Post by hawkeye on Jan 9, 2023 1:02:23 GMT
A promo for the coming match plays on the Tron while The FAWNatics sit in their seats, munching on concession snacks and guzzling beer or soft drinks(a brilliant few mix them). Their excitement for the next match is channelling into a hunger for the benefit of FAWN’s profit margins. This is a rare situation in Hackenschmidt’s Intercontinental Championship reign where the fans know who The Valiant One is facing, the Russian phenom and recently returned star Natalya Konstantinova. Another high-interest factor following this match is the record for the longest reign in FAWN history; If Victoria can survive this match, she’ll tie with the current record holder with the same title. Jenny Jacobs at 16 months.
The Murmansk Mauler brutally reemerged last month at Cold November Pain by nearly Powerbombing Maiden America through the stage and engaging Ariane Jones in an intense match right after the Southern redhead announced her new role as the Sheriff of FAWN. Natalya suffered her first loss in her FAWN career to Ariane, but there’s a potential asterisk considering the official missed a pin. Something the Russian was and is livid about and tried to get recompense for by Powerbombing Ariane post-match as many times as there are days in the month. The Knight came to her new friend’s rescue and beat back the sadistic ex-soviet; Commissioner Bethany Christian was impressed by Natayla’s fortitude and, looking to take the title off Victoria, granted the statuesque heel a title shot.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEG_T4UUc1I
The growing tension is broken by an ominous blast of music blaring across the arena. The sinister-sounding intro of Rammstein’s REISE REISE plays over the loudspeakers while scenes of Russia during the Cold War appear on the FAWNtron. An intimidating woman who took a ten-year break from FAWN to terrorize most of Europe stands at the top of the ramp, taking the sight of the fat, lazy American masses with an air of disgust.
“Coming down the aisle, from Murmansk Russia at 5'11” 160 lbs. The Murmansk Mauler, Natalya Konstantinova!”
NATALYA KONSTANTINOVA
The towering Russian wears a bright red asymmetrical wrestling singlet, her left shoulder left bare and her right leg missing. Gold trim runs down her sides, and CCCP is spelled out in gold lettering across her bosom. Her bright red hair is tied back in a braided ponytail that sways lightly with each purposeful step as Natayala marches down the ramp ignoring the booing fans behind the guardrails. She stomps up a set of steel steps and swings a leg over the middle rope, and bends under the top into the ring amid a smattering of flash photography capturing her tight backside in red lycra. Fans still find Konstinova hot despite her Cold War personality.
Natalya paces in her corner like an ornery bull, almost foaming at the mouth in her eagerness to avenge her unjust loss and humiliation by crushing the bourgeois Hackenschmidt and taking her title. And then she’ll crush that so-called sheriff Ariane Jones, then crush their half-pint World champion, then she’ll crush…
Natalya’s violent inner spiral is interrupted by the beautifully operatic entrance music of the IC Champion.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoTa-b7cUw0
The audio of Giacomo Puccini’s three-stage opera feels perfectly appropriate with the sight of the stage illuminated with blinding white spotlights focusing on The Knight. Victoria drinks in the uproarious response the FAWNatics give her; they’re friendlier than they used to be. There’s still that core of negativity, but far more cheers than Victoria got over the majority of her time in the company. Hackenschmidt takes a calming breath through her nose and sets down the ramp. The German giant stands tall and armourless for the second time in her career, except for her head. She wears her usual silver Corinthian helmet that protects the back and sides of her skull but leaves her high-boned cheeks free with a strip of metal stretched down from the center opening to cover her nose. The helm is smooth other than an artful etching that circles the top of the skull resembling a bejewelled crown. The most crucial thing on Victoria’s person is around her waist, the Intercontinental Championship belt. Under the spotlight, it shines as the brightest beacon to any potential challenger, employed by FAWN or not, to try and pry it from The Valiant One’s grasp.
Head bowed in silent prayer, her hands clutch a cross-hilted broadsword nearly four feet in length, a replica of a family heirloom that hung over the fireplace in her family estate in Hesse. Shaking off negative thoughts with a mighty roar, Victoria flexes her powerful arms and hefts the replica blade up to a cheering audience, then onto her shoulder before beginning her march towards the ring, the spotlights following her every step.
"Standing at 5 feet 11 inches and weighing in at 152 pounds!! From Phoenix, Arizona, by way of Hesse, Germany!! She is The Valiant One!! The Intercontinental Champion, Victoria “The Knight” Hackenschmidt!!!”
VICTORIA HACKENSCHMIDT
The IC champ marches to the ring in her white halter top, revealing miles of lightly toned, pale tummy with matching boy-cut shorts that cling to her tight hindquarters. White boots and knee pads looking newly shined, and an elbow-length fingerless white glove on her right arm; all her gear has thin black lines that weave and intersect to resemble the plate armour she usually wears to the ring.
Before the bell, Victoria tries to keep her mind on the match ahead, but she still reaches her free arm out to Hi-Five FAWNatics, leaning over the guardrail. The Valiant One briefly detours to a set of steel steps where a solid-looking metal box with a small slit cut into the top sat by the ring apron. Hackenschmidt takes the sword off her shoulder and swiftly swings it in a broad circle before smoothly plunging it down into the box and takes off her helmet, revealing her windswept blonde hair is longer than a pixie cut but too short of reaching past her earlobes.
