Post by hawkeye on Nov 8, 2022 0:22:18 GMT
With the resting place of one of tonight’s next competitors dramatically wheeled into place, the deathly dirge accompanying the casket's arrival was replaced by the power pop of Tones and I’s Dance Monkey warbling from the Madhouse sound system. The people launched to their feet soon after, having taken to the adorable Yellow Rose, a member of the recently minted Dream Team filling their wholesomeness quotient in full.
DANCE MONKEY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q
From stage right, the flaxen-haired fighter, growing more popular and more relevant as recent months pass, cheerily moved to center stage. What she lacked in experience, the fresh-faced grappler countered with the energy of youth and a sweet disposition to which the audience was drawn.
HEATHER CROFTON
Heather’s excitement at a spotlight on one of the bigger cards of the year was palpable, the babyface blonde bobbing in time with the catchy ditty.
She spun through a pirouette and waves excitedly at the delighted devotees, a vision in yellow.
The two-piece gear included spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offered a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns were small caliber. She pranced down the aisle, bouncing from side to side, slapping hands, joyous with a further opportunity to show the fans what she could do and to bury what’s left of the women who’d made her Dreamy partner miserable.
In the last several strides, the Texan took off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and chest. She pushed to her feet and waggled through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly faded.
The Lone Star Girl backpedaled to her corner as the Announcer took the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Casket Match which will only end when one competitor has placed her opponent within the casket and closed the lid. Introducing first, fighting out of Grapevine, Texas she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and twenty-two pounds. They call her Miss Mustang... HEATHER CROFTON!”
The bubbly blonde leapt into the air, dropping into a set of splits and spun an invisible lasso above her head. She finally pumped the raised first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grew when she shifted to a tiny ball, kips to her feet, and climbed to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Whaddya say, y’all?!”
The throng responded with a feisty endorsement until all eyes turned to the stage above, expectations rising to see Miss Mustang’s foe.
A restless silence ruled the Madhouse basement for several seconds before the Announcer spoke again. “And introducing her opponent, hailing Fairvale California, she stands at five feet three inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and eleven pounds, I give to you... SIERRA MIST!”
The Basement Dwellers launched into jeers at once, though their efforts faded noticeable when the speakers offered up an ominous, plinking piano rather than 'You Might Be The Killer'. This solo soon grew into a dark symphony of electric guitars and violins, the mood augmented all the more thanks to the abrupt departure of the lights. The stygian gloom was shortly thereafter pierced by a series of spotlights that raced from the ring to the stage in a pattern quite reminiscent of a racing pulse.
BLOODY TEARS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_Q1rXhHL6g
A figure appeared in the light at the top of the stage, not the Weeping Angel but her savage second, the disgraced medical student Sierra Mist. Offering those assembled an angry snarl, Mist reached up and undid the knot of the dark red scarf at her throat, then pulled it away to reveal a neck conspicuously unmarred by her patron's teeth.
SIERRA MIST:
The lights went out again and when they returned Sierra tilted her head back and ‘PFWOOOOSHED!’ a cloud of red skyward before she headed down to the cattle corral these idiots called a wrestling ring. For tonight's bloodletting Brewster's Ravenous Renfield wore a simple old-school fightin' one-piece done in flat black. The only adornment was a simple red belt at her waist, the shade of which matched the laces and trim on her boots and pads respectively.
Paying no attention to the lowing of the rest of these doomed animals, Sierra earned a surprised 'ooooh' from the crowd when she sprang from the floor to the apron in a single feline leap. Flitting through the strands in the next breath, she went straight for Heather and would've laced into her then and there if not for the timely interjection of Merle the referee.
“Not now, Sierra.” he said quietly. “The bell will ring soon enough.”
Mist stepped to one side and bared her teeth at Crofton, who scowled right back. “Enjoy the fresh air while you can, chattel.” she hissed. “The casket is comfortable, but far less breathable.” With that she whipped around and stormed to her corner, forcing Merle to trail after her to carry out his final inspection.
Heather Crofton liked to believe she had a pretty good handle on her emotions as they pertained to the squared circle. Oh, big match (and even medium match) butterflies were still very much a thing, but they didn't terrify her the way they once had and she'd been through enough battles to feel like she was embraced by the audience rather than simply judged by it. Last but certainly not least, she knew how to keep it reigned in. They called her Miss Mustang sure, but a combination of Lisa's guidance and her own burgeoning command of the ring meant she didn't rush in headlong no matter how much her opponent deserved a beating.
Sierra Mist was the exception that proved this rule.
Crofton was out of her corner like a shot the instant the bell CLANGED, the burly little blonde clearly furious over the way her 'Mania Moment' had been to serve as a prop in Mist's message to The Dream. With fire in her eyes and a storm in her heart, Heather Crofton bore down on Sierra Mist with furious anger, or at least she would have if the svelte brunette hadn't slipped through the strands when the Texan was no more than halfway across the canvas. “Oh, hell no.” Crofton picked up her pace, the knowing smirk on Mist's face making the tyro's blood boil. “Where do you think you're going, Sierra?” Heather dropped from the apron to the floor and took off after the retreating battler. “C'mon, I thought you wanted to fight!”
“On my time, horse girl!” Mist cackled as she rounded the far corner. “What's wrong, blood too sluggish for a little run?” Crofton growled, hit the afterburners and ate some distance between herself and the hateful little snot. Sierra could feel the blonde closing in behind her, though it didn't seem to bother her one bit. Putting on a little extra speed of her own, she raced straight at the casket and took to the skies for a low-flying dive though the purple curtain that hung over the bier!
Heather saw this, blinked, then regained her composure and mirrored Sierra's earlier acrobatics to go swooshing between those heavy curt--THWHACK! Crofton's dive was just as pretty as Mist's, unfortunately the brunette was ready and waiting for her with a Basement Dropkick that connected with the crown of the Texan's skull!
“That's what you get!” Sierra sneered down at Heather as the Yellow Rose cradled her noggin in her arms. “You think you're safe because Adelaide isn't here? I'll tear you apart and bring her every bleeding scr--”
Heather reached out with one hand, snatched hold of the brunette's left ankle and tried to yank her off balance! Sierra wobbled in place for a few seconds, then sank to one knee and began to raaaaaaaaaaaake her nails down the other wrestler's back! Not a single slow pass either, Mist's talons were practically a blur as she scraped and scored the blonde's mostly bare skin for the better part of ten seconds.
Nasty as those nails were, they couldn't stop Crofton from making it to all fours, so Sierra startled her with a single huge overhand Slap that made the Texan yelp! Wrenching her foot away from her foe's grasp, Sierra sprang into the air and THUMPED her boots down between Heather's shoulders with a quick Mushroom Stomp! The force of it bounced Crofton's face into the thin blue pads and while it was protection enough to keep her nose unbroken, the blonde's eyes still watered on impact.
Above her, Sierra dropped to one knee and wedged the joint against the nape of Heather's neck to ensure even more strain once she laced her hands beneath Crofton's chin and pulled as hard as she could! “Hrrrrrrgghhhhhh... tha... that all you got, cutie?” Heather managed to sound defiant though the brunette was trying to pop her head off her shoulders. “Gonna take more than a Chinlock to stuff me in that caskOOOOOOOWWWWWW!”
CHINLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQYKpW3XYKM
Sierra halved the Chinlock grip, curled her index and middle fingers into hooks and slipped them into the blonde's nostrils for a violent tug! “You know where Merle is right now?” Mist giggled as she continued to rip and tear at both holds. “He's just waiting inside the ring. Oh, he looks a little uncomfortable because I'm trying to tear your face apart, but I'd bet he's not gonna move until I throw your ass in that casket!”
“Yuuhhhh... you're not gonna do a damned thing!” Heather swatted and pulled at Mist's hands as she tried to get a knee on the floor. “Lisa already beat your boss, tonight I'm going to put you down with herAAARRRHHHH!”
Snarling, Sierra switched her nose plug for a fishhook, then mirrored the effort on the other side to pull Heather's lips up and back in a horrifying smile. “You think she's gone, cowgirl?” the brunette hissed. “She's just biding her time. My mistress will be back before you know it and you should count yourself lucky if you're still capable of appreciating her returOOOOOOWWWWWW!”
Sierra got a taste of her own catty medicine when Heather started chomping down on her encroaching fingers! “BRAT!” Mist shifted from offense to defense in the span between heartbeats, the brunette working mightily to free her digits from Heather's maw-THERE! Mist slammed her right knee between the blonde's shoulders and sighed with relief when Crofton spat out her fingers.
“You... you better hope she hasn't crawled her way out of the grave just yet.” Miss Mustang grunted as she struggled to one knee. “Because if she's already gone you're gonna be one lonely little hench-wench tonightNNNGGGHHH!”
Sierra knotted her hands into a single fist, raised them overhead, then dropped to her knees and THUMPED a Double Axehandle against the back of her rival's skull! “You want to talk hope, Heather Crofton? You want to talk lonely?” Sierra filled her hands with the Texan's golden locks and scrubbed her face back and forth against the pads before hauling her to verticality. “You better HOPE that preening fraud decides to cast you aside before she's used up every bit of your potential. Because if she doesn't... if she drains you like she drained me, you'll be a shadow of your former self.”
Sierra punctuated her prophecy by pumping a quick Kneelift into the pit of the blonde's stomach, then hooked her left arm over Heather's right shoulder. “You think Adelaide's a monster,” she murmured in Crofton's ear, “but Lisa Dream is the only true vampire in FAWN.”
The Yellow Rose started to reply, but Mist just slipped her free arm between the Texan's thighs and scooped her up onto one shoulder. Sierra didn't have the power necessary to really show off her burden, but she maintained the stall just long enough for all the unworthy chattel to realize she was fully in control of the blonde. Then she slung her forward and down to THWHUMP Heather against the floor with a perfect Body Slam!
BODY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a96GLocWIkE
Crofton groaned on impact, then sat up, her pretty features crimped in pain as she fought through the worst of the aftershocks. As for Mist, she plunged a hand into Heather's hair and gave it a rough shake, though her attention was focused solely on Merle. “Open the casket, you fool.” she demanded. “Don't make me tell you twice.”
He didn't look particularly happy about the brunette's tone, but Merle held his tongue and did as bade, dropping down on the side of the bier closest to his charges so she could throw back the lid with a suitably Gothic crrrrrreeeeeeaaaaaaaak.
“Look alive, cowgirl. Your ride is here!” Sierra doubled down on the hair-hold to peel Crofton off the floor, then crowded in beside her and charged the open casket with every intention of slamming her skull against the edgNO! Heather shot her hands out and grabbed on, forcing herself to a stop with a few scant inches to spare. “Such pointless resistance.” Sierra scraped her nails across Crofton's scalp as she pulled all the harder. “Just crawl in and die, won't HNNNGGGHHH!”
The Yellow Rose pulled her right hand away from the casket so she could form that arm into a 'V', which she promptly drove into Mist's unsuspecting tummy! One wasn't enough to break the brunette's grasp so Heather pounded her three more times before she could finally straighten up. More than a little irritated with the Texan's sudden resurgence, Sierra shoved a hand in Heather's face as she tried to walk away, but Crofton just swatted it aside and buried her hands in the shorter wrestler's hair.
