Post by dsb on Jun 14, 2019 0:48:59 GMT
SCARLET SINCLAIR
While Scarlet Sinclair waited on the opposite side of the curtains, she did so with a boundless degree of energy, her miniature mass hopping from one foot to the other as she rolled her wrists incessantly. With chocolate curls bouncing about her slender shoulders, she puffed out her cheeks and exhaled sharply, as ready as she was ever going to be for her first, PPV appearance.
One of the stage hands spared her a sideways glance as he lifted something especially heavy, evidently distracted by the bouncing of the petite Brit. Following a quick, sideways glance of her own, Scarlet confirmed that he certainly appeared to be filled out in all of the right places, and as such she flashed an inviting smirk in his direction, confident that she would still have some excess energy to burn off once this match was done.
Her eldest sister wouldn’t approve of a quickie in the closest, but then, that just made her feel all the more devious for considering it.
At least, as devious as a Sinclair could get at any rate.
Her eyes opened wide as her music began to play and, after releasing a ‘meep’ that was apparently genetic, she shot off towards the curtains…
Oh My My
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7TN-TpkET8
…and burst out into the stage, the FAWNatics welcoming the Upstart with all of the fanfare that was befitting a member of that most Babyfaced of Factions. While she was a somewhat reluctant, card carrying member of that particular Nation, she wasn’t about to turn down the accolades that accompanied the prestigious association.
She came to a screeching halt, Scarlet grinning as she made a show of preventing herself from falling over and then, with her feet braced, she WHIPPED both of her arms up high into the air.
The FAWNatics responded to the invitation with a renewed bout of cheering, this time louder than before, just as the Brit had requested it.
Scarlet, having heard what they had to say, set her hands back on her hips and tilted her head sideways. With a look of ‘deep’ consideration, she measured their offered enthusiasm to her arrival and, following a shaking of her head, she WHIPPED her arms up into the air for a second time!
So prompted, the FAWNatics responded even louder than before, their voices filling the rafters and encouraging a fresh smirk to emerge upon the features of the girl of their affections.
Satisfied with their performance, the Brit Without a Cause set off down the ramp at an impressive pace, her feet crisscrossing in front of one another as she held out her arms in welcome. Just as she was about to reach the squared circle, she cut a sharp turn right and began circling the ring.
Scouring the front rows of the crowd before her, she only paused in her search once she spotted what she was looking for, which was evidently the cutest looking boy that sat within arm’s reach.
She both snagged the beer cup from his grasp and a pen from the nearby Timekeeper, helping herself to a gulp of the cool beverage (to be social), and proceeded to write a note (to be doubly social) on the side of the paper container. She handed the cup back with a wink accompanying the swivel of her hips as she turned her back to him, the young man both left smitten by her proximity, and astonished by the invitation that she had left him.
Leaving him speechless, Scarlet bounded up onto the apron and, just as she was about to duck between the top and middle ropes, she delivered a firm SPANK to her own, equally firm buttocks for good measure. She slipped into the ring and found her corner, her posture returning to a state of excess energy, her eyes focused on the curtains as she waited for her opponent.
Predictably enough, she did not have to wait long.
Electrified
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oNuQMTI7n0
IRMA IRONS
The Dark-Haired Destroyer tore through the curtains with little ceremony, setting a murderous pace as she stormed towards the ring at a rapid, fitful pace. She glowered, every muscle of her physique positively twitching, five foot four and one-hundred and twenty-five pounds of scarcely contained aggression made manifest as she cracked her own neck in alarming fashion.
She forgo the need to torment the FAWNatics, either having outgrown such necessities or, more likely, her volatile need to inflict misery had merely become more focused. Her murderous glare was for Scarlet only and, after she had stormed up the steel steps, the Manchester Malcontent came a sudden stop on the apron.
With a white-knuckle embrace, she squeezed the top rope as she glared at the youngest of the Sinclair’s, the bytch who hadn’t known better than to poke a hornet’s nest. While her primary focus would always remain the People’s Princess, for tonight, she would settle for pressing her boot down on the throat of her ‘Rebel’ counterpart.
Not at all taking kindly to the stink eye being thrown in her direction, Scarlet scrunched up her button nose (which was not nearly as intimidating as she was evidently hoping), and she pushed out from her corner. She invited Irma to join her at centre ring, and Iron’s wasted no further time in doing so, surging on over to chest up with the far spritelier brunette opposite.
Scarlet did not back down, tipping her chin up imperiously before a smirk spread across her features, her peepers pointedly flicking upwards to the centre of her incensed opponents’ forehead. Not weeks earlier, the youngest of the Sinclair’s had taken it upon herself to draw a penis on Irma’s crown in permanent marker, ensuring that their encounter would not be forgotten anytime soon.
By all accounts, it had not gone over well with the Manchester Malcontent.
Iron’s was seething, her right eye set to twitching as her fingers clenched into fists, remembering all too well the effort that had been taken to remove the phallic symbol. The time it had required was not short, and Irma had venomously cursed the Sinclair lineage for every second of it.
With a SHOVE!! she forced the youngest of the Sinclair’s backwards, forcing the smaller Lightweight into a pained stumble, the girl’s shoulders throbbing from the surprisingly hard impact.
Scarlet didn’t miss a beat, not taking kindly to that at all, the petite brunette demonstrating that her own hackles were now up as she immediately surged back into the breach. She bodied up to the broader girl as best as she was able, and refused to look intimidated. She had thrown down with bigger before in pubs all over England…
…not usually successfully, but that was beside the point. She’d rarely remembered the minutia of the events, so they didn’t really count.
“Try that again,” Scarlet invited, “see what happens!”
Iron’s accepted, not even blinking as she delivered a second, and equally firm SHOVE to her opponent, jolting the younger woman from head to toe.
Sinclair, however, was at least braced for it this time and, instead of retreating with a stumble, she slammed on the brakes immediately, bringing her right arm backwards before unleashing a delicious haymaker!
From the unexpected blow, Iron’s head snapped sideways, the FAWNatics audibly GASPING as it happened and Irma forcibly shifted backwards a full half step. She paused, shoulders tensing, before she reached up and massaged her jaw, her glare promising bloody murder.
Refusing to back down, the Brit Without a Cause braced herself for a return volley…
…only for her diminutive physique to fold sharply forwards with a heart-rending YELP emerging from her petite body, Irma DRIVING a sharp PUNT right up into her unguarded sex. With her stems losing all feeling, Scarlet dropped down to her knees and cradled her most private of regions, her lips circling into an ‘O’ as she winced in blinding misery.
She was in little position to defend herself as Irma grabbed the girl by her hair and, with her foe rendered immobile, she SLAMMED a driving right fist down flush against the Upstarts forehead.
The brunette dropped down to the deck and shivered, the FAWNatics calling fowl across the entirety of the arena, the Official finally catching up with as to why.
“That’s enough Iron’s” he warned, although she didn’t seem to be paying much attention, “the match hasn’t started yet.”
“Like f*ck it hasn’t,” Iron’s scowled, fully prepared to deliver a punt to his regions as well if he didn’t get out of her way sharpish. “Bytch punched me in the face!”
“After you hit her first,” the Official reasoned, “let me check on her, and I’ll start the match.”