As her music dies down, the entrance euphoria dies along with it. A switch flips for half of the Orlando audience, and the air fills with a cacophony of noise, boos and cheers competing for dominance. The feral fans want a champ that shows a little more skin or has a colourful demeanour, but Victoria’s finally starting to win some of them over; the bustier fans no longer mock her chest size when she does cardio by the beach!
As the official commences his patdown of The Knight, Victoria locks into a death stare with Natalya across the ring. Suspending the open challenge for a planned opponent had its benefits; Victoria could study tape of Natayla, not only allowing her to strategize but giving her insight into the challenger’s character. Natalya purposely humiliated every opponent she faced and sent many of them away on a stretcher, it was a point of pride for the Russian redhead to put her victims on the shelf for months. This dark hobby of Natalya’s puts Victoria at ease; there is no need for hesitation or diplomacy, The Blood Knight can surface and wreak havoc with all of the champion’s will.
After completing his inspection, the referee walks to the halfway point between the two wrestlers and signals for the bell.
DINGDING!!
To Victoria and Natalya, those echoing chimes sounded like a starter’s pistol; they exploded out of their corners like twin blurs of muscle, sinew and lycra and run full speed at each other. Both came to the conclusion before the match that the best offense is just offense.
Their bodies come together with a smek! Their competing Shoulderchecks cancel each other out and send both competitors teetering back a step, Natalya and Victoria trade appraising, steely looks before booking fast retreats to the ropes. The two Destroyers spring off the taut cables with their right arms spread out like a scythe. Their brawny arms clap against each other’s chest simultaneously; champion and challenger again remain standing, but Victoria’s balance is far more precarious. Natalya had much more ‘padding’ in that area and could absorb the force of the blow better, if not the pain. The raging Russian lunges at Hackeckenschmidt and snatches her blonde hair above her ears, “You will fall, свинья!” Natalya tugs Victoria into a thudding Headbutt that makes the timekeeper flinch. Her hair still in Natalya’s grasp, The Knight wobbles on her feet, blinking confusedly and limply grasping at the redhead’s wrists. The challenger gives a low growl, and her plush lips press thin in frustration at her foe’s verticality. Natalya arches her neck back for a second Headbutt when Victoria springs to life; shoots her arms up and between Konstantinova’s and brings them down hard on the pits of the Russian’s elbows, sacrificing a few strands of hair to free herself and upsetting Konstantinova’s balance.
Victoria sees the Murmansk Mauler’s arms windmilling and reaches out, grasping a handful of gold and yellow lycra between Konstantinova’s breasts, disappearing the middle C in CCCP. She stops her from falling, but it’s not an act of compassion; Victoria shows how they do it in Germany by yanking Konstantinova into a savage Headbutt that sends her tottering on her heels. The Towering Teuton points at the staggered ex-Soviet and she spits, “I am not some Lightweight you can push around, Schwein!”
Natalya firms up her stance and stomps toward Victoria, slapping away the offending finger to get nose to nose with the busybody blonde, “I am going to do more than push. I will show this whole arena your flat ass and send you back to hillbilly playing law-woman in pieces.”
Victoria feels a pounding in her temples and gets closer to this relic of FAWN, the tips of their noses flattening against each other. She snarls, “I’m going to send you back to whatever government-sponsored butcher shop you were wrestling for in Russia before you stain the ring with your stench.”
Mutual dislike would be a gross understatement in describing the relationship between these two, and the women’s mirroring attacks exacerbate that dislike. The strange trend continues; Natalya’s and Victoria’s arms coil around one another like snakes on the hunt and start a Bearhug duel! Their muscles shred into sharp relief as they give maximum effort right at the start. They go cheek to cheek, growling and groaning, and stamping in a small circle, trying to make the right micro-adjustment to gain an advantage. If they weren’t in a wrestling ring, you’d think they were in the middle of some intense foreplay.
A full minute passes, and sweat begins to glisten on the champion and challenger’s bodies while the official quickly circles the pillar of pulchritude, looking for any sign that someone’s giving up. Natalya forces what little space she can in the hug and slaps her rock-hard abdominals against Victoria’s. There’s a clapping sound as hot, moist flesh meets flesh and Natalya feels Victoria’s breath tickle her ear as it leaves the German’s body in a rush.
“I knew I should have been working your stomach from the start,” taunts Natalya as she gives The Knight another belly blast. She grins, feeling Victoria’s abs surrender to her superior set, “You Germans always have soft tummies. It’s all pastries you gorge on between meals.”
Natalya feels Hackenschmidt’s side of the hug loosen and eases back for a third belly blow, she’s abruptly interrupted by The Knight pulling her back in and applying more pressure than ever in the Bearhug! Natalya keeps her arms wrapped around the champion, but the torturous noose of pressure circling her ribs keeps the challenger from responding in kind.
"I knew you were of poor intelligence from our first meeting," Victoria teases, physically proving her point with a vicious squeeze, " Russia's pillar of strategy in war is to run in a straight line towards gunfire."
