Lisa’s ring awareness and she twisted around to absorb the impact against her back with no issues whatsoever. No, the issue came from Celia herself, or rather the Avalanche Splash she THWHUMPED against the brunette’s vulnerable bod. Groaning as she was crushed between the buckles and her reluctant therapist, Lisa threw an arm over the top rope to keep herself upright when Blassenville cleared off. She was still sucking wind when Celia took her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her head up.
“You do want to be perfect again, don’t you, Li--” Dream swatted the hand aside and answered with one of her own, a scintillating Bytch Slap that CRAAACKED against Celia’s cheek!
Temper flaring at that dramatic show of petulance, Blassenville hauled off with a retaliatory Haymaker that the Dream dipped just in time to switch places with the redhead! Mounting the second rope in the blink of an eye, Lisa stuffed her tummy against Celia’s face to keep her distracted while she claimed a handful of braid. Fist descending as soon as she’d wrenched Blassenville’s head to the proper angle, Lisa unloaded so fast the FAWNatics had a hard time keeping up, not that it stopped them from trying.
‘ONE!TWO!THREE!FOUR!FIVE!SIX!SEVEN!EIGHT!NI-’
Celia slipped her arms through Lisa’s stems so she could wrap them around her waist and stomp away from the corner with Dream astride her shoulders Powerbomb-style! Eyes wide with the oddest mixture of surprise and anger, the Ultimate Image redoubled her bludgeoning efforts in the hopes of escaping Blassenville’s grip before the inevitable conclusion.
As her pounding fists slam into Celia’s forehead, Dream’s carried back to center stage where Dr. Blassenville was ready to deliver the final prescription when The Dream’s right hand unclenched and a set of ruby-tipped fingers curled into talons and scraped across the hazel eyes of Lisa’s former psychoanalyst.
The change in tactics finally did the trick for the feral Lisa, Celia yelping as her arms drop from under The Dream’s thighs and raced to her face, protecting her peepers. The boot soles of Luscious Lisa dropped to the canvas instead of her spine and the back of her skull as the doc had in mind.
With Blassenville blinded, Lisa turned and sprinted to the ropes. She rebounded at full speed and lowered a shoulder into the Amazonian clinician. Even with Celia supremely occupied with her burning, watering eyes, Dream barely made a dent, Blassenville staggering only a couple steps from the impact.
Lisa shrieked in frustration, tugging at her dark locks. She spun and charged to the cables again, again u-turning out of them and RAMMING Celia, only to budge the towering redhead the tiniest bit. The Dream yelled in exasperation once more, slapping her own face for being unable to come close to toppling the woman that locked her away.
Unable to believe this furious fevered nightmare in which she could not take Blassenville off her feet, Lisa wheeled one more time. She leapt into the strands this time, landing on the middle rope while catching the top. She springboarded in a 180, vaulting into a Crossbody Splash across the chest of Blassenville. But despite her still welled and bloodshot eyes and blurry vision, Celia caught Dream perpendicular to her bosom, one arm wrapped between Lisa’s legs, the other around a shoulder of her foe.
Blassenville dropped to her knees and PLANTED Lisa and her red leather nearly THROUGH the canvas-covered plywood, likely leaving a dent that The Dream settled into, her body shuddering before falling still. The crowd groaned at the impact as Celia, kneeling next to the gobsmacked Ultimate Image, rubbed at her eyes, clearing them sufficiently to stare down and recognize the rubble that remained of The Dream.
“I put you on that ward for a reason,” the doctor informed the semiconscious brunette. “You would have returned to me by now if not for the meddling of Mist.”
Celia planted one palm atop Lisa’s pert chest, the other pressing down on The Dream’s navel.
“And in three seconds, I’ll start to make you my greatest triumph.”
Carpenter dropped next to the splayed legend in her own and other’s minds and counted out the anticlimactic…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Dream screamed wildly as she shoved a shoulder off the canvas, Dr. Blassenville ending on her haunches next to the dazed Dream, Lisa rolling to a shoulder, pointed away from the powerful purveyor of the medical arts and sciences, Dream hyperventilating, spittle flying.
“You will be cured,” Blassenville huffed, sinking her digits into Lisa’s dark locks and tugging The Dream to her feet, the more forceful physician rising alongside. She shook Lisa’s noggin from side to side, perhaps trying a new therapy that would rattle Lisa’s senses back into place, but the violent swinging left Lisa glassy-eyed and burbling.
‘Red Lisa’, as the FAWNatics had begun calling this incarnation of the untamed Dream, was face to her foe, Celia dipping slightly. The MD wrapped her guns around the waist of the wobbling Luscious Lisa. She cinched tight then lifted Lisa to tiptoes and beyond. Caught in a rib and abdomen-crushing Bear Hug, Dream gasped back to coherence, oxygen forced from her lungs.
“You’ll be my greatest work,” Blassenville grunted as she tried to squeeze only most of the life from the gaping, bug-eyed Dream.
Al asked if the Ultimate Image wanted to surrender and Dream reflexively took a swing at the man, though her attention toward Carpenter was instantly diverted by another soul-sucking constriction from the good doctor.
“Nurse Deborah and Nurse Kristen are so excited to have you back in our care. You can’t know.”
But from the look on Lisa’s face she apparently could and a second wind seemed to enter the comparatively slender frame of the legendary Lisa. Lifting her arms, she smacked her hands together behind Blassenville’s braincase, ringing the doc’s ears. Even so, the sinister specialist refused to relent. Only with a repeat performance was a breathless Lisa able to find contact with the canvas.
Dropped to the deck, the wheezing brunette leaned heavily against the ropes, drawing in deep breaths, a hand massaging her lower spine.
While The Dream tried to recover, Celia cradled both arms around her noggin as she stumbled to mid-ring, regaining her bearings. Turning, the redhead immediately bore down on ‘Red Lisa’, looking to sedate her once and would-be-again patient permanently.
But as Celia reached her target, Lisa grabbed the top rope and leaned backward with her entire if limited mass. The cable lowered with her and the charging Blassenville took a tumble over the top strand, crashing atop the apron before falling to the thinly-padded cement floor.
Those in the stands failing to have paid attention during the introductions might have wondered why Al kept any number counting to himself, but the ‘Falls Count Anywhere’ rules of this match meant Celia was safe from disqualification while pooled on the floor.
Lisa, sneer returning, continued to lean back, palm wrapped around the uppermost cable while the good doctor struggled to her feet. Timing with the redhead’s rise, the Ultimate Image of Human Perfection pulled herself fully upright. Grasping rubber-coated steel tight with both hands, Lisa bounded to the top rope and used it as a springboard into a dive toward the woman who cast her into the hell of Orlando’s looney bin.
Leather-encased legs leading the way, Lisa clamped her stems around the head of the risen physician and wheels to her right, flipping through a trip to the floor and sending the Amazonian MD flying to the concrete with a Hurricanrana, Celia hitting hard and sliding to the metal barricade dividing fans from the women that fascinated them.
Galvanized by her breakneck dive, Lisa pushed to her feet and measures Dr. Blassenville, the potent Celia seated against the metal, hazel eyes spinning. Taking advantage of her foe’s state, a snarling Lisa charges Blassenville and pounds her bosom with a blistering Soccer Kick to the MD’s breasts, the echoing impact making a few in the front row inches behind Celia cringe.
A maniacal chuckle accompanied the blow and Lisa seemed caught up in the pain-racked face of her jailer. She unloaded with volley after volley, the FAWNatics counting to a full ‘TEN’ before The Dream relented.
A sweat-glistening ‘Red Lisa’ yanked the wincing Celia to a stooped vertical and aimed her at the ring steps then bum rushed Blassenville toward the steel. At the last second, she heaved Celia to the stairs, a huge metallic ‘CRASH’ as the Mistress of Puppets had her strings cut, at least temporarily, Celia puddling at the base of the overturned steps, cradling into a mewling ball.
Lisa looked to the rafters and briught both palms to her face, rubbing furiously, her facial war paint smeared into an impressionist mess. She shrieked to the heavens, the crowd roaring its approval, then turned her attention back to the Blassenville.
“YOU! HOSPITAL!”
One hand braced on the off-kilter steps, Celia pushed to a knee, her dark eyes locked on Lisa as she continued to catalogue the damage done to her patient by that meddling would-be Samaritan. “Not a hospital, Lisa. A facility. A facility that was oh so close to granting you the perfection you so desperately crave.” The Temptress rose to her full height, took a step back and beckoned Dream forward. “I’ll return you to that same facility once you’ve been properly observed and sedated. But if you persist in this foolishness you may very well need several days in the infirmary before the real healing can be--PUT THAT DOWN, LISA!”
Alas Lisa, who was extremely enamored of the chair she’d liberated from the Timekeeper did no such thing. In fact she BANGED the rounded edge against the floor, then did it three more times because she liked the sound. “No hospital.” she cooed in the midst of advancing on the backpedaling redhead. “I’m perfect.”
