Post by dsb on Nov 26, 2019 0:58:39 GMT
The night’s penultimate contest was one of the few taking place in a standard wrestling ring, in this case the one stashed away in the lower reaches of the Madhouse. The arena was, unsurprisingly, far smaller and more intimate than the FAWNArena back in Orlando, but still they managed to pack in stripped-back versions of the main arena’s state-of-the-art lighting and sound equipment. And, as might be expected, almost all available space was packed with raucous FAWNatics, crammed into a set of unusually steep bleachers which left the whole atmosphere feeling like a gladiatorial amphitheatre.
Frenzied as ever after having watched the nights action either live or via big screens arranged throughout the auditorium, the crowd noise rose ever higher as the lights dimmed, to a dusky twilight interrupted by a booming bass heartbeat which roared from the speakers, followed by another. And another. And another.
BRENNISTEINN www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oc6zXSdYXm8
With the speakers now fully occupied with a roar of Icelandic noise, a figure emerged from behind the curtain and strode purposely out. Almost impossibly tall and slender, there were very few people in the promotion who could be mistaken for Astrid White, although the Intercontinental champion seemed to have made some effort to confound their expectations with a costume change to mark the occasion. Her head was still covered by a white hooded jacket, but her traditional snow white and midnight blue top-bottoms combo had been replaced by what appeared to be an ice-blue one-piece, cut into a halter around her neck and with a short flared ‘skirt’ giving the appearance of a battledress.
ASTRID WHITE
Despite the costume change there was no way to hide those more distinctive features. The Stranger’s long, pale legs were displayed in almost all their quite considerable glory by the skirt, and her alabaster skin glistened in contrast to the ice-blue of her togs. And, another telltale, there was the leather and gold of the Intercontinental Title, the belt swinging and dragging behind the Arctic Assassin like an afterthought as she strode ringwards.
White was still hooded as she reached the small ringside area, pausing and turning her head to stare those grey-green eyes right at the announcer, who immediately broke out into a slightly nervous sweat. Holding that gaze, the IC champion held one long arm out, hand open, apparently a demand for the microphone in the nervous man’s hand. After a few moments of processing the live mic was quickly handed over, Astrid sweeping off without a word and rolling neatly into the ring.
Sitting up and crossing her legs, Astrid placed the title belt in front of her and then reached into one deep pocket of her jacket, producing an old-fashioned tape Dictaphone and a roll of electrical tape then leaning forwards to combine what she had brought with the microphone. The results of her labours quickly became apparent when she pressed the ‘playback’ button on the Dictaphone and sat back, allowing a high, girlish voice to come out of the small Dictaphone speaker and straight into the end of the microphone.
“Tonight’s event represents a cavalcade of disrespect to the art of professional wrestling.” The statement was delivered with almost no intonation, but the crowds booed all the same. “I have been approached by management figures eager to have this match held in a pit, a cage, or carried out with the assistance of a dog collar.” The voice paused, the crowds again filling the space with their own views, this time cheering on the prospect of just such a match.
“I am not an animal. And the title I hold is considered to mark out our greatest, not our most depraved. If anyone wishes to offer an honourable challenge, I invite you to present yourselves. But neither I nor this title will be beholden to a competition of bestiality or of…”
”A friend in need’s a friend indeed
PURE MORNING www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHQngnnHE_0
Whatever remained of the stranger’s proclamation was presumably still playing through her Dictaphone, but the PA switched to the chiming guitars of a very particular anthem. The crowds turned back to the small staging area almost as one, to be greeted after only a second by a whirling glitterball which danced out from behind the curtain and took a few steps out into the auditorium, her shimmy’s resolving into the figure of a certain Chaos Emerald who hadn’t been seen for some time.
LYRA FAULK
Faulk was dressed, as she always seemed to be, in an attire which suggested raving rather than wrestling. Those emerald-sequined hotpants drew more than a few eyes, as did the sheer meshed top and bra, while her left eye was adorned with twin chevrons of neon pink and green the now familiar facepaint of her small tribe. She took a second just to watch White, the Stranger for her part rising sharply to her feet and adopting a wary crouch as Faulk raised a mic of her own.
