Post by hawkeye on Jul 5, 2021 14:34:18 GMT
As confident, some say arrogant, as Lyle VanBuren’s only child could be, returning to in-ring action for the first time in almost five years and against one of the most fearsome competitors FAWN had to offer, was daunting. Baby appeared rightfully concerned, bouncing nervously from side to side behind the curtain.
With Portia having been placed in the Main Event, appropriately usurping the World Championship match in her eyes, the crowd knew which competitors were next. They seemed to sense VanBuren’s appearance was near, a low undertone of boos emerging in anticipation of the arrival of the hated socialite yet undeniable icon.
Beside her stood the Bollywood Bombshell, the dominant force in all of FAWN over the last year. And yet, Singh found herself momentarily overshadowed by the woman who helped bring her back to prominence. There’s an air of discomfort between the two, jealousy flowing in either direction but submerged beneath the surface.
Amara survived her title match earlier in the evening to hold up her end of a potential earth-shaking bargain. Now it’s up to Portia to make the previously unthinkable happen.
The FAWNatics had only ever ventured a guess Sue Burlingame would have the chance to become a four-time World Champion. But now, if VanBuren could ride her determination and savvy to an upset over the Raven, it would be Baby with the chance.
“As delusional as you’ve become,” Singh said to a distracted VanBuren, “I want nothing more than for you to receive the opportunity. And when I beat you, I hope you are eager to return to the relationship that has been profitable for both of us.”
“Thank you,” Portia responds with a sneer. “That means so little to me. And so you know. Win or lose tonight. Win or lose at Red White and Bruised. I’m done carrying you.”
Before the Empress could respond, the sound of ‘How You Like Me Now' from Heavy, the drumbeating clarion call of FAWN’s infamous icon coursed through the arena’s speakers. Baby took a deep breath and pushed through.
HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM
The crowd rose to its feet as one in one of the most oft-repeated rituals in FAWN history. The masses jeered Baby with every ounce of capacity their lungs could muster. The sound was at a decibel level perhaps only Kylie Sanders could elicit.
Baby didn’t hesitate on the upper stage, instead immediately heading down the aisle, paying the jeers no mind. Tonight would be pleasurable, but most of all, it would be business. Survive and advance.
On the way, the eardrum-injuring cascade of catcalls echoed through the confines at the volume of a jet engine, not lowered in the least by the trailing World Champion, Singh looking resplendent in halter and skirt.
AMARA SINGH:
In front of her, the sinewy blonde reached the ring where Portia offered a familiar toss of her golden mane as she made her way up the steel steps. The crowd marveled at VanBuren returning to her trademark black bikini and entirely pulling it off. The scant black cloth below was emblazoned with a green, sparkling dollar sign on her infamous and flawless derriere. Baby’s uva-nourished, ivory skin glowed next to the ebony swatches, her attire completed with gold pads and boots. The black footwear contained a green outline of the state of New Jersey, and an iconic red circle with a slash superimposed atop the Garden State.
PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN the FOURTH:
The blonde patrician waited at the ropes and motioned for Singh to come open them for her.
“Well?” Portia said at her ‘co-champion‘.
Amara smirks, cursing “peasant” under her breath, not moving from the floor.
Fortune’s Favorite shrugged and slid into the ring, the Announcer breaking in as Lyle’s baby girl moved to her corner and readied for her first FAWN warfare in nearly half a decade.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for our Main Event! This contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit and the winner will establish the new number one contender for the FAWN World Championship. Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Amara Singh…from Manhattan and Easthampton, New York and Monaco City, Monaco, standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds, she is the former THREE TIME FAWN World Champion”.
Portia held up a hand and strode to the announcer, cupping a whisper into his ear.
“Pardon me…FOUR-TIME World Champion… PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN THE FOURTH!”
Baby moved to the center of the ring with microphone in hand under a deafening round of boos.
“Only those aware of how truly great I am will understand Lemarchand is nothing more than my next ride. Five years will melt away before your eyes. And for those of you with enough sophistication and class to comprehend, you’ll enjoy the ride with me.”
Portia turned with a wicked flaxen hair flip and strode back to her corner, waggling her golden dollar sign, knowing in big matches like this, she’s money.
Nick Castle was trying and failing to check Portia’s pads and boots (Baby was far more invested in her last minute ‘strategy’ session with the Empress, the bulk of which seemed to consist of muttered threats) when the Announcer brought out the second half of the Main Event. “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. This is the Fair and Radiant Maiden… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ winged its way into the Arena and a massive number of ravens went up, the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s ‘unkindness’ continuing to grow as she proved herself not just a stately bird of yore, but a bona fide bendy-back workhorse as well. Spurred on by their disdain for the remaining two-thirds of the Gold Standard, those assembled grew all the louder when the woman in question swept into view a few seconds later. Attention already trained on the women in the ring, Lenore took a deep breath and forced herself to sweep a glance out over the fans. Quietly pleased by the response, Emily’s Lady in Waiting hooked her thumbs together and hoisted the Raven sigil to the rafters. It was returned a thousand-fold, a suitably epic accompaniment for her journey to the squared circle and the milestone match waiting within.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For her first and quite possibly only battle with a woman that’d been near the top of her career bucket list from the outset, Lemarchand wore strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Understandably concerned that she could be walking into a trap, Lenore’s nerves were somewhat eased by the fact that Singh and VanBuren still had their heads together in what appeared to be a heated exchange of views. Such dissent didn’t bother the brunette in the slightest, indeed a fractured front could make it that much easier for her to emerge victorious en route to Red, White & Bruised, yet the lack of eye contact from Fortune’s Favorite in particular rankled the Raven far more than she cared to admit. Deciding it was time to remind the entitled pair just what they’d earned with their latest shitty little game, Lemarchand hopped onto the apron without so much as a whisper, then vaulted onto the top rope and leapt across the ring with a gorgeous springboard that brought her down with a resounding THAWHAM! barely three feet from Portia and Amara.
Singh only snarled but VanBuren jounced in place, her surprise giving way to fury when Lenore raised the Raven once more. “You odious little bytch, who do you think you are?” the blonde fumed at Lemarchand’s encroachment.
“Me? I’m the woman that occasionally makes your ‘champions’ hide their faces for a few months when they lose. And I think it’s about time you learned to empathize with their experiences.”
Portia scoffed and swished a hand to send the brunette away, a gesture Lenore patently ignored until Nick Castle hurried over and guided her to the far corner for the final inspection.
Lenore moved from off the buckles as soon as the bell sounded to ensure she wasn’t trapped in case Fortune’s Favorite tried to blitzkrieg her right off the jump. Turned out Lemarchand needn’t have worried, while Portia did glance in her direction at the CLANG (presumably to see if the brunette was attempting a similar rush) she promptly returned her attention to Amara, who was still on the apron for a rather intense conversation. Some wrestlers might’ve felt slighted over the lack of attention, but the Fair & Radiant Maiden only made her way to the center of the ring and waited.
Nick Castle on the other hand wasn’t so patient and he called out, “Match is live, Portia. Amara, get off the apron or go to the back.”
VanBuren and Singh each favored him with a withering look, then turned it on each other before the former came forward and the latter took a position on the floor. “Take the count-out now, Jersey.” Portia flicked a hand at the aisle as she closed on her adversary. “Everyone knows you’re not World Championship material, which means you’re not in the Empress’ league. And you’re certainly not four-time World Championship material, which means you’re not in MY leagGRRRRHHHHH!”
Lemarchand swept her into a Collar & Elbow Lock-Up, twisted around in a circle so that Portia’s back was pointed toward the Raven’s corner and proceeded to march the thrashing veteran until her butt and back were smudged against the turnbuckles. Fuming at the press of Lenore’s hand against one cheek, Baby slipped a foot over the bottom rope and barked, “Get this Jersey off me, Castnnngghh!”
Portia’s hiss of incredulous rage was lost in a raucous ‘OOOOOOOOHHH!’ from the FAWNatics when Lenore mounted the second turnbuckle and forced the washboard of her tummy against VanBuren’s face! The enforced navel gazing didn’t last more than a second or two as Portia twisted away to scream at the ref for a break, but she still had to endure the ‘ab-ominable’ treatment through a ‘FOUR!’ count which was more than enough time for Lenore to throw up her Raven sigil for all to see.
“You’ll want to put the big belt out of your mind for the moment, Baby.” Lemarchand advised after she’d hopped down and taken a few steps back. “Because if you’re too focused on Amara, this ’co-champion’ delusion of yours is going to end tonight.”
VanBuren sniffed, brushed her hair back behind her ears. “Better than you have tried and failed, Jersey. I don’t sweat you.”
“You sure about that? I’m the only woman in that locker-room with a pair of Alexis AND Amara’s briefs. That’s a complete set of Gold Standard, I’d love to add their gold-digging manager toRRRRGGHHH!”
Portia pounced on Lenore, catching her in an answering clench that swiftly became a rough hair pull and several short slaps to the brunette’s cheek. Doubling down on the hair-pull, she walked Lemarchand into the ropes and craaaaaanked her neck backward over the top strand. “Suguitan is utter trash any moment she’s not by my side, everyone knows that.” Portia resumed her derisive slapping, the patrician blonde paintbrushing the younger woman’s features as she delivered her history lesson. “And your paltry mind games don’t faze Amara when I’m in her corner!”
By now Castle was calling for a break, a command VanBuren ignored in favor of raaaaaaaaking Lenore from forehead to chin until the ref counted, “FOUR!” “I don’t see the problem, we were just talking!” Portia raised her hands, took a step back and-- pointed a shoulder at Lemarchand to CRAAACK a Knife-Edge Chop across her chest! Lenore cried out, tried turn away and got her arms draped over the top rope instead. Baby fetched her another forehand slap for good measure, then piled on three more Knife-Edge Chops and finished by swiping her talons down the Courtier’s tits until Nick was shouting another warning. “Oh for f*ck’s sake, were you this shrill when I was wrestling regularly?” VanBuren sniped to the ref as she pulled Lenore’s left cheek into her right hip for a grinding Side Headlock.
Unperturbed by the blonde’s venom, Castle countered, “You never listened before, how would you even know?”
“That’s enough sass from you, little man.” The former World Champion thumped a knee into the pit of Lemarchand’s stomach to keep her from wriggling away, then yanked her up on tiptoe so she could set the Raven’s face against the rubber-coated steel. Smile growing in time with the volume of her foe’s shrieks, Baby bore down with every bit of her weight and tromped along the perimeter to punish Lenore’s patrician features with several seconds of aggressive abrasion!
“Last warning, Portia.” Nick said as his charges neared a corner. “Get off the ropes, or I’ll call for the bell and you can find some other way to weasel your way back to the world title.”
“Weasel?” VanBuren switched from the Headlock to a hair-hold so she could BWUNG Lemarchand’s face against the top turnbuckle. Reapplying the Side Headlock immediately thereafter, she turned around with the Courtier still in her clutches and took a threatening step toward the official. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, Castle. Or I’ll happily deal with you after I’ve finished this bony little runt.”
Threat delivered, Fortune’s Favorite took off in a dead sprint with Lenore stumbling along in her wake. A few long strides built up enough steam for Portia to go airborne, the blonde channeling old school FAWN glamour for the Running Bulldog that-- Lenore looped her left arm around VanBuren’s lower back and braced her right hand against the veteran’s rump, not to shove her clear but to hoist her attacker up that much higher! Suddenly concerned about her arc of descent, Baby kicked both legs hard enough to bring herself down, unfortunately she did so with her tailbone landing directly atop Lenore’s posted right knee!
“NNNNGGGGHHHH!” Portia abandoned the Headlock to tend to her traumatized tush in the wake of the improvised Atomic Drop. Stumbling away from the brunette in a sort of knock-kneed tiptoe, VanBuren continued toward the corner in search of support and got there quite a bit faster than expected when Lenore put both hands between her shoulders and shoved as hard as she could! Portia hit the top turnbuckle sternum-first, the sort of cringe worthy collision that would’ve earned sympathy for anyone that hadn’t spent their whole career running down fans around the world.