“You can’t really believe that, can you?” Blassenville countered. “The Lisa Dream I knew, the REAL Lisa Dream, was a fanatic about every single aspect of her personal and professional life. Not a hair out of place, make-up done just so, hour upon HOUR in the gym until every maneuver in her arsenal was as natural as breathing.” Celia held a hand out, to welcome or ward, no one quite knew. “Lisa Dream lived and died by her self image. And do you know what she’d have to say to this babbling, smudgy, incoherent savage threatening me with a piece of office furniture?”
The Dream’s upper lip curled and she THWHAMMED her chair against the apron before taking another threatening step toward Celia. “Liar.” she hissed. “I’M Lisa Dream.”
“No dear, you’re nothing but a pale pink imitation… what the real Lisa would rightfully dismiss as a Wannadre--”
Lisa HURLED the chair at Blassenville’s head, forcing the Temptress to get both hands up to avoid a head-on collision. In this she was successful, in fact the FAWNatics couldn’t help but cheer when the not so good doctor caught the chair less than four inches shy of her nose. Any relief felt over this evasion proved so fleeting as to be almost nonexistent. Her hands were still thrumming from the catch when Lisa rushed in and spiked the big redhead’s right thigh with both heels, a Low Dropkick that sent Blassenville pitching forward to BWANG that damned chair between the floor and her forehead!
Celia saw stars at once, yet returned to one knee almost immediately. Too caught up in her own red rage to be fazed by this, Lisa caught the kneeling powerhouse in a Front Facelock and simply went to town on Blassenville’s neck and shoulders with a veritable fusillade of Overhand Forearm Smashes that THWHUMPED like someone going to town on a rug with a baseball bat.
“Never go back. Never go back.” the lissome brunette grunted as she ‘worked through her anger’. “No cage. No pet. No rat. I AM LISA NNNGGGGHHHH!”
Celia picked up the chair two-handed and drove the rounded edge into Lisa’s trim tummy. Distance meant it didn’t hit nearly as hard as she would’ve liked, but it forced the Dream to back off, creating some much needed separation while Blassenville made it back to one kn--THWHACK! Lisa planted on her back foot to drive the lead (right) into Celia’s jaw with a Low Super Kick!
LOW SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WE4Y6VDger8
The Crimson Cagliostro’s head snapped back but crumpled forward rather than back, Blassenville coming to rest on all fours with her head suspended above the chair she’d had the ill fortune to just drop. Above her, Lisa reached for the chair only to step back when Blassenville groaned. Teeth bared, the former World Champion looked around in search of something, anything to set her mind at ease.
In the end she found the Announce Table.
Giggling incoherently when she realized Celia was no more than oh, five or six feet from the table, Lisa spun on her heel and raced to the far end of the aisle and wheel around to come back the way she’d came. A straight line would’ve been the most sensible of course, but sense of any variety was scarce in Lisa Dream’s world these days so no one was quite surprised when she angled toward the Announce Table and leapt onto it without breaking stride. Coming to their feet just as the Dream left hers, the FAWNatics bellowed their amazement when the Ultimate Image dove from her perch and THWHAPPED her right forearm down across the nape of Celia’s neck with a hellaciously augmented Dreamsicle that also BWAAANGED the redhead’s forehead against the lurking steel!
DREAMSICLE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz6UOy7L21Q
Stretched out flat in the wake of this brain-freezing offense, Blassenville offered precious little resistance when Lisa tugged her onto her back and flopped atop her chest in a Crossbody. In place by the time she hooked a leg, Al Carpenter counted off…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOO!
Celia shoved Lisa clear with half a second to spare, her escape prompting a burble of confusion from the brunette. “No hospital.” Lisa filled her hands with Blassenville’s coppery braid and used it to peel her off the mat. “No more doctors.” she bonked Celia’s forehead against the apron half a dozen times, then shifted one hand between the taller wrestler’s legs so she could sloooooooooooowly muscle Celia onto the narrow ledge and under the bottom rope. Several rough shoves got Blassenville moving away from the edge, so Lisa hopped onto the apron and grabbed the top rope in both hands.
“That’s a good girl, that’s my perfect girl.” Lisa muttered in a surprising imitation of the currently unaccounted for Sierra Mist. “Show her why you’re perfect. Show her why you’re the Dream!”
The Ultimate Image nodded emphatically as Celia clambered to boot-leather and when she next spoke her voice was her own. “Perfectperfectperfectperfectperfect-- I’m Lisa Dream, stupid!”
With that she skipped onto the rubber-coated steel and launched herself into the aether, Dream twisting her whole body a good ninety degrees so she could SMECK! The second time proved just as charmless as the first when Celia stretched her arms wide to catch the leather-clad lovely against her chest.
“You poor, deluded creature.” Blassenville’s tone held all the compassion lacked by her actions, specifically the few Kneelifts she THUMPED into her patient’s exposed flank. “Some might well call you FAWN’s answer to Sisyphus. But that would make me the boulder and if I’m being honest with myself…”
Celia walked toward the ropes then swung left to take the Dream on a stroll around the squared circle only to spin all the way around and LET GO, the Mistress of Puppets hurling Lisa over the top rope to BWAAANG against the guardrail a heartbeat before crashing to the barely-padded concrete!
FREE FALL TRAUMA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2sAhDnGocc
Paying no mind to the cacophony of ‘HOLY SHYT!’ chants trained on her latest bit of therapy, Celia rested her elbows on the top rope and remarked, “… I’m far more vindictive than any mere stone.”
No response from Lisa of course, so Blassenville dipped through the strands and dropped to the floor. Al Carpenter was already beside the splattered brunette, so Celia shooed him away before burying a hand in The Dream’s hair. “Good grief, Celia! Gimme a minute to check on her, will ya!” the official barked. “I gotta make sure she’s still conscious!”
Blassenville clamped her right hand around Lisa’s throat, grabbed hold of her waistband with the other and turned toward the Announce Table. “If it’s a test of awareness you’re after, I believe my way is surefire and much faster. If she kicks out, she’s conscious.”
“NO CELIA, DON’T DO--”
The Temptress powered Lisa high into the air and THWHAM-CRASHED her through the unsuspecting table approximately half a heartbeat after Joanna and Gordy dove for cover. Nodding ever so slightly at the perfect wreckage scattered beneath her feet, Celia dropped to her knees, hooked the far leg and pulled that knee to Lisa’s chin so Carpenter and the unwashed throng could count…
OUCHIES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F372fDRRP0M
The Dream was off in some perfect, painless world for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Flinching as if she were amidst electroshock therapy, Lisa shuddered violently, throwing a shoulder off the wreckage far enough for Carpenter to wave off anyone’s thought the match might be decided.
Moaning, the demolished Image rolled to her side, away from her physician. In turn, Celia shook her head in disappointment. Still, the fact The Dream survived the destruction proves why she could be so valuable if rehabilitated and brought under control.
The Amazon MD dipped and sank a set of fingers into Dream’s shoulder-length brunette mane, ripping the semi-conscious legend to her feet. Blassenville forced the stooped head of The Dream between her muscular, tanned thighs and clamped down in a Standing Headscissors. She wrapped her arms around the gulping waist of ‘Red Lisa’ and flipped the comparatively slender frame of the Luscious One up her body, the flaccid form of Dream sitting on Celia’s shoulders. With the Icelandic announcer’s table too far for a throw, the not-so-good doctor pivoted, easily so, with her dark-haired cargo.
She tossed Lisa away in an aerial Powerbomb, The Dream’s spinal column BANGING against the edge of the apron. Crazed or not, Dream could feel the pain. Lisa’s face twisted in agony, her backbone dented if not deformed. She staggered away, spine arched, reaching for the impact point with a hand, vainly hoping to massage away some of the pain.
Blassenville tracked her patient from behind. The redhead grabbed a wrist and spun Lisa to face her. The only FAWN wrestler with admitting privileges at Orlando General’s psych ward swept her right arm across Lisa’s chest. Her left arm swung behind. With startling ease, the Amazon MD vaulted Lisa off her feet and sendt her flying over a shoulder with an Overhead Uranage.
OVERHEAD URANAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JA6JhTBN04U
Lisa’s head and shoulders landed HARD on the thinly-padded concrete, drawing an immediate ‘OHHHHH’ from the FAWNatics. A glassy-eyed Dream ended on her back, blankly staring into the rafters while a seated Dr. Blassenville checked her manicure before glancing over a shoulder to review the hot mess she’s made.
Somehow, the fury in ‘Red Lisa’ was not completely extinguished as The Dream rattled her noggin, trying to regain her bearings. Celia grabbed a leg as she rose then began to spin around the limb. She acquired and folded the opposite number into a fateful figure of four and dropped to a seat, bringing Lisa’s legs to her bended right knee, securing a Reverse Figure–Four Leglock.
