Post by hawkeye on Jun 7, 2022 1:24:13 GMT
With the anticipation for more Mayhem growing, Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’ erupts from the speakers, the unmistakable sound of Eddie Van Halen's signature riff tearing the air itself.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
The FAWNatics seem ready to burst reflexively into an echoing round of jeers but catch themselves wondering who’s use of the music this might be. A cannonade of pyro explodes from the rafters in time with the thunderous drum roll, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
When the glare subsides, Chrissy Daniel stands atop the ramp. Hands on her hips, she turns her head to scan the crowd, the corners of her mouth upturned in a smugly mischievous smile.
CHRISSY DANIEL
The crowd gets their chips in early, making their decision of support between the two obvious when they chant ‘KILL THE PUTZ…KILL THE PUTZ!”
Raising her hands overhead, Chrissy’s usual double bird is instead a double thumbs up in response to the crowd’s desire. With Avery still not cleared to appear, let alone participate, Daniel’s trip to the ring is a solo. The ash blonde’s hips swivel with every self-assured step, bringing back glory of yesteryear.
Tonight would be the end of the pretender and the reemergence of the Killer Imp as a top wrestling star rather than a manager of her apprentices.
The Imp wears a shiny leather two piece, somewhere between silver and black, Chrissy forgoing her trademark fringe for sleek and stylish. Black pads and boots finish the wardrobe.
Taking the steps at a slow stalk, Daniel slips through the strands after a tawdry waggle of her hips, the ring announcer seeing his opportunity.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit and is a no disqualification, falls-count-anywhere match.”
The crowd roars its approval at the thought of Braddock being destroyed by an authority in such assaults.
“Hailing from Manhattan Beach, California, she stands five foot one inch tall and weighs in at one hundred twenty-four and nine-tenths pounds. She is FAWN‘s original bad girl, the catfighter‘s catfighter, a three-time former World and two-time former Tag Team champion…SHE IS THE KILLER IMP…CHRISSY DANIEL”
Center stage, Chrissy flips her lustrous locks back with one hand and raises a microphone to her lips with the other.
“Get your ass out here you cheap knock-off,” Daniel demands, the throng popping. “I’m sending you back to turning tricks under the Santa Monica pier!”
“WHOOOAAAA” the crowd shouts, loving the call out.
“Three times I’ve proven I’m the best FAWN has ever seen. The only thing you’ve proven more times that that is what a Chrissy wannabe you are. Bytch. Headline. You’re never going to be me or BEAT ME!”
The Imp drops the stick with a CLUNK and moves to the ropes nearest the hard cam, rising to the middle ropes and points a double-barreled set of middle fingers at the stage above.
Richter scale rumbles bring an earthquake-sized round of boos from the sellout throng, the masses knowing well who the aftershock is in this scenario.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the arena’s speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’ for a second time. A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
In the ring, a raging Chrissy demands HER music be cut, but her Gen Z counterpart’s appropriation continues. The ill-mannered, ass-kicking blonde Brat moves to center stage with a shit-eating ‘I’m the biggest bytch in town’ grin. Kat settles and lets the animosity wash over her, hazel eyes shut, smile widening.
KAT BRADDOCK:
The buxom blonde peepers pop open and she strides down the ramp, casting an occasional glance from side to side, chuckling at the mob who make their presence known in increasingly loud fashion.
The curvy Quake strides toward her former manager in her new booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece accentuating her curves both bottom and topside, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks, her boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
Kat’s gear (
and ( 
).
Dawdling ringside, Kat moves toward the announcer’s table as he provides Braddock’s introduction.
“And her opponent. From Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. The Brat. KAT BRADDOCK!”
The arena echoes with enmity, the vocal and virulent distaste impressive for someone so early in her career.
The REAL California Quake snatches the amplifier from the man’s hand and draws it to parted lips.
“Bytch. You’ve never been anything but in my way. I removed one roadblock in Christian’s dope of a daughter. Now I eliminate the remaining washed-up, festering debris from MY BEACH and make room for the Cali Queen.”
Braddock drops the microphone and races to the apron’s edge, sliding in underneath and popping to her feet. The blonde makes sure to direct Craig Long to keep a fuming Imp back as The Brat revels in the reverberating boos.
Kat climbs her corner, staring out on the sea of humanity, every single one booing. She raises her arms high and wide, vainly trying to shout them down, when she feels something beneath.
Chrissy, having shoved Long aside, moved under the abbreviated legs of Braddock, turning to face the center of the ring. Kat’s head shakes wildly, panic in her eyes, as she’s pulled onto Daniel’s shoulders and carried toward mid-ring.
Flailing and squirming, Kat can’t eject in time. Chrissy sits out and POWERBOMBS The Brat into the deck, surely making a Kat-sized divot.
Knowing the bell hasn’t yet rung, the Imp tosses Kat’s legs aside and rises to the odd sounds of cheers from the crowd. Seemingly unsure how to react to the noise, she turns to Craig, the man on one knee next to the blasted Braddock.
“Are you going to start the match or not?”
