Post by hawkeye on Jan 5, 2021 2:09:19 GMT
After owning the tag division for most of 2020, the Gold Standard find themselves in the unusual position of title challengers to close the year. Losing their grip on the straps at Mania to Leggs, Inc. in a stellar back-n-forth battle, Amara Singh found retribution in grinding one of the new champs, Valerie Stipaniovic, into the oil in the recesses of the Madhouse pit. Alexis Suguitan was situated for even loftier goals. At AHE, Portia VanBuren IV maneuvered the Filipino Phenom into a World Title tussle with Becky Clayton, but a SNAFU from the One-Woman Army left the Penthouse Panther on the losing end, much to Baby’s chagrin.
With all in the arena on the edge of their collective seat, the infamous crashing chords of 'The World is Not Enough' from Garbage courses through the bowl. Those FAWNatics not already looking in the direction turn to the upper stage to heap their scorn on the former champions and their malicious manager.
THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8C5NLfYdZaE
“I know how to hurt. I know how to heal. I know what to show and what to conceal.”
“I know when to talk. And I know when to touch. No one ever died from wanting too much…”
The crowd doesn’t hold back, unleashing on the salacious sellouts and their Manhattanite manager.
A long streak of white light shoots from the rafters as Shirley Manson pronounces “The World Is Not Enough”. At the end of the beam, the infamous strawberry blonde patrician revels in the loathing radiating from the concealed hordes. Her usual smirk is replaced by a focused fury.
Fortune’s Favorite remains flawless in her immaculate, white tennis togs, namely a form-fitting, Louis Vuitton tank top and short skirt with white socks and thousand-dollar tennies. In her right hand is Precious, her beloved polo mallet. Baby points it to stage right and appearing on cue are the golden-brown warriors of the Gold Standard.
PORTIA VANBUREN
AMARA SINGH
ALEXIS SUGUITAN
The Standard stride to either side of their leader, no longer with gold and leather around their waists. The businesslike VanBuren points her beauties toward the ring, Portia touting and shouting as Suguitan and Singh lead the way in stern silence.
The Standard glistens in gold, two-piece battle gear, sturdy bikini tops complementing tight booty shorts letting the champs’ curves nearly overflow the shimmering spandex. Black boots and pads complete each woman’s identical gear.
Singh and Sugutian climb to the apron and slip through the ropes, claiming center stage. Following, the New Yorker nimbly ascends the steps then demands head referee Nick Castle open the top and middle ropes wide for the former three-time World Champion. Joining her team, Baby places herself in front of her exotic warriors, showing off each as the music fades. The announcer takes his cue.
“Tonight’s next contest is scheduled for one fall and will have a time limit of thirty minutes. First, in the ring, accompanied to the ring by their manager, Portia VanBuren the Fourth. Hailing from Manilla, The Philippines at five feet eight inches tall and 134 pounds, the Penthouse Panther…ALEXIS SUGUITAN! And her partner, from Cawnpore, India at five feet six inches and 137 pounds, the Golden Empress…AMARA SINGH! Together they are the Gold Standard!”
Amara and Alexis raise their arms high and wide, while Portia draws a microphone to her ruby lips.
“Look on these women and fear for your careers, so-called champions. You survived the blast from the past at Cold November Pain. BARELY,” Portia says, addressing the yet seen champions and their enthralling win over the The Three.
“Honestly. We were cheering for you to beat those overgrown has-beens and, sure enough, you squeaked it out. Not because you’re more than a couple long-legged simpletons who can’t possibly stumble to another win, but because Amara and Alexis each want to make you hurt, want to make you be the ones who return the belts to their waists personally. When they destroy you and make you surrender, you will kneel before them and wrap the belts around them, putting back what you never should have stolen. Then you will skulk back to your little corner of the division, never to bother us again.”
The FAWNatics don’t seem to believe Portia’s prediction and they let her know.
Sneering at their jeers, VanBuren drops the mic and leads her team to their corner where they discuss the strategy that will make Singh and Suguitan once-again champs and leave Leggs, Inc a sideshow footnote.
It takes but a moment for the lights to lower. The Tron blinks from the omnipresent FAWN logo to a neon pink outline of a long, lean set of legs walking across the screen from the left. From the opposite side, another set does the same and, as they meet, the lines of the limbs swirl into a cursive font, emerging and settling into ‘Leggs, Inc.’
Pink pyro shoots in diagonal blasts from either side of the stage, the crowd roaring and ready. The last blast of fireworks flies toward the rafters as Rod Stewart’s ‘Hot Legs’ blares from the arena speakers (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHcjjxYbgNM ). The Amazonian ideals, one with olive skin and long dark locks, the other with skin of lightly tanned ivory and a golden mane, move to center stage, showing off their undeniable weaponry and the gaudy gold and leather belts across their long, lean midriffs.
MARIEL MCGINTY
VALERIE STIPANOVIC
The champion’s anthem isn’t played without very good cause. Reaching their spot on the stage, the partners turn to each other and glide hands over the length of each other’s stupendous stems. By the time each is done, their pert cheeks are pointed high. Up the hands trail, making the long return trip, each expedition ending with a cheeky pinch, drawing a wide grin from their opposite number. A massive roar of approval emerges from the eyeballing attendees.
With all attention captured, the duo set foot down the ramp, their long strides gobbling up space. Blonde and brunette aren’t as interactive tonight, passing on high-fives with the fans. Still, the mob chants for the owners of the undeniable appendages as they reach the ring.
“LEGS…LEGS…LEGS”.
The blonde is clad in a cutoff gray Calvin Klein hoodie (hood down) unzipped and wide to show the towering beauty’s pink sports bra. Multicolored speckles dot throughout the top and her pink boy-cut trunks ride exceedingly high to accentuate further the incredible gams on the rookie. Pink boots and black pads finish the slight attire.
Next to her, the brunette is in a similar hoodie. The rest of her gear is parallel in style though the more tanned of the pair is in striking white, boots and pads added to her snowy sports bra and ‘barely there’ shorts.
With each set of legs well-inspected, the glowing duo makes the trip up the steps then halfway down the ropes, their eyes remaining glued on the dangerous adversaries. Nick Castle, wanting no pre-match problems, makes sure the former champs and their manager remain in their assigned corner.
Slipping through the cables in heart-stopping stages, Leggs, Inc beams like the newly minted queens of the mountain they are. Reaching the middle, they unstrap the leather and raise the belts high, seemingly daring the challengers to charge. But Portia keeps Amara and Alexis well-heeled.
The ring announcer breaks into the captivating display.
“And their opponents. Weighing in at a combined 255 pounds…from Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania and Los Angeles, California respectively…MARIEL…”LEGS”…MCGINTY and VALERIE “STEMS” STIPANOVIC…ladies and most assuredly gentlemen…your tag team champions…LEGGS INCORPORATED.”