REVERSE FIGURE FOUR LEGLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLjL-G_7QIs
Yanking down on Lisa’s right heel, Celia drew the Ultimate Image back to anguished reality, Lisa howling in pain but shaking her head like a madwoman when Al asked if she wanted to surrender. Ignoring the zebra as best she could, Lisa focused her fury into her fingertips, crawling to the apron and shoving up the ring skirt to look beneath.
Fortune smiled upon the psychotic Dream as she found the handle end of a kendo stick. With the weapon held in a white-knuckle grip, The Dream managed to roll to her side enough to wield the bamboo in Blassenville’s direction and crack shot after shot into the arms and chest of the redhead until Celia decided to give up her grip.
Rolling out of range, Blassenville allowed Lisa to use the armament as a walking stick, pushing up to vertical with its aid and limping in the opposite direction of the Amazon MD, making sure to put a corner between her and her former psychologist before turning.
Seeing Celia bent over the remaining upright Announcer’s Table, Lisa hobbled toward her target. But when Blassenville pivoted and shoots a Super Kick toward Lisa’s chin, it seems The Dream had fallen for another ploy by the not-so-good doctor.
The Dream’s reflexes served her well however, the Luscious One swerving her head out of the way while simultaneously swinging her stick between raised leg and planted, THWAPPPING the bamboo into Blassenville’s kitty. Celia’s hazel eyes crossed after the wicked impact, her muscular stems snapping together as she went pigeon-toed, hands buried where Lisa’s weapon had been moments before.
“I SAID…HOSPITAL!” Lisa shouted.
Raising the stick again, The Dream CRASHED it down on the crown of the Mistress of Puppets, cutting her strings. Celia dropped to her haunches, mind somewhere between the agony pulsating from her crotch and the throbbing stupor from her skull.
Lisa tossed her weapon away, its job done. She pulled Blassenville up far enough to force Celia’s head between her leather-encased thighs. It’s The Dream’s turn to flex her lower limbs into a Standing Headscissors. But when Lisa cupped her hands slightly into dual paddles, the crowd roared in anticipation of what The Dream has in mind.
Raging personality disorder or no, the demented version of the Personification of Perfection still understood how to create a wicked, butt-smacking Bittersweet Symphony.
Lisa wailed away on Celia’s backside, only taking a break to YANK Blassenville’s trunks FAR between her ass cheeks, providing more square inches of firm flesh to crack from tanned to rosy, Lisa spanking away until Celia was bleating with every stinging, echoing note.
Symphony complete, Lisa wrapped her arms around Blassenville’s belly. In her condition, The Dream was not getting the Amazonian MD up for a revenge Powerbomb, but she proved able to rock back and use gravity to fall to a seat, PLANTING the top of the doc’s skull against the floor in a makeshift Piledriver.
Blassenville’s dented cranium popped from between the ‘Red Lisa’s legs and her body flopped into a lifeless spreadeagle. The Dream wasn’t so far into her own world she disn’t realize the flattened redhead was there for the taking with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Blassenville reacted on instinct more than awareness as she used her power to kick free of The Dream’s pin.
Infuriated, ‘Red Lisa’ knelt next to her foe and began pounding balled fists into the tanned tummy of the vile clinician, battering Celia’s abdomen then scoring it with the blood-red nails at the end her ivory fingers.
“The Sisters will take YOU tonight,” Lisa shouted in her rage, rising and stomping the Amazon MD.
A strong statement to be sure, yet the feverish confusion stamped on Dream’s face said she wasn’t sure how to make her threat into a promise. Glancing around the narrow aisle for inspiration or perhaps something with which to bludgeon her adversary (though it this late stage it might’ve come to the same) Lisa’s frenetic hummingbird gaze flitted to the apron, then snapped back when she realized Blassenville laid parallel to the narrow ledge.
“Perfectperfectperfect.” the former World Champion repeated that word like a mantra as she broke off from the redhead and trudged over to the edge of the ring. Obviously exhausted by the punishment she’d absorbed, the Dream didn’t so much climb onto the apron as she did throw herself on it, and even this was accomplished with the help of a death grip on the middle strand. Vertical shortly thereafter, she looked over one shoulder to make sure Blassenville was still in the grips of her Piledriver hangover. She was, so the Ultimate Image hopped up, landed with both feet on the second rope and vaulted backward into the Dreamiest of Dreamysau--
An “OOOOOFFFFFHH!” from Lisa and an unusually sympathetic groan of anguish from the FAWNatics when the Ultimate Image THWHUMPED down on the Temptress’ upraised knees! As for Blassenville, sympathy was the furthest thing from her mind when she shoved the gagging brunette aside and sat up. “This newfound resilience is as intriguing as it is surprising, Lisa.” Celia huffed in the midst of helping herself to the smaller wrestler’s hair. “Indeed a well of this magnitude would’ve proven most gratifying if I had struck it while pandering to your previously, supposedly ‘perfect’ perso--”
CRAAACK! Lisa found the strength to warm Blassenville’s cheek with a Bytch Slap that made up for in spirit what it lacked in sting. “PERFECT!” Lisa barked again. “I’m Lisa Dream, stupNNNNNGGGHHH!”
The Crimson Cagliostro caught her by the scruff of the neck and THWHUNKED a Headbutt between her eyes. “Yes, you ARE Lisa Dream. Just as I am Celia Blassenville, the only woman in this miserable little asylum interested enough to put your shattered mind back together! SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!” Lisa had no answer for that, so Celia hauled them both to verticality and neatly hooked her right arm across the Dream’s chest. Clamped down on Lisa’s right shoulder, she could’ve secured her hooks with a handful of waistband, but Blassenville hadn’t much cared for her time at the symphony, so she worked her left hand beneath those snug leather pants and yaaaaaaaaaaanked on the lycra beneath even as she hauled Lisa into the air and THWHUMPED her upper-back against the edge of the apron!
APRON URANAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vidKVPPNld0
The Ultimate Image howled in pain and twisted away from the impact but somehow maintained enough awareness to grab a rope to maintain her verticality. Stumbling away from the Destroyer as fast as her trembling legs could carry her, Lisa shooed Al Carpenter out of the way and muttered, “No hospitals.”
The ref responded with nothing more than a worried look, however this must’ve been too much for The Dream’s scrambled sensibilities because she rounded on him and roared, “NO HOSPIT--”
BICYCLE KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rm-MBEYDT0w
Celia put a stop to the brunette’s babbling nonsense with a Bicycle Kick that struck Lisa squarely on the chin. “You’ll go wherever I see fit, Lisa.” Blassenville sniffed after her patient hit the deck.
In this case wherever she saw fit appeared to be the apron because that’s where Celia put Lisa after she’d scraped her off the floor. Rather, she sat The Dream against the ringpost with one leg angled under the bottom rope and the other hanging off the apron. As for the Mistress of Puppets, she strolled to the other end of the apron before climbing aboard. Those assembled for Spring Break weren’t sure what she had in mind, but their worried murmurs proved well founded when Blassenville raced down the ledge and hopped just high enough to drive her shins into Lisa’s shoulders, which in turn THWHUNKED the back of her skull against the unforgiving steel.
APRON DOUBLE KNEES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzwmclbcKt8
Lisa slumped forward like a castoff Kewpie Doll, the former World Champ looking so reduced even her most strident critics pleaded with Blassenville to get her back in the ring to finish it. Celia heard these lamentations and ignored them in favor of helping herself to Lisa’s hair. “I believe more intensive methods are required, Lisa.” Blassenville told the brunette once she was on her feet. “They may keep you bedridden for a week or more, but rest assured we’ll start on your rehabilitation as soon as you’re able to take solid food again.”
Turning The Dream in a careful half circle, Celia reached through Lisa’s legs with her right hand and laid claim to her left wrist. Drawing it back between those leather-sheathed stems, Blassenville hooked her left arm under Dream’s right bicep and lifted / flipped Lisa onto her shoulder for the most hellacious Head Game in--NO!
Lisa slipped out the back door, landing awkwardly on the apron directly behind the taller woman. Without even thinking, The Dream plowed into Celia and kept right on going until the surprised battler BWONKED into the steel ringpost! Blassenville reeled from the impact but didn’t go down, so Red Lisa leapt astride her shoulders, crossed her ankles and snapped backward to tear the big redhead loose from her moorings with a Dream Driver that THAWHONKED the crown of her skull against the barely-sheathed plywood!
APRON DREAM DRIVER @ 1:40:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6O_fX2O1AY
The not-so-good doctor tumbled from the apron like a felled tree and Lisa went with her, the exhausted battler sliding an arm beneath Celia’s bicep to shoot the Half Nelson that’d “OOOFFHH!”
Celia drove an elbow into The Dream’s ribs. It wasn’t a rebuke so much as it was muscle memory, yet Lisa’s dark eyes went wide with rage and incredulity!