Iron’s didn’t look convinced but, with a clenching of her jaw, she made no further effort to advance forwards.
“Ten seconds,” Irma warned, resisting the urge to start pacing, “then I murder the bytch, bell of no bell.”
The Official wasn’t convinced that he agreed with that, but then, he was equally convinced that he wasn’t going to get a say in the matter. Kneeling down beside the youngest member of the Upstart Nation, he immediately began encouraging the wincing brunette to get back up. He had successfully prompted Scarlet up onto one knee when Irma’s impatience started to become palpable and, with Sinclair delivering a quick nod, the man in black and white returned to standing and reluctantly called for the bell.
“About f*cking time,” Iron’s snapped as she stormed forwards, tensing her shoulders to…
…Scarlet sprung into action, exploding upwards from her penitent position and, before Iron’s could utter the curse her lips were forming, caught her in a modified headlock. Gravity took hold just as rapidly as Sinclair had defied it and, as she was dragged back down to earth, Irma was whiplashed forwards into a bow before her features were CRACKED down against her opponents’ shoulder, the Scarlet Cutter out of no-where punishing her features!
SCARLET CUTTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VthfkxwvVw
With a snap, Iron’s sprung back up to vertical, positively spitting and snarling as she clutched at her face, turning about in a half circle before she stumbled haphazardly away from the collision. Absently, as she reached the ring ropes and wrapped her arms about the top coil for support, she could hear the FAWNatics cheering the rapid reversal, which only served to set her ire to boiling. With a curling of her lips, she exhaled sharply before turning about, her vision narrowing to a murderous focus as she…
…found herself on the wrong end of momentum once again!
Scarlet, clapping as she did so, had sprung back up to vertical, raising her hand up high before setting off at a sprint. Just as Irma had turned about, Sinclair had already been swinging her right arm upwards and positively SLAMMED her bicep up into the underside of her adversaries unprotected chin!
RUNNING EUROPEAN UPPERCUT: @7:50
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsipdPIYW8g
With spittle exploding from her jaw, Irma was sent to stumbling once again, the FAWNatics eating it up as the Weaponised Wolverine could barely seem to catch her bearings.
Scarlet, in comparison, was smirking like a Cheshire cat as she continued sprinting, positively bounding up the closest set of turnbuckles and throwing both of her little fists up into the air. The audience responded with a positively rowdy bout of cheers and Sinclair hopped back down again, turning about and finding her opponent struggling to remain upright.
Bowing a little lower herself, the Rebel Princess measured the distance between herself and her intended victim and, upon deciding that the time was right, released the most fearsome of shouts that she could summon before launching into a Superkick…
…with Irma caught before she could connect with anything vital.
With the briefest bout of panic emerging across her features, Scarlet only had time to hop once on her posted stem as her other, lithe limb was being held above the canvas, a vengeful Iron’s ready to take advantage.
With a shout of her own, this one primordial in its retaliatory fury, the Manchester Malcontent positively THREW the captured leg up into the air with enough, sheer force to physically flip her smaller opponent all the way up and over! Out of control, Sinclair would have hit the deck chest first, had the ropes to her back not caught her ankles on the way down! Instead, her legs whacked painfully atop the uppermost coil which also altered her trajectory, her freckled cheeks now leading the way to the canvas!
SUPERKICK REVERSAL: @0:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SObNk3nM73A
With a concerning THUNK, Scarlet’s noggin met the deck and, after the rest of her petite physique joined her on the mat, she lay there for a long moment with a stunned moan.
Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, Iron’s mood was left substantially improved, by which her murderous instincts were significantly more focused. Even as Sinclair was beginning to blink away the cobwebs, Irma was already advancing, grabbing the Rebel Princess and dragging her across the mat as though she were property. With a heave, she deposited the smaller brunette to sitting in the corner, and the Dark-Haired Destroyer seized the ropes to either side of the uppermost turnbuckle.
Inhaling deeply, she began to lay down stomp after stomp after STOMP onto Scarlets open torso until her own cries of frustration were drowned out by the boos of the FAWNatics. Sinclair grunted, moaned and groaned as she was ground down into pudding, slumping further and further until she was almost flat against the mat.
MUDHOLE STOMPS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QzEa5AZZmg
With a shout, Iron’s shoved herself away from the corner, pacing the circumference of the squared circle with a heavy tread, cracking her own neck as she forcibly reigned in her blinding fury.
Scarlet groaned as she exhaled with pained breaths, scrunching up her freckled cheeks in open defiance as she forcibly pulled her miniature mass back up to sitting, “…Pussy.”
“Oh F*CK YOU, BYTCH!!” Irma snapped with renewed hostility, her effort to effect control undone with a single utterance, zeroing in on the Rookie with murderous intent.
Leaning forwards to grab the younger woman by the throat, Iron’s hoisted Sinclair back up onto her feet with a concerning degree of ease, slapping a hand between the girls’ thighs soon after.
Scarlet winced as her (not exactly) private region were forcibly squeezed, but that was currently the least of her concerns as she was bodily lifted skywards. Irma deposited her soon after, dropping her petite physique horizontally over the top ropes to either side of the top turnbuckle before backing off, leaving the dazed Upstart precariously positioned.
The FAWNatics were momentarily confused, but that was soon remedied as soon as Iron’s charged right back into the breach, exercising the lower parts of her anatomy as she swung her right leg upwards and SLAMMED the tip of her boot right up into her opponent’s trim tummy!!
Sinclair expelled a great gust of air as she not only folded about the harsh impact, but she was hit with enough force to pop her miniature mass high up into the air. She did not, however, come anywhere close to dropping down to the mat as Irma stepped in as the girl began her involuntary descent, collecting her equally involuntary cargo across her shoulders.
Severely winded, Scarlet barely resisted as she was transported like a sack of potatoes towards centre ring, secured in a Fireman’s Carry until Irons identified her spot.
With a renewed heave, Irma popped her opponent free, shoving her skywards before swinging her back down, dropping down to one knee and FOLDING the brunettes midriff first across her posted knee!!
BIG BOOT/FIREMAN’S CARRY GUTBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_H-Ls1ducIg
The Rebel Princess heaved, but there was scarcely anymore air left to come out, and so she shivered into a heap as the Manchester Malcontent shoved the girl from off her thigh and allowed her to drop to the mat. After collecting both of Sinclair’s lithe stems, Irma rolled her up into a tight ball for…
ONE!
TW…
Scarlet shoved up a shoulder with enough force to roll completely over, inhaling deeply as she did so and breathing heavily.
Irma didn’t wait on ceremony, grabbing the diminutive brunette by the scruff of her neck and dragging her back up to standing, Sinclair herself releasing a vexed growl from the bottom of her throat following such dismissive treatment. Either Irons didn’t hear or, more likely, she simply wasn’t impressed by the implied threat, instead grabbing her opponent’s wrist and launching her into an Irish Whip, sending her streaming across the canvas towards the furthest set of ring ropes.
Scarlet turned herself about as she met the coils and, with the rebound granting her greater momentum, she shot off back the way she had come at even greater velocity.