“Where do you think you're going?” she reeled Mist in for a Kneelift to the belly. “You're gonna be sleeping here for a while, don't you want to inspect it first?”
Sierra most certainly did not, but the decision was no longer in her hands, as Heather made abundantly clear when she went up on tiptoe to put a little more 'oomph' into BWONKING Mist's forehead against the edge of the casket! Sierra's legs trembled and she might've crumpled to her knees if she hadn't grabbed hold of the very thing used to bludgeon-- Heather grabbed the lid from Merle and swung it closed as hard as she could, the velvet-padded wood THUMPING down Mist's clutching fingers!
Sierra wailed and tried to pull away, but Crofton boosted herself into a seat atop the lid so that her weight kept it firmly in place! “CHEAP BITCH!” Mist shrieked as she tried to free her damaged digits. “I'll eat you alive for this insolNGH! NGH! NGH! NGH! NGH!”
Heather snatched a handful of hair, yanked the brunette's head back and unloaded on her forehead with a whole flurry of straight right hands. “You're not doing anything besides weighing down this coffin!” Crofton proclaimed after a full baker's dozen. “Oh, you'll also go down in the record books as my first AHE victory, so there's that too!”
Hopping down from her perch after one more good punch, Heather helped herself to Sierra's dark locks and pulled her away from the casket so she could secure a Front Facelock. From there she slung Mist's near arm over her shoulder and grabbed a handful of trunks over one hip to thus ensure Sierra couldn't go anywhere when she popped her hips and took Adelaide's sadistic second up, over and DOWN onto the floor courtesy a Snap Suplex!
SNAP SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tqa9JdnBiOE
Crofton rose to a seated position and pumped a fist toward the FAWNatics as Mist arched in pain from the landing on the thinly-padded cement. Miss Mustang kipped to her feet to a roar from the crowd and turned to her adversary.
“The only reason you’re even known is Lisa,” Heather informed. “True. I don’t know if that was a good thing for you, but whatever it is, it was your choice.”
Crofton wrapped her palms around Sierra’s noggin and pulled Mist to her feet.
“Now something that’s my choice. I’m going to teach you some wrestling lessons since this is going to be your only FAWN match.”
The blonde tossed Sierra back in the ring under the bottom rope and slid in behind her. With the brunette having risen to a seat, the Texan raced by Mist and hit the ropes in front of her target. On the return trip she launched from a few feet out and NAILED Sierra with a low-rise Lariat, flattening Mist to the canvas.
BASEMENT LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxtCzadrXDo
The radiant Yellow Rose popped to her feet and cheered on the AHE crowd, the masses returning the show of support in kind. Moving to the feet of the splayed Mist, Heather lifted them at the ankles and pivoted, flipping Sierra to her chest and into a Boston Crab.
Dipping into a deep crouch over the curled spine of Adelaide’s subordinate, the straddling Lone Star Girl scooted farther in reverse and took a seat on Sierra’s shoulders. Mist cried out in anguish.
“You don’t really want this life, do you?” Heather asked. “Go back to school and try to learn something useful this time.”
Satisfied she’s made an important point with the yelping Mist, Crofton released Sierra’s stems, allowing her foe to unfold, the brunette sighing in relief. Mist crawled toward the ropes nearest the casket and latched onto the rubber-coated steel, using the strands to rise.
Heather was there in an instant, grabbing a wrist and shoulder and turning her adversary to the opposite cables. Heather heaved Sierra toward the distant ropes with an Irish Whip, the slender Sierra racing to the ropes and rebounding.
On her foe’s return, Heather dipped, catching Sierra about the hips, shoving Mist heavenward to set up a noggin-rocking Pop-Up Elbow Smash.
POP-UP ELBOW SMASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YleegSvlGI
Mist crashed and burned after the blistering impact to her jaw, left flat on her back, staring blankly into the rafters. But Crofton wasn't done teaching. She’s immediately upon Mist, tugging the rubbery brunette off the canvas enough to slip Mist’s head between her thighs where Miss Mustang clamps down with a Standing Headscissors. Heather cheekily stared around the basement, the Dreamers catching on instantly and urging Crofton on with an echoing ‘YES!' chant.
But after a wink, Heather shook her head. The crowd groaned in disappointment with no Texas-sizes Symphony on the way. But they were quickly on their feet and roaring when Heather launches in a forward somersault, drawing the brunette with her.
The Lone Star Girl sat out and SPIKED Mist’s skull into the deck with her Dallas Destroyer.
DALLAS DESTROYER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoG4S9j_17c
The momentum sent Sierra to her feet, but though it’s clear the lights are on, no one’s home. Heather scramblef to her feet and snagged Mist under her arms to keep her foe from melting to the mat.
With Sierra already in her arms, Crofton shifted her grip to a Bear Hug around Mist’s chest. She tightened the noose, drawing a breathy gasp from her dazed opponent. After squeezing the oxygen from Mist, the Texan lifted and deposited Sierra to the canvas with a THWUMP courtesy a perfect Belly to Belly Suplex.
BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoG4S9j_17c
Heather knelt on her haunches next to her splattered foe and wiped her hands, letting everyone in the house know her lesson was over and so was Sierra’s time as a would-be wrestler.
Crofton plucked Sierra off the canvas, wraps her bobbling noggin in a Side Headlock, and walked her to the ropes nearest the casket. The blonde leaned Mist against the cables, ready to slide through and open the coffin for its cargo, but Sierra shoved Heather off at the shoulders, the Yellow Rose stumbling back a few steps, surprised Mist still had some fight.
Racing forward with Clothesline drawn, Heather meant to crash the limb across Sierra’s clavicle and send her flipping closer to her final resting place. But Mist ducked and Back Body Dropped the Lone Star Girl up and over. Crofton’s spine CRASHED crossways atop the casket, the crowd groaning in empathy with the arched, agonized Heather.
Heather remained draped as a huffing Sierra regained her breath and bearings, the crowd silenced by the titanic turn of events. Mist turned and glared at the wreckage.
“Bytch. Don’t ever deem to teach a PhD lessons,” Sierra shouted.
Mist slipped through the cables and hovered menacingly on the apron, the FAWNatics growing more restless about what it seemed Adelaide’s toady had in mind. Sure enough, Mist leapt from her perch, driving an elbow into the chest of the splayed Heather, showing her willingness to go hard core.
Blonde, brunette and casket tumble off the stand upon which the coffin had been placed, the heavy, Heather-sized container ending atop both Mist and Crofton, pinning them beneath, the lid flopping open while above them.
“HOLY SHIT” chants echoed through the arena as Sierra slowly climbed out from under the rubble. She grabbed a wrist of the demolished Crofton and tugged Heather free of the collapsed set-up then up to rubbery legs.
Pointing the Yellow Rose at the nearest guardrail, Sierra heaved Crofton. Heather had enough time to spin into a back-first collision with the metal. She remained upright but grimacing in agony from the connection, then got BACK-FLIPPED into the first row by a Clotheslining Mist, Heather involuntarily joining her fans, landing in their laps.
“That’s how you use a Lariat, cowgirl,” Mist barked down at the splattered blonde.
As Miss Mustang’s Ride-or-dies helped the fresh-faced blonde to her feet, Sierra not only pushed the envelope, but ripped it in half, hopping to the top of the barricade and froggy-leaping into a Crossbody Splash the delivered both women into the waiting arms of the SECOND row!
Again, ‘HOLY SHIT’ rang through the crowd, particularly near where Sierra, clearly no longer just a Psychology egghead, yanked a reeling Heather to her feet. She battered the blonde with closed right hands down the row, the Lone Star Girl reeling in backpedals after each blast.
Reaching an aisle, Sierra turned the shellshocked Crofton toward her last resting place with a handful of flaxen locks and ran her at the steel barricade, tossing her over. Heather careened across the arena floor, ending a few feet from the spilled casket.
Reaching the barricade, Sierra slipped gingerly over and turned to the fans, telling them to say ‘bye-bye’ to their beloved Yellow Rose.
Mist returned her attention to Heather and her untidy surroundings. She put a series of boots to Crofton, the Lone Star Girl collapsing into a fetal ball in protection.
Happy with her latest experiment being subdued, Mist curled her arms under the casket and tried to roll it upright. It’s a task too much for Mist and she demanded some lumbering FAWN flunkies assist. They did as bade, helping her right the container for its soon-to-be occupant.
It's still a laborious job even with the timely assistance of the chattel and more than twenty seconds had ticked by once the casket was again set atop the bier. Its return to a place of prominence raised a cheer from the Basement Dwellers, at least that's what Sierra believed until she turned around and realized the impudent blonde troll had scraped herself off the floor and rolled under the bottom rope.
“Distance won't save you, cowgirl.” Mist growled as she hopped from the floor to the apron and then to the top turnbuckle in a surprisingly nimble motion. “Nothing will save you, least of all that deluded Dream.”
Mercifully unaware of the looming threat, Crofton caught her breath for a few more seconds before slowly rising to her full hei-- Sierra leapt from on high, the former PHD candidate lacing her tiny fists into one good sized Double Axehandle that she THWHUMPED between the blonde's eyes! Heather spun away and crumpled to all fours, Miss Mustang's blue eyes on tilt following the high flying offense.
Beside her, Mist crooked both hands into claws and quickly draaaaagged them down the blonde's back! “You ask ME if I want this life?” Sierra grabbed Crofton's shoulders and shoved her back to all fours when the ingenue reared back on her knees. “I could ask you the same question. After all, you're the one who hitched her wagon to one of FAWN's notorious psychotics.”
“Ruuuhhhhh... remind me,” Heather huffed. “Who do you work foHHHRRRGGHHHH!”
Sierra crouched down, hooked her right arm across Crofton's chest and her left arm around the blonde's right thigh. In the next instant she let out a bestial war cry and powered to verticality only to follow with a quick genuflection that SPIKED Heather's tummy over the brunette's posted thigh. Mist might've been small but she packed a lot of punch into the Gutbuster as evidenced by the near spring-loaded way Heather bounced into the air en route to flopping down on her back.
GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lk0yTg69cB8
“I don't WORK for anyone.” Sierra purred as she grabbed onto feet and pulled her legs down flat against the mat. “I have DEVOTED myself to sating the insatiable. You may be satisfied with playing Oxpecker to Dream's crocodile, but I am drawn to higher sport.
“Yuuuuhhhh... you're crazy, you know that?” Heather groaned. “Putting you in the ground might be the only way to calm you doOOOFFFHHHH!”
Sierra took to the skies, tucked her heels against her buns and dropped down with every bit of her weight driving DEEP into the pit of her opponent's stomach! Dipping into a forward roll that returned her to boot-leather even as Heather beat her heels against the canvas, Mist bared her teeth for the Basement Dwellers, then vaulted into a back flip that culminated with her knees once again SPIKING the blonde's belly!