“Perfectperfectperfect I’LL SHOW YOU WHO’S PERFECT!” Scrambling to her feet with newfound fervor, the Ultimate Image stormed over to one of those poor harried FAWN techs that always clustered near the Timekeeper’s station and flung him out of his chair. This she promptly claimed ownership up, Lisa closing it with a flat ‘SNAK!’ that earned a worried murmur from the throng. “Perfectperfectperfectper--”
Lisa’s return to Blassenville ground to a halt when she saw Celia on all fours.
“DON’T YOU KNOW I’M PERFECT?!” Dream sounded anything but when raised the chair high overhead and brought it BWANGING down on Blassenville’s broad back! Once was enough to stretch Celia out flat but it mustn’t have satisfied Lisa’s demanding standard of perfection because the leather-clad battler BWANG-BWANGED the chair across her opponent’s back two more times!
“PerfectperfectperfectdonttellmeImnoteveryoneknowsI’mper--”
Lisa kept on like this as she opened the chair and set it down so the seat was facing the addled Destroyer. Still muttering, The Dream hauled Celia off the floor in stages, then sidled in on her left and caught Blassenville’s noggin in a Three Quarters Facelock. It looked like a simple Snapmare until Dream kicked her right leg forward and slashed it backward to lay out flat on her tummy while Celia’s forehead smashed against the steel seat with a decidedly unlovely BWATHONK!
DAY DREAMER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4GFJ8sLfOY
Facedown after the nightmarish take on the Day Dreamer, Blassenville barely twitched when Lisa finally bulled her over and folded her in half with a Back Press good for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The CLANG of the bell was enough to make Dream break the cover, though not quite enough to entice her to boot-leather. Instead she drew her knees up to her chest and started to rock in place. She didn’t even crack a smirk when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… LISA DREAM!”
Dropping forward to all fours, Red Lisa crawled to apron’s edge and lifted the skirt, slipping her head and upper half beneath and emerging with a garbage can lid. Dream walked on her knees to the splayed but stirring MD, banging the metal against a forearm to test its strength. Happy with the pain it caused her, she watched with a sly grin as Blassenville struggled to a seated position, leaning against the barricade.
Dream rose to her feet and brandished the metal ready to sedate the doc into a DreamWorld all her own when there was a stirring from behind and Bon Jovi’s ‘Bad Medicine’ blasted through the speakers.
Even in her crazed state, The Dream knew Celia’s staff were on the way and indeed Nurse Deborah and Nurse Kristen, decked out in their white latex, were going code blue toward their boss.
The Ultimate Image, ready to crease Celia’s cranium, didn’t head for the exit when faced with both of her former jailers. Instead, she let loose with a war cry and raced into the breach, directly at the Sisters of Mercy, leaping into both brunettes at full speed. All three women ended on the floor a few feet from the Blassenville, a jumble of limbs and torsos, Lisa on top and flailing away at any available piece of Hurt and Manners she could find.
Having seen enough of The Dream’s lunacy for one night, Bethany sent in the clowns, in this case a bevy of FAWN security, to separate Lisa from the latex-clad cavalry.
Deborah and Kristen seemed more than willing to detach, rushing to their superior to check on the unsteady Amazonian MD. Meanwhile, Lisa desperately tried to break free of four men, kicking wildly and biting arms to get loose and get after the malicious medicos.
Adding a fifth flunky finally got Lisa elevated and together they carried off the frothing Dream to the sound of a surprising number of cheers. The Ultimate Image ultimately disappeared, still writhing against a half dozen bulky stooges as she’s sent backstage, perhaps to enjoy her revenge after a few ccs of Chlorpromazine.
FIFTH DIMENSION:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ez87LbaBgOA
Instead of the oh so familiar boos or indeed short-lived cheers of Sierra Mist’s creation, the crowd watched in eerie silence as one of the most familiar figures in the history of FAWN and indeed other federations appeared. And while the face and frame were known to all, the striking blood-red leather covering the Ultimate Image of Human Perfection, strategically placed streaks of red in her shoulder-length brunette locks, and the half-dozen, red ‘tear streaks’ leading from the lower lid of Lisa’s eyes to mid-cheek were stirring and frightening at once.
’RED’ LISA:
Having gone into isolation after destroying her psych ward savior Mist in a fit of post-match pique after losing to Olivia Dare AGAIN, the psychic break transformed the Ultimate Image into Red Lisa and the arterial color of her gear and war paint was a portend to her destroying one of her former jailers, Nurse Deborah, at March to War.
Confusion governed an audience unsure how to react to the shifting eyes of madness. Wariness abounds as this incarnation of the legendary Lisa seemed poised to jump into the stands and bite ears off.
Dream headed down the ramp, her head on a swivel. She turned from one side to the other, a murderous glint in her dark pools. One man dared to speak toward The Dream and she rushed the barricade, tying to tear at him until some late arriving FAWN security pulled her away and guided her back in the direction of the ring.
She shook off the grip of the six and a half-footers, Dream freeing herself as she reached the ring’s edge. Snarling and frothing, The Dream turned Nightmare climbed the steps and enters. She throws herself to the deck, slamming her spine into the canvas, talking to herself in a mumbling jibberish.
The Dream’s attire was a skin-tight sheath of cowskin, her customary sleeveless vest, cut low and showing plenty of her alabaster tummy, the pale skin contrasting sharply with the flaming cherry of her gear. Lisa’s long leather pants reached to ivory boots, any Dreamophiles in the audience frustrated at having the flawless, pale stems of the Personification of Perfection hidden from view. A series of leather ‘strings’ cobweb across her back to keep the vest in place, though they also left a considerable portion of her ivory back in view. Red pads at knees and elbows finished the wardrobe.
The solitary Dream clenched her fists as she stared into the rafters, the crowd murmuring with excitement and uncertainty.
Lisa kipped to her feet and looked far and wide throughout the arena, seemingly seeking out her next victim. There was no customary microphone in her clutches tonight, and it seemed no significant loss, as it’s unclear she’s able to form a coherent sentence from the spits and growls emanating from her blood red lips.
She moved to the corner nearest the entrance from which she’d appeared as her music faded, hands in a white-knuckle grip on the top rope, painted nails matching her lips in hue.
The Announcer declared the arrival of this unnerving reincarnation of perfection.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit and it is a No Disqualification, Falls Count Anywhere Match! Introducing first, from New York, New York; standing five feet six inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and eighteen pounds, the Perfect Nightmare…Red Lisa!”
The Ultimate Image SLAMMED her forehead into the top buckle a half dozen times before mounting the middle ropes on either side and screaming incoherently toward the upper stage, apparently demanding her foe enter The Dream World.
Unable to wrap their collective head around who might be brave or foolish enough to confront the rampaging maniac waiting in the squared circle, the Spring Breakers let out a low ‘Oooooooohhhhh’ when ‘Passive’ burbled through the speakers.
PASSIVE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMe4kVNKvNk
Doing his damndest to suppress the shiver that ran up his spine, the Announcer proclaimed, “And introducing her opponent, hailing from New Cannan Louisiana, she stands at five feet nine inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty five pounds. She is the Crimson Cagliostro, the Mistress of Puppets and the Eighth Deadly Sin. She is TEMPRESS… CELIA BLASSENVILLE!”
CELIA BLASSENVILLE:
Vaguely amused by the concerned burblings of the denizens of her favorite Petri dish, the not-so-good doctor scanned the arena from one end to the other until her gaze fell upon her former patient. “Oh my poor, poor Lisa.” she said softly. “Whatever did that monster do to you?” Determined and intrigued in equal measure, the Destroyer-class redhead started down the ramp.
For her first pay-per-view outing since a most amusing experiment involving one Camille Cosworth, Blassenville sported a gleaming black lycca one-piece with long ‘sleeves’ that were comprised of a pair of thin ebon bands that wound around her arms, ending just above the wrists. Her ensemble finished with matching kneepads and gleaming white wrestling boots, while her long copper-colored hair was pulled back into a tight braid that hung almost to the small of her back. Disappointed (albeit hardly surprised) to discover that no one in her immediate vicinity had resolved to take up either bathing or proper grammar, Celia didn’t bother containing a sigh when she spotted a placard noting:
FREE SIERRA MIST!
“Not if I have my way.” Celia said casually. “That meddling reprobate is experiencing our wonderful mental health care system from the other side of the glass even as we speak.”
That brought the sign down in a hurry, allowing Blassenville to continue on her way with a smile on her face and vivisection in her heart.
Closing her eyes to better savor the silence that only happened before an experiment began in earnest, Celia made her way up the steps, wiped her boots on the apron and dipped through the ropes. Quick to claim the center as her own, she turned in a circle that ended with her staring down the former World Champion. Lisa started forward but Al Carpenter stepped in her path. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, the ref asked, “Head to your corner for me, huh Celia? I’ll check your pads and boots there.”
Celia replied with a small shrug that suggested his inspection would have no bearing whatsoever on what happened next, but she obliged him if only to have a few more seconds to study Lisa before the final bell.