As it was, those assembled for Summer Swelter cheered that much louder when Lenore turned her around and CRAAACKED her across the cheek with a tawdry Bytch Slap! “Damn, Sue’s right. You DO slap good!”
“Miserable Jersey,” VanBuren grunted, “you’re going to scream for f*cking with HHHHRRRGGGHHHH!”
The Raven climbed onto the bottom rope directly to Portia’s right and extended that leg to wedge her foot under the veteran’s chin. “Gonna take more than threats to get a title shot, Baby!” Lenore chided as she used the sole of her boot to pitilessly throttle the thrashing blonde. “Or is that all you’ve got left?”
CORNER MOUNTED FOOT CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gpP6pjuQ90
Hopping down from the choke before VanBuren could answer (or before Nick could tell her to take it out of the corner) Lemarchand helped herself to Baby’s wrists so she could drape her arms over the top rope.
“I believe this is yours.” Lenore drew her left hand back over her right shoulder and laid lightning across Portia’s modest bounty with a vicious Knife-Edge Chop! “This one too!” CRAAACK! Another Knife-Edge Chop knocked one of VanBuren’s arms loose from the strands, but she didn’t get to actually do anything before Lenore set it back in place. “These though, these belong to me!” Lenore raised her mitts like she was going for an Overhand Slap only to lunge forward and claim Portia’s nipples with a vicious thumb and index finger twisssssssssssssst!
Portia shrieked in pain and not a little embarrassment. After all, she IS Lyle VanBuren’s daughter and the FAWN icon of icons. Yet the Raven gave her nubs another nasty spin, like she was nothing more than a disgusting Jersey radio dial.
“BYTCH!”
The hands of Fortune’s Favorite reflexively moved to her flaxen locks to spread the pain. Baby quickly realizes that’s not a plan, nor was Castle going to treat Wednesday Adams with the same disrespect he showed her and stop the Jersey trash.
Working up an alternative, VanBuren shot a lightning thrust of a thumb into Lenore’s left eye and the Raven’s pincers were removed forthwith. Lemarchand spun away, furiously rubbing at the eye and declaring revenge in no uncertain terms. After returning her top to its proper position and giving her gurls a soft rub to assuage some of the sting, VanBuren maneuvered into the Raven’s blind-spot while Lenore worked at bringing back her binocular vision.
Portia gave a whistle and Lenore turned to find her target. She discovered too much however when Baby sank a Toe Kick deep into the Courtier’s tummy, doubling her foe over, Lenore’s breath bursting through her lips in a great exhale.
With Lemarchand momentarily frozen and half-blind, Baby raced to the ropes toward the Raven’s loss of sight and rebounded at full speed (for a woman who hadn’t wrestled in a ring in years). The Running Knee to Lenore’s temple was crisp enough for the manager-cum-participant. To her credit, though the brunette’s head whiplashed away from the brutal impact, Lenore’s able to stagger to the ropes and hang on, remaining vertical.
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HQbPcE72o0
Portia skidded to a stop and screeched in pain, grasping at her knee. She pulled down her pad and started massaging the joint, tears welling in her emerald pools. Castle approached, eyes wide.
“Are you OK, Portia?” he asked sincerely, knowing joints are often balky in anyone approaching VanBuren’s wrestling lifetime. “Can you keep going?”
“I’m not sure,” Baby sniffled, still working the leg and the official as it happened, as Amara stealthily navigated to the floor below Lenore. And while Singh wasn’t at all happy with Baby showing delusions of grandeur in asking for a title shot, she’d finished her business with the Raven on top and was apparently uninterested in adding another chapter between them at Red, White & Bruised.
Throwing her body between the cables, Singh heaved a forearm into the pit of Lenore’s right knee and sent the Courtier down to genuflect in front of her. The Bollywood Bombshell snatched an ankle and managed to spin Lemarchand to face her. Wrapping her laced fingers behind the neck of the penitent Raven, Amara forced her rival’s throat across the rubber-coated steel, shutting Lenore’s windpipe.
As VanBuren continued to give her prognosis to Castle and the crowd tried their best to inform the man of the nefarious actions of the Empress, Singh turned her bitter rival red-faced from lack of air.
Finally, deciding she’s pushed her luck as far as she could, the Indian grappler released her grip and pie-faced Lenore back into the confines then strolled toward Portia’s corner. A relieved VanBuren confirmed she’s OK to continue and even got Nick to help her up with an offered hand. She turned to the breathless Lenore, snickering ‘sucker’ under her breath, whether meaning the Raven or the ref was unclear.
As Baby reached her fellow contender, she sank a pair of perfectly manicured nails into Lenore’s scalp and gave a healthy tug, drawing a mewl from the Courtier.
“Between you and me, Jersey. I’m a whole ‘nother level from Alexis and Amara. Suguitan’s a pawn and while Amara’s a fine piece, she’s not the Queen.”
VanBuren pulled a wincing Lemarchand up and close, wrapping her slender but sinewy arms around the waist of the Raven.
“And as a Queen, I’d like you to bow.”
VanBuren dipped and lifted Lenore off the canvas then dropped to one knee, DRIVING the Raven’s crotch onto the plank of her upper right leg, playing tit for tat, delivering an Inverted Atomic Drop as payback. Lenore bounced off the brutally invasive impact and landed knock-kneed, tears welling in her dark eyes.
INVERTED ATOMIC DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5oplX4bUbI
Portia pushed down on the crown of Lenore’s noggin effecting a bow of sorts.
“Very nice. Is this what you’ve done to Emily all these years? So unworthy.”
With Lenore’s braincase properly lowered, Baby tugged her foe into a Front Facelock and motioned to the jeering FAWNatics with her free hand. Amara shook her head on the sidelines with a smirk firmly in place, trying to let her brain trust know she wouldn’t be in command without her.
VanBuren’s oblivious to Amara’s rolled eyes, reveling in the hatred only a wrestler could garner. As much as becoming the organization’s most accomplished manager was a thing, there’s nothing like the emotion she could prompt and the destruction she could accomplish when in the ring using her unique skills.
With Lenore squirming futilely, Portia lays out and SPIKES the crown of Lenore’s skull into the canvas with a crunchy DDT that sends the limp body of Lenore tumbling over in a somersault, Lemarchand ending in a motionless spreadeagle.
DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oX6mXy8nt6A
“Nevermore, Raven,” Portia whispered to the comatose combatant as she climbed atop Lemarchand in a tight Crossbody pin, no leg hook necessary. Baby pressed a palm into Lenore’s cheek to flatten the other side to the mat, to join her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Raven forced a wing off the canvas, shoving VanBuren to all fours in the process.
“There’s always more,” Lenore bleated softly but confidently. “Something you should know by now managing those shiny baubles you think are wrestlers.
“You mean champions,” Baby growled. “I manage champions. And I am a four-time champion. It’s no coincidence.”
Portia mounted Lemarchand’s waist in a kneeling straddle and leaned forward with fists clenched. “Let’s see if I can beat that knowledge into your tiny mind.”
But before the slender socialite could try, Lenore thrust her pelvis, bringing her long, ivory-skinned legs into play. She hooked them under Portia’s arms and, when Lenore sent them back to the deck, she delivered VanBuren’s shoulders there as well, Baby stacked atop them in a fidgeting Sunset Flip for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The blonde’s writhing freed her with a second to spare and she tumbled to her side. Both women scrambled to their feet but Baby’s a little quicker, her age counteracted by Lenore’s condition.
VanBuren took a wild swing with a right cross Lenore ducked beneath and, with a turned Portia at her disposal, she wrapped her arms around the midriff of the Manhattanite, capturing her foe in a Waistlock. Maneuvering Portia a few steps closer to her corner, the Raven sent VanBuren airborne, tugging her off the deck and sending her flying into the corner with a release German Suplex, the back of Portia’s skull CRASHING into the middle buckle. Baby’s braincase snapped forward violently from the impact, drawing a temporarily sympathetic ‘OOOOH’ from the crowd, though a seeming lack of concern from Amara.
TURNBUCKLE GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9009YhVXVqI
Granted a much needed reprieve in the wake of Baby’s calamitous corner collision, Lenore rolled to a seat and took several seconds to catch her breath while simultaneously kneading the right knee Singh had hacked with her Chop Block. Back on her feet before Castle could ask how she was doing, Lemarchand stalked over to VanBuren and very deliberately pistoned a stomp into the blonde’s washboard tummy. Portia ‘oooooofffed’ then tried to call for the referee only to find her voice effectively silenced when the Raven planted her right heel against the veteran’s jaw and craaaaaaaaaanked her head back at a painful angle!
“Portia’s in the ropes, Castle!” Singh barked to the Senior Official as she hurried over to the action. “Get that skinny bytch out of--” Amara jerked away from the squared circle in a hurry when Lenore hopped off her opponent and snapped a kick into the bottom rope.
“Feeling a little conflicted, Amara?” Lenore crossed her arms on the top rope as she regarded the FAWN World Champion. “It’s interesting, I thought the little spat between you and Baby was just a ruse to give you a cakewalk title match next month, but that’s not true, is it? You sure as hell don’t want to face me with the gold on the line… and you don’t want to face Portia either.”
Singh’s dark eyes narrowed to furious slots. “Watch your tongue, peasant. I will happily face Portia once she bests your unworthy chall--HEY! Choking, Castle! She’s choking her!”
Lemarchand, who had in fact been subtly grinding a heel into the hollow of VanBuren’s windpipe the whole time, broke away and raced to the far side of the squared circle, though she did so via a wide, looping arc rather than the traditional straight line. Having endured more than her fair share of the Courtier’s high flying offense in the course of their rivalry, cleared out as fast as she could, then cursed in disgust when Lenore’s trek ended not with a soaring dive but a Baseball Slide Dropkick that THWHUMPED both heels between Portia’s thighs!
VanBuren wailed and folded in on herself, the current co-champion scrabbling to extract Lemarchand’s heels from her groin even as Lenore helped herself to a double handful of hair. “I was really hoping this could be just between us.” the brunette murmured as she drew VanBuren’s noggin into a Front Facelock. “But if I have to deal with her to get at you, then so be it.”
Amara’s pithy reply curdled into a hateful snarl when she realized Lemarchand was speaking to Portia, not her. “You shytty little pest, I am NO ONE’S obstacle, I am an Emp--”
Lemarchand tossed VanBuren’s near arm across her shoulders, then hooked her left leg and yanked it up in a snug standing cradle. In the same instant she turned her back on Sinh, a slight that made the Empress’ blood boil until it ran cold when the Fair & Radiant Maiden muscled Portia directly overhead and brought her CRASHING down in a Fisherman’s Suplex! Lenore held the cradle after impact, but rather than bridge up on her toes she curled in on herself and hooked her right leg over VanBuren’s left calf to transform the predicament into a Small Package! Skidding in beside his squirming charges, Castle confirmed Portia’s shoulders were down and counted…
FISHERMAN'S SUPLEX W/ SMALL PACKAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHlholobi9E
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Fortune’s Favorite freed herself with half a second to spare, earning a look that was equal parts relief and irritation from the Golden Empress. Lenore didn’t seem to notice, she already had both hands in Portia’s hair so she could pull the wobbly veteran to her--Baby shoved Lemarchand away at the cost of a few golden strands and followed with a Toe Kick aimed straight at the brunette’s NO! Lenore caught Portia’s boot in both hands, then took a big step back to stretch the limb out full length.
“You’re going to pay dearly for this, Jersey.” VanBuren promised as she hopped on her right foot. “Trash that tries to embarrass me finds itself headed to the incinerator sooner than latNNNGGGGHH!”