Irma was there to greet her, winding up her arm to deliver a meaty Clothesline…
…only for Sinclair to duck clean beneath it, the FAWNatics popping in the seats at the sudden aversion. The brunette kept on going, rebounding off the second set of ring ropes much like the first and, with confidence growing, directed her petite physique directly towards her opponent.
Irons dropped down to the mat, clearly aiming to present a hazardous obstacle, only for Scarlet to skip clean over the top, maintaining her sprint as she rapidly returned to the original set of ring ropes. Much like before, she rebounded with gusto, Irma back on her feet to meet her on the return trip and, just as the brunettes were about to collide, the Manchester Malcontent stepped aside of the rapidly moving projectile and SHOVED the young woman on the back on her way past.
While she may have expected that additional velocity to send the youngest of the Sinclair’s hurtling towards disaster, Scarlet instead lived up to her heritage by launching into a beautiful Handspring. It was one that bounced her off the ropes YET AGAIN and, as she both reversed course from the rebound and returned to her feet, she used every ounce of that momentum to backflip the entirety of perfectly petite mass up over to land at centre ring with enough pizazz to leave Olympians filled with envy.
Iron’s, by comparison, was left steaming (and disorientated) by the display, especially with an extremely pleased Scarlet smirking in her direction before pointing with a wink.
Like a coyote with a road runner, Irma just couldn’t let it go, not as the Rebel Princess once again set off at a sprint towards a set of ring ropes. The Weaponised Wolverine lined herself up to deliver a haymaker but, once again it proved to be a swing and a miss, Sinclair ducking below her limb and avoiding danger.
This time, after Scarlet rebounded off the ropes, Irma turned about to meet her, only for the miniature brunette to launch herself into the air, snap both of her lithe stems tight about her opponent’s noggin before swinging the rest of herself about. Gravity assisted with the rest, Sinclair ripping Iron’s off her feet by way of Hurricaneranna, the crown of her opponent’s head NAILED into the canvas!!
SCARLET STAMPEDE: @8:54
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5XDYf4v9Yc4
Irma audibly cursed as she clutched at her noggin, the FAWNatics otherwise erupting into cheers as she rolled over onto her side, muttering dire threats between clenched teeth.
After enjoying a far more successful landing, Scarlet was scrambling back up to her feet, closing the distance between herself and her opponent before she could recover and snagging the other Brits ankle’s. Forcing the Dark-Haired Destroyer over onto her back, she spread Irma’s legs out wide, forming a V with them before she smirked to the audience.
“Don’t! You! Dare!” Iron’s issued the warning with plenty of venom, almost physically pushing the words out through clenched teeth.
Scarlet paused for a moment, tilting her head as if musing, only to follow it up with a shrug, “I fail to see why not.” With a little hop, Sinclair popped her hips and jumped up onto the air, straitening her legs out as if sitting and bringing both of her lower limbs down with a THUMP!! Onto Irma’s most private of regions, splitting the woman’s wickets in the process.
MIDSECTION LEGDROP
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lbw2MAUHB0s
Iron’s jack knifed up to sitting and clutched between her legs, rolling away from the impact as she did so, a great deal of vulgarity being released with several, pained breaths.
Scarlet, on the other hand, was looking exceedingly pleased with herself, making a show of dusting off her hands before popping back up to standing. “You don’t seem so bad,” she observed, “but you’re defiantly dusty down there, if you catch my meaning.”
Irma didn’t respond, not in any manner of sentence that resembled vocabulary, the syllables emerging from her throat far too guttural and harsh to be considered civilised language. Instead she seethed, the threat of violence bleeding off her in waves before grabbing the bottom ring rope with one hand and pulling herself up to the second.
All the while, Scarlet smirked in her foes direction as she hopped from one foot to the other, priming herself up to strike…
…only for Irma to catch her somewhat flat footed, the Manchester Malcontent catching the Brit Without a Cause by surprise with the mobility that she could produce once suitably vexed. Launching herself into a charge the moment that she returned to vertical, Iron’s zeroed in on the smaller Brit with a blood curdling yell…
…only for Sinclair to prove that she was an equally capable of staying on her toes as the next Lightweight, her peepers springing open wide before she ducked low and, before Irma could compensate, used her hostile opponents very own momentum to POP her clean up and over the top ropes!! Unfortunately for the irate Brit in question, her shout becoming one of frustration, there was only one destination for this particular swing and a miss, one that sent her hurtling downwards to cold concrete outside of the ring!!
Irma landed with a THUD which forced a wince from many a FAWNatic and, while she had missed witnessing the landing, Scarlet had heard it well enough. The smaller brunette, still snugly inside of the squared circle herself, popped back up to her feet and thrust her little fists up into the air. The Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance of the Upstart Nation responded back with gusto and, with her bosom hiking with the praise, the enthusiasm of the Rebel Princess threatened to get away from her.
She turned about, charging towards the opposite set of ring ropes before hurtling herself against them, rebounding with a great deal of velocity to continue her sprint. Upon reaching her point of origin, Scarlet threw herself into the air, launching into a forward sault that sailed her petite mass clean up and over the top rope, her firm booty soon leading the way to collide with the chest of the painfully rising Irons…
…only for Irma to catch her!!
The FAWNatics inhaled sharply in concern, a suddenly wide eyed babyface now sat astride her opponents’ powerful shoulders, failing to wriggle her way free before it was too late. Time to affect an escape was not something that Irma was willing to give her, the Weaponised Wolverine picking her spot and charging, releasing her cargo only as they reached the Ringpost!! Irma released, THROWING Scarlet backwards into the
unyielding steel with a bone jarring THUNK, Sinclair releasing an involuntary cry as she buckled and collapsed, rebounding from the impact before flopping to the concrete.
She shuddered for several moment’s, Scarlet momentarily unable to process her spines misery, her right thigh twitching as she remained splayed out on the deck.
Iron’s, however, was not willing to leave her there, wiping her hand across the back of her lips before, somewhat peculiarly, she looked back to the curtains. It only lasted a moment, the division of her attention towards the backstage, and only the most eagle eyed of spectators caught it, before she reached down and GRABBED the wincing Scarlet by the back of her neck.
“Come ‘ere, Bytch,” Irma demanded, hoisting the smaller woman back up off the concrete and, as Sinclair steeled her resolve to deliver a rebuttal, Iron’s cut her off by SLAMMING!! her forehead down into the steel steps!! Many of the FAWNatics looked away as the CLANG!! filled the arena and a sharp convulsion ran through the small body of the Rebel Princess, her stems kicking up off the floor before she slumped, her pretty peepers left half lidded and glazy.
Irma still wasn’t satisfied, securing a second hold of her opponent by her arm and, with a sharp pivot, spun her fellow Brit about and bodily SLAMMED her against the barricade!! The metal obstruction sprang backwards against those sitting in the front row, several in close proximity scrambling to avoid being hit themselves, most still leaping to the verbal defence of one Scarlet Sinclair who promptly puddled back down into a heap.
The loudest of which was a familiar face for the evening, a certain young gentleman who had been left an invitation on his beer cup. He turned silent the moment Irma turned the entirety of her seething ire in his direction and, suitably stunned by the intensity of her glare, Iron’s indulged little hinderance in snatching the container from his grasp. She downed the entirety of what remained of the cool beverage before he could bring himself to voice a fresh protest and, vindictively, she crushed the paper cup and threw it away over her shoulder. Belching dismissively in his direction, Irma went back to work.