Knowing she's closer to getting a Bell ringer than a tap out, Victoria swings the red invader through two steps before hurling themselves to the canvas. Victoria crushes Natalya between the hard ring floor and her hard body with a Rolling Belly-to-Belly Suplex.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dF9KeZLgWHY
Natalya feels important things in her body move out of place and shift back when she's made the filling in a canvas/wrestler sandwich. The official slides in on knees to make a count, but Victoria knows it's too early and gets up with the squirming Russian still bundled in her arms. The Knight takes her dance partner for another micro-waltz and slams her with another belly-to-belly that quakes the ring.
Victoria lays atop Konstantinova, looking like a satisfied missionary and cranes her neck at the watching zebra, "Let's try now."
This time the ref gets to put palm to mat-
One!
Two!!
Natalya places her boots flat and uses those powerful yet sexy legs to flip themselves over, now Natalya’s pinning Victoria!
One!
Two!!
Victoria moves a shoulder up and rolls with the movement, getting her feet under her and rising with Natalya still in her arms.
“Clever cub, “ compliments Victoria with only a touch of sarcasm. She applies more strength to the hug, making Natalya’s bones creak and coaxing a groan out of the challenger. “Perhaps if you didn’t make a career of bullying smaller women to look strong, you’d be known as a tacticalrRRagh!”
Natalya makes good on Victoria’s nickname for her and chomps down on the side of the champion’s neck! Victoria howls out in shock and pain but has the fortitude to keep the Bearhug going and ramps up the pressure. She'll ring out Natalya like a tube of toothpaste before letting-
"Aaaieh!!"
Natalya must study under Adelaide Brewster because she refuses to unhinged her jaw and bites down even harder on Victoria’s carotid. The Valiant One endures this hellish chewing and tightens the embrace further. She'd rather lose a chunk of her neck and keep her title than let this rabid animal have another moment of consciousness. Or at least Victoria thinks she does; Natalya starts shaking her head to pull at Victoria’s flash like she means to end the match with something out of Mortal Kombat, and Victoria’s survival instincts override her competitor’s spirit. A screaming Hackenschmidt ceases the Bearhug immediately and she’s pulling on Natalya’s hair HARD, The Murmansk Mauler is pried off the champion’s neck, but she’s not finished with it yet. Natalya wraps her fingers around Hackenschmidt’s airway and throttles the blonde like there’s no tomorrow!
Victoria gags and her hands flash to Konstantinova’s wrists; she chokes and gurgles as tries to tear Natalya’s hands away, her wide and fearful eyes staring into Konstantinova’s furious face. The referee is immediately on the challenger’s ass, not bothering with a warning in fear of Victoria’s safety. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-!”
Natalya moves a hand from Victoria’s neck only to apply a probing claw between the German’s legs and lift her into the air. Victoria’s choking goes up several octaves when she feels her holy sanctum painfully invaded by the brute’s clumsy yet strong fingers. Too frustrated by the insufferable Knight to form words, Natalya lets out a triumphant roar and nearly makes a Victoria-shaped crater in the ring with a Sit-out One-Armed Chokeslam!
CHERNOBYL MELTDOWN
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_eJvfXsqUE
A ripple courses the Squared Circle and Konstantinova’s bust by the might of her Chokeslam, a sight that will be seen at the next FAWN show in the recap reel of Season’s Beatings 2022. A stunned Victoria’s head tilts to the side while her arms and legs flop by the challenger’s ankles and hips, respectively. Natalya leans forward and slaps her palms onto Victoria’s very modest tits and spueezes hatefully as the official records her win in the books.
ONE!
TWO!!
The Knight jerks to life with a wild slap that Natalya dodges by the tip of her nose. Victoria’s brains are a little scrambled by Meltdown, but she can feel how they’re positioned crosses her ankles behind Natalya’s waist. Her legs make their best Jenny Xian impression and try to cut the Russian in two with a Bodyscissors. Natalya throws her head back and grits her teeth to bite down a groan, she balls her fists and pounds at random spots on Victoria’s gams. The Valiant One grimaces, then she places her hands flat on the canvas and thrusts her hips into another waistline-reducing constriction that puts Natalya into convulsions and halts her attack.
Victoria seethes, “Dummkopf! Did you think such a lazy cover so early would win you gold? You don’t deserve this opportunity.”
Konstantinova snarls back, flecks of spit splattering on Hackenschmidt’s tummy, “And you don’t deserve your title!” Her hands dart to the blonde’s chest and latch onto her nipples, the AC of the building making them slightly visible through her top. Hackenschimdt has a microsecond to suck in a panicky breath before Natalya works her nipples like radio dials she’s trying to tear off!
"RAAaieee! Aaiee!!"
The Murmansk Mauler lives up to her name if in a hyper-focused manner; she turns the stoic champion into a teary-eyed college coed in her first catfight. Victoria wails with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, hitting higher notes than the sopranos that sing in her theme music as Natalya yanks, twists, pinches, and scratches the blonde's meagre bounty. The Valiant One takes her palms off the canvas and digs her fingers into Natalia's wrists, searching for the right nerve to pop open the Russian's steely grip. Despite the titty torture, Victoria maintains the Bodyscissors with desperate ferocity.
"I know why you wear that armour," growls the challenger as she gets her knees under her, punctuating her evaluation with another vile twist of Victoria's nubs. "You need a hard shell to cover up how soft you are!"