Torn by the question of which of these two evils might constitute the lesser, the FAWNatics settled for a round of interested applause when the bell sounded and brunette and redhead left their respective corners. Regarding her former patient / experiment with the same sort of expression she reserved for a particularly interesting car crash, Celia Blassenville strode to the center of the ring and raised a hand, not to challenge, but to reach. “You’re not well, Lisa.” the not so good doctor called. “Certainly someone as obsessed with perfection as yourself must see th--”
Dream leapt on Blassenville, thirty pound weight disadvantage be damned! Curling her right arm across the back of Celia’s neck, she strengthened her hooks with a Scissors around the Destroyer’s waist so she could pwak-pwak-pwak-PWAAAK punches into her opponent’s skull!
“Watch the closed fists, Lisa!” Al barked almost at once. “Don’t make me warn you twice!”
Turned out he didn’t have to, though it was due to Celia’s diligence rather than Lisa’s. Bearing the brunette’s assault with bent knees and a determined grimace, Celia drove a few punches into her opponent’s ribs, then carefully hooked her left arm around the back of Dream’s head to draw her into a snug Front Facelock. That forced Lisa to switch over to body blows of her own, not to mention a single sustained constriction of those Dreamy Sciss-’OOOOOHHHHH!’ An impressed murmur rippled through the FAWNatics once Blassenville took hold of the smaller wrestler’s waistband and popped her hips with enough force to break Lisa’s grip AND swing her from six to midnight in a single go! The temptation to simply drop the Ultimate Image on her poor, cracked head was far stronger than Celia cared to admit, but in the end she rocked back on her heels and laid out flat to THWHUMP Lisa to the deck with a perfect Vertical Suplex.
Dream jolted to a seat, rolled to all fours and slid away from the redhead before returning to boot-leather. Already there, Blassenville noted, “As I was saying, you are not well. You should be back in the hospital on the regimen--”
“NEVER GOING BACK!” Lisa shrieked the proclamation like a banshee as she hurled herself at Celia with claws extended. This time the Temptress was ready and Dream paid for her enthusiasm with a two-handled goozle ‘smecked’ around her slender throat! Powering the former World Champion off her feet like she was little more than a bag of laundry, Blassenville gave her a rough shake and asked, “Did you really think the OHDP would simply ‘lose track’ of a high profile lunatic like yourself? Did you REALLY THINK they didn’t call me within an hour of that ham-fisted intern’s ridiculous jailbreaEERRRHHH!”
Lisa slashed her fingers across Celia’s eyes to return herself to terra firma, unfortunately she didn’t stay there long because the Crimson Cagliostro caught her under one arm and clamped a strong hand over the nape of her neck. Then she put that power to use, Blassenville simply hurling Dream three quarters of the way across the ring with a BOOMING Beal Toss!
FALLING BEAL TOSS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz0SxbGfez0
Dropped to her stomach by the force of her throw, Celia got to her feet as Lisa did the same. “CALM YOURSELF, LISA!” she ordered. “I can repair all the damage that meddling idiot did to your head, but you must get a hold of yourNNGGHHH!”
Lisa came in feet-first for her third assault, a high, snappy Dropkick that thumped off the Destroyer’s chest. Blassenville stumbled without going down so the Ultimate Image tried it again, a gorgeous (dare I say perfect?) Standing Dropkick that THWHAPPED her heels offa Celia’s chin! Celia ceded a couple more steps but that wasn’t nearly good enough for The Dream, so she ran the ropes at her back to build up a glorious head of steam for the third Dropkick she unleashed on Blassenville’s-- the Mistress of Puppets stepped out of the way even as she swatted Lisa’s legs aside to send her tumbling to the canvas like a dropped rock.
Forced to admit that a more intensive sort of therapy was needed to reach whatever remained of Lisa Dream, Celia waited for the former World Champ to make it to all fours before administering a stomp between her shoulders. Lisa cried out and tumbled onto her back but didn’t try to sit up, so Blassenville did a little running of her own, Celia bouncing outta the strands to Dream’s right before getting some serious air on a Leg Drop that brought the full weight of her right thigh THWHUMPING down atop Lisa’s chest! Intrigued to measure The Dream’s vaunted resilience in this semi-feral state, Blassenville transitioned to a Crossbody and hooked the far leg, the redhead tugging Lisa’s knee to within inches of her chin while Carpenter counted…
RUNNING LEG DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQW1bzWuCdM
ONE…
TWO…
Dream kicked out simultaneous with ‘TWO!’, the lissome brunette twisting away from the Temptress to escape a follow-up cover. “Your reflexes are as strong as ever.” Blassenville murmured with a hint of what might have been relief. “Whatever pharmacological hack-job Mist did on your mind, it doesn’t seem to have damaged your body.”
“Missssssssssst.” Lisa sounded like a snake learning to speak as she fought to all fours. “She… she said I was perfNNNNGGGGHH!”
Celia clouted an overhead Forearm Smash across the smaller woman’s shoulders, then cupped her ears so she could finish the job of hauling Dream to verticality. “If you’ll pardon my boldness, I believe you and Ms. Mist have vastly different definitions of that particular ide-NO! No.” Lisa went for Blassenville’s eyes only for Celia to catch her wrist with a few inches to spare. This was followed by a single shot to the gut, Blassenville leading with the broad side of her right thigh to drive the air from Lisa’s lungs in a quick ‘OOFFHH!’ “We’re making progress, Lisa.” The Temptress secured a Wristlock with one hand, braced the other between her patient’s shoulders. “It will be grueling, but you must trust me when I say you’ll be on the road to your old self by the time I’m done.”
The Dream didn’t get a chance to respond one way or the other, as Blassenville sent her hurtling at the far corner with an Irish Whip. As Celia previously noted, there was nothing wrong with Lisa’s ring awareness and she twisted around to absorb the impact against her back with no issues whatsoever. No, the issue came from Celia herself, or rather the Avalanche Splash she THWHUMPED against the brunette’s vulnerable bod. Groaning as she was crushed between the buckles and her reluctant therapist, Lisa threw an arm over the top rope to keep herself upright when Blassenville cleared off. She was still sucking wind when Celia took her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her head up.
“You do want to be perfect again, don’t you, Li--” Dream swatted the hand aside and answered with one of her own, a scintillating Bytch Slap that CRAAACKED against Celia’s cheek!
Temper flaring at that dramatic show of petulance, Blassenville hauled off with a retaliatory Haymaker that the Dream dipped just in time to switch places with the redhead! Mounting the second rope in the blink of an eye, Lisa stuffed her tummy against Celia’s face to keep her distracted while she claimed a handful of braid. Fist descending as soon as she’d wrenched Blassenville’s head to the proper angle, Lisa unloaded so fast the FAWNatics had a hard time keeping up, not that it stopped them from trying.
‘ONE!TWO!THREE!FOUR!FIVE!SIX!SEVEN!EIGHT!NI-’
Celia slipped her arms through Lisa’s stems so she could wrap them around her waist and stomp away from the corner with Dream astride her shoulders Powerbomb-style! Eyes wide with the oddest mixture of surprise and anger, the Ultimate Image redoubled her bludgeoning efforts in the hopes of escaping Blassenville’s grip before the inevitable conclusion.
As her pounding fists slam into Celia’s forehead, Dream’s carried back to center stage where Dr. Blassenville was ready to deliver the final prescription when The Dream’s right hand unclenched and a set of ruby-tipped fingers curled into talons and scraped across the hazel eyes of Lisa’s former psychoanalyst.
The change in tactics finally did the trick for the feral Lisa, Celia yelping as her arms drop from under The Dream’s thighs and raced to her face, protecting her peepers. The boot soles of Luscious Lisa dropped to the canvas instead of her spine and the back of her skull as the doc had in mind.
With Blassenville blinded, Lisa turned and sprinted to the ropes. She rebounded at full speed and lowered a shoulder into the Amazonian clinician. Even with Celia supremely occupied with her burning, watering eyes, Dream barely made a dent, Blassenville staggering only a couple steps from the impact.
Lisa shrieked in frustration, tugging at her dark locks. She spun and charged to the cables again, again u-turning out of them and RAMMING Celia, only to budge the towering redhead the tiniest bit. The Dream yelled in exasperation once more, slapping her own face for being unable to come close to toppling the woman that locked her away.
Unable to believe this furious fevered nightmare in which she could not take Blassenville off her feet, Lisa wheeled one more time. She leapt into the strands this time, landing on the middle rope while catching the top. She springboarded in a 180, vaulting into a Crossbody Splash across the chest of Blassenville. But despite her still welled and bloodshot eyes and blurry vision, Celia caught Dream perpendicular to her bosom, one arm wrapped between Lisa’s legs, the other around a shoulder of her foe.
Blassenville dropped to her knees and PLANTED Lisa and her red leather nearly THROUGH the canvas-covered plywood, likely leaving a dent that The Dream settled into, her body shuddering before falling still. The crowd groaned at the impact as Celia, kneeling next to the gobsmacked Ultimate Image, rubbed at her eyes, clearing them sufficiently to stare down and recognize the rubble that remained of The Dream.