“What?” Long asks incredulously. “Get to you corner.”
“I have a feeling Bethany REALLY wants you to start it.”
Long puts the tip of an index finger to his earpiece then turns reluctantly and calls for the bell.
Immediately, Chrissy is upon Kat, stomping her former protégé into a flaxen-haired mudhole, Braddock turtling as best she can under the vicious attack of the ash blonde.
Daniel relents but only to snatch Kat’s right leg at the ankle, pulling it high. She steps on Braddock’s left ankle and drops to the canvas in the opposite direction, forcing The Brat’s legs into a violent set of splits.
Kat shrieks as she rises to a seated position, hands on each side, supporting a pulled groin muscle, face twisted in anguish. And it goes from bad to worse as Daniel, laying perpendicular between Kat’s stems, pushes her foe’s lower limbs even further in both directions, until Braddock’s legs are nearly in a single file.
The Cali Quake howls in pain between curses at her former mentor.
“What’s wrong?” Chrissy shouts. “I thought you were sweeping me into the dustbin of history?”
“Oh, I wilAHHHHHH”
Another shove from the hands encircling Kat’s left ankle cuts off The Brat’s retort.
“You’ll learn what it is to fight someone who’ll go lower than you,” the Imp informs. “That’s what you’ll do.”
Feeling secure Kat’ll be walking with a waddle for the rest of the match, Chrissy gives up her leg spreader, a sigh of relief escaping Braddock’s lips. Daniel pops to a handstand next to the mewling Brat, showing her more athletic side. Chrissy spins so her knees are near Kat’s plush, tanned tummy, then drops both caps into The Brat’s midriff.
Kat’s Achilles belly sends her jackknifing around the impaling joints before melting back to horizontal. Still, there’s no inclination from Daniel she’s interested in going for a pin.
Chrissy shoves Kat to her chest then rises and takes a stance on each of Kat’s calves. Posting her foe’s lower legs around hers, Chrissy slaps Braddock’s sides, bringing her adversary’s wrists within reach. She grabs each and drops to her derriere, cutting a move to a Romero Special short, but capturing Kat in her Boogey Board submission.
The Killer Imp works Kat’s captured limbs like the pro she is, wrenching and stretching, drawing loud yelps from her Gen Z counterpart.
“Gonna work you like a part-time job,” Chrissy informs. “When I’m bored, I’ll make you sob your submission.”
Unhooking one of her legs from the good work, Daniel presses a boot sole between Kat’s shoulder blades and pushes forward as she releases her foe’s wrists, THUMPING Braddock’s beak into the thinly-sheathed plywood with an innovative variation on a curbstomp.
Again. finding some rare love from the crowd, Chrissy hops to her feet and bows dramatically, chuckling at the FAWNatics’ willingness to support her against what they perceive as the bigger Brat.
It hardly matters. If Kat’s in pain, she can play along.
Chrissy knee-walks alongside the face down Braddock. She snatches a handful of golden locks on the back of Kat’s cranium and brutally rubs The Brat’s face against the abrasive canvas, scraping her features rosy.
Using the grip, she draws Kat’s noggin off the deck and POUNDS forehead to mat then pushes to her feet to enjoy the site for a few ticks.
“Get your ass up, tough girl,” Chrissy shouts.
When Kat barely moves, Daniel grabs her by the scruff of the neck and tugs the red-faced Braddock to her feet. Adding a grip on Kat’s near wrist, she runs the Quake to the ropes and heaves her over the top, Braddock clattering off the apron on the way down. She puddles on the arena floor, routed from the ring by the future Hall of Famer.
Chrissy takes the scenic route, bending between the ropes and taking the steps to the floor. Once there, the Imp snatches Kat’s locks as Braddock makes it to one knee.
“Let’s say ‘hi’ to the nice people.”
But before Chrissy can drag her former student there, Braddock swings an uppercut forearm between Chrissy’s abbreviated stems, THUMPIMG a blow into the juncture of Daniel’s thighs. Chrissy’s eyes bulge and she swallows hard, lifting to tiptoes from the sinister shot to her privates.
Frozen in place as Braddock rises to incessant boos from the assembled, Chrissy can muster little in the way of protection when Kat sinks one set of nails into her foe’s scalp and the other into the waistband of her gear. Braddock bum rushes Daniel to the ring steps as fast as her and Chrissy’s waddles allow, throwing Daniel in shoulder-first at a decent speed considering, the metal CLANGING when Chrissy hits home.
Breathing heavily, Kat hovers over the wreckage.
“Shut your mouth, gimp.”
With Chrissy laying crumpled, the upper half of the steps ajar, Kat kicks the top two steps free, placing Daniel’s noggin atop what remains. The Brat moves to the apron, flipping it up and finding a folding chair handy. She plucks it from beneath and moves to Chrissy’s noggin on a plate of steel.
Kat raises the chair overhead and SLAMS it down across the metal, Daniel having pulled her noggin clear in the nick of time. The steel-to-steel CLANG reverberates through a pained Kat’s hands. The weapon drops loose, Braddock shaking out the sting.