Scarlet, as pained as she was feeling, had taken the opportunity to return to her hands and knees, but that was as far as she was going to get as Iron’s returned. The Weaponised Wolverine seized her by her belt and the back of her shirt before HAULING her about, SLAMMING her against the apron with a wicked, rotating swing!
The smaller brunette exhaled with a pained groan as she crumpled once more, her limbs lacking a great deal of fibre following her disastrous trip to the outside of the squared circle. Irma still had a hold of her, the Dark-Haired Destroyer lifting her smaller opponent up and, much to the relief of the Official, deposited the Upstart back inside the ring.
“Alright Irma,” the man in black and white nodded, grateful to have things back inside the ropes, “let’s keep it inside now shall we?”
“F*ck you,” was Iron’s only reply, not seeing fit to even look in his direction before she took an immediate detour, heading towards the Announcers desk. With the commentators scrambling out of her way, Irma stole one of the chairs before snapping the metal furniture shut with an audible CLANG!!
“Oh no,” the Official protested, looking as firm as he could muster, Irma zeroing back in on the squared circle with murderous intent. “Not today Irma, I will disqualify you Iron’s, do you hear me?”
She did, and she evidently didn’t care, retaining her weapon in hand as she slid beneath the bottom rope and back into the ring, standing up with a rolling her shoulders and a clenching of her fists.
“I mean it, Iron’s,” the man in black and white warned, “I’m not kidding aro…”
CLANG!!!!!!
The FAWNatics audibly GASPED in surprise and Irma turned about and SLAMMED!! the steel chair directly into the face of the Official, knocking him clean the f*ck out with one, brutal swing! He hit the deck without a moment’s hesitation, done for the evening in the most abrupt fashion possible.
Iron’s rolled her shoulders again, satisfied with what she had done as she paused for just a moment, letting what she had done settle before she cracked her neck. Concern began rippling over the amassed FAWNatics, their protests rising in crescendo as Irma returned the entirety of her attention back to her opponent.
Once again, Scarlet had found the resolve to lift herself up onto her hands and knees, but such resilience was for nought. after Irma advanced and mercilessly SLAMMED her steel chair down across her opponents back with a THWACK!!
Sinclair dropped to the deck, the petite Brit releasing a short yelp before she was struck with the steel chair for a second time, and then a third, Irma snarling with gritted teeth as she swung for the fences again, and again, and AGAIN!!!
By the time the twitching Scarlet had stopped moving, jolting only before she was being CRACKED across her shoulders by a weapon, the FAWNatics were lifting the rafters with their combined protests. For the life of them, they could not understand why a second Official had not emerged to call an end to Irma’s illegal beating…
…until then sound system burst into renewed life.
You Should See Me In A Crown
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKpCeoVjeOA
Anyone who harboured hope that those lyrics would herald the arrival of reinforcements were swiftly disappointed when, on the stage, emerged the long absent, sinuously revitalised Darla Diane Davis, all one-hundred and thirty-two pounds of the bountiful, powerhouse blonde radiating weaponised, self-actualisation.
Because she declared it, she was the Apex Supreme, and that belief was irresistible.
DARLA DIANE DAVIS
With a spotlight accompanying her stately traverse down the ramp, a smile quirked her lips that was as sensual as it was filled with predatory intent, her hips swaying as her arms were stretched up high, owning the undivided attention of the FAWNatics even as they lamented her coming. Her eyes, dark and sultry, never flickered about the arena, her gaze only for the squared circle as the audience drank in the sight of her glorious physique, every inch toned to visible perfection, her poise once again belonging to a conqueror.
As she ascended the steel steps in her own time, some of the FAWNatics spotted the Announcer doing his best to appear discreet as he frantically communicated with the Time Keeper. Both exchanged whispers and, while neither of them seemed happy about it, the message had been passed on to not interfere. From where this missive had originated, no-one in the audience was to know, but many could speculate that she was currently residing in the skybox…
Slipping between the top and middle rope, her hips remaining all a swivel, the SoCal Babe reached centre ring and cocked her head just so, meeting the glare of her one-time enforcer, the Weaponised Wolverine, Irma Irons.
The Dark-Haired Destroyer snorted, adrenaline still spiking at borderline critical as she cracked her neck one way and then the other, her shoulders rolling as if she still idled over her options.
The FAWNatics held their collective breath as Darla remained non-plussed, her sultry gaze never leaving Irma’s volcanic fury, before she held up one hand and pointed down towards the Official, the man in black and white still unconscious on the deck.
For just a moment, Iron’s looked as though she still may very well bite, before the FAWNatics released an audible groan of disappointment as she bent over, grabbed the Officials shirt, and all but RIPPED it off the poor mans back with a distinct lack of ceremony. The mounting despair in the arena only deepened as she handed the stolen garment to her one-time benefactor, Darla accepting the black and white stripes with a curling of her lips that oozed self-indulgence.
Showing just a moment of distaste, Davis opted to not wear the Official’s shirt as it was intended, far too contaminated with his inferior genetics for her liking, and instead settled for wrapping the garment about her hips like a belt, declaring herself the new mistress of this match.
The FAWNatics heckled the development in displeasure, but there was no changing the course of this particular river now, not as Irma retrieved her battered, steel chair and slapped it down at centre ring. So positioned, Iron’s turned her attentions back to the barely conscious Scarlet, unceremoniously scraping the youngest member of the Upstart Nation off the deck and muscling the petite girl up and over her powerful shoulders by way of a Fireman’s Carry.
Sinclair offered not a single protest, scarcely moving as she was displayed like a trophy before Irma inhaled deeply and, with a shove against her captive’s lithe stem, shot Scarlet’s lower limbs skywards. Iron’s dropped sideways a fraction of a moment later, SPIKING her adversaries already rattled noggin squarely against the waiting, steel chair!
IRON VALLEY DRIVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbWBLvQxkw4
Scarlet dropped and convulsed, her thighs twitching once, twice, thrice before she lay still, the young women well and truly spent for the evening. Irma wasted little ceremony in collecting both of her fellow brits’ stems, rolling her up into a tight ball for…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
…Darla not even seeing fit to drop to the canvas to slap the mat, instead opting to stand imperiously with one hand on hip whilst she held the other skywards, counting with her fingers to the all-important number. She called for the bell, and the Announcer reluctantly made it official.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of this match via Pinfall, IRMA! IRONS!!”
The FAWNatics let their collective disappointment be known, and Darla cared not a jot, collecting the microphone from the Announcer as Irma shoved her way back up to vertical, delivering a final, farewell stomp to Scarlet’s visible, trim tummy purely out of spite. Davis joined her at centre ring, the duo standing over the demolished Upstart, and the blonde hardbody brought the stick up to her lips.
She opened her mouth to speak before, with a hint of sourness as if she just realised how much these people were beneath her, she instead dismissively dropped the stick without saying a word, the microphone hitting the deck with a wince inducing SQUEEL over the loud speakers.
Instead, Darla stood with her arms upraised, her very presence commanding the people’s attention, her chosen enforcer once again pacing close by. The ‘Apex Supreme’ had returned, and this time, she would not abide a single adversary to stand against her freshly founded ‘Nation’.