The crowd rewards the hypnotizing duo with a standing ovation that only slows when Mariel calls for a microphone, both Amazons turning from the hard camera to the Standard. The blonde raises it to her lips.
“Count the seconds, Portia. Because tonight, that’s all it will take. We’re not here to keep our titles. We’re here to make a point. And we’re making it with your employees.”
McGinty hands the stick to Nick and each champion hand their belts to Castle. Mariel and Val backpedal to their corner, Stems continuing by climbing through the ropes.
Across the ring, Portia leads Amara to the sidelines, leaving the Penthouse Panther to maul the long-limbed, flaxen-haired amazon though Alexis seems wary, even after the tolling of the bell.
Suguitan circles out of the corner, forcing Mariel to do the same, the women slowly lowering the distance between them until each reach for the other to lock upUHHH…
McGinty changes tactics, gutting the Filipino Phenom with a toe kick to her golden-brown tummy, doubling over Alexis. The blonde gazes over the stooped challenger to the rest of the Gold Standard behind her. She shakes her head solemnly then lifts a knee between the eyes of Suguitan, staggering the Penthouse Panther, Alexis’ arms pinwheeling to keep her upright.
“Good idea, Portia,” Mariel shouts. “Protect your star,” she adds, motioning to Singh. “Forsake your dead weight.”
Suguitan shakes out some cobwebs and charges, raging in anger at Mariel’s insult before her head is nearly removed from her neck with the ‘super-est’ of super kicks. Knocked flat on her back, Alexis’ dark eyes stare blankly at the rafters. From the sidelines, VanBuren demands her responsibility rise and return fire.
Alexis reaches a seated position, but it’s McGinty tugging her up the rest of the way, then taking a wrist and flinging her to the opposite ropes. Suguitan rebounds out of the u-turn, racing uncontrolled toward an advancing ‘Legs’ who spins into a lethal leg lariat. Alexis’ legs proceed an extra beat, flying out in front of her while the back of her skull takes the elevator down, CRACKING into the thinly-covered plywood.
The force of the impact bounces a shellshocked Phenom back to a seat, Alexis again unable to get out of first gear. Mariel flattens her foe with a soccer kick to the chest. With the Panther laid out, McGinty skips over the frame of the Standardbearer. She hops to the bottom rope in the champs’ corner where Valerie tags a hip before Mariel springboards away, spinning in a 180 to drop a leg across Suguitan’s throat.
Springboard Legdrop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZyFc9iHAN0 )
As Alexis sputters in spasms, grasping at her collapsed windpipe, ‘Stems’ enters nonchalantly, helping her beaming blonde counterpart to her feet. Singh starts to enter to even the odds but is grabbed by an ankle. VanBuren looks up at her Subcontinental Siren.
“Let’s rope some dopes, Amara,” Baby assures. “Let them burn themselves out.”
“But Lexie,” the Empress responds.
“But the titles,” Portia insists. “We need to keep the focus on what’s important.”
Singh nods dutifully, drawing a tawny leg back through the ropes.
Meanwhile, the Incorporated duo draw Alexis to her feet, the women each with their own wrist. Pulling the wobbly Filipino a few feet out from the corner, they fling her back in, Suguitan’s spine CRASHING into the buckles. Alexis’ arms flop over the top rope on either side to keep her upright.
Instantly, Mariel races down the length of the ring only to return, leaping and PLOWING a raised knee into the chin of the tawny-skinned grappler. The collision ‘turns off’ the muscular legs of the challenger, Alexis plopping to her backside. It’s a cue for McGinty to grab her partner by a wrist and shoulder and heave the dark-haired Amazon toward the blasted titleholder. The long, slender Angeleno jumps into a meteora, Val’s knees THUMPING into the shoulders and head of the gobsmacked Alexis.
They Know How to Use Them ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqR7X0znLPg&t=25s ) 1:35
As Stipanovic bounces away from Suguitan, the Filipino Phenom on tilt, lounging languidly against the bottom buckle, legs extended in front of her, McGinty leaves at Castle’s continued urging, confident Valerie has complete control.
The near six-footer grabs the dazed Panther by her ankles and drags the former champion to center stage where Stipanovic seems to consider a cover for a moment before changing course. Standing beside the splayed Alexis, Valerie lifts a ridiculously long left leg, creating a vertical set of splits before dropping the lower limb forward like a guillotine across Alexis’ throat with a Split Leg Drop.
Split Leg Drop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=EB_Th-QPOrk&t=19s ) 00:14
Suguitan’s body spasms before falling still, Val with her cheeks atop the neck of the demolished challenger, left leg draping her foe’s shoulders in one direction, the trailing right doing likewise on the hind end for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Alexis shoves the Amazon off over her head, rolling to her side, staring at her corner, silently pleading for help.
“Hold,” VanBuren demands, an eager Amara biting her lower lip. “She demanded a chance to prove herself after she shat the bed against Becky and lost the match at Mania. If she’s ever going to reach our level, she has to have more rope.”
“But the bytch is hanging herself,” Singh growls.
Portia keeps her focus on the slowly rising Penthouse Panther, demanding Alexis get to her feet.
“Let me help you with that, sweetheart,” Stipanovic merrily comments, the brunette ripping a forlorn Alexis to her feet. She pulls the dilapidated Alexis into a tight clinch, wrapping her laced palms behind the neck of the challenger.
Leaping into a tuck, Valerie presses her knees into the chest of her foe and lets gravity do the rest, ripping Suguitan off her feet and impaling her bosom with the bony caps as part of an inverted lungblower.
The Filipino’s body shoots away from the impact at warp speed, her spine BANGING into the deck, Alexis spread in a wide starfish.
Valerie turns toward the Gold Standard corner as she dips and collects both ankles again, lifting Sugutian’s limp lower limbs and spreading them.
“You’re looking at a well-oiled machine, Portia,” Stems proclaims. “Your girl doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Really?” Amara responds. “You want to bring up oil?”
Val’s face pinches in anger thinking of AHE, but it doesn’t stop her from lifting off, long, lean legs extended and CRASHING down across the inner thighs of her opponent’s muscular if shorter counterparts. Groin stretched wide, Alexis rises to a seated position with a yelp, reaching for the aching muscles where her legs meet her torso.
Val folds her right leg and shoots it forward like a piston into the chin of the Phenom, flattening her foe into another daze, Alexis being treated like a practice dummy.
Instead of going for the pin, the supremely confident Valerie back-somersaults off her rival, popping to her feet and turning to race toward the Standard corner. Caught off-guard, Singh pays for it with a boot to the mush, the disastrous start only multiplying when the Empress is sent hurtling from the apron, crashing atop her wide-eyed manager, VanBuren providing an unwelcome crash pad for her field general.