Natalya rises slowly off the mat, lifting a shrieking Hackenschmidt by the nipples, the champion's stems still wrapped around her waist. The redhead breaks into a run and charges into a corner, squashing Victoria into the buckles in a messy crash. Those well-built walking sticks of the champ finally drop from Natalya's waist and plop to the mat, so she releases her talons from Victoria's sore nipples to move on to her usual offense of smashing and pounding.
Taking the middle ropes by Hackenschmidt's sagging body in hand, Natalya Lower's herself into a tackler's crouch and drives a Shoulder Thrust into the German's middle. Hackenschmidt groans as she curls around Natalya’s form and she’s pushed into a seat onto the middle buckle, thrusting her gym-toned ass clad in white lycra to a camera, broadcasting it across the gigantic FAWNtron screen. The red Destroyer pulverizes Victoria's midsection with machine-like precision and swiftness, shouting with cruel joy at each impact, She gets six corner-shaking hits before the ref finishes his warning count, forcing Natalya to back up a step or risk disqualification. Victoria slowly lurches out of her perch on the middle turnbuckle, looking sickly and pliant. Her boots have trouble supporting her weight, and The Knight falls forward against Konstantinova in an impromptu, tacky embrace. Victoria slides down the Russian’s form till her chin catches on the neckline of Natayla’s top, her features now buried in the redhead’s flush and sweaty cleavage as she muffles a low moan.
Natalya’s lips curl in irritation, and she grabs a messy handful of Victoria’s hair, pulling the champion’s slack face from her mounds and standing her straight. She swivels Victoria’s head with a nasty forehand that echoes with a Crack! Sending spit and breast sweat flying off her lips, “извращенец(pervert), I am not your diminutive ex-partner.”
On that humbling note, Konstantinova takes Hackenschmidt by the wrist and sends her flying off to the far corner with an Irish Whip. The challenger runs after her and then stands ready at the center of the ring. Konstantinova knows that whether Victoria turns in time or not, she'll hit the padded steel hard enough to bounce back into her clutches for a Suplex.
Victoria pivots in time for the little good that does her, the turnbuckles hit her spine with a force that shakes the ropes and ricochets Victoria en route to Natalya. She lets outs a gnarled yell at the screaming knot of pain blossoming in her vertebrae and uses it as motivation to turn her stumble into a dash. The Towering Teuton closes the distance faster than Natalya anticipates and gets decked for it! Victoria gives the Russian a running knuckle sandwich with her right(gloved) fist, taking Natalya off her feet into a sprawl. The champion shakes out her hand over a challenger knocked loopy and grasping at nothing.
“My Nanny would be pleased,” reminisces Victoria as flashes of her early training and learning to throw a proper punch spark in her mind. Finding Natalya too slow to get up, Victoria snags a wrist, hauls the Ruskie to her feet, and Whips her to the ropes. Natalya hits the ropes hard and runs harder after the recoil; driven by the embarrassment of being felled by a single punch, she speedily, if sloppily, runs toward the German for a receipt Right Cross; instead, she gets an unexpected look at Victoria’s sole. Natalya runs straight into a Big Boot and is made horizontal for the second time in less than a minute. Hackenschmidt’s already moving before Konstantinova’s finishes falling; The Knight bounds to the coils to their left, comes back with a running leap, and drops that long, pale across Natalya’s upper chest like falling I-beam.
youtu.be/IILPKBndeAE?t=248
A wave travels through Natalya’s body that kicks her legs up when Victoria makes her heart skip with a Leg Drop; that gorgeous gam stays on Natalya’s hills for a cover, and red boots clatter back down against the canvas just as the official slides in for the count.
ONE!
TWO!!
Natalya shoves the leg off of her like she’s bursting out of rubble, putting Victoria on her hip. The blonde looks at the redhead incredulously, seeing Natalya climb to her feet in faltering but rapid stages and pushes to stand herself. Victoria beats her to verticality and snaps into an attack stance, angling her left shoulder at the rising Natalya, then flattening her hand into a paddle and reaching across to touch her right shoulder. As soon as Konstantinova raises her head, she finds herself on the wrong side of a mammoth-sized Knife-Edge Chop! The ambient sound of the arena is destroyed with a sharp, resonating CRACK! Natalya staggers back with a redding welt already visible on the slopes of her cleavage; Victoria reloads and mashes Natalya’s matryoshkas again CRACK! Fans shrink away in their seats at the devastating sound as the walking mass of power that is Konstantinova seems to shrink. Her aura of ruthless aggression fades as she clutches her aching gurls, and pinpricks of tears begin to form in her eyes.
CRACK!... CRACK!... CRACK
Speed is never the greatest asset for a Destroyer Class wrestler, though Victoria is faster than expected, which enhances the Hesse Heroine’s trademark method of Chopping; quality over quantity. The shock of Victoria’s punishing palm travels through the breasts, takes the air out of your lungs, and weakens your knees and feet. The opponent, in this instance Natalya, is left vulnerable for another Chop or any other move in Victoria’s vast arsenal. A Bloodwind-style massacre is excellent to see, but a Hackenschmidt bombing leaves an impact!