MISTY MORNING FOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9WnqL2YPr4
Heather sat up in the wake of the nauseating impact, meaning Sierra didn't have to reach that far to grab a double handful of hair. Dragging the Texan around in a rough circle simply because she could, Mist ultimately came to a stop with both ladies facing the hard camera. Her motives in this regard became apparent heartbeats later when she dropped to a seat behind the Yellow Rose and snaked her legs around opposing waist for a snug Bodyscissors! Palms planted flat against the mat, Sierra boosted her buns up by a good six inches, then jounced her hips to put even more strain on the other wrestler's midsection.
BODYSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJCANNKrnVA
“Do you really think she won't betray you?” Mist sounded simultaneously curious and furious as she tried to snip Heather in half. “That woman has betrayed everyone who ever dared get close. The number of theses written about how her actions left a permanent mark on the psyche of Kylie Sanders was in the high triple digits a few years ago, I wouldn't be surprised if it's crossed into four by now. You clearly know what she's capable of, but here you are! Yet somehow I'm the one who needs to be put down like a mad dog?”
“Shuuuuuhhhh... she's changed.” Crofton pushed down on the insides of her attacker's thighs, though this didn't seem to lessen the efficacy of the Scissors in the slightest. “You'd see that clearly if you weren't letting Brewster chew your neck at all hours. Or maybe you have seen it and you just don't care. Maybe you're still pissed because she finally saw through your manipulative bullshit and NGH! NGH! NGH!”
Sierra raised her left arm, turned it into a tire iron and smashed away at Crofton's head and shoulders as hard as she could! Heather grimaced under the aggressive shelling, but rather than erect a guard that'd leave her arms occupied she hunched her shoulders as best she could and answered back with a flurry of smashing Hammerfists to the insides of her opponent's thighs. Mist didn't much care for the counteroffensive so she filled her hands with Crofton's hair and began yanking her head to and fro like she meant to remove it from the Texan's shoulders!
“Stop fighting the inevitable!” Sierra sneered even as the blonde redoubled her pugilistic efforts. “You're not the star of this story! You're here to be used, then cast aside once The Dream decides you're no longer of use! DEFY her expectations, Heather Crofton!” Mist wrenched the blonde's head to the side, leaned in close and murmured in her ear. “Join my cause. Try to sate the insatiable. It is a task without end, but so are the delights along the way.” She trailed off, put her teeth to Heather's vulnerable neck and applied a bit of gentle pressure.
Miss Mustang went stock still, the threat of another lingering bite sent chills up her spine even when the Darling of the Abattoir wasn't in the building. “Don't you dare, Sierra.” she growled. “I'll never side with the likes of you, so don't waste my timeOOOOOWWWWWW GAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”
Mist bit her anyway, the lithesome little brunette gnawing and nomming in a possessive way that made Crofton's skin crawl. Shaking her head 'no' even though Merle couldn't ask for a submission, Crofton began rocking left and right in the hopes of building enough momentum to turn—THERE! The Yellow Rose twisted over onto one knee and slowly clambered to boot-leather despite the notable handicap of Sierra clinging to her back. Threading her arms beneath the lightweight's thighs so she could better support that voracious vixen, Crofton steadied her footing, then turned toward a corner on the far side of the ring and charged it as fast as she could!
Mist glanced up and saw the buckles closing in, but despite going wide-eyed, she made no effort to abandon her movable feast. Indeed she chewed all the harder, keeping at it until Heather spun around and threw every bit of her hundred and twenty-nine pounds into BWUUUNGING Sierra spine-first into the corner! The impact forced Sierra to spit out her Texas treat, yet the Scissors around her remained intact at least partially due to the blonde maintaining her own grip. Leaning forward as she stumbled away from the site of the collision, Heather freed her right arm and reached over that shoulder so she could loop it around the back of Sierra's noggin. Mist muttered something that might've been a warning and Crofton ignored her for a second time, the durable blonde breaking into a shambling stride that ensured a solid head of steam when she sprang up and came down on her butt!
BACKPACK STUNNER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHE618A0NS8
The Backpack Stunner THWHUNKED Sierra's jaw into the point of Crofton's shoulder and left the little brunette stretched out in a glassy-eyed starfish looking up at the basement lights. Seated between those splayed stems, Heather threaded her arms around Mist's thighs and started to back her up into a pinning predicament before she remembered the looming threat of the casket. Changing her plans on the fly, Miss Mustang got to her feet and deftly hooked her arms around Sierra's ankles. Easing around in a quarter circle that'd put 'em right where she wanted when all was said and done, Crofton crouched down, then torqued her hips to flip Sierra onto her stomach. In the next instant Heather stepped over and dropped into a deep crouch that put intense pressure on her captive's legs and lower back!
INVERTED BOSTON CRAB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOjhvoV-AgY
Nodding approval as the Inverted Boston Crab made Sierra yowl and claw at the mat, Crofton bounced in place, then dropped into a deep squat to apply even more strain to Mist's protesting frame. “Don't bother to submit, brat.” she barked. “There's only one way out and it's not the ropes. It's what's just beyond!”
Sierra, who'd been understandably preoccupied trying to wrest her legs from the blonde's clutches, looked to the edge and cursed aloud when she saw the casket. “Nice little Gothic dilemma you've got here, Sierra.” Crofton chided. “Stay here and pass out knowing that I'll stuff you in that damned box the second you're done... or crawl toward it yourself in search of a way out!”
“FUCK YOU!” Mist bellowed, then groaned when Heather jounced the Crab harder than ever.
“Language!” Heather teased. “Just because mommy's not here doesn't mean you can sass off to your betters.”
Sierra sneered, almost replied, then pushed up on both hands and started to crawl. But not toward the ropes closest to the casket as Crofton intended, Mist shifted hard to the right in an effort to reach a sanctuary a little less fraught with peril.
The unexpected ninety degree pivot left Crofton off-balance long enough for Mist to slink to the strands and wrap a palm around the bottom. The lithe brunette screamed for release and, even though it’s not within the rules of the match, Heather obliged out of her own fatigue.
Unfolding from the agonizing arch, Sierra hugged the lowest cable close with one arm, while reaching the opposite hand toward the base of her spine.
“Stay back,” Mist pleaded, fashioning her hands into a ‘T’, the ‘timeout’ signal even more out of place given the nature of this AHE battle.
The Lone Star Girl asked the FAWNatics if she should give Sierra a moment to rise from her kneeling position. They responded strongly in the negative.
“You heard’em,” Heather informs, lifting her stomping boot.
Crofton shot the leather toward Mist’s chest, but Sierra caught the limb and lifted it as the brunette moves to her feet.
Hopping on her planted foot, the Yellow Rose’s baby blues widen with anxiety, particularly when Sierra backed her way between the top and middle rope with the blonde’s leg in tow. The PhD dropped to the apron, tugging the limb with her, hotshotting Crofton’s crotch cruelly.
Heather sprang off the intrusive cable and back into the squared circle, waddling in agony, hands buried between her thighs. A smirking Sierra rolled in under the bottom rope and slowly pushed to vertical the war taking its toll on both grapplers.
Brewster’s nibbling neophyte stalked the wincing Texan from behind and threw a vile Chop-Block into the back of the blonde’s left knee, forcing Miss Mustang to genuflect in front of Mist. Sierra patted the flaxen-haired fighter on the noggin.
“I’ll be kind by comparison,” Mist assured. “Lisa would draw your end out, just for fun. Me? I’ll relegate you to oblivion in the next sixty seconds.”
Sierra sank her right set of talons into Heather’s scalp and dragged Crofton on all fours to the ropes nearest the open casket.
“It’ll be so peaceful,” she pledged, leaning the Lone Star Girl’s throat across the bottom cable and draping a leg over the back of her foe’s neck.
As a red-faced Heather flailed uselessly, her eyes bulging, the crowd grew more angry and more worried. Mist reveled in their concern as she choked the life out of the gasping Crofton, bouncing on her mount until Heather’s limp.
Disengaging, Sierra watched as a wheezing Heather dropped flat to the canvas. With shoves from her boot sole, the brunette rolled her foe under, Miss Mustang perilously close to dropping into the Halloween’s container of choice.
Grabbing the middle rope with both hands, Mist wedged a boot against Heather’s near shoulder and tried to stuff her adversary in. But the Yellow Rose had a white-knuckled grip around the rope, fighting the effort with the little energy she had remaining.
'DON’T…GIVE…UP!' the sellout crowd chanted, and indeed Mist was having a hard time forcing Crofton off the apron and into the coffin.
Deciding she needed more momentum behind her endeavor, Sierra spun and raced to the far ropes. The brunette rebounded, barreling toward her target.
Mist dropped into a Baseball Slide to finish Heather’s trip to the white silks of the interior, but Crofton pulled herself high enough with a stabbing grab of the middle rope and Sierra skimmed under, Mist’s legs ending within.
A diving Heather reached for the upper half of the lid and SLAMMED it down across Sierra’s shins. Mist howled in anguish. She’s able to pull her stems free and drop to the floor next to the casket. Mewling, she used the apron to ascend, then limped to the barricade dividing the combatants from the crowd.
Heather crawled down the length of the apron, keeping clear of the casket, then dropped her boots to the thinly-padded cement, a few feet from Mist.
The warriors drew in deep breaths, staring at each other with animosity in their eyes. Finally, they threw themselves at the hated other, Miss Mustang reaching for Mist’s head while Sierra dropped to a knee and heaved a heavy forearm blast into Heather’s navel.
A huge exhalation escaped the lips of the blonde, baby blues bulging. Mist bounced back to her feet and yanked Heather’s bowed head into a Front Facelock. Grabbing a handful of yellow spandex on Miss Mustang’s hip, Sierra vaulted her golden-maned counterpart high, stalling Heather out with boot soles pointed to the rafters.
“When you’re six feet under,” Mist grunts, “and screaming for help, remember who put you there. A better wrestler!”
Sierra pivots and, instead of flinging Crofton over, she dropped the shins of the Yellow Rose across the steel pipe making up the top of the barrier. With Heather still in a Facelock, her legs draping over the metal, Sierra LAID OUT, DDTing Crofton’s skull into the arena floor.
The comatose husk of the Lone Star Girl somersaulted to a motionless spreadeagle. Beaming at a silenced crowd, Mist drew a thumb across her throat, shaking the FAWNatics back to their senses enough to rain boos upon her.
Mist rose deliberately and claimed Heather’s head, lifting it by Crofton’s long dirty blonde locks. It swayed from side to side at Sierra’s discretion, the Yellow Rose wilted in the PhD’s possession.
“Time to say buh-bye to all these nice people,” Mist says, more to the fans than the slumbering blonde.
She drew Miss Mustang to her feet, no easy task in Crofton’s condition, and walked what’s left of Heather to her final resting place. Scooping behind the blonde’s knees with one arm and mid-back with the other, Mist spooned Heather off her feet and carried her gingerly to Crofton’s Big Sleep.
With the crowd pleading for any sign from their cowgirl but receiving none, Sierra plopped Heather into the casket. She grabbed Crofton’s ankles and dragged them down to end of the container then shut the lower half of the lid, Heather’s legs and waist disappearing from view.