Emily’s Lady in Waiting halved her grip so she could drive the point of one elbow into her opponent’s knee. Not content with a simple strike, Lemarchand kept the pressure on so she could grind that bony dagger against the suffering joint for a few endless seconds. Baby howled in useless protest, much to the delight of the smiling Raven. Her mood only improved when she spun under the exposed limb and dropped to her back in a violent torquing spin that put VanBuren on the canvas while threatening to wrench her knee out of socket!
“BYTCH!” Portia tried to tug free of the brunette’s clutches but only managed to turn onto her stomach. “You’re going to regret ever thinking you were good enough to share a ring with me.” the Icon’s Icon snarled. “After I’m finished you’ll be begging West to ship your bony ass off to some fly-over state backwater to wrestle in bingo halls for AAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAHHK!”
Lenore wrapped her left arm around Portia’s left ankle so that the joint was trapped in the crook of her elbow. Gripping her own right wrist to maintain the trap, Lemarchand gripped Baby’s boot with her right hand and stood up straight to pull VanBuren’s leg up and back at an almost perfect forty-five degree angle.
DRAGON SCREW & ANKLE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bS9t0OQs9zU
“You should try wrestling in a bingo hall occasionally, Baby. It might keep your skills sharp.” Lenore told the blonde as she tried to unscrew Portia’s foot from the rest of her leg. “Because right now you just sound like a whiny has-been trying to leech off the success of her meal ticket.”
Amara heard this and the corners of her mouth turned up in the faintest of smiles, though she would vehemently deny such claims when asked by Gladiatrix in the days to come.
As for Portia herself, she was understandably preoccupied clawing and dragging her way to the ropes, a task made all the more difficult by the Raven-shaped anchor chained to her left ankle. Even so, Lyle’s Little Girl still possessed the tenacity that’d made her a three time FAWN World Champion and within fifteen seconds she’d fought to within reaching distance of the bottom ro--“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Frustration and fury in equal measure from the co-champion as Lenore yoked up on the Ankle Lock and backpedaled the both of ‘em out to the middle of the ring! To make matters even worse, Lemarchand widened her stance and adjusted her grip so she could fold VanBuren’s left leg around her encroaching forearm, a shift that put hellish strain on the blonde’s already throbbing knee. “GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Portia wrapped her arms around her head and shrieked into the mat so the assembled Jersey’s and Orlando mouth breathers couldn’t see the agony etched across her face.
WRENCHING ANKLE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Nn0IsEEvUY
“Tap out, Baby.” Lenore’s tone was surprisingly absent of the snark that’d started this contest. “I don’t play to end careers, but you’re in my way and I’m not letting go.”
“YOU DON’T DESERVE IT!” Portia bellowed the instant after she’d braced both hands against the mat and pushed all the way up. “I’M THE GREATEST TALENT THIS PIG STY HAS EVER SEEN AND I’LL PROVE IT!” Talons gouging at the canvas, Fortune’s Favorite made a second trip to the strands, only to crumple to a stop with her right hand less than six inches from the bottom rope. Eyes locked on Singh, Portia reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaached out and rasped, “Help me, dammit!”
Amara looked from VanBuren to Lemarchand to Castle and back again, an inspection that took a good ten seconds. Eventually the Empress barked, “HEY! Stop f*cking with her boot, peasant!”
Lenore was doing no such thing, but the accusation distracted Castle long enough for Amara to reach in, grab Portia’s wrist and drag her to sanctuary. “BREAK!” Portia yowled. “Break goddamn you, I’m in the ropes!”
Lemarchand snorted, but relinquished the submission for a simple grip around VanBuren’s ankle. Then she went up on tiptoe, yanking the blonde into a near handstand so she could THWHUNK Baby’s left knee down on the canvas-sheathed plywood!
The Stump Puller drew a quick rebuke from Nick, forcing the brunette to retreat to center ring with both hands raised to shoulder level. “Methodical bytch.” Portia whisper-hissed to Amara as she sidled into a seat against the ropes. “She tried to rip my goddamned leg off. Listen, I’m going to get her out of the ring so you can drop the hammer on her.”
“Easier said than done.” Singh murmured. “We’re under a bit of scrutiny at the moment.”
“F*ck that! You OWE me, Amara! Don’t ever forget th--”
Lenore strode past the official on a beeline for VanBuren and once again laid claim to her left ankle. Shrieking in pain at the jolt of lightning that shot from hip to ankle as her leg was stretched out, Portia tugged it in with all her might while simultaneously DRIVING her right heel into the Courtier’s left thigh! Lemarchand yelped and went down on one knee, then yelped again when Fortune’s Favorite snatched a massive handful of hair and tugged-tossed her over the middle rope into an awkward sprawl mere inches from the Golden Empress.
Inside the ring, Baby pushed to her feet then collapsed into Castle’s arms, shrieking in pain and grasping at her ankle while provided balance by Nick’s support. A concerned Castle bundled Portia toward the nearest corner.
Instantly, Amara pushed Lenore to her chest and took a familiar crouching front-facing straddle above the Raven’s lower back. The Indian grappler posted Lemarchand’s elbows over her bent knees then laced her fingers into a cup and slipped it under Lenore’s chin. Her trademark established, Singh reefed back on the industry’s most feared Camel Clutch. The muffled cries of the Raven flitted toward the rafters, Amara bending the backbone far enough for the Courtier’s face to be pointed to the lights above.
But Singh wasn’t stopping, pulling the Raven back farther, Lenore writhing weakly within Amara’s expert grasp. Finally, the overturned head of the Raven was pointed at the growling visage of the World Champion.
“Be glad you’re not going to face me when I have the time to destroy you once and for all, peasant.”
The Bollywood Bombshell gave up her grip, moving it to the ebony locks of the Raven. Singh SLAMMED Lenore’s face into the thinly padded cement, her foe’s noggin bouncing off the arena floor. The Empress dismounted her broken filly. Amara scraped the Courtier off the covered concrete and stuffed her back into the ring under the bottom rope just as VanBuren’s ankle reached a state where a sniffling Portia confirmed to Castle, she could valiantly go on.
FAWN’s most successful manager and “co-World Champion” strode to the grimacing Raven, Lemarchand having pushed up to hands and knees. It’s VanBuren’s turn to mount her polo pony and RAM her backside into the base of Lenore’s spine, instantly bringing back the anguish Amara set upon her.
Then it happened. Staring Amara down with a smirk of the quality only Lyle’s only child could manage, Baby posted Lenore’s elbows over her knees. VanBuren brought HER cupped hands under Lemarchand’s chin and YANKED back with a Camel of her own.
“Let’s see whose is better,” VanBuren cooed to the suddenly steaming Singh, fire in the dark pools of the Subcontinental Siren.
Portia’s slender frame was used to its fullest to draw a surrender from the Raven and again Lenore’s backbone was put through hell, but after twenty seconds of torture, fight remained in the Courtier. Portia released and rose, following with foot after foot into Lemarchand until Baby’s spent.
Portia took a lap around the ring with arm raised high, nearly knocking the roof off the arena from the thunderous boos accompanying her on her trip. She returned to Lenore.
“A little bird told me you wanted me more than my co-champ. You still want me now?”
“More than you know,” Lenore grunted as she fought to her hands and knees, “but only certain pieces.”
VanBuren clearly appreciated the response. She dug her nails into Lenore’s long dark locks and a shoulder and pulled the Raven to her feet. She pointed her fellow contender toward the far corner and heaved her with an Irish Whip. The Fair and less Radiant Maiden sprinted across the canvas turning into a HEAVY back-first collision with the buckles.
Lenore’s ravaged spine gave out and she plopped to a seat, legs extended in front of her, head on a bobble until it whips back courtesy of a perfectly placed knee from a charging VanBuren. Baby looked down on Lenore ravenously. She pulled the ragdolled Raven to her feet and propped Lemarchand’s head with a cupped palm under her foe’s chin.
“You’ll want a good look at this piece. It’s the best in the game, even at my age.”
Words delivered, Baby turned her backside to Lenore and peeled her bottoms down far enough to give Lemarchand a grand view of the ivory cheeks. But she’s about to get a better one when Fortune’s Favorite mounted the middle ropes, her back still turned. With a swish and a swivel, Portia put the Raven in a Bare Ass Market, shoving her naked derriere into Lenore’s face, smothering nose and lips with her modest curves.
Lenore flailed beneath her foe’s behind, breathlessness and the Raven’s humiliation turning what features remained visible rosy. She vainly pushed at Portia’s thighs but there’s no moving VanBuren in the Courtier’s current condition and the Market was one of the longest on record.
Having got her fill of jeers and the degradation of her foe, Baby hopped off the ropes and snapped her bottoms back into place. She turned to Amara who continued to burn lasers through her manager.
“Don’t be jealous, Empress. You’re a strong fighter. Someone I can turn into a champion. It’s just that I’m the STRONGEST competitor.”
Portia strode to the greasy-faced Lenore, ready to pile on more pain, but she’s met with a hammering right. Portia staggered but returns fire. Lenore blocked and doubled up. Then tripled.
But when Lemarchand spun Baby to take her place tight against the buckles, Portia punted Lenore in the privates to make sure the payback was limited. The Raven collapsed around the tender impact point, knees knocking. Portia shoved a wobbling Lenore toward the center and strolled after her, moving alongside her folded foe.
Grabbing a wing of the Raven, Portia pulled the limb between Lenore’s sinewy stems, capturing it on the opposite side to create a Pumphandle. Wrapping her opposite arm around the back of Lemarchand, VanBuren hooked it around Lenore’s far arm. Baby peeled the Raven into a makeshift Abdominal Stretch before launching and flipping her foe. The ‘co-champion’ dropped to one knee while the Raven is in flight and GUTTED the scrawny bird with a perfectly-placed Gutbuster.
PUMPHANDLE GOURDBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbFqgI6XCz4
A gasping, groaning Lenore was pushed to her back and Portia climbed aboard the demolished Lemarchand in a Lateral Press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Emily’s right hand used both of hers to push Portia off and deny the ‘co-champion’ a chance to make herself undisputed against the woman she manages.
Portia showed her first hint of frustration while, on the outside, Singh seemed chipper at her manager’s failure to complete the pin.
As Castle gave a quick check to Lenore, Portia motioned to Amara to be ready for another Raven ejection. She shook her head toward the blonde.
“Your game now,” Singh informed. “Show me how CLUTCH you are.”
The emphasis on the single word turned Baby’s face sour, her nose crinkling.
“I guess I should show you I’m better.”
Portia turned her attention back to the Raven, pushing Nick aside. But while doing so a thumb flashed from Lenore, jabbing VanBuren in one of her emerald pools. A yelping, cursing Baby peeled away, stumbling blindly as she wandered away from Lenore, slowly coming back to her foe in a partially sighted arc.
The loss of vision plagued her as Lemarchand deftly impaled the alabaster tummy of the slender socialite with a Toe Kick. With Baby bent at the waist, Lenore collected one underhook of a VanBuren arm then another. Seamlessly and viciously, she planted the crown of Portia’s skull into the deck with a Double Underhook DDT. Baby’s braincase buried like a lawn dart, Portia in a warped headstand for a split-second before she drops back to earth on her chest, unmoving.
DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jX0vKctVxNg
The whole of Lemarchand’s ‘unkindness’ urged their heroine to go for the cover and they got all the louder when she climbed onto the FAWN Original in a nose-to-nose full body pin. Castle skidded in beside to make the count, but Lenore put an end to his plans by sliding her right arm under VanBuren’s head. With her left hand she collected the blonde’s wrists and forced them overhead so she could control both of ‘em with her right hand. In the same instant she threaded her calves beneath Baby’s just to hook her ankles over the blonde’s and wrench those svelte stems apart in a Double Leg Grapevine.
“Nnnnnnnggggggghhhhh!” VanBuren groaned softly at first, then quite a bit louder as the fire in her thighs and groin burned off the fog in her skull. “Grrrrrggghhhh…just who do you think you are, Jersey?” Portia hissed. “No one in this goddamned building believes you can go body to body with meHHUUGGGHH! HHHGGGHH! HHHGGGGHHH! HOW DARE YOU!”