As Singh extricates herself from her boss, Valerie strolls to the champion’s neighborhood, tagging out to the golden-maned amazon. Unsurprisingly, Stipanovic loiters on the inside as McGinty joins her, the long, limber duo waltzing to the retreating Alexis, Suguitan crawling toward her corner for the cavalry, but finding the fort empty.
“Where are you idiots?” a frustrated Phenom asks loudly. From below the apron, Amara appears, grasping at a sore neck.
Singh reaches in below the bottom rope, for an Alexis on all fours, an unconventional tag to be sure but a legal one. Unfortunately for the challengers, it becomes even more unconventional when a racing Mariel leaps into a low-rise dropkick, tagging Alexis on the ass with both boot soles and sending her surging forward. Instead of tapping palms, the Thrilla from Manilla is sent lurching under the lowest cable and again there’s a Golden pile-up, this time all three members of the floundering team in a mass.
A chuckling McGinty slides out, landing beside the jumble of torsos and limbs, peeling the bewildered Indian grappler from the heap and heaving her with an Irish Whip down the length of the ring. Amara barrels into the steel ring steps, pounding the metal with a buried right shoulder that absorbs the collision but leaves a grimacing Singh cradling her injured wing.
Mariel hovers over an aching Amara, lifting her arms high and wide, the crowd popping for the Tag Team Champion as she plays to them, landing a blind stomp to the chest of the Empress while continuing to draw the energy out of the Seasons’ Beatings sell-out.
While McGinty collects Amara from the arena floor and stuffs her back in the squared circle, the other occupants are in an argument, Castle demanding Valerie leave the confines.
Stipanovic finally agrees to depart. Unfortunately for the challengers, it’s directly into Standard territory where she snatches Alexis away from her manager, the women drunkenly leaning against each other for support.
Apparently, it’s Suguitan’s turn for the trip to the metal Amara dented moments before. The long, limber Angeleno begins to whip the Penthouse Panther on her way but Alexis plants and pivots, ready to reverse the Irish and send Val to a clattering collision. But again the champs have an answer, and when Suguitan heaves, Stipanovic locks elbows for a square-dance-like spin.
Alexis barrels away in the opposite direction of the steps, namely toward her startled superior, SPEARING THE HOLY SUMMER HOME IN THE HAMPTONS right out of Fortune’s Favorite, Portia nearly snapped in two. The slender socialite folds around the shoulder of Alexis and is POUNDED into the thinly-padded cement, the history of Suguitan destroying VanBuren having another chapter added, this one unintended.
A shellshocked Alexis pushes to all fours, shaking out cobwebs. She looks down at the barely conscious VanBuren in shock and disbelief, frantically tapping on Baby’s cheek to rouse her with limited success.
Having left plenty of mess to clean, Valerie throws up her hands in mock innocence and, with an ovation from crowd in her figurative but otherwise nonexistent back pocket, heads back to Leggs, Inc.-land.
Inside, the rampage of the blossoming champions continues. Mariel strolls toward the stubborn Singh, the Indian grappler having reached her haunches. The blonde uses her endless legs to cartwheel to Amara, her long lower limbs landing on Singh’s shoulders then snapping shut around the braincase of the battered challenger. Supported by her palms, the Amazonian ideal barrel rolls to the canvas, bringing Singh’s upper half with her, SPIKING Amara’s forehead into the deck with a Headscissors Facebuster.
Headscissors Facebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4BlzvTovd0 )
Singh flop to her back in a spreadeagle and Mariel dives into a lateral press, hooking the tawny far leg of the Subcontinental Siren for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Empress shoves a shoulder with one tick remaining, denying the resplendent title holders for the moment.
Oddly, the audience doesn’t seem disappointed in the escape, so much are they enjoying the brutal beatdown after hearing a month’s worth of promos from each member of the Gold Standard how the Mania win was a fluke.
By comparison, McGinty’s a bit perturbed by what she sees as Castle’s slow count, but it’s a passing annoyance. She draws a grimacing, groaning Singh to her feet and aims the Empress at home base. Immediately, Amara’s racing across the canvas from another Irish Whip, sprinting into a half-turn and CRASHING into the buckles. On the other side of the post, a delighted Valerie watches with great interest. She motions in her flaxen-haired partner and a smirking McGinty responds, charging after and launching from a few feet out to DEMOLISH Amara with a full body splash, Singh rocked to her core.
Keeping Singh upright by leaning her body tight to the challenger’s, Mariel seems a bit saddened when Stipanovic taps a shoulder and enters. But remembering Val’s oily end at the hands of Amara at All Hallows’ Evil, she politely departs with a forearm to Singh’s jaw, leaving Valerie the rest.
The beaming brunette delivers a nasty chop to Singh’s chest then pivots, collecting Amara’s head in a ¾ facelock and snap-maring the Empress to a seat on the canvas mid-ring. Taking out her Madhouse frustrations, the dark-haired Amazon lands a soccer kick first to Amara’s lower spine, forcing the Empress into a pained arch. She then evens things up, abusing Singh’s chest with a repeat performance, this impact leaving her foe splayed on the canvas.
Val collects both muscular, golden-brown legs of the former champion and spreads them wide. Amara raises her hands, palms extended in a pathetic plea for mercy. After October’s oil, there is none. Valerie drops one ankle, but only to step on it with a boot sole, pushing it wide. With the remaining left ankle surrounded by both hands, the near six-footer drops wide left, forcing a brutal set of splits from Amara.
Singh shrieks in pain from the Wishbone attack, hands flying to her groin, dark eyes popping as she sits up, still trapped in the leg-split submission. Grabbing at her own ebony locks, she pulls to spread the pain then pounds all she has available from Stems, a set of ribs.
“Quit,” Valerie demands, pushing the captured limbs to an even more agonizing single file.
Singh sobs in pain but shakes her head.
“I SAID QUIT,” the champ shouts.
In the Standard corner, Alexis leans a standing but doubled Portia against the apron and climbs to her station, loudly insisting Singh not become a traitor and surrender to a pair of ‘gawky brats’.
Biting her full lower lip, eyes welled with tears, Singh screeches out a ‘NO’ when Castle asks for a capitulation for a third time. Seemingly convinced, Valerie releases her leg stretching torture and rolls to her feet. She takes a glance at the dilapidated duo in the ‘Gold’ corner and shakes her head.
“Is this a fluke too?”
‘Stems’ pulls Amara to her feet and shoves her at the challengers’ corner, Singh stumble-waddling her way there, dropping to her knees just short, hands buried between her thighs. She pulls one free to offer it to Alexis.