Natalya suffers Victoria's wrath for half a dozen lashings, backing her into the ropes and, with a parting with an elbow to a jaw, she high knees it across the ring into the ropes. The air flows through Victoria as she runs back to the rumpled Russian and throws herself into a Crossbody to batter Natalya out of the ring and give her a bad landing. The challenger renders those plans moot when she explodes out of the coils and catches Victoria’s 152lbs like she’s thrown luggage. Before the champ can process things that have gone awry, Natalya spins Victoria like a street sign and slams on a knee with a Tilt-A-Whirl Backbreaker!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YomYDLmDyjc
“Gaaahhh!!!!
Her mother’s prized butterfly collection springs to the forefront of Hackenschmidt’s mind when Konstantinova attempts to break her in two. She literally bounces off the Mauler’s knee into a spasmatic heap on the floor; Natalya drops forward with her posted leg into a small Kneedrop to Victoria’s cheek, then leaps into the air and lands a bigger one to her forehead. Seeing her prey sufficiently stunned, Natalya forces Vic face up and pounces into a straddling pin. She forces Victoria’s wrists above her head and gets nose to nose with the IC champ, she stares down angrily into the German unfocused eyes so she can ground her win into Victoria’s soul.
ONE!
TWO!!
T-! “Rraa!”
Victoria twists her head and chomps down on Natalya’s nose! Natalya lets go of her wrists, and jackhammers punches to The Knight’s liver till Victoria’s teeth are off her proboscis. Natalya gets up with her hands tented on her nose, checking if the skin is broken and grumbling like low thunder, stomping in an angry circle till she can think clearly. Victoria teeters over to all fours and places and gingerly places a hand at her aching back and moans, “Teufel noch mal… I felt my heels touch the back of my head.”
The Valiant One trudges to a knee and starts to rise up from the mat- Natalya sprints over and kicks her in the back of the head. Sparks fill her vision as she falls back on the mat, cradling her skull as Natalya hatefully stomps any and every part of the young German woman’s body. The official looks uncomfortable and helpless as he stands by watching Konstantinova try to stomp a bleating Victoria into mush while cursing her out in Mother Russia’s native tongue.
“Шлюха! Cyka! Cвинья! No more games! I will leave you broken and humbled!”
The Murmansk Mauler scoops a jellied Victoria onto a shoulder, her legs trailing down Natalya’s back while her upper body and arms trail down the challenger’s form towards the ring floor. Natalya carries her softy whimpering cargo to her corner and presses Vic into the buckles, expertly folding the champion’s legs around the steel connecting the top buckle to the post; Natalya backs away and sees her Tree of Woe can properly sustain Victoria’s weight. As the rage-filled Russian raises her fists, knowledgeable fans either wince or take out their phones depending on their level of bloodlust. The champ’s about to suffer a Siberian Meltdown.
Pek! Pek! Pekpekpek! Thwack! Thwack!
Natalya’s heavy fists blur, hitting Victoria’s body so hard that sprays of sweat fly with each echoing hit, mixing in kicks and stomps when the mood strikes. She travels up and down the blonde’s body, working the thighs, pummeling up and down the belly, beating the breasts with jabs and hooks. A count of five would be horrendous for a wrestler to suffer through the Meltdown, and thanks to a whisper in the official’s earpiece from Bethany, The Murmansj Mauler gets some additional seconds to work the heavy bag.
Hackenschmidt’s not one for calling for the ref’s assistance, but that composed exterior is being beaten to mush, along with her internal organs. Shameful tears run from her eyes into her hairline as she wails with a pleading voice, vibrating with the chops Natalya lashes on her navel and breasts.”
“R-r-Ref! Cor-Or-Ner!”
The watching zebra shows some kindness and gives a fast count, blurring the spaces between the numbers before throwing himself in harm’s and pulling Konstantinova by the bicep away from the abused Hackenschmidt. Natalya whirls on the spots and backs the wilting ref into the far corner, haranguing him in Russian for showing blatant favouritism. Meanwhile, Hackenchmidt has loosened the knot of her legs enough to slip free and thump on the mat in a painful pile of humanity. She sluggishly army crawls under the bottom cable and lies face down on the apron, gathering every mental trick studied and discovered to numb the pain of her full-body bludgeoning.
At last, done with her admonishing of the official, Natalya leaves him shaking in the buckles to stalk the perimeter of the Squared Circle to loudly degrade the fat, unwashed, uneducated American fans that dare to boo her perfection. She screams back at the wave of boos from the Florida audience, “Chaff! Chaff and dung, that’s all you amount to!”
When she turns her attention back to Victoria, she finds The Knight is standing on the apron with the aide of the top rope, looking bruised and blemished but not beaten.
“You should have stayed down,” Natalya chastises as she makes her over, “Any mercy I may show you yet, is running out by the moment.”
She winds up another jawbreaker of a right hook, but Victoria blocks with her forearm in time and grabs Natalya by her red mane with the same limb. Victoria drags Natalya along that side of the ring to a corner and bwungs the challenger's face into the top buckle. Natalya pitches back, eyes watering, the bite to her nose inflamed by the leather and steel collision. The Knight takes the top cable with both hands and leans back, “I need nothing from you but your capitulation.”