Steaming, she sinks her ruby-tipped nails into Daniel’s ash blonde locks and tugs the Imp to her feet, exchanging the grip for a wrist. Braddock buggywhips Chrissy toward the metal barricade down the length of the ring. Or so that was the plan. But the veteran plants and reverses, and it’s Kat sprinting and turning into a back-first collision with the unforgiving steel.
The Quake’s spine arches, Kat in anguish. And worse yet, Chrissy is bearing down on The Brat with clothesline bared. Even in her pained state, Kat manages to pivot and send Daniel flying into the front row, crushing a helpless soul who doesn’t seem all that concerned about his well-being as long as it’s the Imp in his grill.
With ‘This is awesome’ chants blossoming, Kat climbs over the barrier to take the fight to the FAWNatics, grabbing Chrissy by her mane and RAMMING her forehead into the steel at the top of the divider.
Daniel’s head snaps back in brutal fashion, her eyes glassy.
“You scum still hate the California Quake?” Braddock shouts.
Those safely removed from Kat scream in the affirmative but those within relative easy reach of The Brat conspicuously keep their mouths shut.
“That’s what I thought,” Braddock adds after a chuckle.
Kat presses Chrissy’s throat against the top of the barricade, pushing down on the back of Daniel’s neck with both palms.
The Imp flails, her face turning rosy as her windpipe is closed by her protégé.
Long watches, unable to complain with the no DQ stipulation in force. And if falls count anywhere, submissions do too. Craig asks Chrissy if she wants to give. As much as she’s able, Daniel shakes her head.
Kat rolls her eyes and relents on the barricade-assisted choke since it’s not getting the result and there’s so much more available to do.
Kat pushes Chrissy to a seat on a recently vacated front row chair and drops on her lap. Fashioning her fingers into talons, Braddock drives a pair of overhand claws deep into Daniel’s plentiful bosom then squeezes with all her might.
“Give up, bytch!” the Gen Z beach blonde demands.
Chrissy’s eyes are watering to the point of overflowing. She bites her lower lip to contain voicing her anguish as she pulls at Kat’s wrists. The Imp bleats out a simple direct ‘fuck you’ and scoops her arms under Kat’s thighs. Daniel removes Braddock from her lap as she powers to a standing position, the wide-eyed Quake still digging into the thinly sheathed rack of the future Hall of Famer.
Ignoring the burning from her chest as best she can, Chrissy raises Kat’s legs and shifts The Brat’s frame to her right hip so she can THUMP Kat’s undercarriage down atop the steel pipe serving as the top of the divider.
Braddock’s tines fall away, her palms pressing against the metal in front of her, eyes welling from the brutal crotch shot.
“Don’t think you can play this game with me, girlie,” a winded Daniel huffs, glancing down at her aching orbs. Quickly she turns her attention back to Kat, who’s riding the barricade in a most uncomfortable position, mewling weakly, until Chrissy pivots and PLANTS a superkick to Kat’s jaw that sends her foe tumbling back toward the ring.
Grabbing the top of the barrier, Daniel swings her body over and drops a leg across the throat of the splayed Braddock. She leaves the limb draped across her foe’s neck and shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO.
Kat pushes out from under, one hand moving to her reddening throat, the other buried between her thighs.
Daniel roughly shovels Kat to her chest. Chrissy kneels between Braddock’s thighs, inching the limbs apart, a whimpering, squirming Braddock rightly concerned for what her former mentor has in mind.
Chances are The Brat knows considering their history and Daniel proves predictable, reaching her right hand forward and over Kat’s head, plugging the blonde’s nostrils with index and middle fingers. 7-10 Split perfectly aligned, Chrissy yanks back on her cruel grip until a yipping Kat is staring at the rafters, the young woman made the Imp’s mock bowling ball.
“TAP…TAP…TAP,” the FAWNatics demand.
And a surrender might have come in time, but Chrissy is far from patient. She gives up her hold to cruelly draw a forearm across her foe’s exposed throat, sending Kat into breathless sputters.
But the worst is yet to come, particularly for Kat’s kitty. Chrissy, still situated between the ‘V’ of Kat’s stems, has room to use an upturned claw, this one sinking DEEP into Braddock’s crotch, the delving, squeezing digits drawing shrieks from Daniel’s personal hand puppet.
A howling Kat tears at her own long golden locks with both hands, trying to spread the pain, but the waves from below are unreal, tears streaking down her face.
Long drops in front of the overwhelmed, sobbing Brat, pleading with Kat to surrender.
Braddock’s right palm hovers over the thinly-padded cement, inches away from ending the torture. But instead, the Quake places her palms against the arena floor and pushes up.
Daniel looks confused, her claw still in vengeful force. But from the raised position, Braddock somehow forces her legs together, delivering a leg-centric ear-ringer to the Killer Imp.
Gray matter rattled, Chrissy loses her cruel grasp. A moaning Braddock flops out of immediate reach, collapsing into a fetal ball to protect her throbbing womanhood.