“Oh dear babe, we’ve already had words about you tryna set rules and yet you’re still out here like the bloody Pope.” Lyra’s tone was cheery to the point of being playful, but Astrid clearly wasn’t buying it, eyes narrowing and then glancing suspiciously around. “You’re not in control, darl, even if you keep saying you are. I guess you get a kick out of shouting into the void, fair play. But entropy’s always gonna catch you in the end.”
Message apparently delivered, Faulk simply dropped her microphone, the loud ‘pop in the speakers heralding several things all at once. First, there was a commotion in the ringside section off to the left of Astrid’s defensive position. Lyra herself became a blur of acceleration, covering the distance to the ring at almost impossible speed. But the Stranger was also moving, spinning in the opposite direction to either distraction and whipping one foot up off the canvas matting, her Roundhouse Kick detonating the point of her boot right into the jaw of Harriet Larkin, who had apparently been sneaking up behind her.
HARRIET LARKIN
Tough as the big redhead might be there was no way she could stay on her feet after such a shot, dropping to her butt with stars in her eyes. Astrid skidded to a stop a few feet away and was immediately back in motion, taking a big stride forwards and leaping off one foot. Her knee bicycled up, aimed at the jaw of the third woman who scrambled into the ring from one side, the brunette juuust managing to sway away so that Bicycle Knee impacted into her sternum instead of her jaw. She was still thrown backwards, coming to rest on the ropes with Astrid facing her.
’NOBODY’
Having just about come to a collective understanding of what the hell had just happened, the crowds screamed form all sides some cheering the Stranger on, some demanding she be taken down, but all calling for some further violence to entertain them. Astrid seemed well set to deliver that, swinging one leg up for a Crescent Kick aimed again at the brunette’s noggin. But her strike was interrupted by a glitter-covered arrow, flying through the ropes and spearing right into the Icelander’s midriff.
Arrow of Time www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8-8LhfAOhg
Hurled sideways, White landed in a heap, Faulk rolling to a stop some distance away. Unsurprisingly the Aussie was quicker to her feet, dashing over with her yet-to-be-identified brunette colleague in tow, the pair clearly looking to put some further hurting on the champion. Astrid clearly still had something to say about this however, scything one long leg out to sweep ‘nobody’s feet out from under her, then scrabbling to her feet and launching a rapid Side Kick right into Faulk’s nose! The lightweight was thumped down on that green-clad rump, White unfolding over her like a vengeful Valkyrie and THUMP! Once again the intercontinental champion was interrupted in her flow, this time by a recovered Harriet Larkin delivering an absolutely murderous Single Leg Dropkick right into the base of her skull!
Wasteland www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaA_4u_ANLI
This time there was no miraculous recovery from the Icelander, Astrid slumping face down and looking to be barely conscious after taking the murderous blow with no protection or preparation. She probably would have rested on the canvas for quite some time, but she wasn’t allowed to, the unknown brunette, reaching down to capture both Icelandic arms and haul the Stranger up to vertical on wobbly legs.
Eyes still full of fog and arms trapped behind her back, Astrid had little opportunity to prevent anything that might happen next. She dazedly raised one leg up as Harriet Larkin approached, but it turned out this only made the redhead’s life easier, the Hollow Girl swinging a boot up and CRUCHING it right between the Icelander’s pins! A few sympathetic oooh’s from the audience as White’s already jellified knees turned liquid, prevented form slumping back to the canvas only by the ministrations of her brunette assailant behind.
“Think you’re clever?” Larkin hissed, leaning forwards to get right in the Stranger’s face. “You want to try and tell me and my friends what we can’t do? Guess what princess, we can do whatever the hell we want.” She leaned back, clearly looking for further punishment, only to be shoved aside by the smaller figure of her partner. All joviality was gone from Lyra Faulk’s demeanour now, the Chaos Emerald seeming to embody only rage as she swiped a claw up and raked her nails right across White’s perfectly chiselled cheek.