Lenore rose up as high as her hooks would allow, then brought her washboard tummy on VanBuren’s once, twice, three times in a series of sawed-off, but no less scintillating Splashes that both Amara and Alexis (wherever she may be) knew all too well. To make matters all the more galling, the Courtier smashed her hips down on Portia’s and began to grind in taut little figure eights that raised the aforementioned shriek.
Infuriated by the realization that this Jersey poseur was using some classic Apartment House Wrestling techniques against her, Fortune’s Favorite tried to answer with a tummy smash of her own and suffered some more fightin’ friction for her efforts. “Thuuuuhhhh… this isn’t Monaco, bytch.” VanBuren kept her voice steady though the pace of her breathing was anything but. “You’re not gonna beat me like RRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore’s left hand was free and she brought it into play now, rudely shoving Portia’s patrician mug toward the hard camera so everyone at home had the best view when she slipped her index finger into the corner of the blonde’s mouth for a humiliating fishhook. Smiling prettily as she put Portia through a classic penthouse wringer, Lenore scraped her nail against the inside of VanBuren’s mouth and murmured, “Submit, Baby.”
“NHEVHUR!” Portia barked at once, though her defiance only meant another rough tummy smash from the Fair & Radiant Maiden.
“What was that?” Lemarchand relinquished the hook, took VanBuren’s cheeks between thumb and forefinger and puckered the blonde’s features in a fish face. “It would’ve been wiser to face me in Monaco, New York, Ibiza, or anywhere else you call home.” Lenore chided. “Wouldn’t have been nearly as many people around to see me kick your vicious ass.”
“You don’t know f*ck all about my vicious ass.” Portia’s words were slurred, though no less hateful. “But I swear to god you wilLOOOOOOWWWWWWWW JERSEY SLUT BYTCH!”
Lenore let go of Portia’s cheeks so she could focus on her nipples again, the Raven drawing wails of equal parts anguish and rage as she twiiissssssssssssted Baby’s dials with an impunity very rarely seen in the veteran’s foes. “That’s not my name, Portia.” Lenore’s knuckles were white with the effort of breaking VanBuren’s will in the most galling way imaginable. “Say it and maybe I won’t have the Announcer tell the world you submitted to a titty twist--”
“F*ck you, JERSEY Portia countered through clenched teeth. “The World Title is my destiny, you and that royal hanger on are nothing but footnotes in my legGAAAAAAAAAHD STAAAAAAAAAAHP!”
Lenore slipped her fingers under Portia’s left cup so she could pull on the defenseless bud harder than ever. Flicking a glance in Amara’s direction, Lemarchand asked, “You hearing this, Empress? Think it might be time to consider new managemenAAAARRRRHHHH!”
Portia finally wrested a wrist free of Lenore’s grip and immediately raked her nails across the brunette’s eyes! Getting out from underneath the gangly bytch with a single exhausted shove, Baby rolled onto all fours or rather three of four as she immediately pressed her right arm to the scorched ruin of her tormented tits. “Huuhh… help me, Amara.” VanBuren grunted when she made eye contact with her protégé. “Let’s put this Jersey shyt out of her misery for good, then we can sett--”
The Golden Empress very deliberately turned her back Portia, the dismissive show earning a startled ‘ooooooooohhhh!’ from the FAWNatics.
“You ungrateful piece of garbage! Where would you be without me? Shift manager at a Mumbai Hooters, if you’re lucky! Don’t you EVER turn your back on NNGGHHH!”
Baby should’ve followed her own advice, it might’ve prevented Lenore from slamming a Forearm Smash into the nape of her neck! Twining her fingers into Portia’s hair to haul her to verticality in a few rough tugs, Lenore switched over to a Wristlock and hurled VanBuren at the ropes with an Irish NO! Lyle’s little girl dug in her heels to seize control of the Whip and send Lenore to the strands in her place. Lemarchand made the trip without incident, turned around and-- stumbled hard because Amara (her back still to the apron) slipped an arm under the bottom rope and hooked the Raven’s ankle!
“Meddling bytch!” Lenore whipped around and STAMPED down on Singh’s hand. Sitting down on the middle strand as the Empress stumbled back, Lemarchand opened the ropes and challenged, “Either get your ass in this ring or go to the f*cking bacKAAAAARRRHHHHHH!”
Patently uninterested in why the Raven’s back was turned, Portia capitalized with a Forearm Smash of her own and followed it up by raking her nails across Lenore’s eyes! But rather than shove her foe into the Empress’ lap, VanBuren yanked her out of the ropes and bent her backward to trap the Courtier’s chin under her left armpit. Backpedaling to the center of the squared circle before Lemarchand could think to grab the ropes for a break, Baby went up on tiptoes and dropped to one knee to THUMP her left knee between the brunette’s shoulders. The clever Backbreaker jolted Lenore from end to end, but she didn’t lose her footing mostly because VanBuren used the Inverted Facelock to stand her-- the three time World Champion pivoted in place so she was back to back with the other wrestler. Hands clasped tight over Lemarchand’s chin, Portia laid out on her back to THAWHAM the Raven down on the base of her head and shoulders via a Reverse Neckbreaker.
SOHO STUNNER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWeFVViEvdg
This deadly duo made up the Soho Stunner and it certainly lived up to its moniker by leaving Lenore stretched out in a glossy, glassy-eyed starfi--“mmmmMMMMPPPPPGGGHHH!”
Already reeling in the wake of the concussive combo, Lemarchand’s situation grew all the more dire when Baby planted a knee on either side of her head and sat down in an imperious seat! The Fair & Radiant Maiden bucked wildly and actually managed to slip out from under for just a moment, unfortunately VanBuren snatched hold of her wrists and pulled them high overhead to ensure they were out of the way when she secured the second Reverse Face Sit!
“Where do you think you’re going, Jersey??” Portia grunted as she balled her right hand into a fist and PAK-PAK-PAAAKED a trio of jabs into her mount’s flat, albeit failing tummy. “Yeah, that’s right. Get that pointy little beak in there!”
Baby grabbed a handful of hair, pulled Lenore’s squalling mug that much closer to the sequined $ sheathing her glutes. In the same breath she wedged the soles of her boots against the brunette’s noggin to guarantee she couldn’t turn away from the smother. Quite a bit more confident now that she could feel the tug and puff of Lemarchand’s breath against her undercarriage, Portia crooked her fingers into talons and raaaaaaaaked Lenore from navel to nubs, Fortune’s favorite making a point to finish each pass with a vengeful tweak.
She’d just finished a third set when the blonde noticed a chant coming from scattered points throughout the arena. ‘NINE-ELEVEN! (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap!) NINE-ELEVEN!’
“Hear that, Jersey?” she put her hands on her thighs and swept a few rude, grinding passes over the other woman’s mouth and nose. “This happens to be one of those oh so rare occasions when my whims coincide with those of the great unwashed.” She hunched forward, cupped the Raven’s inner thighs and spread her legs in a wide ‘V’. Lenore didn’t just allow this, but Portia kept her grip applied to the brunette’s left gam so she couldn’t press her thighs together.
“GrrrhhhhhghedhuuhhfugghhoffameeeOOOOOOHHHHHHH!” Muffled defiance gave way to much louder squealing when Portia crooked her right hand into a three-fingered C and began to aggressively rub the center of her opponent’s purple trunks!
“Yeah, like crossing your thighs is going to stop me? Don’t make me laugh, Jersey!” Laugh is exactly what VanBuren did as Lemarchand tried to defend against the manual manipulation with no real success. “Ohhhh, look what I have!” Portia clamped down on the outlines of her foe’s womanhood with her index finger and thumb and gave it a rough squeeze. “Do you want to tap out now or shall I turn the Raven into a Pussy?”
“FHUGYHOOOO!” Lemarchand bridged as high as she could, which wasn’t very much thanks to Portia’s mount and the growing oxygen debt.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” VanBuren gave her prey one more pinch, then switched over to a merciless claw to really pop the clutch on the first official Portia 911 in quite some time!
Already inching toward the red, Lenore sobbed away some more invaluable air as Baby sank the claw in deep!
“QUIT!” VanBuren demanded of the keening Courtier. “None of that flailing boot shit either, I want to hear you say it!”
“NNNNRRRRGGGHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Lemarchand wailed in reedy agony as the blonde laid her claim. “NUUUUHHHH GHEDHOFFAMYOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!”
Portia let loose, slipped a flattened hand beneath Lenore’s waistband and reapplied the claw with even more vigor and venom! “STAAAAAAAAAAAAHB! AYEGHIBHUPP! AYEGHIBHUPP!” That was enough for Nick, who turned away to call for the bell. Portia on the other hand continued to worry and knead, her terrible talon bulging and kneading beneath Lenore’s lycra.
“Who tapped you out, Jersey? Who humiliated you in the Main Event! Who’s the four-time World Champion? Say her name!”
“PORHJAH!” Lemarchand bawled. “PORHJAH! PORHJAH! PORHJAH!”
The devastating concession proved remarkably well-timed as it finished up just as the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission and the new number one contender for the FAWN World Championship… PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN!”
On the outside, Amara couldn’t help but chuckle at the humiliation of a woman that had humbled her more than once. She circled the ring to the side of Portia’s six.
Despite the beautiful degradation Baby continued to heap upon the Raven, remaining on the throne of Lenore’s face even as Castle demanded she dismount, Singh understood the partnership with Portia had reached the end of its usefulness. Delusions of grandeur Baby’s some sort of co-champion manifested the finality. But what was not a delusion was VanBuren still had the wherewithal to make Lenore beg for mercy, a task very few could accomplish.
Lemarchand’s taps became more fitful. As Portia rode the features of the Raven, nastily grasping the Lenore’s kitty like a clutch on her high-performance vehicle, the mournful pleas and sobs from beneath slow. The arms of the Fair and Radiant Maiden swayed like reeds in the wind until flopping wide to her sides as her consciousness was snuffed.
With Castle threatening to reverse the result, Baby releases her torturous grip and settled on her haunches, the thrusting of her hips halting. She swept back a handful of flaxen locks off her forehead, sighing deeply, grinning evilly at the FAWNatics in front of her.
Sliding into the ring, Amara popped to her feet simultaneous to a spent VanBuren pushing to vertical. Baby stared down at the greasy-faced Courtier.
“Pathetic Jersey,” Baby blurted. “When you wake, you’ll know I’m still the best. At Red, White and Bruised, the rest of these people will, including that ungrateful bytch.”
The words were only meant for the sleeping beauty, but Singh’s closed to a few feet behind her manager.
“Will I?” she purred in the ear of her “co-champion”.
The Empress roughly grasped Portia’s left shoulder and spun the slender socialite to face her and her wrath, the Bollywood Bombshell ready to make VanBuren understand she had no chance to claim the gold as her own.
But as Portia pirouetted from the force of Singh’s tug, she threw a right cross that had an old familiar gleam. While rising, the master strategist snuck a set of gold knux from her waistband and slipped them over her fingers. The augmented fist of Fortune’s Favorite PLOWED into Amara’s jaw and Singh timbered rigidly to the deck, out cold before she hitt the mat, ending in a wide spreadeagle.
The jeering crowd was silenced by the sight of Portia Ophelia VanBuren IV hovering over the comatose frames of two of the most dangerous women in the business, glory restored. Baby unbuckled the World title from around the waist of the flattened Singh and lifted it high, the FAWNatics recovering their awareness enough to boo their lungs out.
Portia nodded along with the hate from the Southern-fried Jerseys.
“FOUR TIMES!” she shouted, placing a boot on Amara’s chest.
“FOUR F*CKIN’ TIMES!”
With Portia having been placed in the Main Event, appropriately usurping the World Championship match in her eyes, the crowd knew which competitors were next. They seemed to sense VanBuren’s appearance was near, a low undertone of boos emerging in anticipation of the arrival of the hated socialite yet undeniable icon.