Daniel shakes her senses back into place and looks perturbed both with Braddock and herself.
“Where you goin’? I’ll let you know when it’s time to crawl back to Cali,” Chrissy informs.
Daniel slowly rises and easily tracks down Braddock, Kat reaching hands and knees and trying to climb under the ring. She gets halfway when Daniel latches onto both ankles and pulls her back out with a grunt and a tug.
But Kat isn’t alone when she reemerges. There’s a kendo stick in hand. She spins and CRUNCHES a strike across the crown of Chrissy’s noggin. Daniel staggers away in a senseless loop only to be NAILED with a second blow, this with more behind it, sending Chrissy collapsing to her knees.
Soon, Kat is similarly situated. Grabbing the stick with both hands in the center, she uses the weapon like pinball paddles, alternating strikes from right and left, cracking the bamboo into Daniel’s temples time and time again until the Imp collapses forward, leaning heavily against the huffing Braddock. Drool dribbles from Chrissy’s full lower lip onto The Brat’s right shoulder, Daniel’s eyes slitted and vacant.
Kat sloughs the woman who brought her to FAWN off like a surface nuisance, Chrissy collapsing to a face plant at Braddock’s side.
The Brat wipes her hazel peepers clear of tears; a weak, disturbing smile emerging. Kat pulls the slack Daniel to a seated position, only keeping her that way by leaning her against the apron.
Rising, she places her new weapon of choice on the mat above Chrissy and moves her plentiful booty next to Chrissy’s face then delivers a half dozen of her signature Bratty Butt Bumpers to the increasingly flaccid Daniel.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
After the last, Chrissy collapses to a hip and shoulder, unmoving next to The Brat, Kat reveling in the ear-splitting helping of hatred from the FAWNatics.
Braddock points at the downed Daniel.
“First Emily. Now this putz. I’m tugging this organization out of the past and into the Golden Age of The Brat. Enjoy!”
Braddock turns her attention back to the former three-time World Champion, pulling Chrissy by her ash blonde locks to a seated position against the barricade. Kat kicks the abbreviated legs of the Imp wide and strides down the length of the ring, Long encouraging Braddock to bring the fight back in the squared circle but knowing the location of the battle is currently in Kat’s control.
The self-proclaimed Legend Breaker lines up her next victim and races down the thinly-padded cement, leaping from a few feet out to deliver her Brat Pack, a leg-spread dropkick to Chrissy’s inner thighs, brutally forcing Daniel’s into a set of splits for which she’s not prepared.
Chrissy yelps back to life, snatching at her groin muscles as Braddock snuggles into the future Hall of Famer’s lap, wrapping her legs around Chrissy’s plush midsection and clamping down around her foe’s ribs with a tight scissors.
Her Pack nearly complete, Kat cinches her arms around the back of a wide-eyed Daniel’s noggin and embraces the face, pulling Chrissy’s features into her ample cleavage with a front sleeper.
The Imp’s arms flail, pry and shove but she’s unable to force The Brat from her snug smother, Braddock gritting her perfect pearlies through the efforts, sneer turning to smile as Daniel’s fight dissipates. Slowly and just as surely, Chrissy’s leaden arms fall to her side.
Long moves next to devastated Daniel, Chrissy’s mouth and nose still buried. He raises a limp arm once and lets it fall. Repeats for a second time. But before he can manage a third and final, Braddock releases and dismounts the comatose Chrissy.
Rough and relentless, Braddock yanks Daniel to rubbery legs, not an easy task with Chrissy in her current condition. The Cali Quake pulls Daniel into a front facelock, tossing a flaccid arm across the back of her neck.
The crowd buzzes with both amazement and worry. Braddock can’t have a Nap in mind for the Imp. Not on the arena floor!
But indeed, The Brat elevates Chrissy onto her lap, holding her in place with a cradle of her left leg, then lays out, proving it can be Kat Nap time anywhere with a brutal version of her flawless finisher that has the crowd groaning with concern.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nNeUWdGDSo
Daniel flops lifelessly out of Kat’s grip as she spreads into am unconscious starfish. The rest is academic as Kat places palms on Chrissy’s plush tummy and abundant chest, pushing up for an arrogant…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
“More!” Kat insists. “FIVE!”
Long’s face turns spur, but he obliges.
FOUR!
FIVE!
A smile blossoms on Kat’s features as she shoves against Daniel’s husk to a seat on her haunches and dramatically wipes her hands over the demolished Imp.
As the announcer proclaims her the winner, Craig gets between Kat and her prey, pleading with Braddock, Daniel’s had enough.
“She’s had too much,” Kat chuckles. “Wheel her ass out of here. I do believe her career has come to an end.”
Braddock rises, turns to the audience, and raises her arms high and wide.
“RECOGNIZE!”
As the jeers of the FAWNatics grow louder still, Craig calls for the EMTs and they head down the aisle with a stretcher, zooming by Kat on her way up.