Above, Sierra snatched her foe’s arms at the wrists, moving the limbs from draping outside the coffin to a comfortable fold across the chest of the Yellow Rose.
Mist gazed down at the demolished Texan.
“Y’know. Maybe you and Lisa are meant for each other. Both sent to the great beyond by badass bytches!”
Mist reached for the upper half and swung it down to conclude Heather’s funeral, but both arms of the blonde shot upward to meet it, her palms acting like a brake on the slamming lid.
Sierra leapt to get her body-weight on top and finish the burial of the Yellow Rose.
Mist forced the cover within a foot of closed when a scream from inside accompanies a manic shove and the upper half is thrown wide, Heather rising to a seated position, shrieking and reaching with both hands for Sierra’s throat.
Sierra's dark eyes went wide as she intercepted Crofton's left hand in a Greco Roman Knuckle-Lock, the brunette digging her nails into the back of Heather's hand even as the blonde did the same to hers. The chattel's other hand did find her throat, albeit only for a single rough squeeze as Mist made her pay with a straight right hand flush to the mouth. That little whiff of roadhouse smelling salts seemed to bring Crofton back to herself, or at least it channeled her anger into something a bit more familiar as she gave up trying to throttle the brunette in favor of punching her head over and over again! Sierra absorbed this punishment with a snarl and returned it in kind, the furious featherweight refusing to cede even an inch in this turf war against the hated cowgirl.
Both ladies had proven eerily well matched throughout the course of their confrontation and that didn't change here, yet it was Heather, perched on the lip of that ravenous crypt, who eventually seized control of the fisticuffs by grabbing hold of Sierra's dark hair and yanking her into a Headbutt between the eyes! Mist reeled on the spot yet refused to go down, indeed she bared her teeth and snatched onto Crofton's hair and left shoulder, the student clearly meaning to emulate her mistress by sinking her teeth into Heather's neNO! Miss Mustang saw it coming, answered with a double hair-pull of her own and fed Sierra an appetite suppressant shaped like the lower half of the casket lid!
Rejoicing over the hollow THWHONK of skull on varnished hardwood, Crofton set her hands against the other wrestler's chest and shoved as hard as she could! “Get your weird, nasty ass outta here!” the blonde shouted as Sierra did indeed stumble away from the casket with little more than a groan of protest. Still riding an adrenaline high that let her ignore just how close she'd come to getting locked away in that silken darkness, Heather slipped her hands under the lower half of the lid and pushed it up and away, much to the delight of the Basement Dwellers. That delight turned to concern and then to relief when Crofton scrambled to boot leather, her awkward return to verticality causing the casket to rock back and forth for a few seconds before it returned to its previous sedentary state.
Eyes locked on Mist, Heather placed a foot against the edge of the casket and pushed before deciding on a (sightly) safer root. Skipping from the casket to the apron in a single bound, the Yellow Rose pointed a judgmental index finger at her nemesis and shouted, “I'M COMIN' FOR YOU, SIERRA!”
The crowd, never one to pass up a movie reference even if the genre wasn't entirely appropriate for the night's festivities, backed up the blonde dynamo by bellowing 'AND HELL'S COMING WITH HER!'
This pronouncement caused Sierra to swing around on one heel, thus ensuring she got a most excellent view of Heather racing along the ledge a heartbeat prior to taking to the air in a headlong dive, Miss Mustang looping an arm around Mist's noggin for a Texas-sized TornNOOOO!
The preternaturally evasive Sierra stuffed her hands against Heather's upper thighs, swung around in a half circle and shoved her away with every ounce of remaining strength. The miss wasn't catastrophic for Heather as she landed safely several feet removed from the brunette, but the frustration was writ large on her face and Adelaide's favorite amuse bouche wasted no time sneering, “Is that all you've got? Why am I wasting my time with a Casket Match, I should've just thrown you out with the rest of the cow sh--”
Crofton exploded off her back foot, Miss Mustang channeling something a bit more steer-like for the Spear aimed at Mist's nav-- Sierra stepped back and whipped her left leg up in a vile punt that smashed the toe of her boot between Heather's eyes! Crofton reeled on the spot, her hands dropping limp at her sides as she struggled to stay upri—THWHACK! Sierra tagged the blonde with a gorgeous Super Kick that saw Heather's head snap back with whiplash force!
SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkGpTO-ofxI
Mist was certain the strike had rendered her rival unconscious so she was more than a little disgusted when the Yellow Rose tottered away from the impact, Heather trudging a wobbly trail toward the guardrail where she collapsed to her knees with one arm thrown over the steel. Behind her, Sierra measured the seemingly interminable distance between the blonde and the casket and couldn't hold off her own frustrated groan.
“Why won't you stay down?” she barked at Heather's back. “WHY WON'T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE?”
Crofton didn't answer Mist directly but she definitely said something to one of the first row troglodytes, who nodded and offered her a red Solo cup. Cheers from the rest of the Basement Dwellers when Heather tipped her head back and started to chug, a show of such brazen insolence it widened Sierra's eyes like she'd just been slapped! “Excuse me?” she barked. “Did I say you could have a last meal? Spit that filth out and prepare yourself for--”
Still drinking, Heather raised a 'just a second' index finger, then turned it into a 'go fuck yourself' middle finger, much to the delight of those assembled.
Apoplectic with fury, Sierra darted across the narrow aisle, swatted the cup out of Heather's hand, then grabbed a huge handful of hair to ensure the Texan couldn't go anywhere before she hunkered down and CHOMPED on the side of her neck! Crofton let out a bubbly moan, then jabbed a few rough Back Elbows into the pit of her tormentor's stomach. Four was enough to make Sierra stop chewing, alas she promptly took possession of Heather's left wrist and yanked it back behind her head in the upside down Hammerlock that everyone who lived in the shadow of Castle Brewster recognized very well.
Trundling Crofton around to face her without relinquishing the awkward joint-lock, Sierra curled her free hand into a fist and growled, “I wonder how bright that lone star will burn when you're stuffed in a fucking coffAAARRRRHHHHHH!”
Heather used the power of Sierra's own mistress against her when she lunged forward and PWFSWOOOOOOSHED a 6.8% ABV micro-brewed cloud into the brunette's face!
Sierra shrieked and let go at once, both hands flying to her face as she tried to wipe away the malt and barley haze. Miss Mustang didn't try to stop her, instead she wrapped her right arm around Mist's noggin in a Three Quarters Facelock and spun so she was pointed at the squared circle. A couple big steps brought her to the nearest ring-post where she 'walked' up the solid steel before floating over the blinded brunette and dropping to her knees to THWHUMP Sierra onto the thinly-padded concrete with a pumpkin spiced slice of Texas Toast!
TEXAS TOAST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKsjGWIzmmM
Crofton's supporters damned near screamed themselves hoarse urging their heroine to scrape Mist off the mat, but when the blonde rose she did so alone and went straight for the apron instead of the bier. Jogging to the opposite corner, she turned back to her vulnerable enemy and called, “I don't have any stakes, so I'm gonna put a star right through that brat's heart!” Her intent was clear from the outset, however the blonde's actual plan wasn't clear until she charged down the narrow ledge and leapt off into the void, Heather throwing herself into the practically indescribable sort of inside out back-flip that was the hallmark of the Shooting Star Press. Sierra didn't have the luxury to appreciate Crofton's technique, she was still trying to blink her way out of a beer haze when Heather brought the Lone Star Press THWHAPPING down across her chest!
LONE STAR PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjjB87mXFCY
Mist's legs popped up and Crofton started to hook them before she remembered the venue and shoved 'em aside instead. Leaning back on her haunches with one arm drawn tight across her midsection, Heather glared down at Sierra and huffed, “You ready to get in the casket like a good zombie or do you need the double tap?” Silence for a moment, followed by some jeering cheers from the reprobates in attendance when Sierra raised a hand to return the bird Crofton shot her earlier. Heather swatted it down, then knee-walked backward to she could lean down and work her fingers into the seam separating two of the big blue floor-mats. It didn't take long for the Yellow Rose to secure a good grip and once she did, the blue gave way to unyielding gray as Heather peeled the pad back to reveal bare concrete beneath!
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's think about this, Heather!” Merle called out even as Crofton hauled Mist upright with a double handful of hair.
“Already have, Merle.” Positioned off Sierra's left side, Heather hooked her left arm over the back of the brunette's head, her right arm around the back of Mist's left thigh, then dipped down and braced the back of her head against Sierra's tummy. “This is the only way to make sure she stays down.”
The ref didn't think that was exactly true, not that he had time to formulate a response before Heather swung through and laid out on her back to THWHONK Sierra down on the back of her skull! Mist collapsed onto her stomach in slow motion, the brunette a starfished ruin after that devastating Texas Tornado.
TEXAS TORNADO @ 00:10
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOUfnZu8aFI
As for Heather, she dropped to one knee, grabbed a double handful of hair and scraped Mist off the floor only 'hup' her onto her shoulders in a Fireman's Carry. The more bloodthirsty element in the audience called for more punishment and offered disappointed boos when the Lone Star Girl trudged over to the casket and dumped her burden into it face-down.
Not about to make the same mistake as her opponent, Crofton immediately reached over, grabbed the far edge of the upper-lid and slammed it closed with a muffled thump. Almost there, she moved to the lower lid, but paused during her reach to plant a smooch against the tips of her fingers. This small kindness grew much less so when the blonde delivered a single tart SLAP to Sierra's upturned buns.
“Take that to hell with you, honey.” she chided. “And tell Adelaide I said hi!”
With that she seized the bottom lid and slammed it shut! The sound of the bell seemed to drain all the adrenaline from Heather's system in a single stroke, yet she maintained just enough to boost herself into a seat on the lid, thus ensuring she celebrated in style when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via premature burial... HEATHER CROFTON!”
Miss Mustang drummed the top of the container in excitement, fired up she was able to double down on Dream’s Mania victory.
Releasing a huge sigh, Heather slid off the casket, then into the ring, hopping to her feet.
Grabbing the top rope nearest the coffin with one hand she waved good-bye to the not-so-dearly departed, Mist wheeled away by a set of four FAWN flunkies.
“Don’t go away mad,” Crofton shouted. “Just go away!”
With the crew and Mist halfway up the ramp, The Dream strode past, heading in the opposite direction, taking a moment to shout “Get the f out of here” toward the encased Mist.
LISA DREAM
Lisa Legend climbed the ring steps, finding Heather in the opposite corner, standing on the middle ropes and twirling a lasso-fist at the crowd.
Noticing the rise in decibels from the FAWNatics, even louder than her music, the Yellow Rose turned to see the PERFECT well-wisher mid-ring. The golden-maned youngster dropped to the canvas, rushed to Lisa, and swallowed the Ultimate Image in a hug.
Dream beamed.
“Ya done good, kiddo,” Lisa whispered in the blonde’s ear. “Thanks for sending Sierra six feet under. Hopefully no one will be digging her up for a long while.”
“My pleasure, Lisa,” Heather replied. “Believe me.”
A delighted Crofton shifted her head back from Dream, the tips of their noses a few inches apart.
“WE DID IT!” Miss Mustang hollered.