While Scarlet Sinclair waited on the opposite side of the curtains, she did so with a boundless degree of energy, her miniature mass hopping from one foot to the other as she rolled her wrists incessantly. With chocolate curls bouncing about her slender shoulders, she puffed out her cheeks and exhaled sharply, as ready as she was ever going to be for her first, PPV appearance.
One of the stage hands spared her a sideways glance as he lifted something especially heavy, evidently distracted by the bouncing of the petite Brit. Following a quick, sideways glance of her own, Scarlet confirmed that he certainly appeared to be filled out in all of the right places, and as such she flashed an inviting smirk in his direction, confident that she would still have some excess energy to burn off once this match was done.
Her eldest sister wouldn’t approve of a quickie in the closest, but then, that just made her feel all the more devious for considering it.
At least, as devious as a Sinclair could get at any rate.
Her eyes opened wide as her music began to play and, after releasing a ‘meep’ that was apparently genetic, she shot off towards the curtains…
Oh My My
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7TN-TpkET8
…and burst out into the stage, the FAWNatics welcoming the Upstart with all of the fanfare that was befitting a member of that most Babyfaced of Factions. While she was a somewhat reluctant, card carrying member of that particular Nation, she wasn’t about to turn down the accolades that accompanied the prestigious association.
She came to a screeching halt, Scarlet grinning as she made a show of preventing herself from falling over and then, with her feet braced, she WHIPPED both of her arms up high into the air.
The FAWNatics responded to the invitation with a renewed bout of cheering, this time louder than before, just as the Brit had requested it.
Scarlet, having heard what they had to say, set her hands back on her hips and tilted her head sideways. With a look of ‘deep’ consideration, she measured their offered enthusiasm to her arrival and, following a shaking of her head, she WHIPPED her arms up into the air for a second time!
So prompted, the FAWNatics responded even louder than before, their voices filling the rafters and encouraging a fresh smirk to emerge upon the features of the girl of their affections.
Satisfied with their performance, the Brit Without a Cause set off down the ramp at an impressive pace, her feet crisscrossing in front of one another as she held out her arms in welcome. Just as she was about to reach the squared circle, she cut a sharp turn right and began circling the ring.
Scouring the front rows of the crowd before her, she only paused in her search once she spotted what she was looking for, which was evidently the cutest looking boy that sat within arm’s reach.
She both snagged the beer cup from his grasp and a pen from the nearby Timekeeper, helping herself to a gulp of the cool beverage (to be social), and proceeded to write a note (to be doubly social) on the side of the paper container. She handed the cup back with a wink accompanying the swivel of her hips as she turned her back to him, the young man both left smitten by her proximity, and astonished by the invitation that she had left him.
Leaving him speechless, Scarlet bounded up onto the apron and, just as she was about to duck between the top and middle ropes, she delivered a firm SPANK to her own, equally firm buttocks for good measure. She slipped into the ring and found her corner, her posture returning to a state of excess energy, her eyes focused on the curtains as she waited for her opponent.
Predictably enough, she did not have to wait long.
Electrified
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oNuQMTI7n0
IRMA IRONS
The Dark-Haired Destroyer tore through the curtains with little ceremony, setting a murderous pace as she stormed towards the ring at a rapid, fitful pace. She glowered, every muscle of her physique positively twitching, five foot four and one-hundred and twenty-five pounds of scarcely contained aggression made manifest as she cracked her own neck in alarming fashion.
She forgo the need to torment the FAWNatics, either having outgrown such necessities or, more likely, her volatile need to inflict misery had merely become more focused. Her murderous glare was for Scarlet only and, after she had stormed up the steel steps, the Manchester Malcontent came a sudden stop on the apron.
With a white-knuckle embrace, she squeezed the top rope as she glared at the youngest of the Sinclair’s, the bytch who hadn’t known better than to poke a hornet’s nest. While her primary focus would always remain the People’s Princess, for tonight, she would settle for pressing her boot down on the throat of her ‘Rebel’ counterpart.
Not at all taking kindly to the stink eye being thrown in her direction, Scarlet scrunched up her button nose (which was not nearly as intimidating as she was evidently hoping), and she pushed out from her corner. She invited Irma to join her at centre ring, and Iron’s wasted no further time in doing so, surging on over to chest up with the far spritelier brunette opposite.
Scarlet did not back down, tipping her chin up imperiously before a smirk spread across her features, her peepers pointedly flicking upwards to the centre of her incensed opponents’ forehead. Not weeks earlier, the youngest of the Sinclair’s had taken it upon herself to draw a penis on Irma’s crown in permanent marker, ensuring that their encounter would not be forgotten anytime soon.
By all accounts, it had not gone over well with the Manchester Malcontent.
Iron’s was seething, her right eye set to twitching as her fingers clenched into fists, remembering all too well the effort that had been taken to remove the phallic symbol. The time it had required was not short, and Irma had venomously cursed the Sinclair lineage for every second of it.
With a SHOVE!! she forced the youngest of the Sinclair’s backwards, forcing the smaller Lightweight into a pained stumble, the girl’s shoulders throbbing from the surprisingly hard impact.
Scarlet didn’t miss a beat, not taking kindly to that at all, the petite brunette demonstrating that her own hackles were now up as she immediately surged back into the breach. She bodied up to the broader girl as best as she was able, and refused to look intimidated. She had thrown down with bigger before in pubs all over England…
…not usually successfully, but that was beside the point. She’d rarely remembered the minutia of the events, so they didn’t really count.
“Try that again,” Scarlet invited, “see what happens!”
Iron’s accepted, not even blinking as she delivered a second, and equally firm SHOVE to her opponent, jolting the younger woman from head to toe.
Sinclair, however, was at least braced for it this time and, instead of retreating with a stumble, she slammed on the brakes immediately, bringing her right arm backwards before unleashing a delicious haymaker!
From the unexpected blow, Iron’s head snapped sideways, the FAWNatics audibly GASPING as it happened and Irma forcibly shifted backwards a full half step. She paused, shoulders tensing, before she reached up and massaged her jaw, her glare promising bloody murder.
Refusing to back down, the Brit Without a Cause braced herself for a return volley…
…only for her diminutive physique to fold sharply forwards with a heart-rending YELP emerging from her petite body, Irma DRIVING a sharp PUNT right up into her unguarded sex. With her stems losing all feeling, Scarlet dropped down to her knees and cradled her most private of regions, her lips circling into an ‘O’ as she winced in blinding misery.
She was in little position to defend herself as Irma grabbed the girl by her hair and, with her foe rendered immobile, she SLAMMED a driving right fist down flush against the Upstarts forehead.
The brunette dropped down to the deck and shivered, the FAWNatics calling fowl across the entirety of the arena, the Official finally catching up with as to why.
“That’s enough Iron’s” he warned, although she didn’t seem to be paying much attention, “the match hasn’t started yet.”
“Like f*ck it hasn’t,” Iron’s scowled, fully prepared to deliver a punt to his regions as well if he didn’t get out of her way sharpish. “Bytch punched me in the face!”
“After you hit her first,” the Official reasoned, “let me check on her, and I’ll start the match.”