“Pathetic,” Suguitan mumbles under her breath, glancing down at Singh and then at the emerald pools of her tenderized manager, Portia still with an arm around her aching midriff.
The Filipino Phenom tags in, disheveled and slow to fold her way through the ropes, grunting from what would have been simple movements at the start of the match.
“Get her outside so we can work on her,” VanBuren grunts.
“Fuck that. I’m dropping her where she stands,” comes the determined reply.
As Amara rolls out under the bottom rope and into Portia’s arms, Valerie charges the cornered Suguitan, the brunettes connecting in a collar-and-elbow. Showing her remaining strength, the Penthouse Panther switches positions with the champion, stuffing Stipanovic tight to the corner. She breaks her arms free and raises each to deliver her signature Mongolian Chops to the neck of the towering brunette, cutting her down to size.
But as the knife-edges descend, Valerie’s hands rise and catch the edges between thumbs and forefingers. Val wraps them around each pinkie, TWISTING the little piggies mercilessly, Alexis yelping in pain as each finger is bent unnaturally. ‘Stems’ puts Suguitan into a backpedal with her control, driving the Panther down to one knee once she reaches center stage.
“Should I snap them?” Val shouts to the crowd.
It’s a debatable majority, the pleading apartment house veteran the most enthusiastic of the minority. Stipanovic uses her tiny handles to spread Alexis’ arms to leave a wide berth for her raised knee, which PLOWS into the Filipino’s chin.
The force knocks the golden-brown grappler through a back somersault, Portia’s final member of the defunct VB&A babbling to her for help. With Suguitan’s noggin bobbling, her senses mostly scattered, Alexis reaches behind her blindly. Nothing.
She turns to find Singh reaching an alligator arm toward her, far from making a supreme effort to replace her. Alexis spins from her cheeks to her knees and dives toward Amara’s hand, but the Indian beauty drops to the canvas next to Baby, out of reach.
Flat on her chest in front of the challengers’ corner, the Panther’s dark eyes are wide, staring frantically at her partner and manager.
“Ya…ya…you can’t,” Suguitan stammers, mostly to Singh, Alexis knowing the depths of VanBuren’s devious nature and the hate she no doubt continues to harbor after she ended Portia’s wrestling career.
But she thought it would always be Amara and her feeding the has-been to the wolves when the time came.
“Sorry, Lexie,” the Empress chuckles. “We were giving you one more chance tonight. And frankly, they’re kicking our ass because of you.”
As if to prove it, Valerie lands a stomp to the base of the Phenom’s spine, Alexis arching her column in response, face twisted in pain.
“It was fun,” Amara continues, “but Portia says I’ve got the making of a World Champion. And I have to say I agree.
“You bytches,” Alexis screams. She turns her attention to VanBuren as ‘Stems’ drags her to the middle, cavewoman-style, Suguitan futilely digging her nails into the canvas to no effect.
“I’m going to kill you,” the Panther shouts to VanBuren. “You and your pawn!”
Continuing her trip to the Leggs, Inc. corner, Val tags McGinty. The blonde enters and, with one ankle each, they lift Suguitan’s lower half off the deck. With the Filipino at a 45-degree angle, the leggy duo deliver simultaneous punts to the lower abdomen. Any further discussion from the challenger is limited to guttural moans, Alexis’ arms wrapping around her tummy when Leggs, Inc. release their foe’s lower limbs.
Mariel and Valerie beckon Portia and Amara into join their fallen former comrade but there’s no interest from manager or teammate, the two watching impassively as blonde and brunette haul a choking, groaning Alexis to her feet.
Each Amazon moves to Suguitan’s side, the three women shoulder to shoulder, Alexis sandwiched in the middle. The inner, lengthy leg of the Incorporated partners slips inside the parted stems of the Filipino while each champ grasps an arm. The title holders lean Alexis back a few degrees then swing her violently forward with a Double Forward Russian Legsweep, SPIKING Alexis’ face into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Double Forward Russian Legsweep ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqR7X0znLPg&t=25s ) 3:05
Mariel rolls the deadweight of the Phenom to her back and leisurely places an elbow on her foe’s chest. Valerie places one there for good measure, Nick not bothering with the technicality of an illegal double-pin as he slaps the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
The champs remain in place for a Gladiatrix money shot, Alexis unmoving beneath each arrogant pin. They wave to the remainder of the Standard on the outside, neither VanBuren or Singh showing any inclination to interrupt their moment.
As each Amazon gleefully rises, the ring announcer makes the result an official one.
“Your winners and STILL FAWN Tag Team champions…Mariel McGinty, Valerie Stipanovic…Leggs, Inc.”
The victors allow Castle between. He gabs each woman’s near hand, lifting it high over the carcass of the splayed Penthouse Panther.
“History, ladies,” McGinty shouts to the conscious members of the losing team. Amara moves to the apron’s edge, livid at being included in a loss her partner created, but Portia holds her back.
“Ignore those Jersey slime giants. When the time comes, you’ll beat both on your terms.”
Inside, Nick delivers the gold and leather back to the champs. Each takes to the heights, scaling a set of buckles and raising the hardware high. Indulging in a celebration with their peeps, Mariel and Valerie soak up the year-ending satisfaction to their hearts’ content before dropping to the canvas, moving to the ropes, sliding through, dropping to the floor and heading for the exit.
“Nice of you to play clean-up crew,” Val calls out to the losers behind her. “Tell Lexie I said buh-bye.”
As the champs ascend the ramp, Portia motions Singh into the ring. Amara slides in, pops to her feet, and moves to a hovering stance over the softly stirring Suguitan. A more deliberate Portia ascends what’s left of the steps and slips between the ropes, Precious in her hands.
“Get her up. If you would,” VanBuren mandates.
The Subcontinental Siren follows the order, pulling a slack, ragdolled Alexis to vertical, holding her there with double chickenwings. Fortune’s Favorite approaches and smacks out whatever taste remains with a slap worthy of Macy Renquist’s top ten.
Woken from her stupor, Alexis dark eyes blink slowly to recognition.
“I’m going to…”
VanBuren holds a middle finger up to the Filipino’s lips, shushing her.
“You’re going to learn to thank your lucky stars Amara and I made you a champion,” Baby interrupts. “But you’re also going to wonder if it was worth it.”
Her piece said, Portia swings Precious up between Alexis’ legs, POUNDING the mallet head into the Panther’s kitty. Mouth agape and eyes rolling back in her head, Alexis goes slack in Singh’s control and, with a nod from her manager, Amara lets Suguitan puddle to the canvas.
“Consider yourself fortunate, Lexie. I could send you into retirement right now, but I want the losses to pile up so you know it was me that carried your sorry choking ass across the only title finish line you ever crossed.”