“I put you on that ward for a reason,” the doctor informed the semiconscious brunette. “You would have returned to me by now if not for the meddling of Mist.”
Celia planted one palm atop Lisa’s pert chest, the other pressing down on The Dream’s navel.
“And in three seconds, I’ll start to make you my greatest triumph.”
Carpenter dropped next to the splayed legend in her own and other’s minds and counted out the anticlimactic…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Dream screamed wildly as she shoved a shoulder off the canvas, Dr. Blassenville ending on her haunches next to the dazed Dream, Lisa rolling to a shoulder, pointed away from the powerful purveyor of the medical arts and sciences, Dream hyperventilating, spittle flying.
“You will be cured,” Blassenville huffed, sinking her digits into Lisa’s dark locks and tugging The Dream to her feet, the more forceful physician rising alongside. She shook Lisa’s noggin from side to side, perhaps trying a new therapy that would rattle Lisa’s senses back into place, but the violent swinging left Lisa glassy-eyed and burbling.
‘Red Lisa’, as the FAWNatics had begun calling this incarnation of the untamed Dream, was face to her foe, Celia dipping slightly. The MD wrapped her guns around the waist of the wobbling Luscious Lisa. She cinched tight then lifted Lisa to tiptoes and beyond. Caught in a rib and abdomen-crushing Bear Hug, Dream gasped back to coherence, oxygen forced from her lungs.
“You’ll be my greatest work,” Blassenville grunted as she tried to squeeze only most of the life from the gaping, bug-eyed Dream.
Al asked if the Ultimate Image wanted to surrender and Dream reflexively took a swing at the man, though her attention toward Carpenter was instantly diverted by another soul-sucking constriction from the good doctor.
“Nurse Deborah and Nurse Kristen are so excited to have you back in our care. You can’t know.”
But from the look on Lisa’s face she apparently could and a second wind seemed to enter the comparatively slender frame of the legendary Lisa. Lifting her arms, she smacked her hands together behind Blassenville’s braincase, ringing the doc’s ears. Even so, the sinister specialist refused to relent. Only with a repeat performance was a breathless Lisa able to find contact with the canvas.
Dropped to the deck, the wheezing brunette leaned heavily against the ropes, drawing in deep breaths, a hand massaging her lower spine.
While The Dream tried to recover, Celia cradled both arms around her noggin as she stumbled to mid-ring, regaining her bearings. Turning, the redhead immediately bore down on ‘Red Lisa’, looking to sedate her once and would-be-again patient permanently.
But as Celia reached her target, Lisa grabbed the top rope and leaned backward with her entire if limited mass. The cable lowered with her and the charging Blassenville took a tumble over the top strand, crashing atop the apron before falling to the thinly-padded cement floor.
Those in the stands failing to have paid attention during the introductions might have wondered why Al kept any number counting to himself, but the ‘Falls Count Anywhere’ rules of this match meant Celia was safe from disqualification while pooled on the floor.
Lisa, sneer returning, continued to lean back, palm wrapped around the uppermost cable while the good doctor struggled to her feet. Timing with the redhead’s rise, the Ultimate Image of Human Perfection pulled herself fully upright. Grasping rubber-coated steel tight with both hands, Lisa bounded to the top rope and used it as a springboard into a dive toward the woman who cast her into the hell of Orlando’s looney bin.
Leather-encased legs leading the way, Lisa clamped her stems around the head of the risen physician and wheels to her right, flipping through a trip to the floor and sending the Amazonian MD flying to the concrete with a Hurricanrana, Celia hitting hard and sliding to the metal barricade dividing fans from the women that fascinated them.
Galvanized by her breakneck dive, Lisa pushed to her feet and measures Dr. Blassenville, the potent Celia seated against the metal, hazel eyes spinning. Taking advantage of her foe’s state, a snarling Lisa charges Blassenville and pounds her bosom with a blistering Soccer Kick to the MD’s breasts, the echoing impact making a few in the front row inches behind Celia cringe.
A maniacal chuckle accompanied the blow and Lisa seemed caught up in the pain-racked face of her jailer. She unloaded with volley after volley, the FAWNatics counting to a full ‘TEN’ before The Dream relented.
A sweat-glistening ‘Red Lisa’ yanked the wincing Celia to a stooped vertical and aimed her at the ring steps then bum rushed Blassenville toward the steel. At the last second, she heaved Celia to the stairs, a huge metallic ‘CRASH’ as the Mistress of Puppets had her strings cut, at least temporarily, Celia puddling at the base of the overturned steps, cradling into a mewling ball.
Lisa looked to the rafters and briught both palms to her face, rubbing furiously, her facial war paint smeared into an impressionist mess. She shrieked to the heavens, the crowd roaring its approval, then turned her attention back to the Blassenville.
“YOU! HOSPITAL!”
One hand braced on the off-kilter steps, Celia pushed to a knee, her dark eyes locked on Lisa as she continued to catalogue the damage done to her patient by that meddling would-be Samaritan. “Not a hospital, Lisa. A facility. A facility that was oh so close to granting you the perfection you so desperately crave.” The Temptress rose to her full height, took a step back and beckoned Dream forward. “I’ll return you to that same facility once you’ve been properly observed and sedated. But if you persist in this foolishness you may very well need several days in the infirmary before the real healing can be--PUT THAT DOWN, LISA!”
Alas Lisa, who was extremely enamored of the chair she’d liberated from the Timekeeper did no such thing. In fact she BANGED the rounded edge against the floor, then did it three more times because she liked the sound. “No hospital.” she cooed in the midst of advancing on the backpedaling redhead. “I’m perfect.”
“You can’t really believe that, can you?” Blassenville countered. “The Lisa Dream I knew, the REAL Lisa Dream, was a fanatic about every single aspect of her personal and professional life. Not a hair out of place, make-up done just so, hour upon HOUR in the gym until every maneuver in her arsenal was as natural as breathing.” Celia held a hand out, to welcome or ward, no one quite knew. “Lisa Dream lived and died by her self image. And do you know what she’d have to say to this babbling, smudgy, incoherent savage threatening me with a piece of office furniture?”
The Dream’s upper lip curled and she THWHAMMED her chair against the apron before taking another threatening step toward Celia. “Liar.” she hissed. “I’M Lisa Dream.”
“No dear, you’re nothing but a pale pink imitation… what the real Lisa would rightfully dismiss as a Wannadre--”
Lisa HURLED the chair at Blassenville’s head, forcing the Temptress to get both hands up to avoid a head-on collision. In this she was successful, in fact the FAWNatics couldn’t help but cheer when the not so good doctor caught the chair less than four inches shy of her nose. Any relief felt over this evasion proved so fleeting as to be almost nonexistent. Her hands were still thrumming from the catch when Lisa rushed in and spiked the big redhead’s right thigh with both heels, a Low Dropkick that sent Blassenville pitching forward to BWANG that damned chair between the floor and her forehead!
Celia saw stars at once, yet returned to one knee almost immediately. Too caught up in her own red rage to be fazed by this, Lisa caught the kneeling powerhouse in a Front Facelock and simply went to town on Blassenville’s neck and shoulders with a veritable fusillade of Overhand Forearm Smashes that THWHUMPED like someone going to town on a rug with a baseball bat.
“Never go back. Never go back.” the lissome brunette grunted as she ‘worked through her anger’. “No cage. No pet. No rat. I AM LISA NNNGGGGHHHH!”
Celia picked up the chair two-handed and drove the rounded edge into Lisa’s trim tummy. Distance meant it didn’t hit nearly as hard as she would’ve liked, but it forced the Dream to back off, creating some much needed separation while Blassenville made it back to one kn--THWHACK! Lisa planted on her back foot to drive the lead (right) into Celia’s jaw with a Low Super Kick!
LOW SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WE4Y6VDger8
The Crimson Cagliostro’s head snapped back but crumpled forward rather than back, Blassenville coming to rest on all fours with her head suspended above the chair she’d had the ill fortune to just drop. Above her, Lisa reached for the chair only to step back when Blassenville groaned. Teeth bared, the former World Champion looked around in search of something, anything to set her mind at ease.
In the end she found the Announce Table.
Giggling incoherently when she realized Celia was no more than oh, five or six feet from the table, Lisa spun on her heel and raced to the far end of the aisle and wheel around to come back the way she’d came. A straight line would’ve been the most sensible of course, but sense of any variety was scarce in Lisa Dream’s world these days so no one was quite surprised when she angled toward the Announce Table and leapt onto it without breaking stride. Coming to their feet just as the Dream left hers, the FAWNatics bellowed their amazement when the Ultimate Image dove from her perch and THWHAPPED her right forearm down across the nape of Celia’s neck with a hellaciously augmented Dreamsicle that also BWAAANGED the redhead’s forehead against the lurking steel!
DREAMSICLE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz6UOy7L21Q
Stretched out flat in the wake of this brain-freezing offense, Blassenville offered precious little resistance when Lisa tugged her onto her back and flopped atop her chest in a Crossbody. In place by the time she hooked a leg, Al Carpenter counted off…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOO!