“We did,” a gratified Lisa confirmed
Dream pivoted, grasping Heather’s left wrist and raising it high, showing off her young, well, friend.
And somehow, even with the Lone Star Girl the center of attention, it felt perfect.
DANCE MONKEY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q
From stage right, the flaxen-haired fighter, growing more popular and more relevant as recent months pass, cheerily moved to center stage. What she lacked in experience, the fresh-faced grappler countered with the energy of youth and a sweet disposition to which the audience was drawn.
HEATHER CROFTON
Heather’s excitement at a spotlight on one of the bigger cards of the year was palpable, the babyface blonde bobbing in time with the catchy ditty.
She spun through a pirouette and waves excitedly at the delighted devotees, a vision in yellow.
The two-piece gear included spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offered a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns were small caliber. She pranced down the aisle, bouncing from side to side, slapping hands, joyous with a further opportunity to show the fans what she could do and to bury what’s left of the women who’d made her Dreamy partner miserable.
In the last several strides, the Texan took off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and chest. She pushed to her feet and waggled through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly faded.
The Lone Star Girl backpedaled to her corner as the Announcer took the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Casket Match which will only end when one competitor has placed her opponent within the casket and closed the lid. Introducing first, fighting out of Grapevine, Texas she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and twenty-two pounds. They call her Miss Mustang... HEATHER CROFTON!”
The bubbly blonde leapt into the air, dropping into a set of splits and spun an invisible lasso above her head. She finally pumped the raised first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grew when she shifted to a tiny ball, kips to her feet, and climbed to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Whaddya say, y’all?!”
The throng responded with a feisty endorsement until all eyes turned to the stage above, expectations rising to see Miss Mustang’s foe.
A restless silence ruled the Madhouse basement for several seconds before the Announcer spoke again. “And introducing her opponent, hailing Fairvale California, she stands at five feet three inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and eleven pounds, I give to you... SIERRA MIST!”
The Basement Dwellers launched into jeers at once, though their efforts faded noticeable when the speakers offered up an ominous, plinking piano rather than 'You Might Be The Killer'. This solo soon grew into a dark symphony of electric guitars and violins, the mood augmented all the more thanks to the abrupt departure of the lights. The stygian gloom was shortly thereafter pierced by a series of spotlights that raced from the ring to the stage in a pattern quite reminiscent of a racing pulse.
BLOODY TEARS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_Q1rXhHL6g
A figure appeared in the light at the top of the stage, not the Weeping Angel but her savage second, the disgraced medical student Sierra Mist. Offering those assembled an angry snarl, Mist reached up and undid the knot of the dark red scarf at her throat, then pulled it away to reveal a neck conspicuously unmarred by her patron's teeth.
SIERRA MIST:
The lights went out again and when they returned Sierra tilted her head back and ‘PFWOOOOSHED!’ a cloud of red skyward before she headed down to the cattle corral these idiots called a wrestling ring. For tonight's bloodletting Brewster's Ravenous Renfield wore a simple old-school fightin' one-piece done in flat black. The only adornment was a simple red belt at her waist, the shade of which matched the laces and trim on her boots and pads respectively.
Paying no attention to the lowing of the rest of these doomed animals, Sierra earned a surprised 'ooooh' from the crowd when she sprang from the floor to the apron in a single feline leap. Flitting through the strands in the next breath, she went straight for Heather and would've laced into her then and there if not for the timely interjection of Merle the referee.
“Not now, Sierra.” he said quietly. “The bell will ring soon enough.”
Mist stepped to one side and bared her teeth at Crofton, who scowled right back. “Enjoy the fresh air while you can, chattel.” she hissed. “The casket is comfortable, but far less breathable.” With that she whipped around and stormed to her corner, forcing Merle to trail after her to carry out his final inspection.
Heather Crofton liked to believe she had a pretty good handle on her emotions as they pertained to the squared circle. Oh, big match (and even medium match) butterflies were still very much a thing, but they didn't terrify her the way they once had and she'd been through enough battles to feel like she was embraced by the audience rather than simply judged by it. Last but certainly not least, she knew how to keep it reigned in. They called her Miss Mustang sure, but a combination of Lisa's guidance and her own burgeoning command of the ring meant she didn't rush in headlong no matter how much her opponent deserved a beating.
Sierra Mist was the exception that proved this rule.
Crofton was out of her corner like a shot the instant the bell CLANGED, the burly little blonde clearly furious over the way her 'Mania Moment' had been to serve as a prop in Mist's message to The Dream. With fire in her eyes and a storm in her heart, Heather Crofton bore down on Sierra Mist with furious anger, or at least she would have if the svelte brunette hadn't slipped through the strands when the Texan was no more than halfway across the canvas. “Oh, hell no.” Crofton picked up her pace, the knowing smirk on Mist's face making the tyro's blood boil. “Where do you think you're going, Sierra?” Heather dropped from the apron to the floor and took off after the retreating battler. “C'mon, I thought you wanted to fight!”
“On my time, horse girl!” Mist cackled as she rounded the far corner. “What's wrong, blood too sluggish for a little run?” Crofton growled, hit the afterburners and ate some distance between herself and the hateful little snot. Sierra could feel the blonde closing in behind her, though it didn't seem to bother her one bit. Putting on a little extra speed of her own, she raced straight at the casket and took to the skies for a low-flying dive though the purple curtain that hung over the bier!
Heather saw this, blinked, then regained her composure and mirrored Sierra's earlier acrobatics to go swooshing between those heavy curt--THWHACK! Crofton's dive was just as pretty as Mist's, unfortunately the brunette was ready and waiting for her with a Basement Dropkick that connected with the crown of the Texan's skull!
“That's what you get!” Sierra sneered down at Heather as the Yellow Rose cradled her noggin in her arms. “You think you're safe because Adelaide isn't here? I'll tear you apart and bring her every bleeding scr--”
Heather reached out with one hand, snatched hold of the brunette's left ankle and tried to yank her off balance! Sierra wobbled in place for a few seconds, then sank to one knee and began to raaaaaaaaaaaake her nails down the other wrestler's back! Not a single slow pass either, Mist's talons were practically a blur as she scraped and scored the blonde's mostly bare skin for the better part of ten seconds.
Nasty as those nails were, they couldn't stop Crofton from making it to all fours, so Sierra startled her with a single huge overhand Slap that made the Texan yelp! Wrenching her foot away from her foe's grasp, Sierra sprang into the air and THUMPED her boots down between Heather's shoulders with a quick Mushroom Stomp! The force of it bounced Crofton's face into the thin blue pads and while it was protection enough to keep her nose unbroken, the blonde's eyes still watered on impact.
Above her, Sierra dropped to one knee and wedged the joint against the nape of Heather's neck to ensure even more strain once she laced her hands beneath Crofton's chin and pulled as hard as she could! “Hrrrrrrgghhhhhh... tha... that all you got, cutie?” Heather managed to sound defiant though the brunette was trying to pop her head off her shoulders. “Gonna take more than a Chinlock to stuff me in that caskOOOOOOOWWWWWW!”
CHINLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQYKpW3XYKM
Sierra halved the Chinlock grip, curled her index and middle fingers into hooks and slipped them into the blonde's nostrils for a violent tug! “You know where Merle is right now?” Mist giggled as she continued to rip and tear at both holds. “He's just waiting inside the ring. Oh, he looks a little uncomfortable because I'm trying to tear your face apart, but I'd bet he's not gonna move until I throw your ass in that casket!”
“Yuuhhhh... you're not gonna do a damned thing!” Heather swatted and pulled at Mist's hands as she tried to get a knee on the floor. “Lisa already beat your boss, tonight I'm going to put you down with herAAARRRHHHH!”
Snarling, Sierra switched her nose plug for a fishhook, then mirrored the effort on the other side to pull Heather's lips up and back in a horrifying smile. “You think she's gone, cowgirl?” the brunette hissed. “She's just biding her time. My mistress will be back before you know it and you should count yourself lucky if you're still capable of appreciating her returOOOOOOWWWWWW!”
Sierra got a taste of her own catty medicine when Heather started chomping down on her encroaching fingers! “BRAT!” Mist shifted from offense to defense in the span between heartbeats, the brunette working mightily to free her digits from Heather's maw-THERE! Mist slammed her right knee between the blonde's shoulders and sighed with relief when Crofton spat out her fingers.
“You... you better hope she hasn't crawled her way out of the grave just yet.” Miss Mustang grunted as she struggled to one knee. “Because if she's already gone you're gonna be one lonely little hench-wench tonightNNNGGGHHH!”
Sierra knotted her hands into a single fist, raised them overhead, then dropped to her knees and THUMPED a Double Axehandle against the back of her rival's skull! “You want to talk hope, Heather Crofton? You want to talk lonely?” Sierra filled her hands with the Texan's golden locks and scrubbed her face back and forth against the pads before hauling her to verticality. “You better HOPE that preening fraud decides to cast you aside before she's used up every bit of your potential. Because if she doesn't... if she drains you like she drained me, you'll be a shadow of your former self.”
Sierra punctuated her prophecy by pumping a quick Kneelift into the pit of the blonde's stomach, then hooked her left arm over Heather's right shoulder. “You think Adelaide's a monster,” she murmured in Crofton's ear, “but Lisa Dream is the only true vampire in FAWN.”
The Yellow Rose started to reply, but Mist just slipped her free arm between the Texan's thighs and scooped her up onto one shoulder. Sierra didn't have the power necessary to really show off her burden, but she maintained the stall just long enough for all the unworthy chattel to realize she was fully in control of the blonde. Then she slung her forward and down to THWHUMP Heather against the floor with a perfect Body Slam!
BODY SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a96GLocWIkE
Crofton groaned on impact, then sat up, her pretty features crimped in pain as she fought through the worst of the aftershocks. As for Mist, she plunged a hand into Heather's hair and gave it a rough shake, though her attention was focused solely on Merle. “Open the casket, you fool.” she demanded. “Don't make me tell you twice.”
He didn't look particularly happy about the brunette's tone, but Merle held his tongue and did as bade, dropping down on the side of the bier closest to his charges so she could throw back the lid with a suitably Gothic crrrrrreeeeeeaaaaaaaak.
“Look alive, cowgirl. Your ride is here!” Sierra doubled down on the hair-hold to peel Crofton off the floor, then crowded in beside her and charged the open casket with every intention of slamming her skull against the edgNO! Heather shot her hands out and grabbed on, forcing herself to a stop with a few scant inches to spare. “Such pointless resistance.” Sierra scraped her nails across Crofton's scalp as she pulled all the harder. “Just crawl in and die, won't HNNNGGGHHH!”
The Yellow Rose pulled her right hand away from the casket so she could form that arm into a 'V', which she promptly drove into Mist's unsuspecting tummy! One wasn't enough to break the brunette's grasp so Heather pounded her three more times before she could finally straighten up. More than a little irritated with the Texan's sudden resurgence, Sierra shoved a hand in Heather's face as she tried to walk away, but Crofton just swatted it aside and buried her hands in the shorter wrestler's hair.