Portia uses a sneaker to shovel what’s left of Alexis onto her back and into a wide starfish. She gently places the head of her mallet on the Filipino’s navel as she stands in a straddle over her former charge.
Amara massages the tension from VanBuren’s shoulders from behind.
“Miss Singh,” Portia says softly but firmly. “You have my undivided attention. And soon you’ll have all of FAWN’s.”
With all in the arena on the edge of their collective seat, the infamous crashing chords of 'The World is Not Enough' from Garbage courses through the bowl. Those FAWNatics not already looking in the direction turn to the upper stage to heap their scorn on the former champions and their malicious manager.
THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8C5NLfYdZaE
“I know how to hurt. I know how to heal. I know what to show and what to conceal.”
“I know when to talk. And I know when to touch. No one ever died from wanting too much…”
The crowd doesn’t hold back, unleashing on the salacious sellouts and their Manhattanite manager.
A long streak of white light shoots from the rafters as Shirley Manson pronounces “The World Is Not Enough”. At the end of the beam, the infamous strawberry blonde patrician revels in the loathing radiating from the concealed hordes. Her usual smirk is replaced by a focused fury.
Fortune’s Favorite remains flawless in her immaculate, white tennis togs, namely a form-fitting, Louis Vuitton tank top and short skirt with white socks and thousand-dollar tennies. In her right hand is Precious, her beloved polo mallet. Baby points it to stage right and appearing on cue are the golden-brown warriors of the Gold Standard.
PORTIA VANBUREN
AMARA SINGH
ALEXIS SUGUITAN
The Standard stride to either side of their leader, no longer with gold and leather around their waists. The businesslike VanBuren points her beauties toward the ring, Portia touting and shouting as Suguitan and Singh lead the way in stern silence.
The Standard glistens in gold, two-piece battle gear, sturdy bikini tops complementing tight booty shorts letting the champs’ curves nearly overflow the shimmering spandex. Black boots and pads complete each woman’s identical gear.
Singh and Sugutian climb to the apron and slip through the ropes, claiming center stage. Following, the New Yorker nimbly ascends the steps then demands head referee Nick Castle open the top and middle ropes wide for the former three-time World Champion. Joining her team, Baby places herself in front of her exotic warriors, showing off each as the music fades. The announcer takes his cue.
“Tonight’s next contest is scheduled for one fall and will have a time limit of thirty minutes. First, in the ring, accompanied to the ring by their manager, Portia VanBuren the Fourth. Hailing from Manilla, The Philippines at five feet eight inches tall and 134 pounds, the Penthouse Panther…ALEXIS SUGUITAN! And her partner, from Cawnpore, India at five feet six inches and 137 pounds, the Golden Empress…AMARA SINGH! Together they are the Gold Standard!”
Amara and Alexis raise their arms high and wide, while Portia draws a microphone to her ruby lips.
“Look on these women and fear for your careers, so-called champions. You survived the blast from the past at Cold November Pain. BARELY,” Portia says, addressing the yet seen champions and their enthralling win over the The Three.
“Honestly. We were cheering for you to beat those overgrown has-beens and, sure enough, you squeaked it out. Not because you’re more than a couple long-legged simpletons who can’t possibly stumble to another win, but because Amara and Alexis each want to make you hurt, want to make you be the ones who return the belts to their waists personally. When they destroy you and make you surrender, you will kneel before them and wrap the belts around them, putting back what you never should have stolen. Then you will skulk back to your little corner of the division, never to bother us again.”
The FAWNatics don’t seem to believe Portia’s prediction and they let her know.
Sneering at their jeers, VanBuren drops the mic and leads her team to their corner where they discuss the strategy that will make Singh and Suguitan once-again champs and leave Leggs, Inc a sideshow footnote.
It takes but a moment for the lights to lower. The Tron blinks from the omnipresent FAWN logo to a neon pink outline of a long, lean set of legs walking across the screen from the left. From the opposite side, another set does the same and, as they meet, the lines of the limbs swirl into a cursive font, emerging and settling into ‘Leggs, Inc.’
Pink pyro shoots in diagonal blasts from either side of the stage, the crowd roaring and ready. The last blast of fireworks flies toward the rafters as Rod Stewart’s ‘Hot Legs’ blares from the arena speakers (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHcjjxYbgNM ). The Amazonian ideals, one with olive skin and long dark locks, the other with skin of lightly tanned ivory and a golden mane, move to center stage, showing off their undeniable weaponry and the gaudy gold and leather belts across their long, lean midriffs.
MARIEL MCGINTY
VALERIE STIPANOVIC
The champion’s anthem isn’t played without very good cause. Reaching their spot on the stage, the partners turn to each other and glide hands over the length of each other’s stupendous stems. By the time each is done, their pert cheeks are pointed high. Up the hands trail, making the long return trip, each expedition ending with a cheeky pinch, drawing a wide grin from their opposite number. A massive roar of approval emerges from the eyeballing attendees.
With all attention captured, the duo set foot down the ramp, their long strides gobbling up space. Blonde and brunette aren’t as interactive tonight, passing on high-fives with the fans. Still, the mob chants for the owners of the undeniable appendages as they reach the ring.
“LEGS…LEGS…LEGS”.
The blonde is clad in a cutoff gray Calvin Klein hoodie (hood down) unzipped and wide to show the towering beauty’s pink sports bra. Multicolored speckles dot throughout the top and her pink boy-cut trunks ride exceedingly high to accentuate further the incredible gams on the rookie. Pink boots and black pads finish the slight attire.
Next to her, the brunette is in a similar hoodie. The rest of her gear is parallel in style though the more tanned of the pair is in striking white, boots and pads added to her snowy sports bra and ‘barely there’ shorts.
With each set of legs well-inspected, the glowing duo makes the trip up the steps then halfway down the ropes, their eyes remaining glued on the dangerous adversaries. Nick Castle, wanting no pre-match problems, makes sure the former champs and their manager remain in their assigned corner.
Slipping through the cables in heart-stopping stages, Leggs, Inc beams like the newly minted queens of the mountain they are. Reaching the middle, they unstrap the leather and raise the belts high, seemingly daring the challengers to charge. But Portia keeps Amara and Alexis well-heeled.
The ring announcer breaks into the captivating display.
“And their opponents. Weighing in at a combined 255 pounds…from Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania and Los Angeles, California respectively…MARIEL…”LEGS”…MCGINTY and VALERIE “STEMS” STIPANOVIC…ladies and most assuredly gentlemen…your tag team champions…LEGGS INCORPORATED.”
The crowd rewards the hypnotizing duo with a standing ovation that only slows when Mariel calls for a microphone, both Amazons turning from the hard camera to the Standard. The blonde raises it to her lips.