Braddock waves them and her former manager buh-bye, only hesitating at the top of the ramp to watch a neck brace applied to the insensate Imp, Chrissy then moved carefully onto the conveyance to ambulate her to the nearest hospital.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
The FAWNatics seem ready to burst reflexively into an echoing round of jeers but catch themselves wondering who’s use of the music this might be. A cannonade of pyro explodes from the rafters in time with the thunderous drum roll, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
When the glare subsides, Chrissy Daniel stands atop the ramp. Hands on her hips, she turns her head to scan the crowd, the corners of her mouth upturned in a smugly mischievous smile.
CHRISSY DANIEL
The crowd gets their chips in early, making their decision of support between the two obvious when they chant ‘KILL THE PUTZ…KILL THE PUTZ!”
Raising her hands overhead, Chrissy’s usual double bird is instead a double thumbs up in response to the crowd’s desire. With Avery still not cleared to appear, let alone participate, Daniel’s trip to the ring is a solo. The ash blonde’s hips swivel with every self-assured step, bringing back glory of yesteryear.
Tonight would be the end of the pretender and the reemergence of the Killer Imp as a top wrestling star rather than a manager of her apprentices.
The Imp wears a shiny leather two piece, somewhere between silver and black, Chrissy forgoing her trademark fringe for sleek and stylish. Black pads and boots finish the wardrobe.
Taking the steps at a slow stalk, Daniel slips through the strands after a tawdry waggle of her hips, the ring announcer seeing his opportunity.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit and is a no disqualification, falls-count-anywhere match.”
The crowd roars its approval at the thought of Braddock being destroyed by an authority in such assaults.
“Hailing from Manhattan Beach, California, she stands five foot one inch tall and weighs in at one hundred twenty-four and nine-tenths pounds. She is FAWN‘s original bad girl, the catfighter‘s catfighter, a three-time former World and two-time former Tag Team champion…SHE IS THE KILLER IMP…CHRISSY DANIEL”
Center stage, Chrissy flips her lustrous locks back with one hand and raises a microphone to her lips with the other.
“Get your ass out here you cheap knock-off,” Daniel demands, the throng popping. “I’m sending you back to turning tricks under the Santa Monica pier!”
“WHOOOAAAA” the crowd shouts, loving the call out.
“Three times I’ve proven I’m the best FAWN has ever seen. The only thing you’ve proven more times that that is what a Chrissy wannabe you are. Bytch. Headline. You’re never going to be me or BEAT ME!”
The Imp drops the stick with a CLUNK and moves to the ropes nearest the hard cam, rising to the middle ropes and points a double-barreled set of middle fingers at the stage above.
Richter scale rumbles bring an earthquake-sized round of boos from the sellout throng, the masses knowing well who the aftershock is in this scenario.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the arena’s speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’ for a second time. A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
In the ring, a raging Chrissy demands HER music be cut, but her Gen Z counterpart’s appropriation continues. The ill-mannered, ass-kicking blonde Brat moves to center stage with a shit-eating ‘I’m the biggest bytch in town’ grin. Kat settles and lets the animosity wash over her, hazel eyes shut, smile widening.
KAT BRADDOCK:
The buxom blonde peepers pop open and she strides down the ramp, casting an occasional glance from side to side, chuckling at the mob who make their presence known in increasingly loud fashion.
The curvy Quake strides toward her former manager in her new booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece accentuating her curves both bottom and topside, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks, her boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
Kat’s gear (
and ( ).Dawdling ringside, Kat moves toward the announcer’s table as he provides Braddock’s introduction.
“And her opponent. From Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. The Brat. KAT BRADDOCK!”
The arena echoes with enmity, the vocal and virulent distaste impressive for someone so early in her career.
The REAL California Quake snatches the amplifier from the man’s hand and draws it to parted lips.
“Bytch. You’ve never been anything but in my way. I removed one roadblock in Christian’s dope of a daughter. Now I eliminate the remaining washed-up, festering debris from MY BEACH and make room for the Cali Queen.”
Braddock drops the microphone and races to the apron’s edge, sliding in underneath and popping to her feet. The blonde makes sure to direct Craig Long to keep a fuming Imp back as The Brat revels in the reverberating boos.
Kat climbs her corner, staring out on the sea of humanity, every single one booing. She raises her arms high and wide, vainly trying to shout them down, when she feels something beneath.
Chrissy, having shoved Long aside, moved under the abbreviated legs of Braddock, turning to face the center of the ring. Kat’s head shakes wildly, panic in her eyes, as she’s pulled onto Daniel’s shoulders and carried toward mid-ring.
Flailing and squirming, Kat can’t eject in time. Chrissy sits out and POWERBOMBS The Brat into the deck, surely making a Kat-sized divot.
Knowing the bell hasn’t yet rung, the Imp tosses Kat’s legs aside and rises to the odd sounds of cheers from the crowd. Seemingly unsure how to react to the noise, she turns to Craig, the man on one knee next to the blasted Braddock.
“Are you going to start the match or not?”
“What?” Long asks incredulously. “Get to you corner.”
“I have a feeling Bethany REALLY wants you to start it.”