“Where do you think you're going?” she reeled Mist in for a Kneelift to the belly. “You're gonna be sleeping here for a while, don't you want to inspect it first?”
Sierra most certainly did not, but the decision was no longer in her hands, as Heather made abundantly clear when she went up on tiptoe to put a little more 'oomph' into BWONKING Mist's forehead against the edge of the casket! Sierra's legs trembled and she might've crumpled to her knees if she hadn't grabbed hold of the very thing used to bludgeon-- Heather grabbed the lid from Merle and swung it closed as hard as she could, the velvet-padded wood THUMPING down Mist's clutching fingers!
Sierra wailed and tried to pull away, but Crofton boosted herself into a seat atop the lid so that her weight kept it firmly in place! “CHEAP BITCH!” Mist shrieked as she tried to free her damaged digits. “I'll eat you alive for this insolNGH! NGH! NGH! NGH! NGH!”
Heather snatched a handful of hair, yanked the brunette's head back and unloaded on her forehead with a whole flurry of straight right hands. “You're not doing anything besides weighing down this coffin!” Crofton proclaimed after a full baker's dozen. “Oh, you'll also go down in the record books as my first AHE victory, so there's that too!”
Hopping down from her perch after one more good punch, Heather helped herself to Sierra's dark locks and pulled her away from the casket so she could secure a Front Facelock. From there she slung Mist's near arm over her shoulder and grabbed a handful of trunks over one hip to thus ensure Sierra couldn't go anywhere when she popped her hips and took Adelaide's sadistic second up, over and DOWN onto the floor courtesy a Snap Suplex!
SNAP SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tqa9JdnBiOE
Crofton rose to a seated position and pumped a fist toward the FAWNatics as Mist arched in pain from the landing on the thinly-padded cement. Miss Mustang kipped to her feet to a roar from the crowd and turned to her adversary.
“The only reason you’re even known is Lisa,” Heather informed. “True. I don’t know if that was a good thing for you, but whatever it is, it was your choice.”
Crofton wrapped her palms around Sierra’s noggin and pulled Mist to her feet.
“Now something that’s my choice. I’m going to teach you some wrestling lessons since this is going to be your only FAWN match.”
The blonde tossed Sierra back in the ring under the bottom rope and slid in behind her. With the brunette having risen to a seat, the Texan raced by Mist and hit the ropes in front of her target. On the return trip she launched from a few feet out and NAILED Sierra with a low-rise Lariat, flattening Mist to the canvas.
BASEMENT LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxtCzadrXDo
The radiant Yellow Rose popped to her feet and cheered on the AHE crowd, the masses returning the show of support in kind. Moving to the feet of the splayed Mist, Heather lifted them at the ankles and pivoted, flipping Sierra to her chest and into a Boston Crab.
Dipping into a deep crouch over the curled spine of Adelaide’s subordinate, the straddling Lone Star Girl scooted farther in reverse and took a seat on Sierra’s shoulders. Mist cried out in anguish.
“You don’t really want this life, do you?” Heather asked. “Go back to school and try to learn something useful this time.”
Satisfied she’s made an important point with the yelping Mist, Crofton released Sierra’s stems, allowing her foe to unfold, the brunette sighing in relief. Mist crawled toward the ropes nearest the casket and latched onto the rubber-coated steel, using the strands to rise.
Heather was there in an instant, grabbing a wrist and shoulder and turning her adversary to the opposite cables. Heather heaved Sierra toward the distant ropes with an Irish Whip, the slender Sierra racing to the ropes and rebounding.
On her foe’s return, Heather dipped, catching Sierra about the hips, shoving Mist heavenward to set up a noggin-rocking Pop-Up Elbow Smash.
POP-UP ELBOW SMASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YleegSvlGI
Mist crashed and burned after the blistering impact to her jaw, left flat on her back, staring blankly into the rafters. But Crofton wasn't done teaching. She’s immediately upon Mist, tugging the rubbery brunette off the canvas enough to slip Mist’s head between her thighs where Miss Mustang clamps down with a Standing Headscissors. Heather cheekily stared around the basement, the Dreamers catching on instantly and urging Crofton on with an echoing ‘YES!' chant.
But after a wink, Heather shook her head. The crowd groaned in disappointment with no Texas-sizes Symphony on the way. But they were quickly on their feet and roaring when Heather launches in a forward somersault, drawing the brunette with her.
The Lone Star Girl sat out and SPIKED Mist’s skull into the deck with her Dallas Destroyer.
DALLAS DESTROYER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoG4S9j_17c
The momentum sent Sierra to her feet, but though it’s clear the lights are on, no one’s home. Heather scramblef to her feet and snagged Mist under her arms to keep her foe from melting to the mat.
With Sierra already in her arms, Crofton shifted her grip to a Bear Hug around Mist’s chest. She tightened the noose, drawing a breathy gasp from her dazed opponent. After squeezing the oxygen from Mist, the Texan lifted and deposited Sierra to the canvas with a THWUMP courtesy a perfect Belly to Belly Suplex.
BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoG4S9j_17c
Heather knelt on her haunches next to her splattered foe and wiped her hands, letting everyone in the house know her lesson was over and so was Sierra’s time as a would-be wrestler.
Crofton plucked Sierra off the canvas, wraps her bobbling noggin in a Side Headlock, and walked her to the ropes nearest the casket. The blonde leaned Mist against the cables, ready to slide through and open the coffin for its cargo, but Sierra shoved Heather off at the shoulders, the Yellow Rose stumbling back a few steps, surprised Mist still had some fight.
Racing forward with Clothesline drawn, Heather meant to crash the limb across Sierra’s clavicle and send her flipping closer to her final resting place. But Mist ducked and Back Body Dropped the Lone Star Girl up and over. Crofton’s spine CRASHED crossways atop the casket, the crowd groaning in empathy with the arched, agonized Heather.
Heather remained draped as a huffing Sierra regained her breath and bearings, the crowd silenced by the titanic turn of events. Mist turned and glared at the wreckage.
“Bytch. Don’t ever deem to teach a PhD lessons,” Sierra shouted.
Mist slipped through the cables and hovered menacingly on the apron, the FAWNatics growing more restless about what it seemed Adelaide’s toady had in mind. Sure enough, Mist leapt from her perch, driving an elbow into the chest of the splayed Heather, showing her willingness to go hard core.
Blonde, brunette and casket tumble off the stand upon which the coffin had been placed, the heavy, Heather-sized container ending atop both Mist and Crofton, pinning them beneath, the lid flopping open while above them.
“HOLY SHIT” chants echoed through the arena as Sierra slowly climbed out from under the rubble. She grabbed a wrist of the demolished Crofton and tugged Heather free of the collapsed set-up then up to rubbery legs.
Pointing the Yellow Rose at the nearest guardrail, Sierra heaved Crofton. Heather had enough time to spin into a back-first collision with the metal. She remained upright but grimacing in agony from the connection, then got BACK-FLIPPED into the first row by a Clotheslining Mist, Heather involuntarily joining her fans, landing in their laps.
“That’s how you use a Lariat, cowgirl,” Mist barked down at the splattered blonde.
As Miss Mustang’s Ride-or-dies helped the fresh-faced blonde to her feet, Sierra not only pushed the envelope, but ripped it in half, hopping to the top of the barricade and froggy-leaping into a Crossbody Splash the delivered both women into the waiting arms of the SECOND row!
Again, ‘HOLY SHIT’ rang through the crowd, particularly near where Sierra, clearly no longer just a Psychology egghead, yanked a reeling Heather to her feet. She battered the blonde with closed right hands down the row, the Lone Star Girl reeling in backpedals after each blast.
Reaching an aisle, Sierra turned the shellshocked Crofton toward her last resting place with a handful of flaxen locks and ran her at the steel barricade, tossing her over. Heather careened across the arena floor, ending a few feet from the spilled casket.
Reaching the barricade, Sierra slipped gingerly over and turned to the fans, telling them to say ‘bye-bye’ to their beloved Yellow Rose.
Mist returned her attention to Heather and her untidy surroundings. She put a series of boots to Crofton, the Lone Star Girl collapsing into a fetal ball in protection.
Happy with her latest experiment being subdued, Mist curled her arms under the casket and tried to roll it upright. It’s a task too much for Mist and she demanded some lumbering FAWN flunkies assist. They did as bade, helping her right the container for its soon-to-be occupant.
It's still a laborious job even with the timely assistance of the chattel and more than twenty seconds had ticked by once the casket was again set atop the bier. Its return to a place of prominence raised a cheer from the Basement Dwellers, at least that's what Sierra believed until she turned around and realized the impudent blonde troll had scraped herself off the floor and rolled under the bottom rope.
“Distance won't save you, cowgirl.” Mist growled as she hopped from the floor to the apron and then to the top turnbuckle in a surprisingly nimble motion. “Nothing will save you, least of all that deluded Dream.”
Mercifully unaware of the looming threat, Crofton caught her breath for a few more seconds before slowly rising to her full hei-- Sierra leapt from on high, the former PHD candidate lacing her tiny fists into one good sized Double Axehandle that she THWHUMPED between the blonde's eyes! Heather spun away and crumpled to all fours, Miss Mustang's blue eyes on tilt following the high flying offense.
Beside her, Mist crooked both hands into claws and quickly draaaaagged them down the blonde's back! “You ask ME if I want this life?” Sierra grabbed Crofton's shoulders and shoved her back to all fours when the ingenue reared back on her knees. “I could ask you the same question. After all, you're the one who hitched her wagon to one of FAWN's notorious psychotics.”
“Ruuuhhhhh... remind me,” Heather huffed. “Who do you work foHHHRRRGGHHHH!”
Sierra crouched down, hooked her right arm across Crofton's chest and her left arm around the blonde's right thigh. In the next instant she let out a bestial war cry and powered to verticality only to follow with a quick genuflection that SPIKED Heather's tummy over the brunette's posted thigh. Mist might've been small but she packed a lot of punch into the Gutbuster as evidenced by the near spring-loaded way Heather bounced into the air en route to flopping down on her back.
GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lk0yTg69cB8
“I don't WORK for anyone.” Sierra purred as she grabbed onto feet and pulled her legs down flat against the mat. “I have DEVOTED myself to sating the insatiable. You may be satisfied with playing Oxpecker to Dream's crocodile, but I am drawn to higher sport.
“Yuuuuhhhh... you're crazy, you know that?” Heather groaned. “Putting you in the ground might be the only way to calm you doOOOFFFHHHH!”
Sierra took to the skies, tucked her heels against her buns and dropped down with every bit of her weight driving DEEP into the pit of her opponent's stomach! Dipping into a forward roll that returned her to boot-leather even as Heather beat her heels against the canvas, Mist bared her teeth for the Basement Dwellers, then vaulted into a back flip that culminated with her knees once again SPIKING the blonde's belly!
MISTY MORNING FOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9WnqL2YPr4
Heather sat up in the wake of the nauseating impact, meaning Sierra didn't have to reach that far to grab a double handful of hair. Dragging the Texan around in a rough circle simply because she could, Mist ultimately came to a stop with both ladies facing the hard camera. Her motives in this regard became apparent heartbeats later when she dropped to a seat behind the Yellow Rose and snaked her legs around opposing waist for a snug Bodyscissors! Palms planted flat against the mat, Sierra boosted her buns up by a good six inches, then jounced her hips to put even more strain on the other wrestler's midsection.
BODYSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJCANNKrnVA
“Do you really think she won't betray you?” Mist sounded simultaneously curious and furious as she tried to snip Heather in half. “That woman has betrayed everyone who ever dared get close. The number of theses written about how her actions left a permanent mark on the psyche of Kylie Sanders was in the high triple digits a few years ago, I wouldn't be surprised if it's crossed into four by now. You clearly know what she's capable of, but here you are! Yet somehow I'm the one who needs to be put down like a mad dog?”
“Shuuuuuhhhh... she's changed.” Crofton pushed down on the insides of her attacker's thighs, though this didn't seem to lessen the efficacy of the Scissors in the slightest. “You'd see that clearly if you weren't letting Brewster chew your neck at all hours. Or maybe you have seen it and you just don't care. Maybe you're still pissed because she finally saw through your manipulative bullshit and NGH! NGH! NGH!”
Sierra raised her left arm, turned it into a tire iron and smashed away at Crofton's head and shoulders as hard as she could! Heather grimaced under the aggressive shelling, but rather than erect a guard that'd leave her arms occupied she hunched her shoulders as best she could and answered back with a flurry of smashing Hammerfists to the insides of her opponent's thighs. Mist didn't much care for the counteroffensive so she filled her hands with Crofton's hair and began yanking her head to and fro like she meant to remove it from the Texan's shoulders!
“Stop fighting the inevitable!” Sierra sneered even as the blonde redoubled her pugilistic efforts. “You're not the star of this story! You're here to be used, then cast aside once The Dream decides you're no longer of use! DEFY her expectations, Heather Crofton!” Mist wrenched the blonde's head to the side, leaned in close and murmured in her ear. “Join my cause. Try to sate the insatiable. It is a task without end, but so are the delights along the way.” She trailed off, put her teeth to Heather's vulnerable neck and applied a bit of gentle pressure.
Miss Mustang went stock still, the threat of another lingering bite sent chills up her spine even when the Darling of the Abattoir wasn't in the building. “Don't you dare, Sierra.” she growled. “I'll never side with the likes of you, so don't waste my timeOOOOOWWWWWW GAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”
Mist bit her anyway, the lithesome little brunette gnawing and nomming in a possessive way that made Crofton's skin crawl. Shaking her head 'no' even though Merle couldn't ask for a submission, Crofton began rocking left and right in the hopes of building enough momentum to turn—THERE! The Yellow Rose twisted over onto one knee and slowly clambered to boot-leather despite the notable handicap of Sierra clinging to her back. Threading her arms beneath the lightweight's thighs so she could better support that voracious vixen, Crofton steadied her footing, then turned toward a corner on the far side of the ring and charged it as fast as she could!
Mist glanced up and saw the buckles closing in, but despite going wide-eyed, she made no effort to abandon her movable feast. Indeed she chewed all the harder, keeping at it until Heather spun around and threw every bit of her hundred and twenty-nine pounds into BWUUUNGING Sierra spine-first into the corner! The impact forced Sierra to spit out her Texas treat, yet the Scissors around her remained intact at least partially due to the blonde maintaining her own grip. Leaning forward as she stumbled away from the site of the collision, Heather freed her right arm and reached over that shoulder so she could loop it around the back of Sierra's noggin. Mist muttered something that might've been a warning and Crofton ignored her for a second time, the durable blonde breaking into a shambling stride that ensured a solid head of steam when she sprang up and came down on her butt!
BACKPACK STUNNER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHE618A0NS8
The Backpack Stunner THWHUNKED Sierra's jaw into the point of Crofton's shoulder and left the little brunette stretched out in a glassy-eyed starfish looking up at the basement lights. Seated between those splayed stems, Heather threaded her arms around Mist's thighs and started to back her up into a pinning predicament before she remembered the looming threat of the casket. Changing her plans on the fly, Miss Mustang got to her feet and deftly hooked her arms around Sierra's ankles. Easing around in a quarter circle that'd put 'em right where she wanted when all was said and done, Crofton crouched down, then torqued her hips to flip Sierra onto her stomach. In the next instant Heather stepped over and dropped into a deep crouch that put intense pressure on her captive's legs and lower back!
INVERTED BOSTON CRAB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOjhvoV-AgY
Nodding approval as the Inverted Boston Crab made Sierra yowl and claw at the mat, Crofton bounced in place, then dropped into a deep squat to apply even more strain to Mist's protesting frame. “Don't bother to submit, brat.” she barked. “There's only one way out and it's not the ropes. It's what's just beyond!”
Sierra, who'd been understandably preoccupied trying to wrest her legs from the blonde's clutches, looked to the edge and cursed aloud when she saw the casket. “Nice little Gothic dilemma you've got here, Sierra.” Crofton chided. “Stay here and pass out knowing that I'll stuff you in that damned box the second you're done... or crawl toward it yourself in search of a way out!”
“FUCK YOU!” Mist bellowed, then groaned when Heather jounced the Crab harder than ever.
“Language!” Heather teased. “Just because mommy's not here doesn't mean you can sass off to your betters.”
Sierra sneered, almost replied, then pushed up on both hands and started to crawl. But not toward the ropes closest to the casket as Crofton intended, Mist shifted hard to the right in an effort to reach a sanctuary a little less fraught with peril.
The unexpected ninety degree pivot left Crofton off-balance long enough for Mist to slink to the strands and wrap a palm around the bottom. The lithe brunette screamed for release and, even though it’s not within the rules of the match, Heather obliged out of her own fatigue.
Unfolding from the agonizing arch, Sierra hugged the lowest cable close with one arm, while reaching the opposite hand toward the base of her spine.
“Stay back,” Mist pleaded, fashioning her hands into a ‘T’, the ‘timeout’ signal even more out of place given the nature of this AHE battle.
The Lone Star Girl asked the FAWNatics if she should give Sierra a moment to rise from her kneeling position. They responded strongly in the negative.
“You heard’em,” Heather informs, lifting her stomping boot.
Crofton shot the leather toward Mist’s chest, but Sierra caught the limb and lifted it as the brunette moves to her feet.
Hopping on her planted foot, the Yellow Rose’s baby blues widen with anxiety, particularly when Sierra backed her way between the top and middle rope with the blonde’s leg in tow. The PhD dropped to the apron, tugging the limb with her, hotshotting Crofton’s crotch cruelly.
Heather sprang off the intrusive cable and back into the squared circle, waddling in agony, hands buried between her thighs. A smirking Sierra rolled in under the bottom rope and slowly pushed to vertical the war taking its toll on both grapplers.
Brewster’s nibbling neophyte stalked the wincing Texan from behind and threw a vile Chop-Block into the back of the blonde’s left knee, forcing Miss Mustang to genuflect in front of Mist. Sierra patted the flaxen-haired fighter on the noggin.
“I’ll be kind by comparison,” Mist assured. “Lisa would draw your end out, just for fun. Me? I’ll relegate you to oblivion in the next sixty seconds.”
Sierra sank her right set of talons into Heather’s scalp and dragged Crofton on all fours to the ropes nearest the open casket.
“It’ll be so peaceful,” she pledged, leaning the Lone Star Girl’s throat across the bottom cable and draping a leg over the back of her foe’s neck.
As a red-faced Heather flailed uselessly, her eyes bulging, the crowd grew more angry and more worried. Mist reveled in their concern as she choked the life out of the gasping Crofton, bouncing on her mount until Heather’s limp.
Disengaging, Sierra watched as a wheezing Heather dropped flat to the canvas. With shoves from her boot sole, the brunette rolled her foe under, Miss Mustang perilously close to dropping into the Halloween’s container of choice.
Grabbing the middle rope with both hands, Mist wedged a boot against Heather’s near shoulder and tried to stuff her adversary in. But the Yellow Rose had a white-knuckled grip around the rope, fighting the effort with the little energy she had remaining.
'DON’T…GIVE…UP!' the sellout crowd chanted, and indeed Mist was having a hard time forcing Crofton off the apron and into the coffin.
Deciding she needed more momentum behind her endeavor, Sierra spun and raced to the far ropes. The brunette rebounded, barreling toward her target.
Mist dropped into a Baseball Slide to finish Heather’s trip to the white silks of the interior, but Crofton pulled herself high enough with a stabbing grab of the middle rope and Sierra skimmed under, Mist’s legs ending within.
A diving Heather reached for the upper half of the lid and SLAMMED it down across Sierra’s shins. Mist howled in anguish. She’s able to pull her stems free and drop to the floor next to the casket. Mewling, she used the apron to ascend, then limped to the barricade dividing the combatants from the crowd.
Heather crawled down the length of the apron, keeping clear of the casket, then dropped her boots to the thinly-padded cement, a few feet from Mist.
The warriors drew in deep breaths, staring at each other with animosity in their eyes. Finally, they threw themselves at the hated other, Miss Mustang reaching for Mist’s head while Sierra dropped to a knee and heaved a heavy forearm blast into Heather’s navel.
A huge exhalation escaped the lips of the blonde, baby blues bulging. Mist bounced back to her feet and yanked Heather’s bowed head into a Front Facelock. Grabbing a handful of yellow spandex on Miss Mustang’s hip, Sierra vaulted her golden-maned counterpart high, stalling Heather out with boot soles pointed to the rafters.
“When you’re six feet under,” Mist grunts, “and screaming for help, remember who put you there. A better wrestler!”
Sierra pivots and, instead of flinging Crofton over, she dropped the shins of the Yellow Rose across the steel pipe making up the top of the barrier. With Heather still in a Facelock, her legs draping over the metal, Sierra LAID OUT, DDTing Crofton’s skull into the arena floor.
The comatose husk of the Lone Star Girl somersaulted to a motionless spreadeagle. Beaming at a silenced crowd, Mist drew a thumb across her throat, shaking the FAWNatics back to their senses enough to rain boos upon her.
Mist rose deliberately and claimed Heather’s head, lifting it by Crofton’s long dirty blonde locks. It swayed from side to side at Sierra’s discretion, the Yellow Rose wilted in the PhD’s possession.
“Time to say buh-bye to all these nice people,” Mist says, more to the fans than the slumbering blonde.
She drew Miss Mustang to her feet, no easy task in Crofton’s condition, and walked what’s left of Heather to her final resting place. Scooping behind the blonde’s knees with one arm and mid-back with the other, Mist spooned Heather off her feet and carried her gingerly to Crofton’s Big Sleep.
With the crowd pleading for any sign from their cowgirl but receiving none, Sierra plopped Heather into the casket. She grabbed Crofton’s ankles and dragged them down to end of the container then shut the lower half of the lid, Heather’s legs and waist disappearing from view.
Above, Sierra snatched her foe’s arms at the wrists, moving the limbs from draping outside the coffin to a comfortable fold across the chest of the Yellow Rose.
Mist gazed down at the demolished Texan.
“Y’know. Maybe you and Lisa are meant for each other. Both sent to the great beyond by badass bytches!”