Beside her stood the Bollywood Bombshell, the dominant force in all of FAWN over the last year. And yet, Singh found herself momentarily overshadowed by the woman who helped bring her back to prominence. There’s an air of discomfort between the two, jealousy flowing in either direction but submerged beneath the surface.
Amara survived her title match earlier in the evening to hold up her end of a potential earth-shaking bargain. Now it’s up to Portia to make the previously unthinkable happen.
The FAWNatics had only ever ventured a guess Sue Burlingame would have the chance to become a four-time World Champion. But now, if VanBuren could ride her determination and savvy to an upset over the Raven, it would be Baby with the chance.
“As delusional as you’ve become,” Singh said to a distracted VanBuren, “I want nothing more than for you to receive the opportunity. And when I beat you, I hope you are eager to return to the relationship that has been profitable for both of us.”
“Thank you,” Portia responds with a sneer. “That means so little to me. And so you know. Win or lose tonight. Win or lose at Red White and Bruised. I’m done carrying you.”
Before the Empress could respond, the sound of ‘How You Like Me Now' from Heavy, the drumbeating clarion call of FAWN’s infamous icon coursed through the arena’s speakers. Baby took a deep breath and pushed through.
HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM
The crowd rose to its feet as one in one of the most oft-repeated rituals in FAWN history. The masses jeered Baby with every ounce of capacity their lungs could muster. The sound was at a decibel level perhaps only Kylie Sanders could elicit.
Baby didn’t hesitate on the upper stage, instead immediately heading down the aisle, paying the jeers no mind. Tonight would be pleasurable, but most of all, it would be business. Survive and advance.
On the way, the eardrum-injuring cascade of catcalls echoed through the confines at the volume of a jet engine, not lowered in the least by the trailing World Champion, Singh looking resplendent in halter and skirt.
AMARA SINGH:
In front of her, the sinewy blonde reached the ring where Portia offered a familiar toss of her golden mane as she made her way up the steel steps. The crowd marveled at VanBuren returning to her trademark black bikini and entirely pulling it off. The scant black cloth below was emblazoned with a green, sparkling dollar sign on her infamous and flawless derriere. Baby’s uva-nourished, ivory skin glowed next to the ebony swatches, her attire completed with gold pads and boots. The black footwear contained a green outline of the state of New Jersey, and an iconic red circle with a slash superimposed atop the Garden State.
PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN the FOURTH:
The blonde patrician waited at the ropes and motioned for Singh to come open them for her.
“Well?” Portia said at her ‘co-champion‘.
Amara smirks, cursing “peasant” under her breath, not moving from the floor.
Fortune’s Favorite shrugged and slid into the ring, the Announcer breaking in as Lyle’s baby girl moved to her corner and readied for her first FAWN warfare in nearly half a decade.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for our Main Event! This contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit and the winner will establish the new number one contender for the FAWN World Championship. Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Amara Singh…from Manhattan and Easthampton, New York and Monaco City, Monaco, standing five feet seven inches tall and weighing in at one hundred and twenty pounds, she is the former THREE TIME FAWN World Champion”.
Portia held up a hand and strode to the announcer, cupping a whisper into his ear.
“Pardon me…FOUR-TIME World Champion… PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN THE FOURTH!”
Baby moved to the center of the ring with microphone in hand under a deafening round of boos.
“Only those aware of how truly great I am will understand Lemarchand is nothing more than my next ride. Five years will melt away before your eyes. And for those of you with enough sophistication and class to comprehend, you’ll enjoy the ride with me.”
Portia turned with a wicked flaxen hair flip and strode back to her corner, waggling her golden dollar sign, knowing in big matches like this, she’s money.
Nick Castle was trying and failing to check Portia’s pads and boots (Baby was far more invested in her last minute ‘strategy’ session with the Empress, the bulk of which seemed to consist of muttered threats) when the Announcer brought out the second half of the Main Event. “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Glen Echo Michigan, she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds. This is the Fair and Radiant Maiden… LENORE LEMARCHAND!”
Kula Shaker’s ‘Hush’ winged its way into the Arena and a massive number of ravens went up, the Fair & Radiant Maiden’s ‘unkindness’ continuing to grow as she proved herself not just a stately bird of yore, but a bona fide bendy-back workhorse as well. Spurred on by their disdain for the remaining two-thirds of the Gold Standard, those assembled grew all the louder when the woman in question swept into view a few seconds later. Attention already trained on the women in the ring, Lenore took a deep breath and forced herself to sweep a glance out over the fans. Quietly pleased by the response, Emily’s Lady in Waiting hooked her thumbs together and hoisted the Raven sigil to the rafters. It was returned a thousand-fold, a suitably epic accompaniment for her journey to the squared circle and the milestone match waiting within.
LENORE LEMARCHAND:
For her first and quite possibly only battle with a woman that’d been near the top of her career bucket list from the outset, Lemarchand wore strappy bikini bottoms hued in a purplish-black and emblazoned with a faint design that careful inspection revealed as feathers. Her top was halter style, with the color and pattern matching her briefs, while her elbow and kneepads were matte black, the latter still obscured by loose, bell-flared 'leggings' that started just south of mid-thigh and dropped to ankle length. Those leggings were also black and featured a stylized version of Lemarchand’s raven insignia done in stark white. Her look was finished with shiny black boots and purple wrist tape that matched her togs.
Understandably concerned that she could be walking into a trap, Lenore’s nerves were somewhat eased by the fact that Singh and VanBuren still had their heads together in what appeared to be a heated exchange of views. Such dissent didn’t bother the brunette in the slightest, indeed a fractured front could make it that much easier for her to emerge victorious en route to Red, White & Bruised, yet the lack of eye contact from Fortune’s Favorite in particular rankled the Raven far more than she cared to admit. Deciding it was time to remind the entitled pair just what they’d earned with their latest shitty little game, Lemarchand hopped onto the apron without so much as a whisper, then vaulted onto the top rope and leapt across the ring with a gorgeous springboard that brought her down with a resounding THAWHAM! barely three feet from Portia and Amara.
Singh only snarled but VanBuren jounced in place, her surprise giving way to fury when Lenore raised the Raven once more. “You odious little bytch, who do you think you are?” the blonde fumed at Lemarchand’s encroachment.
“Me? I’m the woman that occasionally makes your ‘champions’ hide their faces for a few months when they lose. And I think it’s about time you learned to empathize with their experiences.”
Portia scoffed and swished a hand to send the brunette away, a gesture Lenore patently ignored until Nick Castle hurried over and guided her to the far corner for the final inspection.
Lenore moved from off the buckles as soon as the bell sounded to ensure she wasn’t trapped in case Fortune’s Favorite tried to blitzkrieg her right off the jump. Turned out Lemarchand needn’t have worried, while Portia did glance in her direction at the CLANG (presumably to see if the brunette was attempting a similar rush) she promptly returned her attention to Amara, who was still on the apron for a rather intense conversation. Some wrestlers might’ve felt slighted over the lack of attention, but the Fair & Radiant Maiden only made her way to the center of the ring and waited.
Nick Castle on the other hand wasn’t so patient and he called out, “Match is live, Portia. Amara, get off the apron or go to the back.”
VanBuren and Singh each favored him with a withering look, then turned it on each other before the former came forward and the latter took a position on the floor. “Take the count-out now, Jersey.” Portia flicked a hand at the aisle as she closed on her adversary. “Everyone knows you’re not World Championship material, which means you’re not in the Empress’ league. And you’re certainly not four-time World Championship material, which means you’re not in MY leagGRRRRHHHHH!”
Lemarchand swept her into a Collar & Elbow Lock-Up, twisted around in a circle so that Portia’s back was pointed toward the Raven’s corner and proceeded to march the thrashing veteran until her butt and back were smudged against the turnbuckles. Fuming at the press of Lenore’s hand against one cheek, Baby slipped a foot over the bottom rope and barked, “Get this Jersey off me, Castnnngghh!”
Portia’s hiss of incredulous rage was lost in a raucous ‘OOOOOOOOHHH!’ from the FAWNatics when Lenore mounted the second turnbuckle and forced the washboard of her tummy against VanBuren’s face! The enforced navel gazing didn’t last more than a second or two as Portia twisted away to scream at the ref for a break, but she still had to endure the ‘ab-ominable’ treatment through a ‘FOUR!’ count which was more than enough time for Lenore to throw up her Raven sigil for all to see.
“You’ll want to put the big belt out of your mind for the moment, Baby.” Lemarchand advised after she’d hopped down and taken a few steps back. “Because if you’re too focused on Amara, this ’co-champion’ delusion of yours is going to end tonight.”
VanBuren sniffed, brushed her hair back behind her ears. “Better than you have tried and failed, Jersey. I don’t sweat you.”
“You sure about that? I’m the only woman in that locker-room with a pair of Alexis AND Amara’s briefs. That’s a complete set of Gold Standard, I’d love to add their gold-digging manager toRRRRGGHHH!”
Portia pounced on Lenore, catching her in an answering clench that swiftly became a rough hair pull and several short slaps to the brunette’s cheek. Doubling down on the hair-pull, she walked Lemarchand into the ropes and craaaaaanked her neck backward over the top strand. “Suguitan is utter trash any moment she’s not by my side, everyone knows that.” Portia resumed her derisive slapping, the patrician blonde paintbrushing the younger woman’s features as she delivered her history lesson. “And your paltry mind games don’t faze Amara when I’m in her corner!”
By now Castle was calling for a break, a command VanBuren ignored in favor of raaaaaaaaking Lenore from forehead to chin until the ref counted, “FOUR!” “I don’t see the problem, we were just talking!” Portia raised her hands, took a step back and-- pointed a shoulder at Lemarchand to CRAAACK a Knife-Edge Chop across her chest! Lenore cried out, tried turn away and got her arms draped over the top rope instead. Baby fetched her another forehand slap for good measure, then piled on three more Knife-Edge Chops and finished by swiping her talons down the Courtier’s tits until Nick was shouting another warning. “Oh for f*ck’s sake, were you this shrill when I was wrestling regularly?” VanBuren sniped to the ref as she pulled Lenore’s left cheek into her right hip for a grinding Side Headlock.
Unperturbed by the blonde’s venom, Castle countered, “You never listened before, how would you even know?”
“That’s enough sass from you, little man.” The former World Champion thumped a knee into the pit of Lemarchand’s stomach to keep her from wriggling away, then yanked her up on tiptoe so she could set the Raven’s face against the rubber-coated steel. Smile growing in time with the volume of her foe’s shrieks, Baby bore down with every bit of her weight and tromped along the perimeter to punish Lenore’s patrician features with several seconds of aggressive abrasion!
“Last warning, Portia.” Nick said as his charges neared a corner. “Get off the ropes, or I’ll call for the bell and you can find some other way to weasel your way back to the world title.”
“Weasel?” VanBuren switched from the Headlock to a hair-hold so she could BWUNG Lemarchand’s face against the top turnbuckle. Reapplying the Side Headlock immediately thereafter, she turned around with the Courtier still in her clutches and took a threatening step toward the official. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, Castle. Or I’ll happily deal with you after I’ve finished this bony little runt.”
Threat delivered, Fortune’s Favorite took off in a dead sprint with Lenore stumbling along in her wake. A few long strides built up enough steam for Portia to go airborne, the blonde channeling old school FAWN glamour for the Running Bulldog that-- Lenore looped her left arm around VanBuren’s lower back and braced her right hand against the veteran’s rump, not to shove her clear but to hoist her attacker up that much higher! Suddenly concerned about her arc of descent, Baby kicked both legs hard enough to bring herself down, unfortunately she did so with her tailbone landing directly atop Lenore’s posted right knee!