“Count the seconds, Portia. Because tonight, that’s all it will take. We’re not here to keep our titles. We’re here to make a point. And we’re making it with your employees.”
McGinty hands the stick to Nick and each champion hand their belts to Castle. Mariel and Val backpedal to their corner, Stems continuing by climbing through the ropes.
Across the ring, Portia leads Amara to the sidelines, leaving the Penthouse Panther to maul the long-limbed, flaxen-haired amazon though Alexis seems wary, even after the tolling of the bell.
Suguitan circles out of the corner, forcing Mariel to do the same, the women slowly lowering the distance between them until each reach for the other to lock upUHHH…
McGinty changes tactics, gutting the Filipino Phenom with a toe kick to her golden-brown tummy, doubling over Alexis. The blonde gazes over the stooped challenger to the rest of the Gold Standard behind her. She shakes her head solemnly then lifts a knee between the eyes of Suguitan, staggering the Penthouse Panther, Alexis’ arms pinwheeling to keep her upright.
“Good idea, Portia,” Mariel shouts. “Protect your star,” she adds, motioning to Singh. “Forsake your dead weight.”
Suguitan shakes out some cobwebs and charges, raging in anger at Mariel’s insult before her head is nearly removed from her neck with the ‘super-est’ of super kicks. Knocked flat on her back, Alexis’ dark eyes stare blankly at the rafters. From the sidelines, VanBuren demands her responsibility rise and return fire.
Alexis reaches a seated position, but it’s McGinty tugging her up the rest of the way, then taking a wrist and flinging her to the opposite ropes. Suguitan rebounds out of the u-turn, racing uncontrolled toward an advancing ‘Legs’ who spins into a lethal leg lariat. Alexis’ legs proceed an extra beat, flying out in front of her while the back of her skull takes the elevator down, CRACKING into the thinly-covered plywood.
The force of the impact bounces a shellshocked Phenom back to a seat, Alexis again unable to get out of first gear. Mariel flattens her foe with a soccer kick to the chest. With the Panther laid out, McGinty skips over the frame of the Standardbearer. She hops to the bottom rope in the champs’ corner where Valerie tags a hip before Mariel springboards away, spinning in a 180 to drop a leg across Suguitan’s throat.
Springboard Legdrop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZyFc9iHAN0 )
As Alexis sputters in spasms, grasping at her collapsed windpipe, ‘Stems’ enters nonchalantly, helping her beaming blonde counterpart to her feet. Singh starts to enter to even the odds but is grabbed by an ankle. VanBuren looks up at her Subcontinental Siren.
“Let’s rope some dopes, Amara,” Baby assures. “Let them burn themselves out.”
“But Lexie,” the Empress responds.
“But the titles,” Portia insists. “We need to keep the focus on what’s important.”
Singh nods dutifully, drawing a tawny leg back through the ropes.
Meanwhile, the Incorporated duo draw Alexis to her feet, the women each with their own wrist. Pulling the wobbly Filipino a few feet out from the corner, they fling her back in, Suguitan’s spine CRASHING into the buckles. Alexis’ arms flop over the top rope on either side to keep her upright.
Instantly, Mariel races down the length of the ring only to return, leaping and PLOWING a raised knee into the chin of the tawny-skinned grappler. The collision ‘turns off’ the muscular legs of the challenger, Alexis plopping to her backside. It’s a cue for McGinty to grab her partner by a wrist and shoulder and heave the dark-haired Amazon toward the blasted titleholder. The long, slender Angeleno jumps into a meteora, Val’s knees THUMPING into the shoulders and head of the gobsmacked Alexis.
They Know How to Use Them ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqR7X0znLPg&t=25s ) 1:35
As Stipanovic bounces away from Suguitan, the Filipino Phenom on tilt, lounging languidly against the bottom buckle, legs extended in front of her, McGinty leaves at Castle’s continued urging, confident Valerie has complete control.
The near six-footer grabs the dazed Panther by her ankles and drags the former champion to center stage where Stipanovic seems to consider a cover for a moment before changing course. Standing beside the splayed Alexis, Valerie lifts a ridiculously long left leg, creating a vertical set of splits before dropping the lower limb forward like a guillotine across Alexis’ throat with a Split Leg Drop.
Split Leg Drop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=EB_Th-QPOrk&t=19s ) 00:14
Suguitan’s body spasms before falling still, Val with her cheeks atop the neck of the demolished challenger, left leg draping her foe’s shoulders in one direction, the trailing right doing likewise on the hind end for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Alexis shoves the Amazon off over her head, rolling to her side, staring at her corner, silently pleading for help.
“Hold,” VanBuren demands, an eager Amara biting her lower lip. “She demanded a chance to prove herself after she shat the bed against Becky and lost the match at Mania. If she’s ever going to reach our level, she has to have more rope.”
“But the bytch is hanging herself,” Singh growls.
Portia keeps her focus on the slowly rising Penthouse Panther, demanding Alexis get to her feet.
“Let me help you with that, sweetheart,” Stipanovic merrily comments, the brunette ripping a forlorn Alexis to her feet. She pulls the dilapidated Alexis into a tight clinch, wrapping her laced palms behind the neck of the challenger.
Leaping into a tuck, Valerie presses her knees into the chest of her foe and lets gravity do the rest, ripping Suguitan off her feet and impaling her bosom with the bony caps as part of an inverted lungblower.
The Filipino’s body shoots away from the impact at warp speed, her spine BANGING into the deck, Alexis spread in a wide starfish.
Valerie turns toward the Gold Standard corner as she dips and collects both ankles again, lifting Sugutian’s limp lower limbs and spreading them.
“You’re looking at a well-oiled machine, Portia,” Stems proclaims. “Your girl doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Really?” Amara responds. “You want to bring up oil?”
Val’s face pinches in anger thinking of AHE, but it doesn’t stop her from lifting off, long, lean legs extended and CRASHING down across the inner thighs of her opponent’s muscular if shorter counterparts. Groin stretched wide, Alexis rises to a seated position with a yelp, reaching for the aching muscles where her legs meet her torso.
Val folds her right leg and shoots it forward like a piston into the chin of the Phenom, flattening her foe into another daze, Alexis being treated like a practice dummy.
Instead of going for the pin, the supremely confident Valerie back-somersaults off her rival, popping to her feet and turning to race toward the Standard corner. Caught off-guard, Singh pays for it with a boot to the mush, the disastrous start only multiplying when the Empress is sent hurtling from the apron, crashing atop her wide-eyed manager, VanBuren providing an unwelcome crash pad for her field general.
As Singh extricates herself from her boss, Valerie strolls to the champion’s neighborhood, tagging out to the golden-maned amazon. Unsurprisingly, Stipanovic loiters on the inside as McGinty joins her, the long, limber duo waltzing to the retreating Alexis, Suguitan crawling toward her corner for the cavalry, but finding the fort empty.