Iron’s didn’t look convinced but, with a clenching of her jaw, she made no further effort to advance forwards.
“Ten seconds,” Irma warned, resisting the urge to start pacing, “then I murder the bytch, bell of no bell.”
The Official wasn’t convinced that he agreed with that, but then, he was equally convinced that he wasn’t going to get a say in the matter. Kneeling down beside the youngest member of the Upstart Nation, he immediately began encouraging the wincing brunette to get back up. He had successfully prompted Scarlet up onto one knee when Irma’s impatience started to become palpable and, with Sinclair delivering a quick nod, the man in black and white returned to standing and reluctantly called for the bell.
“About f*cking time,” Iron’s snapped as she stormed forwards, tensing her shoulders to…
…Scarlet sprung into action, exploding upwards from her penitent position and, before Iron’s could utter the curse her lips were forming, caught her in a modified headlock. Gravity took hold just as rapidly as Sinclair had defied it and, as she was dragged back down to earth, Irma was whiplashed forwards into a bow before her features were CRACKED down against her opponents’ shoulder, the Scarlet Cutter out of no-where punishing her features!
SCARLET CUTTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VthfkxwvVw
With a snap, Iron’s sprung back up to vertical, positively spitting and snarling as she clutched at her face, turning about in a half circle before she stumbled haphazardly away from the collision. Absently, as she reached the ring ropes and wrapped her arms about the top coil for support, she could hear the FAWNatics cheering the rapid reversal, which only served to set her ire to boiling. With a curling of her lips, she exhaled sharply before turning about, her vision narrowing to a murderous focus as she…
…found herself on the wrong end of momentum once again!
Scarlet, clapping as she did so, had sprung back up to vertical, raising her hand up high before setting off at a sprint. Just as Irma had turned about, Sinclair had already been swinging her right arm upwards and positively SLAMMED her bicep up into the underside of her adversaries unprotected chin!
RUNNING EUROPEAN UPPERCUT: @7:50
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsipdPIYW8g
With spittle exploding from her jaw, Irma was sent to stumbling once again, the FAWNatics eating it up as the Weaponised Wolverine could barely seem to catch her bearings.
Scarlet, in comparison, was smirking like a Cheshire cat as she continued sprinting, positively bounding up the closest set of turnbuckles and throwing both of her little fists up into the air. The audience responded with a positively rowdy bout of cheers and Sinclair hopped back down again, turning about and finding her opponent struggling to remain upright.
Bowing a little lower herself, the Rebel Princess measured the distance between herself and her intended victim and, upon deciding that the time was right, released the most fearsome of shouts that she could summon before launching into a Superkick…
…with Irma caught before she could connect with anything vital.
With the briefest bout of panic emerging across her features, Scarlet only had time to hop once on her posted stem as her other, lithe limb was being held above the canvas, a vengeful Iron’s ready to take advantage.
With a shout of her own, this one primordial in its retaliatory fury, the Manchester Malcontent positively THREW the captured leg up into the air with enough, sheer force to physically flip her smaller opponent all the way up and over! Out of control, Sinclair would have hit the deck chest first, had the ropes to her back not caught her ankles on the way down! Instead, her legs whacked painfully atop the uppermost coil which also altered her trajectory, her freckled cheeks now leading the way to the canvas!
SUPERKICK REVERSAL: @0:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SObNk3nM73A
With a concerning THUNK, Scarlet’s noggin met the deck and, after the rest of her petite physique joined her on the mat, she lay there for a long moment with a stunned moan.
Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, Iron’s mood was left substantially improved, by which her murderous instincts were significantly more focused. Even as Sinclair was beginning to blink away the cobwebs, Irma was already advancing, grabbing the Rebel Princess and dragging her across the mat as though she were property. With a heave, she deposited the smaller brunette to sitting in the corner, and the Dark-Haired Destroyer seized the ropes to either side of the uppermost turnbuckle.
Inhaling deeply, she began to lay down stomp after stomp after STOMP onto Scarlets open torso until her own cries of frustration were drowned out by the boos of the FAWNatics. Sinclair grunted, moaned and groaned as she was ground down into pudding, slumping further and further until she was almost flat against the mat.
MUDHOLE STOMPS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QzEa5AZZmg
With a shout, Iron’s shoved herself away from the corner, pacing the circumference of the squared circle with a heavy tread, cracking her own neck as she forcibly reigned in her blinding fury.
Scarlet groaned as she exhaled with pained breaths, scrunching up her freckled cheeks in open defiance as she forcibly pulled her miniature mass back up to sitting, “…Pussy.”
“Oh F*CK YOU, BYTCH!!” Irma snapped with renewed hostility, her effort to effect control undone with a single utterance, zeroing in on the Rookie with murderous intent.
Leaning forwards to grab the younger woman by the throat, Iron’s hoisted Sinclair back up onto her feet with a concerning degree of ease, slapping a hand between the girls’ thighs soon after.
Scarlet winced as her (not exactly) private region were forcibly squeezed, but that was currently the least of her concerns as she was bodily lifted skywards. Irma deposited her soon after, dropping her petite physique horizontally over the top ropes to either side of the top turnbuckle before backing off, leaving the dazed Upstart precariously positioned.
The FAWNatics were momentarily confused, but that was soon remedied as soon as Iron’s charged right back into the breach, exercising the lower parts of her anatomy as she swung her right leg upwards and SLAMMED the tip of her boot right up into her opponent’s trim tummy!!
Sinclair expelled a great gust of air as she not only folded about the harsh impact, but she was hit with enough force to pop her miniature mass high up into the air. She did not, however, come anywhere close to dropping down to the mat as Irma stepped in as the girl began her involuntary descent, collecting her equally involuntary cargo across her shoulders.
Severely winded, Scarlet barely resisted as she was transported like a sack of potatoes towards centre ring, secured in a Fireman’s Carry until Irons identified her spot.
With a renewed heave, Irma popped her opponent free, shoving her skywards before swinging her back down, dropping down to one knee and FOLDING the brunettes midriff first across her posted knee!!
BIG BOOT/FIREMAN’S CARRY GUTBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_H-Ls1ducIg
The Rebel Princess heaved, but there was scarcely anymore air left to come out, and so she shivered into a heap as the Manchester Malcontent shoved the girl from off her thigh and allowed her to drop to the mat. After collecting both of Sinclair’s lithe stems, Irma rolled her up into a tight ball for…
ONE!
TW…
Scarlet shoved up a shoulder with enough force to roll completely over, inhaling deeply as she did so and breathing heavily.
Irma didn’t wait on ceremony, grabbing the diminutive brunette by the scruff of her neck and dragging her back up to standing, Sinclair herself releasing a vexed growl from the bottom of her throat following such dismissive treatment. Either Irons didn’t hear or, more likely, she simply wasn’t impressed by the implied threat, instead grabbing her opponent’s wrist and launching her into an Irish Whip, sending her streaming across the canvas towards the furthest set of ring ropes.
Scarlet turned herself about as she met the coils and, with the rebound granting her greater momentum, she shot off back the way she had come at even greater velocity.
Irma was there to greet her, winding up her arm to deliver a meaty Clothesline…
…only for Sinclair to duck clean beneath it, the FAWNatics popping in the seats at the sudden aversion. The brunette kept on going, rebounding off the second set of ring ropes much like the first and, with confidence growing, directed her petite physique directly towards her opponent.