“NNNNGGGGHHHH!” Portia abandoned the Headlock to tend to her traumatized tush in the wake of the improvised Atomic Drop. Stumbling away from the brunette in a sort of knock-kneed tiptoe, VanBuren continued toward the corner in search of support and got there quite a bit faster than expected when Lenore put both hands between her shoulders and shoved as hard as she could! Portia hit the top turnbuckle sternum-first, the sort of cringe worthy collision that would’ve earned sympathy for anyone that hadn’t spent their whole career running down fans around the world.
As it was, those assembled for Summer Swelter cheered that much louder when Lenore turned her around and CRAAACKED her across the cheek with a tawdry Bytch Slap! “Damn, Sue’s right. You DO slap good!”
“Miserable Jersey,” VanBuren grunted, “you’re going to scream for f*cking with HHHHRRRGGGHHHH!”
The Raven climbed onto the bottom rope directly to Portia’s right and extended that leg to wedge her foot under the veteran’s chin. “Gonna take more than threats to get a title shot, Baby!” Lenore chided as she used the sole of her boot to pitilessly throttle the thrashing blonde. “Or is that all you’ve got left?”
CORNER MOUNTED FOOT CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gpP6pjuQ90
Hopping down from the choke before VanBuren could answer (or before Nick could tell her to take it out of the corner) Lemarchand helped herself to Baby’s wrists so she could drape her arms over the top rope.
“I believe this is yours.” Lenore drew her left hand back over her right shoulder and laid lightning across Portia’s modest bounty with a vicious Knife-Edge Chop! “This one too!” CRAAACK! Another Knife-Edge Chop knocked one of VanBuren’s arms loose from the strands, but she didn’t get to actually do anything before Lenore set it back in place. “These though, these belong to me!” Lenore raised her mitts like she was going for an Overhand Slap only to lunge forward and claim Portia’s nipples with a vicious thumb and index finger twisssssssssssssst!
Portia shrieked in pain and not a little embarrassment. After all, she IS Lyle VanBuren’s daughter and the FAWN icon of icons. Yet the Raven gave her nubs another nasty spin, like she was nothing more than a disgusting Jersey radio dial.
“BYTCH!”
The hands of Fortune’s Favorite reflexively moved to her flaxen locks to spread the pain. Baby quickly realizes that’s not a plan, nor was Castle going to treat Wednesday Adams with the same disrespect he showed her and stop the Jersey trash.
Working up an alternative, VanBuren shot a lightning thrust of a thumb into Lenore’s left eye and the Raven’s pincers were removed forthwith. Lemarchand spun away, furiously rubbing at the eye and declaring revenge in no uncertain terms. After returning her top to its proper position and giving her gurls a soft rub to assuage some of the sting, VanBuren maneuvered into the Raven’s blind-spot while Lenore worked at bringing back her binocular vision.
Portia gave a whistle and Lenore turned to find her target. She discovered too much however when Baby sank a Toe Kick deep into the Courtier’s tummy, doubling her foe over, Lenore’s breath bursting through her lips in a great exhale.
With Lemarchand momentarily frozen and half-blind, Baby raced to the ropes toward the Raven’s loss of sight and rebounded at full speed (for a woman who hadn’t wrestled in a ring in years). The Running Knee to Lenore’s temple was crisp enough for the manager-cum-participant. To her credit, though the brunette’s head whiplashed away from the brutal impact, Lenore’s able to stagger to the ropes and hang on, remaining vertical.
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HQbPcE72o0
Portia skidded to a stop and screeched in pain, grasping at her knee. She pulled down her pad and started massaging the joint, tears welling in her emerald pools. Castle approached, eyes wide.
“Are you OK, Portia?” he asked sincerely, knowing joints are often balky in anyone approaching VanBuren’s wrestling lifetime. “Can you keep going?”
“I’m not sure,” Baby sniffled, still working the leg and the official as it happened, as Amara stealthily navigated to the floor below Lenore. And while Singh wasn’t at all happy with Baby showing delusions of grandeur in asking for a title shot, she’d finished her business with the Raven on top and was apparently uninterested in adding another chapter between them at Red, White & Bruised.
Throwing her body between the cables, Singh heaved a forearm into the pit of Lenore’s right knee and sent the Courtier down to genuflect in front of her. The Bollywood Bombshell snatched an ankle and managed to spin Lemarchand to face her. Wrapping her laced fingers behind the neck of the penitent Raven, Amara forced her rival’s throat across the rubber-coated steel, shutting Lenore’s windpipe.
As VanBuren continued to give her prognosis to Castle and the crowd tried their best to inform the man of the nefarious actions of the Empress, Singh turned her bitter rival red-faced from lack of air.
Finally, deciding she’s pushed her luck as far as she could, the Indian grappler released her grip and pie-faced Lenore back into the confines then strolled toward Portia’s corner. A relieved VanBuren confirmed she’s OK to continue and even got Nick to help her up with an offered hand. She turned to the breathless Lenore, snickering ‘sucker’ under her breath, whether meaning the Raven or the ref was unclear.
As Baby reached her fellow contender, she sank a pair of perfectly manicured nails into Lenore’s scalp and gave a healthy tug, drawing a mewl from the Courtier.
“Between you and me, Jersey. I’m a whole ‘nother level from Alexis and Amara. Suguitan’s a pawn and while Amara’s a fine piece, she’s not the Queen.”
VanBuren pulled a wincing Lemarchand up and close, wrapping her slender but sinewy arms around the waist of the Raven.
“And as a Queen, I’d like you to bow.”
VanBuren dipped and lifted Lenore off the canvas then dropped to one knee, DRIVING the Raven’s crotch onto the plank of her upper right leg, playing tit for tat, delivering an Inverted Atomic Drop as payback. Lenore bounced off the brutally invasive impact and landed knock-kneed, tears welling in her dark eyes.
INVERTED ATOMIC DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5oplX4bUbI
Portia pushed down on the crown of Lenore’s noggin effecting a bow of sorts.
“Very nice. Is this what you’ve done to Emily all these years? So unworthy.”
With Lenore’s braincase properly lowered, Baby tugged her foe into a Front Facelock and motioned to the jeering FAWNatics with her free hand. Amara shook her head on the sidelines with a smirk firmly in place, trying to let her brain trust know she wouldn’t be in command without her.
VanBuren’s oblivious to Amara’s rolled eyes, reveling in the hatred only a wrestler could garner. As much as becoming the organization’s most accomplished manager was a thing, there’s nothing like the emotion she could prompt and the destruction she could accomplish when in the ring using her unique skills.
With Lenore squirming futilely, Portia lays out and SPIKES the crown of Lenore’s skull into the canvas with a crunchy DDT that sends the limp body of Lenore tumbling over in a somersault, Lemarchand ending in a motionless spreadeagle.
DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oX6mXy8nt6A
“Nevermore, Raven,” Portia whispered to the comatose combatant as she climbed atop Lemarchand in a tight Crossbody pin, no leg hook necessary. Baby pressed a palm into Lenore’s cheek to flatten the other side to the mat, to join her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The Raven forced a wing off the canvas, shoving VanBuren to all fours in the process.
“There’s always more,” Lenore bleated softly but confidently. “Something you should know by now managing those shiny baubles you think are wrestlers.
“You mean champions,” Baby growled. “I manage champions. And I am a four-time champion. It’s no coincidence.”
Portia mounted Lemarchand’s waist in a kneeling straddle and leaned forward with fists clenched. “Let’s see if I can beat that knowledge into your tiny mind.”
But before the slender socialite could try, Lenore thrust her pelvis, bringing her long, ivory-skinned legs into play. She hooked them under Portia’s arms and, when Lenore sent them back to the deck, she delivered VanBuren’s shoulders there as well, Baby stacked atop them in a fidgeting Sunset Flip for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The blonde’s writhing freed her with a second to spare and she tumbled to her side. Both women scrambled to their feet but Baby’s a little quicker, her age counteracted by Lenore’s condition.
VanBuren took a wild swing with a right cross Lenore ducked beneath and, with a turned Portia at her disposal, she wrapped her arms around the midriff of the Manhattanite, capturing her foe in a Waistlock. Maneuvering Portia a few steps closer to her corner, the Raven sent VanBuren airborne, tugging her off the deck and sending her flying into the corner with a release German Suplex, the back of Portia’s skull CRASHING into the middle buckle. Baby’s braincase snapped forward violently from the impact, drawing a temporarily sympathetic ‘OOOOH’ from the crowd, though a seeming lack of concern from Amara.
TURNBUCKLE GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9009YhVXVqI
Granted a much needed reprieve in the wake of Baby’s calamitous corner collision, Lenore rolled to a seat and took several seconds to catch her breath while simultaneously kneading the right knee Singh had hacked with her Chop Block. Back on her feet before Castle could ask how she was doing, Lemarchand stalked over to VanBuren and very deliberately pistoned a stomp into the blonde’s washboard tummy. Portia ‘oooooofffed’ then tried to call for the referee only to find her voice effectively silenced when the Raven planted her right heel against the veteran’s jaw and craaaaaaaaaanked her head back at a painful angle!
“Portia’s in the ropes, Castle!” Singh barked to the Senior Official as she hurried over to the action. “Get that skinny bytch out of--” Amara jerked away from the squared circle in a hurry when Lenore hopped off her opponent and snapped a kick into the bottom rope.
“Feeling a little conflicted, Amara?” Lenore crossed her arms on the top rope as she regarded the FAWN World Champion. “It’s interesting, I thought the little spat between you and Baby was just a ruse to give you a cakewalk title match next month, but that’s not true, is it? You sure as hell don’t want to face me with the gold on the line… and you don’t want to face Portia either.”
Singh’s dark eyes narrowed to furious slots. “Watch your tongue, peasant. I will happily face Portia once she bests your unworthy chall--HEY! Choking, Castle! She’s choking her!”
Lemarchand, who had in fact been subtly grinding a heel into the hollow of VanBuren’s windpipe the whole time, broke away and raced to the far side of the squared circle, though she did so via a wide, looping arc rather than the traditional straight line. Having endured more than her fair share of the Courtier’s high flying offense in the course of their rivalry, cleared out as fast as she could, then cursed in disgust when Lenore’s trek ended not with a soaring dive but a Baseball Slide Dropkick that THWHUMPED both heels between Portia’s thighs!
VanBuren wailed and folded in on herself, the current co-champion scrabbling to extract Lemarchand’s heels from her groin even as Lenore helped herself to a double handful of hair. “I was really hoping this could be just between us.” the brunette murmured as she drew VanBuren’s noggin into a Front Facelock. “But if I have to deal with her to get at you, then so be it.”
Amara’s pithy reply curdled into a hateful snarl when she realized Lemarchand was speaking to Portia, not her. “You shytty little pest, I am NO ONE’S obstacle, I am an Emp--”
Lemarchand tossed VanBuren’s near arm across her shoulders, then hooked her left leg and yanked it up in a snug standing cradle. In the same instant she turned her back on Sinh, a slight that made the Empress’ blood boil until it ran cold when the Fair & Radiant Maiden muscled Portia directly overhead and brought her CRASHING down in a Fisherman’s Suplex! Lenore held the cradle after impact, but rather than bridge up on her toes she curled in on herself and hooked her right leg over VanBuren’s left calf to transform the predicament into a Small Package! Skidding in beside his squirming charges, Castle confirmed Portia’s shoulders were down and counted…
FISHERMAN'S SUPLEX W/ SMALL PACKAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHlholobi9E
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Fortune’s Favorite freed herself with half a second to spare, earning a look that was equal parts relief and irritation from the Golden Empress. Lenore didn’t seem to notice, she already had both hands in Portia’s hair so she could pull the wobbly veteran to her--Baby shoved Lemarchand away at the cost of a few golden strands and followed with a Toe Kick aimed straight at the brunette’s NO! Lenore caught Portia’s boot in both hands, then took a big step back to stretch the limb out full length.
“You’re going to pay dearly for this, Jersey.” VanBuren promised as she hopped on her right foot. “Trash that tries to embarrass me finds itself headed to the incinerator sooner than latNNNGGGGHH!”