The pain seemed to sharpen Astrid’s senses back up, or at least bring on a more concerted round of writhing to escape. For a second it looked like she might, until ‘nobody’ shifter her grip, forcing both Icelandic arms up into a twin hammerlock which left almost no purchase. White instead raised her legs, trying to kick backwards at her captor, but her efforts suddenly stopped as Faulk’s claw again flashed out, this time snatching a handful of the halter around her neck. The material was sturdy, but it had little chance against Lyra’s frenzied attack, a few more tugs and scratches leaving White’s one-piece in an almost nonexistant state.
Apparently the Stranger was wearing some shorts under her skirt, but there was no protection for the top, the Stranger’s small breasts exposed to the air for the first time in her FAWN tenure. The indignity brought a bellow of rage and an even more renewed escape attempt from White, managing to jostle one arm free and turn with murder in her eyes on the brunette until…
THUNK! Larkin put an end to the resistance yet again, this time with the aid of the Intercontinental title belt which Astrid had left on the canvas. The heavy gold and leather slammed into White’s temple, buckling her legs and leaving her slumped on her side, naked all but for a pair of small blue shorts. The vision was easily enough to get a roar of excitement from the FAWNatics, the availability of nudity overcoming any concern they might have had for White’s safety.
There was no sign of any concern on the face of Lyra Faulk. Instead she bared her teeth, her expression predatory as she motioned towards the un-named brunette. ‘Nobody’ sprang into action, grabbing one Scandinavian stem and wrapping her own legs around in an approximation of a calf slicer. The pain again jolted White back to awareness, but not before the brunette had captured her other leg and wrapped it around her back of her neck, leaning back to pull the two pins wide apart. These twin tortures were enough to elicit a second bellow from Astrid, the IC Champ twisted and tortured while Faulk looked on hungrily.
After a few seconds of observation Faulk slipped forwards, dropping down to talk low into the beleaguered Stranger’s ear. “Mrs Nobody here calls that the forget-me knot’,” she informed. Astrid was too busy experiencing the hold to really pay attention, but Lyra continued regardless. “So here’s something not to forget. You don’t make the rules. No-one does. Accept reality. Entropy always wins.”
Lyra shuffled back onto her haunches, reaching out and taking the IC title from her partner’s hands. She placed it almost lovingly over the title holder’s twisted features, standing up and delivering a short and nasty stomp down right into the center of the belt. White’s features were smashed into the unforgiving gold, which quickly become slicked with red as Lyra stomped again, again, and again. By the fifth stomp even the crowds had quietened, now feeling genuine concern as the Stranger, legs still contorted, had otherwise stopped moving altogether.
Stepping neatly around the now stilled Arctic Assassin, Lyra tapped her nameless friend on the shoulder, the Brunette quickly releasing her torturous leglock. White showed no response, her lights well and truly dimmed, limbs dropping wetly to the canvas. All three of her attackers seemed to enjoy the sight, Lyra taking a step back to take the whole scene in and then tapping Larkin lightly on the shoulder. “Fancy a coup de grace?” she asked quietly.
Larkin nodded, an extremely nasty smile spreading on her face, bending down to pick up that oh so dangerous intercontinental title belt and place it plate-up on the mat a few feet away. Lifting White up was considerably harder, the blonde now deadweight in the Hollow Girl’s arms. But after a few heaves she was loosely upright, head tucked beneath one of Harriet’s arms, the redhead lifting her prey upwards and then dropping to her back to SPIKE White’s head into that unforgiving metal.