Mist reached for the upper half and swung it down to conclude Heather’s funeral, but both arms of the blonde shot upward to meet it, her palms acting like a brake on the slamming lid.
Sierra leapt to get her body-weight on top and finish the burial of the Yellow Rose.
Mist forced the cover within a foot of closed when a scream from inside accompanies a manic shove and the upper half is thrown wide, Heather rising to a seated position, shrieking and reaching with both hands for Sierra’s throat.
Sierra's dark eyes went wide as she intercepted Crofton's left hand in a Greco Roman Knuckle-Lock, the brunette digging her nails into the back of Heather's hand even as the blonde did the same to hers. The chattel's other hand did find her throat, albeit only for a single rough squeeze as Mist made her pay with a straight right hand flush to the mouth. That little whiff of roadhouse smelling salts seemed to bring Crofton back to herself, or at least it channeled her anger into something a bit more familiar as she gave up trying to throttle the brunette in favor of punching her head over and over again! Sierra absorbed this punishment with a snarl and returned it in kind, the furious featherweight refusing to cede even an inch in this turf war against the hated cowgirl.
Both ladies had proven eerily well matched throughout the course of their confrontation and that didn't change here, yet it was Heather, perched on the lip of that ravenous crypt, who eventually seized control of the fisticuffs by grabbing hold of Sierra's dark hair and yanking her into a Headbutt between the eyes! Mist reeled on the spot yet refused to go down, indeed she bared her teeth and snatched onto Crofton's hair and left shoulder, the student clearly meaning to emulate her mistress by sinking her teeth into Heather's neNO! Miss Mustang saw it coming, answered with a double hair-pull of her own and fed Sierra an appetite suppressant shaped like the lower half of the casket lid!
Rejoicing over the hollow THWHONK of skull on varnished hardwood, Crofton set her hands against the other wrestler's chest and shoved as hard as she could! “Get your weird, nasty ass outta here!” the blonde shouted as Sierra did indeed stumble away from the casket with little more than a groan of protest. Still riding an adrenaline high that let her ignore just how close she'd come to getting locked away in that silken darkness, Heather slipped her hands under the lower half of the lid and pushed it up and away, much to the delight of the Basement Dwellers. That delight turned to concern and then to relief when Crofton scrambled to boot leather, her awkward return to verticality causing the casket to rock back and forth for a few seconds before it returned to its previous sedentary state.
Eyes locked on Mist, Heather placed a foot against the edge of the casket and pushed before deciding on a (sightly) safer root. Skipping from the casket to the apron in a single bound, the Yellow Rose pointed a judgmental index finger at her nemesis and shouted, “I'M COMIN' FOR YOU, SIERRA!”
The crowd, never one to pass up a movie reference even if the genre wasn't entirely appropriate for the night's festivities, backed up the blonde dynamo by bellowing 'AND HELL'S COMING WITH HER!'
This pronouncement caused Sierra to swing around on one heel, thus ensuring she got a most excellent view of Heather racing along the ledge a heartbeat prior to taking to the air in a headlong dive, Miss Mustang looping an arm around Mist's noggin for a Texas-sized TornNOOOO!
The preternaturally evasive Sierra stuffed her hands against Heather's upper thighs, swung around in a half circle and shoved her away with every ounce of remaining strength. The miss wasn't catastrophic for Heather as she landed safely several feet removed from the brunette, but the frustration was writ large on her face and Adelaide's favorite amuse bouche wasted no time sneering, “Is that all you've got? Why am I wasting my time with a Casket Match, I should've just thrown you out with the rest of the cow sh--”
Crofton exploded off her back foot, Miss Mustang channeling something a bit more steer-like for the Spear aimed at Mist's nav-- Sierra stepped back and whipped her left leg up in a vile punt that smashed the toe of her boot between Heather's eyes! Crofton reeled on the spot, her hands dropping limp at her sides as she struggled to stay upri—THWHACK! Sierra tagged the blonde with a gorgeous Super Kick that saw Heather's head snap back with whiplash force!
SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkGpTO-ofxI
Mist was certain the strike had rendered her rival unconscious so she was more than a little disgusted when the Yellow Rose tottered away from the impact, Heather trudging a wobbly trail toward the guardrail where she collapsed to her knees with one arm thrown over the steel. Behind her, Sierra measured the seemingly interminable distance between the blonde and the casket and couldn't hold off her own frustrated groan.
“Why won't you stay down?” she barked at Heather's back. “WHY WON'T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE?”
Crofton didn't answer Mist directly but she definitely said something to one of the first row troglodytes, who nodded and offered her a red Solo cup. Cheers from the rest of the Basement Dwellers when Heather tipped her head back and started to chug, a show of such brazen insolence it widened Sierra's eyes like she'd just been slapped! “Excuse me?” she barked. “Did I say you could have a last meal? Spit that filth out and prepare yourself for--”
Still drinking, Heather raised a 'just a second' index finger, then turned it into a 'go fuck yourself' middle finger, much to the delight of those assembled.
Apoplectic with fury, Sierra darted across the narrow aisle, swatted the cup out of Heather's hand, then grabbed a huge handful of hair to ensure the Texan couldn't go anywhere before she hunkered down and CHOMPED on the side of her neck! Crofton let out a bubbly moan, then jabbed a few rough Back Elbows into the pit of her tormentor's stomach. Four was enough to make Sierra stop chewing, alas she promptly took possession of Heather's left wrist and yanked it back behind her head in the upside down Hammerlock that everyone who lived in the shadow of Castle Brewster recognized very well.
Trundling Crofton around to face her without relinquishing the awkward joint-lock, Sierra curled her free hand into a fist and growled, “I wonder how bright that lone star will burn when you're stuffed in a fucking coffAAARRRRHHHHHH!”
Heather used the power of Sierra's own mistress against her when she lunged forward and PWFSWOOOOOOSHED a 6.8% ABV micro-brewed cloud into the brunette's face!
Sierra shrieked and let go at once, both hands flying to her face as she tried to wipe away the malt and barley haze. Miss Mustang didn't try to stop her, instead she wrapped her right arm around Mist's noggin in a Three Quarters Facelock and spun so she was pointed at the squared circle. A couple big steps brought her to the nearest ring-post where she 'walked' up the solid steel before floating over the blinded brunette and dropping to her knees to THWHUMP Sierra onto the thinly-padded concrete with a pumpkin spiced slice of Texas Toast!
TEXAS TOAST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKsjGWIzmmM
Crofton's supporters damned near screamed themselves hoarse urging their heroine to scrape Mist off the mat, but when the blonde rose she did so alone and went straight for the apron instead of the bier. Jogging to the opposite corner, she turned back to her vulnerable enemy and called, “I don't have any stakes, so I'm gonna put a star right through that brat's heart!” Her intent was clear from the outset, however the blonde's actual plan wasn't clear until she charged down the narrow ledge and leapt off into the void, Heather throwing herself into the practically indescribable sort of inside out back-flip that was the hallmark of the Shooting Star Press. Sierra didn't have the luxury to appreciate Crofton's technique, she was still trying to blink her way out of a beer haze when Heather brought the Lone Star Press THWHAPPING down across her chest!
LONE STAR PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjjB87mXFCY
Mist's legs popped up and Crofton started to hook them before she remembered the venue and shoved 'em aside instead. Leaning back on her haunches with one arm drawn tight across her midsection, Heather glared down at Sierra and huffed, “You ready to get in the casket like a good zombie or do you need the double tap?” Silence for a moment, followed by some jeering cheers from the reprobates in attendance when Sierra raised a hand to return the bird Crofton shot her earlier. Heather swatted it down, then knee-walked backward to she could lean down and work her fingers into the seam separating two of the big blue floor-mats. It didn't take long for the Yellow Rose to secure a good grip and once she did, the blue gave way to unyielding gray as Heather peeled the pad back to reveal bare concrete beneath!
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's think about this, Heather!” Merle called out even as Crofton hauled Mist upright with a double handful of hair.
“Already have, Merle.” Positioned off Sierra's left side, Heather hooked her left arm over the back of the brunette's head, her right arm around the back of Mist's left thigh, then dipped down and braced the back of her head against Sierra's tummy. “This is the only way to make sure she stays down.”
The ref didn't think that was exactly true, not that he had time to formulate a response before Heather swung through and laid out on her back to THWHONK Sierra down on the back of her skull! Mist collapsed onto her stomach in slow motion, the brunette a starfished ruin after that devastating Texas Tornado.
TEXAS TORNADO @ 00:10
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOUfnZu8aFI
As for Heather, she dropped to one knee, grabbed a double handful of hair and scraped Mist off the floor only 'hup' her onto her shoulders in a Fireman's Carry. The more bloodthirsty element in the audience called for more punishment and offered disappointed boos when the Lone Star Girl trudged over to the casket and dumped her burden into it face-down.
Not about to make the same mistake as her opponent, Crofton immediately reached over, grabbed the far edge of the upper-lid and slammed it closed with a muffled thump. Almost there, she moved to the lower lid, but paused during her reach to plant a smooch against the tips of her fingers. This small kindness grew much less so when the blonde delivered a single tart SLAP to Sierra's upturned buns.
“Take that to hell with you, honey.” she chided. “And tell Adelaide I said hi!”
With that she seized the bottom lid and slammed it shut! The sound of the bell seemed to drain all the adrenaline from Heather's system in a single stroke, yet she maintained just enough to boost herself into a seat on the lid, thus ensuring she celebrated in style when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via premature burial... HEATHER CROFTON!”
Miss Mustang drummed the top of the container in excitement, fired up she was able to double down on Dream’s Mania victory.
Releasing a huge sigh, Heather slid off the casket, then into the ring, hopping to her feet.
Grabbing the top rope nearest the coffin with one hand she waved good-bye to the not-so-dearly departed, Mist wheeled away by a set of four FAWN flunkies.
“Don’t go away mad,” Crofton shouted. “Just go away!”
With the crew and Mist halfway up the ramp, The Dream strode past, heading in the opposite direction, taking a moment to shout “Get the f out of here” toward the encased Mist.
LISA DREAM
Lisa Legend climbed the ring steps, finding Heather in the opposite corner, standing on the middle ropes and twirling a lasso-fist at the crowd.
Noticing the rise in decibels from the FAWNatics, even louder than her music, the Yellow Rose turned to see the PERFECT well-wisher mid-ring. The golden-maned youngster dropped to the canvas, rushed to Lisa, and swallowed the Ultimate Image in a hug.
Dream beamed.
“Ya done good, kiddo,” Lisa whispered in the blonde’s ear. “Thanks for sending Sierra six feet under. Hopefully no one will be digging her up for a long while.”
“My pleasure, Lisa,” Heather replied. “Believe me.”
A delighted Crofton shifted her head back from Dream, the tips of their noses a few inches apart.
“WE DID IT!” Miss Mustang hollered.
“We did,” a gratified Lisa confirmed
Dream pivoted, grasping Heather’s left wrist and raising it high, showing off her young, well, friend.
And somehow, even with the Lone Star Girl the center of attention, it felt perfect.