“Where are you idiots?” a frustrated Phenom asks loudly. From below the apron, Amara appears, grasping at a sore neck.
Singh reaches in below the bottom rope, for an Alexis on all fours, an unconventional tag to be sure but a legal one. Unfortunately for the challengers, it becomes even more unconventional when a racing Mariel leaps into a low-rise dropkick, tagging Alexis on the ass with both boot soles and sending her surging forward. Instead of tapping palms, the Thrilla from Manilla is sent lurching under the lowest cable and again there’s a Golden pile-up, this time all three members of the floundering team in a mass.
A chuckling McGinty slides out, landing beside the jumble of torsos and limbs, peeling the bewildered Indian grappler from the heap and heaving her with an Irish Whip down the length of the ring. Amara barrels into the steel ring steps, pounding the metal with a buried right shoulder that absorbs the collision but leaves a grimacing Singh cradling her injured wing.
Mariel hovers over an aching Amara, lifting her arms high and wide, the crowd popping for the Tag Team Champion as she plays to them, landing a blind stomp to the chest of the Empress while continuing to draw the energy out of the Seasons’ Beatings sell-out.
While McGinty collects Amara from the arena floor and stuffs her back in the squared circle, the other occupants are in an argument, Castle demanding Valerie leave the confines.
Stipanovic finally agrees to depart. Unfortunately for the challengers, it’s directly into Standard territory where she snatches Alexis away from her manager, the women drunkenly leaning against each other for support.
Apparently, it’s Suguitan’s turn for the trip to the metal Amara dented moments before. The long, limber Angeleno begins to whip the Penthouse Panther on her way but Alexis plants and pivots, ready to reverse the Irish and send Val to a clattering collision. But again the champs have an answer, and when Suguitan heaves, Stipanovic locks elbows for a square-dance-like spin.
Alexis barrels away in the opposite direction of the steps, namely toward her startled superior, SPEARING THE HOLY SUMMER HOME IN THE HAMPTONS right out of Fortune’s Favorite, Portia nearly snapped in two. The slender socialite folds around the shoulder of Alexis and is POUNDED into the thinly-padded cement, the history of Suguitan destroying VanBuren having another chapter added, this one unintended.
A shellshocked Alexis pushes to all fours, shaking out cobwebs. She looks down at the barely conscious VanBuren in shock and disbelief, frantically tapping on Baby’s cheek to rouse her with limited success.
Having left plenty of mess to clean, Valerie throws up her hands in mock innocence and, with an ovation from crowd in her figurative but otherwise nonexistent back pocket, heads back to Leggs, Inc.-land.
Inside, the rampage of the blossoming champions continues. Mariel strolls toward the stubborn Singh, the Indian grappler having reached her haunches. The blonde uses her endless legs to cartwheel to Amara, her long lower limbs landing on Singh’s shoulders then snapping shut around the braincase of the battered challenger. Supported by her palms, the Amazonian ideal barrel rolls to the canvas, bringing Singh’s upper half with her, SPIKING Amara’s forehead into the deck with a Headscissors Facebuster.
Headscissors Facebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4BlzvTovd0 )
Singh flop to her back in a spreadeagle and Mariel dives into a lateral press, hooking the tawny far leg of the Subcontinental Siren for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Empress shoves a shoulder with one tick remaining, denying the resplendent title holders for the moment.
Oddly, the audience doesn’t seem disappointed in the escape, so much are they enjoying the brutal beatdown after hearing a month’s worth of promos from each member of the Gold Standard how the Mania win was a fluke.
By comparison, McGinty’s a bit perturbed by what she sees as Castle’s slow count, but it’s a passing annoyance. She draws a grimacing, groaning Singh to her feet and aims the Empress at home base. Immediately, Amara’s racing across the canvas from another Irish Whip, sprinting into a half-turn and CRASHING into the buckles. On the other side of the post, a delighted Valerie watches with great interest. She motions in her flaxen-haired partner and a smirking McGinty responds, charging after and launching from a few feet out to DEMOLISH Amara with a full body splash, Singh rocked to her core.
Keeping Singh upright by leaning her body tight to the challenger’s, Mariel seems a bit saddened when Stipanovic taps a shoulder and enters. But remembering Val’s oily end at the hands of Amara at All Hallows’ Evil, she politely departs with a forearm to Singh’s jaw, leaving Valerie the rest.
The beaming brunette delivers a nasty chop to Singh’s chest then pivots, collecting Amara’s head in a ¾ facelock and snap-maring the Empress to a seat on the canvas mid-ring. Taking out her Madhouse frustrations, the dark-haired Amazon lands a soccer kick first to Amara’s lower spine, forcing the Empress into a pained arch. She then evens things up, abusing Singh’s chest with a repeat performance, this impact leaving her foe splayed on the canvas.
Val collects both muscular, golden-brown legs of the former champion and spreads them wide. Amara raises her hands, palms extended in a pathetic plea for mercy. After October’s oil, there is none. Valerie drops one ankle, but only to step on it with a boot sole, pushing it wide. With the remaining left ankle surrounded by both hands, the near six-footer drops wide left, forcing a brutal set of splits from Amara.
Singh shrieks in pain from the Wishbone attack, hands flying to her groin, dark eyes popping as she sits up, still trapped in the leg-split submission. Grabbing at her own ebony locks, she pulls to spread the pain then pounds all she has available from Stems, a set of ribs.
“Quit,” Valerie demands, pushing the captured limbs to an even more agonizing single file.
Singh sobs in pain but shakes her head.
“I SAID QUIT,” the champ shouts.
In the Standard corner, Alexis leans a standing but doubled Portia against the apron and climbs to her station, loudly insisting Singh not become a traitor and surrender to a pair of ‘gawky brats’.
Biting her full lower lip, eyes welled with tears, Singh screeches out a ‘NO’ when Castle asks for a capitulation for a third time. Seemingly convinced, Valerie releases her leg stretching torture and rolls to her feet. She takes a glance at the dilapidated duo in the ‘Gold’ corner and shakes her head.
“Is this a fluke too?”
‘Stems’ pulls Amara to her feet and shoves her at the challengers’ corner, Singh stumble-waddling her way there, dropping to her knees just short, hands buried between her thighs. She pulls one free to offer it to Alexis.
“Pathetic,” Suguitan mumbles under her breath, glancing down at Singh and then at the emerald pools of her tenderized manager, Portia still with an arm around her aching midriff.
The Filipino Phenom tags in, disheveled and slow to fold her way through the ropes, grunting from what would have been simple movements at the start of the match.
“Get her outside so we can work on her,” VanBuren grunts.