Falls the Shadow www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HVpxGnee3k
Little more than a jerk of limbs from Astrid White, the IC champion lying boneless and face down on her own title belt. Larkin scrambled ot her knees and leaned down, whispering the words “see ya around!” into the blonde’s slumbering ear. Then she simply rolled out of the ring, joining her two comrades where they stood at ringside. The three retreated back up the short ramp, EMT’s passing in the other direction as they surveyed the damage they had caused. Around them there were come clear boos from the crowd, but the majority were still eerily quiet, still not quite sure what they had just witnessed.
Frenzied as ever after having watched the nights action either live or via big screens arranged throughout the auditorium, the crowd noise rose ever higher as the lights dimmed, to a dusky twilight interrupted by a booming bass heartbeat which roared from the speakers, followed by another. And another. And another.
BRENNISTEINN www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oc6zXSdYXm8
With the speakers now fully occupied with a roar of Icelandic noise, a figure emerged from behind the curtain and strode purposely out. Almost impossibly tall and slender, there were very few people in the promotion who could be mistaken for Astrid White, although the Intercontinental champion seemed to have made some effort to confound their expectations with a costume change to mark the occasion. Her head was still covered by a white hooded jacket, but her traditional snow white and midnight blue top-bottoms combo had been replaced by what appeared to be an ice-blue one-piece, cut into a halter around her neck and with a short flared ‘skirt’ giving the appearance of a battledress.
ASTRID WHITE
Despite the costume change there was no way to hide those more distinctive features. The Stranger’s long, pale legs were displayed in almost all their quite considerable glory by the skirt, and her alabaster skin glistened in contrast to the ice-blue of her togs. And, another telltale, there was the leather and gold of the Intercontinental Title, the belt swinging and dragging behind the Arctic Assassin like an afterthought as she strode ringwards.
White was still hooded as she reached the small ringside area, pausing and turning her head to stare those grey-green eyes right at the announcer, who immediately broke out into a slightly nervous sweat. Holding that gaze, the IC champion held one long arm out, hand open, apparently a demand for the microphone in the nervous man’s hand. After a few moments of processing the live mic was quickly handed over, Astrid sweeping off without a word and rolling neatly into the ring.
Sitting up and crossing her legs, Astrid placed the title belt in front of her and then reached into one deep pocket of her jacket, producing an old-fashioned tape Dictaphone and a roll of electrical tape then leaning forwards to combine what she had brought with the microphone. The results of her labours quickly became apparent when she pressed the ‘playback’ button on the Dictaphone and sat back, allowing a high, girlish voice to come out of the small Dictaphone speaker and straight into the end of the microphone.
“Tonight’s event represents a cavalcade of disrespect to the art of professional wrestling.” The statement was delivered with almost no intonation, but the crowds booed all the same. “I have been approached by management figures eager to have this match held in a pit, a cage, or carried out with the assistance of a dog collar.” The voice paused, the crowds again filling the space with their own views, this time cheering on the prospect of just such a match.
“I am not an animal. And the title I hold is considered to mark out our greatest, not our most depraved. If anyone wishes to offer an honourable challenge, I invite you to present yourselves. But neither I nor this title will be beholden to a competition of bestiality or of…”
”A friend in need’s a friend indeed
PURE MORNING www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHQngnnHE_0
Whatever remained of the stranger’s proclamation was presumably still playing through her Dictaphone, but the PA switched to the chiming guitars of a very particular anthem. The crowds turned back to the small staging area almost as one, to be greeted after only a second by a whirling glitterball which danced out from behind the curtain and took a few steps out into the auditorium, her shimmy’s resolving into the figure of a certain Chaos Emerald who hadn’t been seen for some time.
LYRA FAULK
Faulk was dressed, as she always seemed to be, in an attire which suggested raving rather than wrestling. Those emerald-sequined hotpants drew more than a few eyes, as did the sheer meshed top and bra, while her left eye was adorned with twin chevrons of neon pink and green the now familiar facepaint of her small tribe. She took a second just to watch White, the Stranger for her part rising sharply to her feet and adopting a wary crouch as Faulk raised a mic of her own.