Victoria slingshots her Destroyer-self over the ropes like she was a Lightweight and bowls over Natalya with the promised Crossbody!
youtu.be/b-ZO--c8yX4?t=214
It’s a rare and beautiful thing when the crowd is fully behind the Intercontinental champion, and we witness it today. Victoria sandwiches Konstantinova between herself and the canvas to a window-rattling pop, the harassment-plagued champ will be riding that high for weeks! Victoria bounces off her opponent into a semi-comfortable landing on her hands and feet while Natalya folds in on herself into a messy backroll into a faceplant. The Knight sees an opportunity and speedily crawls forward till she can grab one of the Ruskie’s ankles. Then, she shifts perpendicular to Konstantinova, rolls up her body, and rises with the leg curled around her neck. Natalya becomes the stereotypical Russian bear in a beartrap, screaming and clawing at the mat as her leg contorts and bends in a Stretch Muffler.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Brqk8Abltds
“Submit, Konstantinova!” Shouts Victoria over Natalya’s screams. She rises out of the crouch momentarily to further leverage the Mauler’s body weight into the submission sending her into a set of fits. Natalya ignores the champion’s order completely and swipes at the official when he comes near, making him nearly trip over his own feet. Victoria huffs in frustration and stands taller; almost all of Natalya’s weight pull on the joint causing the redhead to pull at her hair to keep from tapping. Victoria lowers into a crouch again, decreasing the pain but keeping the hold intact. She could have won if Victoria had stayed at her full height... But she can’t. Natalya really worked her middle when Hackenschmidt was in the Tree of Woe, and her core can’t take the strain of them combined for too long. Beads of sweat run down Victoria’s flushed face as she tries to keep the Muffler going for a few seconds longer… but lets go. Natalya’s stamina wins out in this exchange. The two collapse on the mat, Natalya holding her seething knee, and Victoria curled up with arms crossed over her burning middle.
The official stands nearby and begins a double Count Out with the FAWN arena echoing in perfect tandem.
“ONE!! TWO!! THREE!!...”
The two women lay nursing their culminating wounds and catching their breath till the ref hits "SIX!!" The champion and challenger decide to get in gear and drag their shambling forms inch by inch back up. These battling beauties face the entrance ramp in a single file, Natalya ahead of Victoria. The tired Knight takes in the sight back of her enemy’s slumped shoulders and matted hair. In the FAWNtron, she can see Konstantinova’s breathing heavily, discomfort and exhaustion hanging off her in droves, the Russian’s near her end, and Victoria’s in the same position.
It takes fuel to be angry, and Victoria doesn’t have enough to spare; she licks her dry lips and sighs out an offering for civilized combat. “Listen, let’s settle this like true wrestlers. We don’t need to debase-.”
WHAM!
Konstantinova spins on a dime and nails the Intercontinental champion with a Discus Lariat!
THE IRON CURTAIN
youtu.be/724AAZ5cgBM?t=31
Natalya’s arm, made strong by years of crushing dreams, connects across Hackenschmidt’s clavicle and breast and beats her flat to the canvas. The totalled Teuton blinks in a shocked ‘What happened?” look as her hands rise on their and grasp at nothing, her belly and chest flutter trying to pull back the air that’s been knocked out of her lungs. Natalya stares down with eyes burning just as hotly as they did at the start of the match. Apparently, The Murmansk Mauler’s anger is limitless. She points down at the paper champion and barks, “I warned you that your chance for mercy was running out! Now, you suffer!”
Natalya yanks Vic off the ring floor by her top, nearly stripping the body-anxious blonde before she gets to her feet. With a nails-focused grip on Victoria’s chest and between her legs, Natalya lifts the champion high above her head with a Gorilla Press. No showboating or antagonizing the audience now, the Russian walks over to the eastern side of the ring and tosses Victoria over the ropes like so much garbage. There’s an instant where the panicking champ is waving her arms, hoping she can fly, and those hopes are dashed. She flops on the barely padded concrete with a Smack! that’ll be in many FAWN’s Bad Falls compilation videos from now on.
MiG-29
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdBj3VxWq2o
It’s not her first abrupt landing outside the ring, but there’s only so much you can get used to; Victoria writhes on the floor inches from the guardrail and silently screams, denying Natalya the satisfaction of the sound. Titles don’t change hands on Count Out victories, so the challenger slides out of the ring to collect her prey…. After an important detour. Natalya walks over and grabs Victoria by the scruff, then drags the struggling Knight over to a set of steel steps.
The cacophony of the crowd takes on a worrying tone as Natalya carefully backs up the steps with the hurtin' German in hand. She doesn’t usually announce her moves, but given this special occasion, Natalya inserts Victoria into a tight headscissors and screams to the audience, “Red Scare!” And the worrying tone turns into various pleas for the Russian to change her mind! Konstantinova’s patented Package Piledriver has put more than a few women on the injured list, and one into the steel could end Victoria’s career.
The FAWNatic's worry falls on deaf ears; Natalya never has and will never care about anyone’s opinion. She circles her arms around the German’s middle and tries to flip Victoria into position, but the champion balls up and hooks her fingers into Natalya's bootlaces to stay grounded.
"Don't be a coward!" Natalya grunts, unable to move the obstinate bitch. "Take your loss with dignity-OOAUH!!"