Long puts the tip of an index finger to his earpiece then turns reluctantly and calls for the bell.
Immediately, Chrissy is upon Kat, stomping her former protégé into a flaxen-haired mudhole, Braddock turtling as best she can under the vicious attack of the ash blonde.
Daniel relents but only to snatch Kat’s right leg at the ankle, pulling it high. She steps on Braddock’s left ankle and drops to the canvas in the opposite direction, forcing The Brat’s legs into a violent set of splits.
Kat shrieks as she rises to a seated position, hands on each side, supporting a pulled groin muscle, face twisted in anguish. And it goes from bad to worse as Daniel, laying perpendicular between Kat’s stems, pushes her foe’s lower limbs even further in both directions, until Braddock’s legs are nearly in a single file.
The Cali Quake howls in pain between curses at her former mentor.
“What’s wrong?” Chrissy shouts. “I thought you were sweeping me into the dustbin of history?”
“Oh, I wilAHHHHHH”
Another shove from the hands encircling Kat’s left ankle cuts off The Brat’s retort.
“You’ll learn what it is to fight someone who’ll go lower than you,” the Imp informs. “That’s what you’ll do.”
Feeling secure Kat’ll be walking with a waddle for the rest of the match, Chrissy gives up her leg spreader, a sigh of relief escaping Braddock’s lips. Daniel pops to a handstand next to the mewling Brat, showing her more athletic side. Chrissy spins so her knees are near Kat’s plush, tanned tummy, then drops both caps into The Brat’s midriff.
Kat’s Achilles belly sends her jackknifing around the impaling joints before melting back to horizontal. Still, there’s no inclination from Daniel she’s interested in going for a pin.
Chrissy shoves Kat to her chest then rises and takes a stance on each of Kat’s calves. Posting her foe’s lower legs around hers, Chrissy slaps Braddock’s sides, bringing her adversary’s wrists within reach. She grabs each and drops to her derriere, cutting a move to a Romero Special short, but capturing Kat in her Boogey Board submission.
The Killer Imp works Kat’s captured limbs like the pro she is, wrenching and stretching, drawing loud yelps from her Gen Z counterpart.
“Gonna work you like a part-time job,” Chrissy informs. “When I’m bored, I’ll make you sob your submission.”
Unhooking one of her legs from the good work, Daniel presses a boot sole between Kat’s shoulder blades and pushes forward as she releases her foe’s wrists, THUMPING Braddock’s beak into the thinly-sheathed plywood with an innovative variation on a curbstomp.
Again. finding some rare love from the crowd, Chrissy hops to her feet and bows dramatically, chuckling at the FAWNatics’ willingness to support her against what they perceive as the bigger Brat.
It hardly matters. If Kat’s in pain, she can play along.
Chrissy knee-walks alongside the face down Braddock. She snatches a handful of golden locks on the back of Kat’s cranium and brutally rubs The Brat’s face against the abrasive canvas, scraping her features rosy.
Using the grip, she draws Kat’s noggin off the deck and POUNDS forehead to mat then pushes to her feet to enjoy the site for a few ticks.
“Get your ass up, tough girl,” Chrissy shouts.
When Kat barely moves, Daniel grabs her by the scruff of the neck and tugs the red-faced Braddock to her feet. Adding a grip on Kat’s near wrist, she runs the Quake to the ropes and heaves her over the top, Braddock clattering off the apron on the way down. She puddles on the arena floor, routed from the ring by the future Hall of Famer.
Chrissy takes the scenic route, bending between the ropes and taking the steps to the floor. Once there, the Imp snatches Kat’s locks as Braddock makes it to one knee.
“Let’s say ‘hi’ to the nice people.”
But before Chrissy can drag her former student there, Braddock swings an uppercut forearm between Chrissy’s abbreviated stems, THUMPIMG a blow into the juncture of Daniel’s thighs. Chrissy’s eyes bulge and she swallows hard, lifting to tiptoes from the sinister shot to her privates.
Frozen in place as Braddock rises to incessant boos from the assembled, Chrissy can muster little in the way of protection when Kat sinks one set of nails into her foe’s scalp and the other into the waistband of her gear. Braddock bum rushes Daniel to the ring steps as fast as her and Chrissy’s waddles allow, throwing Daniel in shoulder-first at a decent speed considering, the metal CLANGING when Chrissy hits home.
Breathing heavily, Kat hovers over the wreckage.
“Shut your mouth, gimp.”
With Chrissy laying crumpled, the upper half of the steps ajar, Kat kicks the top two steps free, placing Daniel’s noggin atop what remains. The Brat moves to the apron, flipping it up and finding a folding chair handy. She plucks it from beneath and moves to Chrissy’s noggin on a plate of steel.
Kat raises the chair overhead and SLAMS it down across the metal, Daniel having pulled her noggin clear in the nick of time. The steel-to-steel CLANG reverberates through a pained Kat’s hands. The weapon drops loose, Braddock shaking out the sting.