Celia shoved Lisa clear with half a second to spare, her escape prompting a burble of confusion from the brunette. “No hospital.” Lisa filled her hands with Blassenville’s coppery braid and used it to peel her off the mat. “No more doctors.” she bonked Celia’s forehead against the apron half a dozen times, then shifted one hand between the taller wrestler’s legs so she could sloooooooooooowly muscle Celia onto the narrow ledge and under the bottom rope. Several rough shoves got Blassenville moving away from the edge, so Lisa hopped onto the apron and grabbed the top rope in both hands.
“That’s a good girl, that’s my perfect girl.” Lisa muttered in a surprising imitation of the currently unaccounted for Sierra Mist. “Show her why you’re perfect. Show her why you’re the Dream!”
The Ultimate Image nodded emphatically as Celia clambered to boot-leather and when she next spoke her voice was her own. “Perfectperfectperfectperfectperfect-- I’m Lisa Dream, stupid!”
With that she skipped onto the rubber-coated steel and launched herself into the aether, Dream twisting her whole body a good ninety degrees so she could SMECK! The second time proved just as charmless as the first when Celia stretched her arms wide to catch the leather-clad lovely against her chest.
“You poor, deluded creature.” Blassenville’s tone held all the compassion lacked by her actions, specifically the few Kneelifts she THUMPED into her patient’s exposed flank. “Some might well call you FAWN’s answer to Sisyphus. But that would make me the boulder and if I’m being honest with myself…”
Celia walked toward the ropes then swung left to take the Dream on a stroll around the squared circle only to spin all the way around and LET GO, the Mistress of Puppets hurling Lisa over the top rope to BWAAANG against the guardrail a heartbeat before crashing to the barely-padded concrete!
FREE FALL TRAUMA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2sAhDnGocc
Paying no mind to the cacophony of ‘HOLY SHYT!’ chants trained on her latest bit of therapy, Celia rested her elbows on the top rope and remarked, “… I’m far more vindictive than any mere stone.”
No response from Lisa of course, so Blassenville dipped through the strands and dropped to the floor. Al Carpenter was already beside the splattered brunette, so Celia shooed him away before burying a hand in The Dream’s hair. “Good grief, Celia! Gimme a minute to check on her, will ya!” the official barked. “I gotta make sure she’s still conscious!”
Blassenville clamped her right hand around Lisa’s throat, grabbed hold of her waistband with the other and turned toward the Announce Table. “If it’s a test of awareness you’re after, I believe my way is surefire and much faster. If she kicks out, she’s conscious.”
“NO CELIA, DON’T DO--”
The Temptress powered Lisa high into the air and THWHAM-CRASHED her through the unsuspecting table approximately half a heartbeat after Joanna and Gordy dove for cover. Nodding ever so slightly at the perfect wreckage scattered beneath her feet, Celia dropped to her knees, hooked the far leg and pulled that knee to Lisa’s chin so Carpenter and the unwashed throng could count…
OUCHIES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F372fDRRP0M
The Dream was off in some perfect, painless world for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Flinching as if she were amidst electroshock therapy, Lisa shuddered violently, throwing a shoulder off the wreckage far enough for Carpenter to wave off anyone’s thought the match might be decided.
Moaning, the demolished Image rolled to her side, away from her physician. In turn, Celia shook her head in disappointment. Still, the fact The Dream survived the destruction proves why she could be so valuable if rehabilitated and brought under control.
The Amazon MD dipped and sank a set of fingers into Dream’s shoulder-length brunette mane, ripping the semi-conscious legend to her feet. Blassenville forced the stooped head of The Dream between her muscular, tanned thighs and clamped down in a Standing Headscissors. She wrapped her arms around the gulping waist of ‘Red Lisa’ and flipped the comparatively slender frame of the Luscious One up her body, the flaccid form of Dream sitting on Celia’s shoulders. With the Icelandic announcer’s table too far for a throw, the not-so-good doctor pivoted, easily so, with her dark-haired cargo.
She tossed Lisa away in an aerial Powerbomb, The Dream’s spinal column BANGING against the edge of the apron. Crazed or not, Dream could feel the pain. Lisa’s face twisted in agony, her backbone dented if not deformed. She staggered away, spine arched, reaching for the impact point with a hand, vainly hoping to massage away some of the pain.
Blassenville tracked her patient from behind. The redhead grabbed a wrist and spun Lisa to face her. The only FAWN wrestler with admitting privileges at Orlando General’s psych ward swept her right arm across Lisa’s chest. Her left arm swung behind. With startling ease, the Amazon MD vaulted Lisa off her feet and sendt her flying over a shoulder with an Overhead Uranage.
OVERHEAD URANAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JA6JhTBN04U
Lisa’s head and shoulders landed HARD on the thinly-padded concrete, drawing an immediate ‘OHHHHH’ from the FAWNatics. A glassy-eyed Dream ended on her back, blankly staring into the rafters while a seated Dr. Blassenville checked her manicure before glancing over a shoulder to review the hot mess she’s made.
Somehow, the fury in ‘Red Lisa’ was not completely extinguished as The Dream rattled her noggin, trying to regain her bearings. Celia grabbed a leg as she rose then began to spin around the limb. She acquired and folded the opposite number into a fateful figure of four and dropped to a seat, bringing Lisa’s legs to her bended right knee, securing a Reverse Figure–Four Leglock.
REVERSE FIGURE FOUR LEGLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLjL-G_7QIs
Yanking down on Lisa’s right heel, Celia drew the Ultimate Image back to anguished reality, Lisa howling in pain but shaking her head like a madwoman when Al asked if she wanted to surrender. Ignoring the zebra as best she could, Lisa focused her fury into her fingertips, crawling to the apron and shoving up the ring skirt to look beneath.
Fortune smiled upon the psychotic Dream as she found the handle end of a kendo stick. With the weapon held in a white-knuckle grip, The Dream managed to roll to her side enough to wield the bamboo in Blassenville’s direction and crack shot after shot into the arms and chest of the redhead until Celia decided to give up her grip.
Rolling out of range, Blassenville allowed Lisa to use the armament as a walking stick, pushing up to vertical with its aid and limping in the opposite direction of the Amazon MD, making sure to put a corner between her and her former psychologist before turning.
Seeing Celia bent over the remaining upright Announcer’s Table, Lisa hobbled toward her target. But when Blassenville pivoted and shoots a Super Kick toward Lisa’s chin, it seems The Dream had fallen for another ploy by the not-so-good doctor.
The Dream’s reflexes served her well however, the Luscious One swerving her head out of the way while simultaneously swinging her stick between raised leg and planted, THWAPPPING the bamboo into Blassenville’s kitty. Celia’s hazel eyes crossed after the wicked impact, her muscular stems snapping together as she went pigeon-toed, hands buried where Lisa’s weapon had been moments before.
“I SAID…HOSPITAL!” Lisa shouted.
Raising the stick again, The Dream CRASHED it down on the crown of the Mistress of Puppets, cutting her strings. Celia dropped to her haunches, mind somewhere between the agony pulsating from her crotch and the throbbing stupor from her skull.
Lisa tossed her weapon away, its job done. She pulled Blassenville up far enough to force Celia’s head between her leather-encased thighs. It’s The Dream’s turn to flex her lower limbs into a Standing Headscissors. But when Lisa cupped her hands slightly into dual paddles, the crowd roared in anticipation of what The Dream has in mind.
Raging personality disorder or no, the demented version of the Personification of Perfection still understood how to create a wicked, butt-smacking Bittersweet Symphony.
Lisa wailed away on Celia’s backside, only taking a break to YANK Blassenville’s trunks FAR between her ass cheeks, providing more square inches of firm flesh to crack from tanned to rosy, Lisa spanking away until Celia was bleating with every stinging, echoing note.
Symphony complete, Lisa wrapped her arms around Blassenville’s belly. In her condition, The Dream was not getting the Amazonian MD up for a revenge Powerbomb, but she proved able to rock back and use gravity to fall to a seat, PLANTING the top of the doc’s skull against the floor in a makeshift Piledriver.
Blassenville’s dented cranium popped from between the ‘Red Lisa’s legs and her body flopped into a lifeless spreadeagle. The Dream wasn’t so far into her own world she disn’t realize the flattened redhead was there for the taking with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Blassenville reacted on instinct more than awareness as she used her power to kick free of The Dream’s pin.
Infuriated, ‘Red Lisa’ knelt next to her foe and began pounding balled fists into the tanned tummy of the vile clinician, battering Celia’s abdomen then scoring it with the blood-red nails at the end her ivory fingers.
“The Sisters will take YOU tonight,” Lisa shouted in her rage, rising and stomping the Amazon MD.