Victoria whips her head up and thuds Natalya between the legs with the back of her skull! Natalya disengages from Victoria and backs up a couple of shaky steps, looking pale, sweaty and her hands clutching her кошечка. The Knight pushes off the cold metal to stand intimidatingly over the bowed challenger. The moment their eyes meet, Hackenschmidt moves with deadly efficiency and traps Konstantinova’s arms in Double Underhooks, lifts the Russian off her feet and rams her headfirst into the steel with a sickening CLUNK!
youtu.be/qtsMCF3NDho?t=45
OOOOOHHHH!!!!
The FAWNatics have never shown concern for Konstantinova before, mainly because they’ve never had to. However, tonight many are glancing toward the ringside medic or outright yelling at him to check on Natalya’s welfare. The redhead tumbles off the side of the steps into a boneless puddle on the mats below with her eyes and mouth slightly open. Her hands and feet make weak aimless movements, assuaging some concerns about injuries. However, the absurdly significant dent in the steel steps the cameraman zooms in on provides a strong argument for a referee stoppage.
Victoria, who fell far less painfully into a seat on the landing of the steps, reaches over and raps her knuckles twice on the deepest part of the dent and speaks into a nearby camera, “An object lesson for respect and civility in professional wrestling.”
She looks down at the covered arena floor and sees Natalya has turned over and is in the beginning stages of getting up. The VERY beginning. The challenger has her legs tucked in and hands flat on the floor but doesn’t have the strength to push off the floor, so all Natalya achieves is presenting her firm ass to Victoria. The champion observes those glutes disapprovingly, “Hmmm… still more resistance than I’d like.”
Victoria makes the slight drop to the floor and picks up Natalya by the back of her asymmetrical singlet, and slides her into the ring. Victoria makes a point of climbing the stairs to the ring apron and stepping through the ropes; she’s the IC champion and can end this anytime. To her credit, Natalya’s forcing herself back up in stages to stand on two feet to crush the arrogant German. She took a dozen kicks to the head from Victoria and Ariane after a full match and walked away under her power. Still, the sight of her upright and struggling to keep her balance when expected to be in a coma is a testament to Natalya’s fortitude.
Not that Victoria cares. She grabs the wavering Russian by a bicep, pulls her into a back-to-back position, and hooks their arms. There’s an anticipatory buzz in the audience as she dips and shoots out of a crouch, Natalya’s feet now caught on the German’s hips. The official questions the necessity of such a brutal move after a header into steel steps while Victoria releases their arms, leans her torso to Natalya’s right, and takes her in a Headlock.
“Are you sure that’s-?
“Yes.”
The Knight moves so fast that those not watching from home think the feed skipped a few frames in the recording. Victoria goes from vertical to horizontal and makes the second dent of the match with Natalya’s face!
FAFNIR’S FANG
youtu.be/rqLNHx2ySHQ?t=9
Like a pickaxe driven into the ground, Natalya’s face supports the whole body weight before she falls and tilts to her side, out like a broken light. With Victory assured, Victoria’s animosity depletes, and she ends the match with a respectable pin. She pushes the unconscious redhead flat and hooks the near leg out of routine than security.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
DINGDINGDINGDING!!!
“Your winner….. and still Intercontinental champion…. Victoria Hackenschmidt!!!!!”
Victoria tosses the leg aside and pushes up on Natalya's body to stand, and places a boot on her breast as she's handed the most talked about belt in wrestling today. She raises it to the lights while grinding her heel on Natalya's nipple, stirring the mauled Mauler to whine and move restlessly, but not fully reawaken.
"I must thank you, Natalya. With this win, I'm on the cusp of being in the record books alongside Jennifer Jacobs. You were always going to be a footnote in wrestling history, now you'll be a notable one."
The Murmansk Mauler brutally reemerged last month at Cold November Pain by nearly Powerbombing Maiden America through the stage and engaging Ariane Jones in an intense match right after the Southern redhead announced her new role as the Sheriff of FAWN. Natalya suffered her first loss in her FAWN career to Ariane, but there’s a potential asterisk considering the official missed a pin. Something the Russian was and is livid about and tried to get recompense for by Powerbombing Ariane post-match as many times as there are days in the month. The Knight came to her new friend’s rescue and beat back the sadistic ex-soviet; Commissioner Bethany Christian was impressed by Natayla’s fortitude and, looking to take the title off Victoria, granted the statuesque heel a title shot.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEG_T4UUc1I
The growing tension is broken by an ominous blast of music blaring across the arena. The sinister-sounding intro of Rammstein’s REISE REISE plays over the loudspeakers while scenes of Russia during the Cold War appear on the FAWNtron. An intimidating woman who took a ten-year break from FAWN to terrorize most of Europe stands at the top of the ramp, taking the sight of the fat, lazy American masses with an air of disgust.
“Coming down the aisle, from Murmansk Russia at 5'11” 160 lbs. The Murmansk Mauler, Natalya Konstantinova!”
NATALYA KONSTANTINOVA
The towering Russian wears a bright red asymmetrical wrestling singlet, her left shoulder left bare and her right leg missing. Gold trim runs down her sides, and CCCP is spelled out in gold lettering across her bosom. Her bright red hair is tied back in a braided ponytail that sways lightly with each purposeful step as Natayala marches down the ramp ignoring the booing fans behind the guardrails. She stomps up a set of steel steps and swings a leg over the middle rope, and bends under the top into the ring amid a smattering of flash photography capturing her tight backside in red lycra. Fans still find Konstinova hot despite her Cold War personality.