Steaming, she sinks her ruby-tipped nails into Daniel’s ash blonde locks and tugs the Imp to her feet, exchanging the grip for a wrist. Braddock buggywhips Chrissy toward the metal barricade down the length of the ring. Or so that was the plan. But the veteran plants and reverses, and it’s Kat sprinting and turning into a back-first collision with the unforgiving steel.
The Quake’s spine arches, Kat in anguish. And worse yet, Chrissy is bearing down on The Brat with clothesline bared. Even in her pained state, Kat manages to pivot and send Daniel flying into the front row, crushing a helpless soul who doesn’t seem all that concerned about his well-being as long as it’s the Imp in his grill.
With ‘This is awesome’ chants blossoming, Kat climbs over the barrier to take the fight to the FAWNatics, grabbing Chrissy by her mane and RAMMING her forehead into the steel at the top of the divider.
Daniel’s head snaps back in brutal fashion, her eyes glassy.
“You scum still hate the California Quake?” Braddock shouts.
Those safely removed from Kat scream in the affirmative but those within relative easy reach of The Brat conspicuously keep their mouths shut.
“That’s what I thought,” Braddock adds after a chuckle.
Kat presses Chrissy’s throat against the top of the barricade, pushing down on the back of Daniel’s neck with both palms.
The Imp flails, her face turning rosy as her windpipe is closed by her protégé.
Long watches, unable to complain with the no DQ stipulation in force. And if falls count anywhere, submissions do too. Craig asks Chrissy if she wants to give. As much as she’s able, Daniel shakes her head.
Kat rolls her eyes and relents on the barricade-assisted choke since it’s not getting the result and there’s so much more available to do.
Kat pushes Chrissy to a seat on a recently vacated front row chair and drops on her lap. Fashioning her fingers into talons, Braddock drives a pair of overhand claws deep into Daniel’s plentiful bosom then squeezes with all her might.
“Give up, bytch!” the Gen Z beach blonde demands.
Chrissy’s eyes are watering to the point of overflowing. She bites her lower lip to contain voicing her anguish as she pulls at Kat’s wrists. The Imp bleats out a simple direct ‘fuck you’ and scoops her arms under Kat’s thighs. Daniel removes Braddock from her lap as she powers to a standing position, the wide-eyed Quake still digging into the thinly sheathed rack of the future Hall of Famer.
Ignoring the burning from her chest as best she can, Chrissy raises Kat’s legs and shifts The Brat’s frame to her right hip so she can THUMP Kat’s undercarriage down atop the steel pipe serving as the top of the divider.
Braddock’s tines fall away, her palms pressing against the metal in front of her, eyes welling from the brutal crotch shot.
“Don’t think you can play this game with me, girlie,” a winded Daniel huffs, glancing down at her aching orbs. Quickly she turns her attention back to Kat, who’s riding the barricade in a most uncomfortable position, mewling weakly, until Chrissy pivots and PLANTS a superkick to Kat’s jaw that sends her foe tumbling back toward the ring.
Grabbing the top of the barrier, Daniel swings her body over and drops a leg across the throat of the splayed Braddock. She leaves the limb draped across her foe’s neck and shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO.
Kat pushes out from under, one hand moving to her reddening throat, the other buried between her thighs.
Daniel roughly shovels Kat to her chest. Chrissy kneels between Braddock’s thighs, inching the limbs apart, a whimpering, squirming Braddock rightly concerned for what her former mentor has in mind.
Chances are The Brat knows considering their history and Daniel proves predictable, reaching her right hand forward and over Kat’s head, plugging the blonde’s nostrils with index and middle fingers. 7-10 Split perfectly aligned, Chrissy yanks back on her cruel grip until a yipping Kat is staring at the rafters, the young woman made the Imp’s mock bowling ball.
“TAP…TAP…TAP,” the FAWNatics demand.
And a surrender might have come in time, but Chrissy is far from patient. She gives up her hold to cruelly draw a forearm across her foe’s exposed throat, sending Kat into breathless sputters.
But the worst is yet to come, particularly for Kat’s kitty. Chrissy, still situated between the ‘V’ of Kat’s stems, has room to use an upturned claw, this one sinking DEEP into Braddock’s crotch, the delving, squeezing digits drawing shrieks from Daniel’s personal hand puppet.
A howling Kat tears at her own long golden locks with both hands, trying to spread the pain, but the waves from below are unreal, tears streaking down her face.
Long drops in front of the overwhelmed, sobbing Brat, pleading with Kat to surrender.
Braddock’s right palm hovers over the thinly-padded cement, inches away from ending the torture. But instead, the Quake places her palms against the arena floor and pushes up.
Daniel looks confused, her claw still in vengeful force. But from the raised position, Braddock somehow forces her legs together, delivering a leg-centric ear-ringer to the Killer Imp.
Gray matter rattled, Chrissy loses her cruel grasp. A moaning Braddock flops out of immediate reach, collapsing into a fetal ball to protect her throbbing womanhood.
Daniel shakes her senses back into place and looks perturbed both with Braddock and herself.