“Oh dear babe, we’ve already had words about you tryna set rules and yet you’re still out here like the bloody Pope.” Lyra’s tone was cheery to the point of being playful, but Astrid clearly wasn’t buying it, eyes narrowing and then glancing suspiciously around. “You’re not in control, darl, even if you keep saying you are. I guess you get a kick out of shouting into the void, fair play. But entropy’s always gonna catch you in the end.”
Message apparently delivered, Faulk simply dropped her microphone, the loud ‘pop in the speakers heralding several things all at once. First, there was a commotion in the ringside section off to the left of Astrid’s defensive position. Lyra herself became a blur of acceleration, covering the distance to the ring at almost impossible speed. But the Stranger was also moving, spinning in the opposite direction to either distraction and whipping one foot up off the canvas matting, her Roundhouse Kick detonating the point of her boot right into the jaw of Harriet Larkin, who had apparently been sneaking up behind her.
HARRIET LARKIN
Tough as the big redhead might be there was no way she could stay on her feet after such a shot, dropping to her butt with stars in her eyes. Astrid skidded to a stop a few feet away and was immediately back in motion, taking a big stride forwards and leaping off one foot. Her knee bicycled up, aimed at the jaw of the third woman who scrambled into the ring from one side, the brunette juuust managing to sway away so that Bicycle Knee impacted into her sternum instead of her jaw. She was still thrown backwards, coming to rest on the ropes with Astrid facing her.
’NOBODY’
Having just about come to a collective understanding of what the hell had just happened, the crowds screamed form all sides some cheering the Stranger on, some demanding she be taken down, but all calling for some further violence to entertain them. Astrid seemed well set to deliver that, swinging one leg up for a Crescent Kick aimed again at the brunette’s noggin. But her strike was interrupted by a glitter-covered arrow, flying through the ropes and spearing right into the Icelander’s midriff.
Arrow of Time www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8-8LhfAOhg
Hurled sideways, White landed in a heap, Faulk rolling to a stop some distance away. Unsurprisingly the Aussie was quicker to her feet, dashing over with her yet-to-be-identified brunette colleague in tow, the pair clearly looking to put some further hurting on the champion. Astrid clearly still had something to say about this however, scything one long leg out to sweep ‘nobody’s feet out from under her, then scrabbling to her feet and launching a rapid Side Kick right into Faulk’s nose! The lightweight was thumped down on that green-clad rump, White unfolding over her like a vengeful Valkyrie and THUMP! Once again the intercontinental champion was interrupted in her flow, this time by a recovered Harriet Larkin delivering an absolutely murderous Single Leg Dropkick right into the base of her skull!
Wasteland www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaA_4u_ANLI
This time there was no miraculous recovery from the Icelander, Astrid slumping face down and looking to be barely conscious after taking the murderous blow with no protection or preparation. She probably would have rested on the canvas for quite some time, but she wasn’t allowed to, the unknown brunette, reaching down to capture both Icelandic arms and haul the Stranger up to vertical on wobbly legs.
Eyes still full of fog and arms trapped behind her back, Astrid had little opportunity to prevent anything that might happen next. She dazedly raised one leg up as Harriet Larkin approached, but it turned out this only made the redhead’s life easier, the Hollow Girl swinging a boot up and CRUCHING it right between the Icelander’s pins! A few sympathetic oooh’s from the audience as White’s already jellified knees turned liquid, prevented form slumping back to the canvas only by the ministrations of her brunette assailant behind.
“Think you’re clever?” Larkin hissed, leaning forwards to get right in the Stranger’s face. “You want to try and tell me and my friends what we can’t do? Guess what princess, we can do whatever the hell we want.” She leaned back, clearly looking for further punishment, only to be shoved aside by the smaller figure of her partner. All joviality was gone from Lyra Faulk’s demeanour now, the Chaos Emerald seeming to embody only rage as she swiped a claw up and raked her nails right across White’s perfectly chiselled cheek.