Emily’s Lady in Waiting halved her grip so she could drive the point of one elbow into her opponent’s knee. Not content with a simple strike, Lemarchand kept the pressure on so she could grind that bony dagger against the suffering joint for a few endless seconds. Baby howled in useless protest, much to the delight of the smiling Raven. Her mood only improved when she spun under the exposed limb and dropped to her back in a violent torquing spin that put VanBuren on the canvas while threatening to wrench her knee out of socket!
“BYTCH!” Portia tried to tug free of the brunette’s clutches but only managed to turn onto her stomach. “You’re going to regret ever thinking you were good enough to share a ring with me.” the Icon’s Icon snarled. “After I’m finished you’ll be begging West to ship your bony ass off to some fly-over state backwater to wrestle in bingo halls for AAAAHHHH FAAAAAAAHHK!”
Lenore wrapped her left arm around Portia’s left ankle so that the joint was trapped in the crook of her elbow. Gripping her own right wrist to maintain the trap, Lemarchand gripped Baby’s boot with her right hand and stood up straight to pull VanBuren’s leg up and back at an almost perfect forty-five degree angle.
DRAGON SCREW & ANKLE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bS9t0OQs9zU
“You should try wrestling in a bingo hall occasionally, Baby. It might keep your skills sharp.” Lenore told the blonde as she tried to unscrew Portia’s foot from the rest of her leg. “Because right now you just sound like a whiny has-been trying to leech off the success of her meal ticket.”
Amara heard this and the corners of her mouth turned up in the faintest of smiles, though she would vehemently deny such claims when asked by Gladiatrix in the days to come.
As for Portia herself, she was understandably preoccupied clawing and dragging her way to the ropes, a task made all the more difficult by the Raven-shaped anchor chained to her left ankle. Even so, Lyle’s Little Girl still possessed the tenacity that’d made her a three time FAWN World Champion and within fifteen seconds she’d fought to within reaching distance of the bottom ro--“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Frustration and fury in equal measure from the co-champion as Lenore yoked up on the Ankle Lock and backpedaled the both of ‘em out to the middle of the ring! To make matters even worse, Lemarchand widened her stance and adjusted her grip so she could fold VanBuren’s left leg around her encroaching forearm, a shift that put hellish strain on the blonde’s already throbbing knee. “GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Portia wrapped her arms around her head and shrieked into the mat so the assembled Jersey’s and Orlando mouth breathers couldn’t see the agony etched across her face.
WRENCHING ANKLE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Nn0IsEEvUY
“Tap out, Baby.” Lenore’s tone was surprisingly absent of the snark that’d started this contest. “I don’t play to end careers, but you’re in my way and I’m not letting go.”
“YOU DON’T DESERVE IT!” Portia bellowed the instant after she’d braced both hands against the mat and pushed all the way up. “I’M THE GREATEST TALENT THIS PIG STY HAS EVER SEEN AND I’LL PROVE IT!” Talons gouging at the canvas, Fortune’s Favorite made a second trip to the strands, only to crumple to a stop with her right hand less than six inches from the bottom rope. Eyes locked on Singh, Portia reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaached out and rasped, “Help me, dammit!”
Amara looked from VanBuren to Lemarchand to Castle and back again, an inspection that took a good ten seconds. Eventually the Empress barked, “HEY! Stop f*cking with her boot, peasant!”
Lenore was doing no such thing, but the accusation distracted Castle long enough for Amara to reach in, grab Portia’s wrist and drag her to sanctuary. “BREAK!” Portia yowled. “Break goddamn you, I’m in the ropes!”
Lemarchand snorted, but relinquished the submission for a simple grip around VanBuren’s ankle. Then she went up on tiptoe, yanking the blonde into a near handstand so she could THWHUNK Baby’s left knee down on the canvas-sheathed plywood!
The Stump Puller drew a quick rebuke from Nick, forcing the brunette to retreat to center ring with both hands raised to shoulder level. “Methodical bytch.” Portia whisper-hissed to Amara as she sidled into a seat against the ropes. “She tried to rip my goddamned leg off. Listen, I’m going to get her out of the ring so you can drop the hammer on her.”
“Easier said than done.” Singh murmured. “We’re under a bit of scrutiny at the moment.”
“F*ck that! You OWE me, Amara! Don’t ever forget th--”
Lenore strode past the official on a beeline for VanBuren and once again laid claim to her left ankle. Shrieking in pain at the jolt of lightning that shot from hip to ankle as her leg was stretched out, Portia tugged it in with all her might while simultaneously DRIVING her right heel into the Courtier’s left thigh! Lemarchand yelped and went down on one knee, then yelped again when Fortune’s Favorite snatched a massive handful of hair and tugged-tossed her over the middle rope into an awkward sprawl mere inches from the Golden Empress.
Inside the ring, Baby pushed to her feet then collapsed into Castle’s arms, shrieking in pain and grasping at her ankle while provided balance by Nick’s support. A concerned Castle bundled Portia toward the nearest corner.
Instantly, Amara pushed Lenore to her chest and took a familiar crouching front-facing straddle above the Raven’s lower back. The Indian grappler posted Lemarchand’s elbows over her bent knees then laced her fingers into a cup and slipped it under Lenore’s chin. Her trademark established, Singh reefed back on the industry’s most feared Camel Clutch. The muffled cries of the Raven flitted toward the rafters, Amara bending the backbone far enough for the Courtier’s face to be pointed to the lights above.
But Singh wasn’t stopping, pulling the Raven back farther, Lenore writhing weakly within Amara’s expert grasp. Finally, the overturned head of the Raven was pointed at the growling visage of the World Champion.
“Be glad you’re not going to face me when I have the time to destroy you once and for all, peasant.”
The Bollywood Bombshell gave up her grip, moving it to the ebony locks of the Raven. Singh SLAMMED Lenore’s face into the thinly padded cement, her foe’s noggin bouncing off the arena floor. The Empress dismounted her broken filly. Amara scraped the Courtier off the covered concrete and stuffed her back into the ring under the bottom rope just as VanBuren’s ankle reached a state where a sniffling Portia confirmed to Castle, she could valiantly go on.
FAWN’s most successful manager and “co-World Champion” strode to the grimacing Raven, Lemarchand having pushed up to hands and knees. It’s VanBuren’s turn to mount her polo pony and RAM her backside into the base of Lenore’s spine, instantly bringing back the anguish Amara set upon her.
Then it happened. Staring Amara down with a smirk of the quality only Lyle’s only child could manage, Baby posted Lenore’s elbows over her knees. VanBuren brought HER cupped hands under Lemarchand’s chin and YANKED back with a Camel of her own.
“Let’s see whose is better,” VanBuren cooed to the suddenly steaming Singh, fire in the dark pools of the Subcontinental Siren.
Portia’s slender frame was used to its fullest to draw a surrender from the Raven and again Lenore’s backbone was put through hell, but after twenty seconds of torture, fight remained in the Courtier. Portia released and rose, following with foot after foot into Lemarchand until Baby’s spent.
Portia took a lap around the ring with arm raised high, nearly knocking the roof off the arena from the thunderous boos accompanying her on her trip. She returned to Lenore.
“A little bird told me you wanted me more than my co-champ. You still want me now?”
“More than you know,” Lenore grunted as she fought to her hands and knees, “but only certain pieces.”
VanBuren clearly appreciated the response. She dug her nails into Lenore’s long dark locks and a shoulder and pulled the Raven to her feet. She pointed her fellow contender toward the far corner and heaved her with an Irish Whip. The Fair and less Radiant Maiden sprinted across the canvas turning into a HEAVY back-first collision with the buckles.
Lenore’s ravaged spine gave out and she plopped to a seat, legs extended in front of her, head on a bobble until it whips back courtesy of a perfectly placed knee from a charging VanBuren. Baby looked down on Lenore ravenously. She pulled the ragdolled Raven to her feet and propped Lemarchand’s head with a cupped palm under her foe’s chin.
“You’ll want a good look at this piece. It’s the best in the game, even at my age.”
Words delivered, Baby turned her backside to Lenore and peeled her bottoms down far enough to give Lemarchand a grand view of the ivory cheeks. But she’s about to get a better one when Fortune’s Favorite mounted the middle ropes, her back still turned. With a swish and a swivel, Portia put the Raven in a Bare Ass Market, shoving her naked derriere into Lenore’s face, smothering nose and lips with her modest curves.
Lenore flailed beneath her foe’s behind, breathlessness and the Raven’s humiliation turning what features remained visible rosy. She vainly pushed at Portia’s thighs but there’s no moving VanBuren in the Courtier’s current condition and the Market was one of the longest on record.
Having got her fill of jeers and the degradation of her foe, Baby hopped off the ropes and snapped her bottoms back into place. She turned to Amara who continued to burn lasers through her manager.
“Don’t be jealous, Empress. You’re a strong fighter. Someone I can turn into a champion. It’s just that I’m the STRONGEST competitor.”
Portia strode to the greasy-faced Lenore, ready to pile on more pain, but she’s met with a hammering right. Portia staggered but returns fire. Lenore blocked and doubled up. Then tripled.
But when Lemarchand spun Baby to take her place tight against the buckles, Portia punted Lenore in the privates to make sure the payback was limited. The Raven collapsed around the tender impact point, knees knocking. Portia shoved a wobbling Lenore toward the center and strolled after her, moving alongside her folded foe.
Grabbing a wing of the Raven, Portia pulled the limb between Lenore’s sinewy stems, capturing it on the opposite side to create a Pumphandle. Wrapping her opposite arm around the back of Lemarchand, VanBuren hooked it around Lenore’s far arm. Baby peeled the Raven into a makeshift Abdominal Stretch before launching and flipping her foe. The ‘co-champion’ dropped to one knee while the Raven is in flight and GUTTED the scrawny bird with a perfectly-placed Gutbuster.
PUMPHANDLE GOURDBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbFqgI6XCz4
A gasping, groaning Lenore was pushed to her back and Portia climbed aboard the demolished Lemarchand in a Lateral Press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Emily’s right hand used both of hers to push Portia off and deny the ‘co-champion’ a chance to make herself undisputed against the woman she manages.
Portia showed her first hint of frustration while, on the outside, Singh seemed chipper at her manager’s failure to complete the pin.
As Castle gave a quick check to Lenore, Portia motioned to Amara to be ready for another Raven ejection. She shook her head toward the blonde.
“Your game now,” Singh informed. “Show me how CLUTCH you are.”
The emphasis on the single word turned Baby’s face sour, her nose crinkling.
“I guess I should show you I’m better.”
Portia turned her attention back to the Raven, pushing Nick aside. But while doing so a thumb flashed from Lenore, jabbing VanBuren in one of her emerald pools. A yelping, cursing Baby peeled away, stumbling blindly as she wandered away from Lenore, slowly coming back to her foe in a partially sighted arc.
The loss of vision plagued her as Lemarchand deftly impaled the alabaster tummy of the slender socialite with a Toe Kick. With Baby bent at the waist, Lenore collected one underhook of a VanBuren arm then another. Seamlessly and viciously, she planted the crown of Portia’s skull into the deck with a Double Underhook DDT. Baby’s braincase buried like a lawn dart, Portia in a warped headstand for a split-second before she drops back to earth on her chest, unmoving.
DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jX0vKctVxNg
The whole of Lemarchand’s ‘unkindness’ urged their heroine to go for the cover and they got all the louder when she climbed onto the FAWN Original in a nose-to-nose full body pin. Castle skidded in beside to make the count, but Lenore put an end to his plans by sliding her right arm under VanBuren’s head. With her left hand she collected the blonde’s wrists and forced them overhead so she could control both of ‘em with her right hand. In the same instant she threaded her calves beneath Baby’s just to hook her ankles over the blonde’s and wrench those svelte stems apart in a Double Leg Grapevine.