“Fuck that. I’m dropping her where she stands,” comes the determined reply.
As Amara rolls out under the bottom rope and into Portia’s arms, Valerie charges the cornered Suguitan, the brunettes connecting in a collar-and-elbow. Showing her remaining strength, the Penthouse Panther switches positions with the champion, stuffing Stipanovic tight to the corner. She breaks her arms free and raises each to deliver her signature Mongolian Chops to the neck of the towering brunette, cutting her down to size.
But as the knife-edges descend, Valerie’s hands rise and catch the edges between thumbs and forefingers. Val wraps them around each pinkie, TWISTING the little piggies mercilessly, Alexis yelping in pain as each finger is bent unnaturally. ‘Stems’ puts Suguitan into a backpedal with her control, driving the Panther down to one knee once she reaches center stage.
“Should I snap them?” Val shouts to the crowd.
It’s a debatable majority, the pleading apartment house veteran the most enthusiastic of the minority. Stipanovic uses her tiny handles to spread Alexis’ arms to leave a wide berth for her raised knee, which PLOWS into the Filipino’s chin.
The force knocks the golden-brown grappler through a back somersault, Portia’s final member of the defunct VB&A babbling to her for help. With Suguitan’s noggin bobbling, her senses mostly scattered, Alexis reaches behind her blindly. Nothing.
She turns to find Singh reaching an alligator arm toward her, far from making a supreme effort to replace her. Alexis spins from her cheeks to her knees and dives toward Amara’s hand, but the Indian beauty drops to the canvas next to Baby, out of reach.
Flat on her chest in front of the challengers’ corner, the Panther’s dark eyes are wide, staring frantically at her partner and manager.
“Ya…ya…you can’t,” Suguitan stammers, mostly to Singh, Alexis knowing the depths of VanBuren’s devious nature and the hate she no doubt continues to harbor after she ended Portia’s wrestling career.
But she thought it would always be Amara and her feeding the has-been to the wolves when the time came.
“Sorry, Lexie,” the Empress chuckles. “We were giving you one more chance tonight. And frankly, they’re kicking our ass because of you.”
As if to prove it, Valerie lands a stomp to the base of the Phenom’s spine, Alexis arching her column in response, face twisted in pain.
“It was fun,” Amara continues, “but Portia says I’ve got the making of a World Champion. And I have to say I agree.
“You bytches,” Alexis screams. She turns her attention to VanBuren as ‘Stems’ drags her to the middle, cavewoman-style, Suguitan futilely digging her nails into the canvas to no effect.
“I’m going to kill you,” the Panther shouts to VanBuren. “You and your pawn!”
Continuing her trip to the Leggs, Inc. corner, Val tags McGinty. The blonde enters and, with one ankle each, they lift Suguitan’s lower half off the deck. With the Filipino at a 45-degree angle, the leggy duo deliver simultaneous punts to the lower abdomen. Any further discussion from the challenger is limited to guttural moans, Alexis’ arms wrapping around her tummy when Leggs, Inc. release their foe’s lower limbs.
Mariel and Valerie beckon Portia and Amara into join their fallen former comrade but there’s no interest from manager or teammate, the two watching impassively as blonde and brunette haul a choking, groaning Alexis to her feet.
Each Amazon moves to Suguitan’s side, the three women shoulder to shoulder, Alexis sandwiched in the middle. The inner, lengthy leg of the Incorporated partners slips inside the parted stems of the Filipino while each champ grasps an arm. The title holders lean Alexis back a few degrees then swing her violently forward with a Double Forward Russian Legsweep, SPIKING Alexis’ face into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Double Forward Russian Legsweep ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqR7X0znLPg&t=25s ) 3:05
Mariel rolls the deadweight of the Phenom to her back and leisurely places an elbow on her foe’s chest. Valerie places one there for good measure, Nick not bothering with the technicality of an illegal double-pin as he slaps the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
The champs remain in place for a Gladiatrix money shot, Alexis unmoving beneath each arrogant pin. They wave to the remainder of the Standard on the outside, neither VanBuren or Singh showing any inclination to interrupt their moment.
As each Amazon gleefully rises, the ring announcer makes the result an official one.
“Your winners and STILL FAWN Tag Team champions…Mariel McGinty, Valerie Stipanovic…Leggs, Inc.”
The victors allow Castle between. He gabs each woman’s near hand, lifting it high over the carcass of the splayed Penthouse Panther.
“History, ladies,” McGinty shouts to the conscious members of the losing team. Amara moves to the apron’s edge, livid at being included in a loss her partner created, but Portia holds her back.
“Ignore those Jersey slime giants. When the time comes, you’ll beat both on your terms.”
Inside, Nick delivers the gold and leather back to the champs. Each takes to the heights, scaling a set of buckles and raising the hardware high. Indulging in a celebration with their peeps, Mariel and Valerie soak up the year-ending satisfaction to their hearts’ content before dropping to the canvas, moving to the ropes, sliding through, dropping to the floor and heading for the exit.
“Nice of you to play clean-up crew,” Val calls out to the losers behind her. “Tell Lexie I said buh-bye.”
As the champs ascend the ramp, Portia motions Singh into the ring. Amara slides in, pops to her feet, and moves to a hovering stance over the softly stirring Suguitan. A more deliberate Portia ascends what’s left of the steps and slips between the ropes, Precious in her hands.
“Get her up. If you would,” VanBuren mandates.
The Subcontinental Siren follows the order, pulling a slack, ragdolled Alexis to vertical, holding her there with double chickenwings. Fortune’s Favorite approaches and smacks out whatever taste remains with a slap worthy of Macy Renquist’s top ten.
Woken from her stupor, Alexis dark eyes blink slowly to recognition.
“I’m going to…”
VanBuren holds a middle finger up to the Filipino’s lips, shushing her.
“You’re going to learn to thank your lucky stars Amara and I made you a champion,” Baby interrupts. “But you’re also going to wonder if it was worth it.”
Her piece said, Portia swings Precious up between Alexis’ legs, POUNDING the mallet head into the Panther’s kitty. Mouth agape and eyes rolling back in her head, Alexis goes slack in Singh’s control and, with a nod from her manager, Amara lets Suguitan puddle to the canvas.
“Consider yourself fortunate, Lexie. I could send you into retirement right now, but I want the losses to pile up so you know it was me that carried your sorry choking ass across the only title finish line you ever crossed.”
Portia uses a sneaker to shovel what’s left of Alexis onto her back and into a wide starfish. She gently places the head of her mallet on the Filipino’s navel as she stands in a straddle over her former charge.
Amara massages the tension from VanBuren’s shoulders from behind.
“Miss Singh,” Portia says softly but firmly. “You have my undivided attention. And soon you’ll have all of FAWN’s.”