The pain seemed to sharpen Astrid’s senses back up, or at least bring on a more concerted round of writhing to escape. For a second it looked like she might, until ‘nobody’ shifter her grip, forcing both Icelandic arms up into a twin hammerlock which left almost no purchase. White instead raised her legs, trying to kick backwards at her captor, but her efforts suddenly stopped as Faulk’s claw again flashed out, this time snatching a handful of the halter around her neck. The material was sturdy, but it had little chance against Lyra’s frenzied attack, a few more tugs and scratches leaving White’s one-piece in an almost nonexistant state.
Apparently the Stranger was wearing some shorts under her skirt, but there was no protection for the top, the Stranger’s small breasts exposed to the air for the first time in her FAWN tenure. The indignity brought a bellow of rage and an even more renewed escape attempt from White, managing to jostle one arm free and turn with murder in her eyes on the brunette until…
THUNK! Larkin put an end to the resistance yet again, this time with the aid of the Intercontinental title belt which Astrid had left on the canvas. The heavy gold and leather slammed into White’s temple, buckling her legs and leaving her slumped on her side, naked all but for a pair of small blue shorts. The vision was easily enough to get a roar of excitement from the FAWNatics, the availability of nudity overcoming any concern they might have had for White’s safety.
There was no sign of any concern on the face of Lyra Faulk. Instead she bared her teeth, her expression predatory as she motioned towards the un-named brunette. ‘Nobody’ sprang into action, grabbing one Scandinavian stem and wrapping her own legs around in an approximation of a calf slicer. The pain again jolted White back to awareness, but not before the brunette had captured her other leg and wrapped it around her back of her neck, leaning back to pull the two pins wide apart. These twin tortures were enough to elicit a second bellow from Astrid, the IC Champ twisted and tortured while Faulk looked on hungrily.
After a few seconds of observation Faulk slipped forwards, dropping down to talk low into the beleaguered Stranger’s ear. “Mrs Nobody here calls that the forget-me knot’,” she informed. Astrid was too busy experiencing the hold to really pay attention, but Lyra continued regardless. “So here’s something not to forget. You don’t make the rules. No-one does. Accept reality. Entropy always wins.”
Lyra shuffled back onto her haunches, reaching out and taking the IC title from her partner’s hands. She placed it almost lovingly over the title holder’s twisted features, standing up and delivering a short and nasty stomp down right into the center of the belt. White’s features were smashed into the unforgiving gold, which quickly become slicked with red as Lyra stomped again, again, and again. By the fifth stomp even the crowds had quietened, now feeling genuine concern as the Stranger, legs still contorted, had otherwise stopped moving altogether.
Stepping neatly around the now stilled Arctic Assassin, Lyra tapped her nameless friend on the shoulder, the Brunette quickly releasing her torturous leglock. White showed no response, her lights well and truly dimmed, limbs dropping wetly to the canvas. All three of her attackers seemed to enjoy the sight, Lyra taking a step back to take the whole scene in and then tapping Larkin lightly on the shoulder. “Fancy a coup de grace?” she asked quietly.
Larkin nodded, an extremely nasty smile spreading on her face, bending down to pick up that oh so dangerous intercontinental title belt and place it plate-up on the mat a few feet away. Lifting White up was considerably harder, the blonde now deadweight in the Hollow Girl’s arms. But after a few heaves she was loosely upright, head tucked beneath one of Harriet’s arms, the redhead lifting her prey upwards and then dropping to her back to SPIKE White’s head into that unforgiving metal.
Falls the Shadow www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HVpxGnee3k
Little more than a jerk of limbs from Astrid White, the IC champion lying boneless and face down on her own title belt. Larkin scrambled ot her knees and leaned down, whispering the words “see ya around!” into the blonde’s slumbering ear. Then she simply rolled out of the ring, joining her two comrades where they stood at ringside. The three retreated back up the short ramp, EMT’s passing in the other direction as they surveyed the damage they had caused. Around them there were come clear boos from the crowd, but the majority were still eerily quiet, still not quite sure what they had just witnessed.