“Nnnnnnnggggggghhhhh!” VanBuren groaned softly at first, then quite a bit louder as the fire in her thighs and groin burned off the fog in her skull. “Grrrrrggghhhh…just who do you think you are, Jersey?” Portia hissed. “No one in this goddamned building believes you can go body to body with meHHUUGGGHH! HHHGGGHH! HHHGGGGHHH! HOW DARE YOU!”
Lenore rose up as high as her hooks would allow, then brought her washboard tummy on VanBuren’s once, twice, three times in a series of sawed-off, but no less scintillating Splashes that both Amara and Alexis (wherever she may be) knew all too well. To make matters all the more galling, the Courtier smashed her hips down on Portia’s and began to grind in taut little figure eights that raised the aforementioned shriek.
Infuriated by the realization that this Jersey poseur was using some classic Apartment House Wrestling techniques against her, Fortune’s Favorite tried to answer with a tummy smash of her own and suffered some more fightin’ friction for her efforts. “Thuuuuhhhh… this isn’t Monaco, bytch.” VanBuren kept her voice steady though the pace of her breathing was anything but. “You’re not gonna beat me like RRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!”
Lenore’s left hand was free and she brought it into play now, rudely shoving Portia’s patrician mug toward the hard camera so everyone at home had the best view when she slipped her index finger into the corner of the blonde’s mouth for a humiliating fishhook. Smiling prettily as she put Portia through a classic penthouse wringer, Lenore scraped her nail against the inside of VanBuren’s mouth and murmured, “Submit, Baby.”
“NHEVHUR!” Portia barked at once, though her defiance only meant another rough tummy smash from the Fair & Radiant Maiden.
“What was that?” Lemarchand relinquished the hook, took VanBuren’s cheeks between thumb and forefinger and puckered the blonde’s features in a fish face. “It would’ve been wiser to face me in Monaco, New York, Ibiza, or anywhere else you call home.” Lenore chided. “Wouldn’t have been nearly as many people around to see me kick your vicious ass.”
“You don’t know f*ck all about my vicious ass.” Portia’s words were slurred, though no less hateful. “But I swear to god you wilLOOOOOOWWWWWWWW JERSEY SLUT BYTCH!”
Lenore let go of Portia’s cheeks so she could focus on her nipples again, the Raven drawing wails of equal parts anguish and rage as she twiiissssssssssssted Baby’s dials with an impunity very rarely seen in the veteran’s foes. “That’s not my name, Portia.” Lenore’s knuckles were white with the effort of breaking VanBuren’s will in the most galling way imaginable. “Say it and maybe I won’t have the Announcer tell the world you submitted to a titty twist--”
“F*ck you, JERSEY Portia countered through clenched teeth. “The World Title is my destiny, you and that royal hanger on are nothing but footnotes in my legGAAAAAAAAAHD STAAAAAAAAAAHP!”
Lenore slipped her fingers under Portia’s left cup so she could pull on the defenseless bud harder than ever. Flicking a glance in Amara’s direction, Lemarchand asked, “You hearing this, Empress? Think it might be time to consider new managemenAAAARRRRHHHH!”
Portia finally wrested a wrist free of Lenore’s grip and immediately raked her nails across the brunette’s eyes! Getting out from underneath the gangly bytch with a single exhausted shove, Baby rolled onto all fours or rather three of four as she immediately pressed her right arm to the scorched ruin of her tormented tits. “Huuhh… help me, Amara.” VanBuren grunted when she made eye contact with her protégé. “Let’s put this Jersey shyt out of her misery for good, then we can sett--”
The Golden Empress very deliberately turned her back Portia, the dismissive show earning a startled ‘ooooooooohhhh!’ from the FAWNatics.
“You ungrateful piece of garbage! Where would you be without me? Shift manager at a Mumbai Hooters, if you’re lucky! Don’t you EVER turn your back on NNGGHHH!”
Baby should’ve followed her own advice, it might’ve prevented Lenore from slamming a Forearm Smash into the nape of her neck! Twining her fingers into Portia’s hair to haul her to verticality in a few rough tugs, Lenore switched over to a Wristlock and hurled VanBuren at the ropes with an Irish NO! Lyle’s little girl dug in her heels to seize control of the Whip and send Lenore to the strands in her place. Lemarchand made the trip without incident, turned around and-- stumbled hard because Amara (her back still to the apron) slipped an arm under the bottom rope and hooked the Raven’s ankle!
“Meddling bytch!” Lenore whipped around and STAMPED down on Singh’s hand. Sitting down on the middle strand as the Empress stumbled back, Lemarchand opened the ropes and challenged, “Either get your ass in this ring or go to the f*cking bacKAAAAARRRHHHHHH!”
Patently uninterested in why the Raven’s back was turned, Portia capitalized with a Forearm Smash of her own and followed it up by raking her nails across Lenore’s eyes! But rather than shove her foe into the Empress’ lap, VanBuren yanked her out of the ropes and bent her backward to trap the Courtier’s chin under her left armpit. Backpedaling to the center of the squared circle before Lemarchand could think to grab the ropes for a break, Baby went up on tiptoes and dropped to one knee to THUMP her left knee between the brunette’s shoulders. The clever Backbreaker jolted Lenore from end to end, but she didn’t lose her footing mostly because VanBuren used the Inverted Facelock to stand her-- the three time World Champion pivoted in place so she was back to back with the other wrestler. Hands clasped tight over Lemarchand’s chin, Portia laid out on her back to THAWHAM the Raven down on the base of her head and shoulders via a Reverse Neckbreaker.
SOHO STUNNER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWeFVViEvdg
This deadly duo made up the Soho Stunner and it certainly lived up to its moniker by leaving Lenore stretched out in a glossy, glassy-eyed starfi--“mmmmMMMMPPPPPGGGHHH!”
Already reeling in the wake of the concussive combo, Lemarchand’s situation grew all the more dire when Baby planted a knee on either side of her head and sat down in an imperious seat! The Fair & Radiant Maiden bucked wildly and actually managed to slip out from under for just a moment, unfortunately VanBuren snatched hold of her wrists and pulled them high overhead to ensure they were out of the way when she secured the second Reverse Face Sit!
“Where do you think you’re going, Jersey??” Portia grunted as she balled her right hand into a fist and PAK-PAK-PAAAKED a trio of jabs into her mount’s flat, albeit failing tummy. “Yeah, that’s right. Get that pointy little beak in there!”
Baby grabbed a handful of hair, pulled Lenore’s squalling mug that much closer to the sequined $ sheathing her glutes. In the same breath she wedged the soles of her boots against the brunette’s noggin to guarantee she couldn’t turn away from the smother. Quite a bit more confident now that she could feel the tug and puff of Lemarchand’s breath against her undercarriage, Portia crooked her fingers into talons and raaaaaaaaked Lenore from navel to nubs, Fortune’s favorite making a point to finish each pass with a vengeful tweak.
She’d just finished a third set when the blonde noticed a chant coming from scattered points throughout the arena. ‘NINE-ELEVEN! (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap!) NINE-ELEVEN!’
“Hear that, Jersey?” she put her hands on her thighs and swept a few rude, grinding passes over the other woman’s mouth and nose. “This happens to be one of those oh so rare occasions when my whims coincide with those of the great unwashed.” She hunched forward, cupped the Raven’s inner thighs and spread her legs in a wide ‘V’. Lenore didn’t just allow this, but Portia kept her grip applied to the brunette’s left gam so she couldn’t press her thighs together.
“GrrrhhhhhghedhuuhhfugghhoffameeeOOOOOOHHHHHHH!” Muffled defiance gave way to much louder squealing when Portia crooked her right hand into a three-fingered C and began to aggressively rub the center of her opponent’s purple trunks!
“Yeah, like crossing your thighs is going to stop me? Don’t make me laugh, Jersey!” Laugh is exactly what VanBuren did as Lemarchand tried to defend against the manual manipulation with no real success. “Ohhhh, look what I have!” Portia clamped down on the outlines of her foe’s womanhood with her index finger and thumb and gave it a rough squeeze. “Do you want to tap out now or shall I turn the Raven into a Pussy?”
“FHUGYHOOOO!” Lemarchand bridged as high as she could, which wasn’t very much thanks to Portia’s mount and the growing oxygen debt.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” VanBuren gave her prey one more pinch, then switched over to a merciless claw to really pop the clutch on the first official Portia 911 in quite some time!
Already inching toward the red, Lenore sobbed away some more invaluable air as Baby sank the claw in deep!
“QUIT!” VanBuren demanded of the keening Courtier. “None of that flailing boot shit either, I want to hear you say it!”
“NNNNRRRRGGGHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Lemarchand wailed in reedy agony as the blonde laid her claim. “NUUUUHHHH GHEDHOFFAMYOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!”
Portia let loose, slipped a flattened hand beneath Lenore’s waistband and reapplied the claw with even more vigor and venom! “STAAAAAAAAAAAAHB! AYEGHIBHUPP! AYEGHIBHUPP!” That was enough for Nick, who turned away to call for the bell. Portia on the other hand continued to worry and knead, her terrible talon bulging and kneading beneath Lenore’s lycra.
“Who tapped you out, Jersey? Who humiliated you in the Main Event! Who’s the four-time World Champion? Say her name!”
“PORHJAH!” Lemarchand bawled. “PORHJAH! PORHJAH! PORHJAH!”
The devastating concession proved remarkably well-timed as it finished up just as the Announcer called, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via submission and the new number one contender for the FAWN World Championship… PORTIA OPHELIA VANBUREN!”
On the outside, Amara couldn’t help but chuckle at the humiliation of a woman that had humbled her more than once. She circled the ring to the side of Portia’s six.
Despite the beautiful degradation Baby continued to heap upon the Raven, remaining on the throne of Lenore’s face even as Castle demanded she dismount, Singh understood the partnership with Portia had reached the end of its usefulness. Delusions of grandeur Baby’s some sort of co-champion manifested the finality. But what was not a delusion was VanBuren still had the wherewithal to make Lenore beg for mercy, a task very few could accomplish.
Lemarchand’s taps became more fitful. As Portia rode the features of the Raven, nastily grasping the Lenore’s kitty like a clutch on her high-performance vehicle, the mournful pleas and sobs from beneath slow. The arms of the Fair and Radiant Maiden swayed like reeds in the wind until flopping wide to her sides as her consciousness was snuffed.
With Castle threatening to reverse the result, Baby releases her torturous grip and settled on her haunches, the thrusting of her hips halting. She swept back a handful of flaxen locks off her forehead, sighing deeply, grinning evilly at the FAWNatics in front of her.
Sliding into the ring, Amara popped to her feet simultaneous to a spent VanBuren pushing to vertical. Baby stared down at the greasy-faced Courtier.
“Pathetic Jersey,” Baby blurted. “When you wake, you’ll know I’m still the best. At Red, White and Bruised, the rest of these people will, including that ungrateful bytch.”
The words were only meant for the sleeping beauty, but Singh’s closed to a few feet behind her manager.
“Will I?” she purred in the ear of her “co-champion”.
The Empress roughly grasped Portia’s left shoulder and spun the slender socialite to face her and her wrath, the Bollywood Bombshell ready to make VanBuren understand she had no chance to claim the gold as her own.
But as Portia pirouetted from the force of Singh’s tug, she threw a right cross that had an old familiar gleam. While rising, the master strategist snuck a set of gold knux from her waistband and slipped them over her fingers. The augmented fist of Fortune’s Favorite PLOWED into Amara’s jaw and Singh timbered rigidly to the deck, out cold before she hitt the mat, ending in a wide spreadeagle.
The jeering crowd was silenced by the sight of Portia Ophelia VanBuren IV hovering over the comatose frames of two of the most dangerous women in the business, glory restored. Baby unbuckled the World title from around the waist of the flattened Singh and lifted it high, the FAWNatics recovering their awareness enough to boo their lungs out.
Portia nodded along with the hate from the Southern-fried Jerseys.
“FOUR TIMES!” she shouted, placing a boot on Amara’s chest.
“FOUR F*CKIN’ TIMES!”