A strong statement to be sure, yet the feverish confusion stamped on Dream’s face said she wasn’t sure how to make her threat into a promise. Glancing around the narrow aisle for inspiration or perhaps something with which to bludgeon her adversary (though it this late stage it might’ve come to the same) Lisa’s frenetic hummingbird gaze flitted to the apron, then snapped back when she realized Blassenville laid parallel to the narrow ledge.
“Perfectperfectperfect.” the former World Champion repeated that word like a mantra as she broke off from the redhead and trudged over to the edge of the ring. Obviously exhausted by the punishment she’d absorbed, the Dream didn’t so much climb onto the apron as she did throw herself on it, and even this was accomplished with the help of a death grip on the middle strand. Vertical shortly thereafter, she looked over one shoulder to make sure Blassenville was still in the grips of her Piledriver hangover. She was, so the Ultimate Image hopped up, landed with both feet on the second rope and vaulted backward into the Dreamiest of Dreamysau--
An “OOOOOFFFFFHH!” from Lisa and an unusually sympathetic groan of anguish from the FAWNatics when the Ultimate Image THWHUMPED down on the Temptress’ upraised knees! As for Blassenville, sympathy was the furthest thing from her mind when she shoved the gagging brunette aside and sat up. “This newfound resilience is as intriguing as it is surprising, Lisa.” Celia huffed in the midst of helping herself to the smaller wrestler’s hair. “Indeed a well of this magnitude would’ve proven most gratifying if I had struck it while pandering to your previously, supposedly ‘perfect’ perso--”
CRAAACK! Lisa found the strength to warm Blassenville’s cheek with a Bytch Slap that made up for in spirit what it lacked in sting. “PERFECT!” Lisa barked again. “I’m Lisa Dream, stupNNNNNGGGHHH!”
The Crimson Cagliostro caught her by the scruff of the neck and THWHUNKED a Headbutt between her eyes. “Yes, you ARE Lisa Dream. Just as I am Celia Blassenville, the only woman in this miserable little asylum interested enough to put your shattered mind back together! SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND TAKE YOUR MEDICINE!” Lisa had no answer for that, so Celia hauled them both to verticality and neatly hooked her right arm across the Dream’s chest. Clamped down on Lisa’s right shoulder, she could’ve secured her hooks with a handful of waistband, but Blassenville hadn’t much cared for her time at the symphony, so she worked her left hand beneath those snug leather pants and yaaaaaaaaaaanked on the lycra beneath even as she hauled Lisa into the air and THWHUMPED her upper-back against the edge of the apron!
APRON URANAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vidKVPPNld0
The Ultimate Image howled in pain and twisted away from the impact but somehow maintained enough awareness to grab a rope to maintain her verticality. Stumbling away from the Destroyer as fast as her trembling legs could carry her, Lisa shooed Al Carpenter out of the way and muttered, “No hospitals.”
The ref responded with nothing more than a worried look, however this must’ve been too much for The Dream’s scrambled sensibilities because she rounded on him and roared, “NO HOSPIT--”
BICYCLE KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rm-MBEYDT0w
Celia put a stop to the brunette’s babbling nonsense with a Bicycle Kick that struck Lisa squarely on the chin. “You’ll go wherever I see fit, Lisa.” Blassenville sniffed after her patient hit the deck.
In this case wherever she saw fit appeared to be the apron because that’s where Celia put Lisa after she’d scraped her off the floor. Rather, she sat The Dream against the ringpost with one leg angled under the bottom rope and the other hanging off the apron. As for the Mistress of Puppets, she strolled to the other end of the apron before climbing aboard. Those assembled for Spring Break weren’t sure what she had in mind, but their worried murmurs proved well founded when Blassenville raced down the ledge and hopped just high enough to drive her shins into Lisa’s shoulders, which in turn THWHUNKED the back of her skull against the unforgiving steel.
APRON DOUBLE KNEES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzwmclbcKt8
Lisa slumped forward like a castoff Kewpie Doll, the former World Champ looking so reduced even her most strident critics pleaded with Blassenville to get her back in the ring to finish it. Celia heard these lamentations and ignored them in favor of helping herself to Lisa’s hair. “I believe more intensive methods are required, Lisa.” Blassenville told the brunette once she was on her feet. “They may keep you bedridden for a week or more, but rest assured we’ll start on your rehabilitation as soon as you’re able to take solid food again.”
Turning The Dream in a careful half circle, Celia reached through Lisa’s legs with her right hand and laid claim to her left wrist. Drawing it back between those leather-sheathed stems, Blassenville hooked her left arm under Dream’s right bicep and lifted / flipped Lisa onto her shoulder for the most hellacious Head Game in--NO!
Lisa slipped out the back door, landing awkwardly on the apron directly behind the taller woman. Without even thinking, The Dream plowed into Celia and kept right on going until the surprised battler BWONKED into the steel ringpost! Blassenville reeled from the impact but didn’t go down, so Red Lisa leapt astride her shoulders, crossed her ankles and snapped backward to tear the big redhead loose from her moorings with a Dream Driver that THAWHONKED the crown of her skull against the barely-sheathed plywood!
APRON DREAM DRIVER @ 1:40:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6O_fX2O1AY
The not-so-good doctor tumbled from the apron like a felled tree and Lisa went with her, the exhausted battler sliding an arm beneath Celia’s bicep to shoot the Half Nelson that’d “OOOFFHH!”
Celia drove an elbow into The Dream’s ribs. It wasn’t a rebuke so much as it was muscle memory, yet Lisa’s dark eyes went wide with rage and incredulity!
“Perfectperfectperfect I’LL SHOW YOU WHO’S PERFECT!” Scrambling to her feet with newfound fervor, the Ultimate Image stormed over to one of those poor harried FAWN techs that always clustered near the Timekeeper’s station and flung him out of his chair. This she promptly claimed ownership up, Lisa closing it with a flat ‘SNAK!’ that earned a worried murmur from the throng. “Perfectperfectperfectper--”
Lisa’s return to Blassenville ground to a halt when she saw Celia on all fours.
“DON’T YOU KNOW I’M PERFECT?!” Dream sounded anything but when raised the chair high overhead and brought it BWANGING down on Blassenville’s broad back! Once was enough to stretch Celia out flat but it mustn’t have satisfied Lisa’s demanding standard of perfection because the leather-clad battler BWANG-BWANGED the chair across her opponent’s back two more times!
“PerfectperfectperfectdonttellmeImnoteveryoneknowsI’mper--”
Lisa kept on like this as she opened the chair and set it down so the seat was facing the addled Destroyer. Still muttering, The Dream hauled Celia off the floor in stages, then sidled in on her left and caught Blassenville’s noggin in a Three Quarters Facelock. It looked like a simple Snapmare until Dream kicked her right leg forward and slashed it backward to lay out flat on her tummy while Celia’s forehead smashed against the steel seat with a decidedly unlovely BWATHONK!
DAY DREAMER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4GFJ8sLfOY
Facedown after the nightmarish take on the Day Dreamer, Blassenville barely twitched when Lisa finally bulled her over and folded her in half with a Back Press good for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
The CLANG of the bell was enough to make Dream break the cover, though not quite enough to entice her to boot-leather. Instead she drew her knees up to her chest and started to rock in place. She didn’t even crack a smirk when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… LISA DREAM!”
Dropping forward to all fours, Red Lisa crawled to apron’s edge and lifted the skirt, slipping her head and upper half beneath and emerging with a garbage can lid. Dream walked on her knees to the splayed but stirring MD, banging the metal against a forearm to test its strength. Happy with the pain it caused her, she watched with a sly grin as Blassenville struggled to a seated position, leaning against the barricade.
Dream rose to her feet and brandished the metal ready to sedate the doc into a DreamWorld all her own when there was a stirring from behind and Bon Jovi’s ‘Bad Medicine’ blasted through the speakers.
Even in her crazed state, The Dream knew Celia’s staff were on the way and indeed Nurse Deborah and Nurse Kristen, decked out in their white latex, were going code blue toward their boss.
The Ultimate Image, ready to crease Celia’s cranium, didn’t head for the exit when faced with both of her former jailers. Instead, she let loose with a war cry and raced into the breach, directly at the Sisters of Mercy, leaping into both brunettes at full speed. All three women ended on the floor a few feet from the Blassenville, a jumble of limbs and torsos, Lisa on top and flailing away at any available piece of Hurt and Manners she could find.
Having seen enough of The Dream’s lunacy for one night, Bethany sent in the clowns, in this case a bevy of FAWN security, to separate Lisa from the latex-clad cavalry.
Deborah and Kristen seemed more than willing to detach, rushing to their superior to check on the unsteady Amazonian MD. Meanwhile, Lisa desperately tried to break free of four men, kicking wildly and biting arms to get loose and get after the malicious medicos.
Adding a fifth flunky finally got Lisa elevated and together they carried off the frothing Dream to the sound of a surprising number of cheers. The Ultimate Image ultimately disappeared, still writhing against a half dozen bulky stooges as she’s sent backstage, perhaps to enjoy her revenge after a few ccs of Chlorpromazine.