Irons dropped down to the mat, clearly aiming to present a hazardous obstacle, only for Scarlet to skip clean over the top, maintaining her sprint as she rapidly returned to the original set of ring ropes. Much like before, she rebounded with gusto, Irma back on her feet to meet her on the return trip and, just as the brunettes were about to collide, the Manchester Malcontent stepped aside of the rapidly moving projectile and SHOVED the young woman on the back on her way past.
While she may have expected that additional velocity to send the youngest of the Sinclair’s hurtling towards disaster, Scarlet instead lived up to her heritage by launching into a beautiful Handspring. It was one that bounced her off the ropes YET AGAIN and, as she both reversed course from the rebound and returned to her feet, she used every ounce of that momentum to backflip the entirety of perfectly petite mass up over to land at centre ring with enough pizazz to leave Olympians filled with envy.
Iron’s, by comparison, was left steaming (and disorientated) by the display, especially with an extremely pleased Scarlet smirking in her direction before pointing with a wink.
Like a coyote with a road runner, Irma just couldn’t let it go, not as the Rebel Princess once again set off at a sprint towards a set of ring ropes. The Weaponised Wolverine lined herself up to deliver a haymaker but, once again it proved to be a swing and a miss, Sinclair ducking below her limb and avoiding danger.
This time, after Scarlet rebounded off the ropes, Irma turned about to meet her, only for the miniature brunette to launch herself into the air, snap both of her lithe stems tight about her opponent’s noggin before swinging the rest of herself about. Gravity assisted with the rest, Sinclair ripping Iron’s off her feet by way of Hurricaneranna, the crown of her opponent’s head NAILED into the canvas!!
SCARLET STAMPEDE: @8:54
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5XDYf4v9Yc4
Irma audibly cursed as she clutched at her noggin, the FAWNatics otherwise erupting into cheers as she rolled over onto her side, muttering dire threats between clenched teeth.
After enjoying a far more successful landing, Scarlet was scrambling back up to her feet, closing the distance between herself and her opponent before she could recover and snagging the other Brits ankle’s. Forcing the Dark-Haired Destroyer over onto her back, she spread Irma’s legs out wide, forming a V with them before she smirked to the audience.
“Don’t! You! Dare!” Iron’s issued the warning with plenty of venom, almost physically pushing the words out through clenched teeth.
Scarlet paused for a moment, tilting her head as if musing, only to follow it up with a shrug, “I fail to see why not.” With a little hop, Sinclair popped her hips and jumped up onto the air, straitening her legs out as if sitting and bringing both of her lower limbs down with a THUMP!! Onto Irma’s most private of regions, splitting the woman’s wickets in the process.
MIDSECTION LEGDROP
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lbw2MAUHB0s
Iron’s jack knifed up to sitting and clutched between her legs, rolling away from the impact as she did so, a great deal of vulgarity being released with several, pained breaths.
Scarlet, on the other hand, was looking exceedingly pleased with herself, making a show of dusting off her hands before popping back up to standing. “You don’t seem so bad,” she observed, “but you’re defiantly dusty down there, if you catch my meaning.”
Irma didn’t respond, not in any manner of sentence that resembled vocabulary, the syllables emerging from her throat far too guttural and harsh to be considered civilised language. Instead she seethed, the threat of violence bleeding off her in waves before grabbing the bottom ring rope with one hand and pulling herself up to the second.
All the while, Scarlet smirked in her foes direction as she hopped from one foot to the other, priming herself up to strike…
…only for Irma to catch her somewhat flat footed, the Manchester Malcontent catching the Brit Without a Cause by surprise with the mobility that she could produce once suitably vexed. Launching herself into a charge the moment that she returned to vertical, Iron’s zeroed in on the smaller Brit with a blood curdling yell…
…only for Sinclair to prove that she was an equally capable of staying on her toes as the next Lightweight, her peepers springing open wide before she ducked low and, before Irma could compensate, used her hostile opponents very own momentum to POP her clean up and over the top ropes!! Unfortunately for the irate Brit in question, her shout becoming one of frustration, there was only one destination for this particular swing and a miss, one that sent her hurtling downwards to cold concrete outside of the ring!!
Irma landed with a THUD which forced a wince from many a FAWNatic and, while she had missed witnessing the landing, Scarlet had heard it well enough. The smaller brunette, still snugly inside of the squared circle herself, popped back up to her feet and thrust her little fists up into the air. The Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance of the Upstart Nation responded back with gusto and, with her bosom hiking with the praise, the enthusiasm of the Rebel Princess threatened to get away from her.
She turned about, charging towards the opposite set of ring ropes before hurtling herself against them, rebounding with a great deal of velocity to continue her sprint. Upon reaching her point of origin, Scarlet threw herself into the air, launching into a forward sault that sailed her petite mass clean up and over the top rope, her firm booty soon leading the way to collide with the chest of the painfully rising Irons…
…only for Irma to catch her!!
The FAWNatics inhaled sharply in concern, a suddenly wide eyed babyface now sat astride her opponents’ powerful shoulders, failing to wriggle her way free before it was too late. Time to affect an escape was not something that Irma was willing to give her, the Weaponised Wolverine picking her spot and charging, releasing her cargo only as they reached the Ringpost!! Irma released, THROWING Scarlet backwards into the
unyielding steel with a bone jarring THUNK, Sinclair releasing an involuntary cry as she buckled and collapsed, rebounding from the impact before flopping to the concrete.
She shuddered for several moment’s, Scarlet momentarily unable to process her spines misery, her right thigh twitching as she remained splayed out on the deck.
Iron’s, however, was not willing to leave her there, wiping her hand across the back of her lips before, somewhat peculiarly, she looked back to the curtains. It only lasted a moment, the division of her attention towards the backstage, and only the most eagle eyed of spectators caught it, before she reached down and GRABBED the wincing Scarlet by the back of her neck.
“Come ‘ere, Bytch,” Irma demanded, hoisting the smaller woman back up off the concrete and, as Sinclair steeled her resolve to deliver a rebuttal, Iron’s cut her off by SLAMMING!! her forehead down into the steel steps!! Many of the FAWNatics looked away as the CLANG!! filled the arena and a sharp convulsion ran through the small body of the Rebel Princess, her stems kicking up off the floor before she slumped, her pretty peepers left half lidded and glazy.
Irma still wasn’t satisfied, securing a second hold of her opponent by her arm and, with a sharp pivot, spun her fellow Brit about and bodily SLAMMED her against the barricade!! The metal obstruction sprang backwards against those sitting in the front row, several in close proximity scrambling to avoid being hit themselves, most still leaping to the verbal defence of one Scarlet Sinclair who promptly puddled back down into a heap.
The loudest of which was a familiar face for the evening, a certain young gentleman who had been left an invitation on his beer cup. He turned silent the moment Irma turned the entirety of her seething ire in his direction and, suitably stunned by the intensity of her glare, Iron’s indulged little hinderance in snatching the container from his grasp. She downed the entirety of what remained of the cool beverage before he could bring himself to voice a fresh protest and, vindictively, she crushed the paper cup and threw it away over her shoulder. Belching dismissively in his direction, Irma went back to work.