“Where you goin’? I’ll let you know when it’s time to crawl back to Cali,” Chrissy informs.
Daniel slowly rises and easily tracks down Braddock, Kat reaching hands and knees and trying to climb under the ring. She gets halfway when Daniel latches onto both ankles and pulls her back out with a grunt and a tug.
But Kat isn’t alone when she reemerges. There’s a kendo stick in hand. She spins and CRUNCHES a strike across the crown of Chrissy’s noggin. Daniel staggers away in a senseless loop only to be NAILED with a second blow, this with more behind it, sending Chrissy collapsing to her knees.
Soon, Kat is similarly situated. Grabbing the stick with both hands in the center, she uses the weapon like pinball paddles, alternating strikes from right and left, cracking the bamboo into Daniel’s temples time and time again until the Imp collapses forward, leaning heavily against the huffing Braddock. Drool dribbles from Chrissy’s full lower lip onto The Brat’s right shoulder, Daniel’s eyes slitted and vacant.
Kat sloughs the woman who brought her to FAWN off like a surface nuisance, Chrissy collapsing to a face plant at Braddock’s side.
The Brat wipes her hazel peepers clear of tears; a weak, disturbing smile emerging. Kat pulls the slack Daniel to a seated position, only keeping her that way by leaning her against the apron.
Rising, she places her new weapon of choice on the mat above Chrissy and moves her plentiful booty next to Chrissy’s face then delivers a half dozen of her signature Bratty Butt Bumpers to the increasingly flaccid Daniel.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
After the last, Chrissy collapses to a hip and shoulder, unmoving next to The Brat, Kat reveling in the ear-splitting helping of hatred from the FAWNatics.
Braddock points at the downed Daniel.
“First Emily. Now this putz. I’m tugging this organization out of the past and into the Golden Age of The Brat. Enjoy!”
Braddock turns her attention back to the former three-time World Champion, pulling Chrissy by her ash blonde locks to a seated position against the barricade. Kat kicks the abbreviated legs of the Imp wide and strides down the length of the ring, Long encouraging Braddock to bring the fight back in the squared circle but knowing the location of the battle is currently in Kat’s control.
The self-proclaimed Legend Breaker lines up her next victim and races down the thinly-padded cement, leaping from a few feet out to deliver her Brat Pack, a leg-spread dropkick to Chrissy’s inner thighs, brutally forcing Daniel’s into a set of splits for which she’s not prepared.
Chrissy yelps back to life, snatching at her groin muscles as Braddock snuggles into the future Hall of Famer’s lap, wrapping her legs around Chrissy’s plush midsection and clamping down around her foe’s ribs with a tight scissors.
Her Pack nearly complete, Kat cinches her arms around the back of a wide-eyed Daniel’s noggin and embraces the face, pulling Chrissy’s features into her ample cleavage with a front sleeper.
The Imp’s arms flail, pry and shove but she’s unable to force The Brat from her snug smother, Braddock gritting her perfect pearlies through the efforts, sneer turning to smile as Daniel’s fight dissipates. Slowly and just as surely, Chrissy’s leaden arms fall to her side.
Long moves next to devastated Daniel, Chrissy’s mouth and nose still buried. He raises a limp arm once and lets it fall. Repeats for a second time. But before he can manage a third and final, Braddock releases and dismounts the comatose Chrissy.
Rough and relentless, Braddock yanks Daniel to rubbery legs, not an easy task with Chrissy in her current condition. The Cali Quake pulls Daniel into a front facelock, tossing a flaccid arm across the back of her neck.
The crowd buzzes with both amazement and worry. Braddock can’t have a Nap in mind for the Imp. Not on the arena floor!
But indeed, The Brat elevates Chrissy onto her lap, holding her in place with a cradle of her left leg, then lays out, proving it can be Kat Nap time anywhere with a brutal version of her flawless finisher that has the crowd groaning with concern.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nNeUWdGDSo
Daniel flops lifelessly out of Kat’s grip as she spreads into am unconscious starfish. The rest is academic as Kat places palms on Chrissy’s plush tummy and abundant chest, pushing up for an arrogant…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
“More!” Kat insists. “FIVE!”
Long’s face turns spur, but he obliges.
FOUR!
FIVE!
A smile blossoms on Kat’s features as she shoves against Daniel’s husk to a seat on her haunches and dramatically wipes her hands over the demolished Imp.
As the announcer proclaims her the winner, Craig gets between Kat and her prey, pleading with Braddock, Daniel’s had enough.
“She’s had too much,” Kat chuckles. “Wheel her ass out of here. I do believe her career has come to an end.”
Braddock rises, turns to the audience, and raises her arms high and wide.
“RECOGNIZE!”
As the jeers of the FAWNatics grow louder still, Craig calls for the EMTs and they head down the aisle with a stretcher, zooming by Kat on her way up.
Braddock waves them and her former manager buh-bye, only hesitating at the top of the ramp to watch a neck brace applied to the insensate Imp, Chrissy then moved carefully onto the conveyance to ambulate her to the nearest hospital.