Scarlet, as pained as she was feeling, had taken the opportunity to return to her hands and knees, but that was as far as she was going to get as Iron’s returned. The Weaponised Wolverine seized her by her belt and the back of her shirt before HAULING her about, SLAMMING her against the apron with a wicked, rotating swing!
The smaller brunette exhaled with a pained groan as she crumpled once more, her limbs lacking a great deal of fibre following her disastrous trip to the outside of the squared circle. Irma still had a hold of her, the Dark-Haired Destroyer lifting her smaller opponent up and, much to the relief of the Official, deposited the Upstart back inside the ring.
“Alright Irma,” the man in black and white nodded, grateful to have things back inside the ropes, “let’s keep it inside now shall we?”
“F*ck you,” was Iron’s only reply, not seeing fit to even look in his direction before she took an immediate detour, heading towards the Announcers desk. With the commentators scrambling out of her way, Irma stole one of the chairs before snapping the metal furniture shut with an audible CLANG!!
“Oh no,” the Official protested, looking as firm as he could muster, Irma zeroing back in on the squared circle with murderous intent. “Not today Irma, I will disqualify you Iron’s, do you hear me?”
She did, and she evidently didn’t care, retaining her weapon in hand as she slid beneath the bottom rope and back into the ring, standing up with a rolling her shoulders and a clenching of her fists.
“I mean it, Iron’s,” the man in black and white warned, “I’m not kidding aro…”
CLANG!!!!!!
The FAWNatics audibly GASPED in surprise and Irma turned about and SLAMMED!! the steel chair directly into the face of the Official, knocking him clean the f*ck out with one, brutal swing! He hit the deck without a moment’s hesitation, done for the evening in the most abrupt fashion possible.
Iron’s rolled her shoulders again, satisfied with what she had done as she paused for just a moment, letting what she had done settle before she cracked her neck. Concern began rippling over the amassed FAWNatics, their protests rising in crescendo as Irma returned the entirety of her attention back to her opponent.
Once again, Scarlet had found the resolve to lift herself up onto her hands and knees, but such resilience was for nought. after Irma advanced and mercilessly SLAMMED her steel chair down across her opponents back with a THWACK!!
Sinclair dropped to the deck, the petite Brit releasing a short yelp before she was struck with the steel chair for a second time, and then a third, Irma snarling with gritted teeth as she swung for the fences again, and again, and AGAIN!!!
By the time the twitching Scarlet had stopped moving, jolting only before she was being CRACKED across her shoulders by a weapon, the FAWNatics were lifting the rafters with their combined protests. For the life of them, they could not understand why a second Official had not emerged to call an end to Irma’s illegal beating…
…until then sound system burst into renewed life.
You Should See Me In A Crown
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKpCeoVjeOA
Anyone who harboured hope that those lyrics would herald the arrival of reinforcements were swiftly disappointed when, on the stage, emerged the long absent, sinuously revitalised Darla Diane Davis, all one-hundred and thirty-two pounds of the bountiful, powerhouse blonde radiating weaponised, self-actualisation.
Because she declared it, she was the Apex Supreme, and that belief was irresistible.
DARLA DIANE DAVIS
With a spotlight accompanying her stately traverse down the ramp, a smile quirked her lips that was as sensual as it was filled with predatory intent, her hips swaying as her arms were stretched up high, owning the undivided attention of the FAWNatics even as they lamented her coming. Her eyes, dark and sultry, never flickered about the arena, her gaze only for the squared circle as the audience drank in the sight of her glorious physique, every inch toned to visible perfection, her poise once again belonging to a conqueror.
As she ascended the steel steps in her own time, some of the FAWNatics spotted the Announcer doing his best to appear discreet as he frantically communicated with the Time Keeper. Both exchanged whispers and, while neither of them seemed happy about it, the message had been passed on to not interfere. From where this missive had originated, no-one in the audience was to know, but many could speculate that she was currently residing in the skybox…
Slipping between the top and middle rope, her hips remaining all a swivel, the SoCal Babe reached centre ring and cocked her head just so, meeting the glare of her one-time enforcer, the Weaponised Wolverine, Irma Irons.
The Dark-Haired Destroyer snorted, adrenaline still spiking at borderline critical as she cracked her neck one way and then the other, her shoulders rolling as if she still idled over her options.
The FAWNatics held their collective breath as Darla remained non-plussed, her sultry gaze never leaving Irma’s volcanic fury, before she held up one hand and pointed down towards the Official, the man in black and white still unconscious on the deck.
For just a moment, Iron’s looked as though she still may very well bite, before the FAWNatics released an audible groan of disappointment as she bent over, grabbed the Officials shirt, and all but RIPPED it off the poor mans back with a distinct lack of ceremony. The mounting despair in the arena only deepened as she handed the stolen garment to her one-time benefactor, Darla accepting the black and white stripes with a curling of her lips that oozed self-indulgence.
Showing just a moment of distaste, Davis opted to not wear the Official’s shirt as it was intended, far too contaminated with his inferior genetics for her liking, and instead settled for wrapping the garment about her hips like a belt, declaring herself the new mistress of this match.
The FAWNatics heckled the development in displeasure, but there was no changing the course of this particular river now, not as Irma retrieved her battered, steel chair and slapped it down at centre ring. So positioned, Iron’s turned her attentions back to the barely conscious Scarlet, unceremoniously scraping the youngest member of the Upstart Nation off the deck and muscling the petite girl up and over her powerful shoulders by way of a Fireman’s Carry.
Sinclair offered not a single protest, scarcely moving as she was displayed like a trophy before Irma inhaled deeply and, with a shove against her captive’s lithe stem, shot Scarlet’s lower limbs skywards. Iron’s dropped sideways a fraction of a moment later, SPIKING her adversaries already rattled noggin squarely against the waiting, steel chair!
IRON VALLEY DRIVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbWBLvQxkw4
Scarlet dropped and convulsed, her thighs twitching once, twice, thrice before she lay still, the young women well and truly spent for the evening. Irma wasted little ceremony in collecting both of her fellow brits’ stems, rolling her up into a tight ball for…
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
…Darla not even seeing fit to drop to the canvas to slap the mat, instead opting to stand imperiously with one hand on hip whilst she held the other skywards, counting with her fingers to the all-important number. She called for the bell, and the Announcer reluctantly made it official.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of this match via Pinfall, IRMA! IRONS!!”
The FAWNatics let their collective disappointment be known, and Darla cared not a jot, collecting the microphone from the Announcer as Irma shoved her way back up to vertical, delivering a final, farewell stomp to Scarlet’s visible, trim tummy purely out of spite. Davis joined her at centre ring, the duo standing over the demolished Upstart, and the blonde hardbody brought the stick up to her lips.
She opened her mouth to speak before, with a hint of sourness as if she just realised how much these people were beneath her, she instead dismissively dropped the stick without saying a word, the microphone hitting the deck with a wince inducing SQUEEL over the loud speakers.
Instead, Darla stood with her arms upraised, her very presence commanding the people’s attention, her chosen enforcer once again pacing close by. The ‘Apex Supreme’ had returned, and this time, she would not abide a single adversary to stand against her freshly founded ‘Nation’.