Natalya paces in her corner like an ornery bull, almost foaming at the mouth in her eagerness to avenge her unjust loss and humiliation by crushing the bourgeois Hackenschmidt and taking her title. And then she’ll crush that so-called sheriff Ariane Jones, then crush their half-pint World champion, then she’ll crush…
Natalya’s violent inner spiral is interrupted by the beautifully operatic entrance music of the IC Champion.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoTa-b7cUw0
The audio of Giacomo Puccini’s three-stage opera feels perfectly appropriate with the sight of the stage illuminated with blinding white spotlights focusing on The Knight. Victoria drinks in the uproarious response the FAWNatics give her; they’re friendlier than they used to be. There’s still that core of negativity, but far more cheers than Victoria got over the majority of her time in the company. Hackenschmidt takes a calming breath through her nose and sets down the ramp. The German giant stands tall and armourless for the second time in her career, except for her head. She wears her usual silver Corinthian helmet that protects the back and sides of her skull but leaves her high-boned cheeks free with a strip of metal stretched down from the center opening to cover her nose. The helm is smooth other than an artful etching that circles the top of the skull resembling a bejewelled crown. The most crucial thing on Victoria’s person is around her waist, the Intercontinental Championship belt. Under the spotlight, it shines as the brightest beacon to any potential challenger, employed by FAWN or not, to try and pry it from The Valiant One’s grasp.
Head bowed in silent prayer, her hands clutch a cross-hilted broadsword nearly four feet in length, a replica of a family heirloom that hung over the fireplace in her family estate in Hesse. Shaking off negative thoughts with a mighty roar, Victoria flexes her powerful arms and hefts the replica blade up to a cheering audience, then onto her shoulder before beginning her march towards the ring, the spotlights following her every step.
"Standing at 5 feet 11 inches and weighing in at 152 pounds!! From Phoenix, Arizona, by way of Hesse, Germany!! She is The Valiant One!! The Intercontinental Champion, Victoria “The Knight” Hackenschmidt!!!”
VICTORIA HACKENSCHMIDT
The IC champ marches to the ring in her white halter top, revealing miles of lightly toned, pale tummy with matching boy-cut shorts that cling to her tight hindquarters. White boots and knee pads looking newly shined, and an elbow-length fingerless white glove on her right arm; all her gear has thin black lines that weave and intersect to resemble the plate armour she usually wears to the ring.
Before the bell, Victoria tries to keep her mind on the match ahead, but she still reaches her free arm out to Hi-Five FAWNatics, leaning over the guardrail. The Valiant One briefly detours to a set of steel steps where a solid-looking metal box with a small slit cut into the top sat by the ring apron. Hackenschmidt takes the sword off her shoulder and swiftly swings it in a broad circle before smoothly plunging it down into the box and takes off her helmet, revealing her windswept blonde hair is longer than a pixie cut but too short of reaching past her earlobes.
As her music dies down, the entrance euphoria dies along with it. A switch flips for half of the Orlando audience, and the air fills with a cacophony of noise, boos and cheers competing for dominance. The feral fans want a champ that shows a little more skin or has a colourful demeanour, but Victoria’s finally starting to win some of them over; the bustier fans no longer mock her chest size when she does cardio by the beach!
As the official commences his patdown of The Knight, Victoria locks into a death stare with Natalya across the ring. Suspending the open challenge for a planned opponent had its benefits; Victoria could study tape of Natayla, not only allowing her to strategize but giving her insight into the challenger’s character. Natalya purposely humiliated every opponent she faced and sent many of them away on a stretcher, it was a point of pride for the Russian redhead to put her victims on the shelf for months. This dark hobby of Natalya’s puts Victoria at ease; there is no need for hesitation or diplomacy, The Blood Knight can surface and wreak havoc with all of the champion’s will.
After completing his inspection, the referee walks to the halfway point between the two wrestlers and signals for the bell.
DINGDING!!
To Victoria and Natalya, those echoing chimes sounded like a starter’s pistol; they exploded out of their corners like twin blurs of muscle, sinew and lycra and run full speed at each other. Both came to the conclusion before the match that the best offense is just offense.
Their bodies come together with a smek! Their competing Shoulderchecks cancel each other out and send both competitors teetering back a step, Natalya and Victoria trade appraising, steely looks before booking fast retreats to the ropes. The two Destroyers spring off the taut cables with their right arms spread out like a scythe. Their brawny arms clap against each other’s chest simultaneously; champion and challenger again remain standing, but Victoria’s balance is far more precarious. Natalya had much more ‘padding’ in that area and could absorb the force of the blow better, if not the pain. The raging Russian lunges at Hackeckenschmidt and snatches her blonde hair above her ears, “You will fall, свинья!” Natalya tugs Victoria into a thudding Headbutt that makes the timekeeper flinch. Her hair still in Natalya’s grasp, The Knight wobbles on her feet, blinking confusedly and limply grasping at the redhead’s wrists. The challenger gives a low growl, and her plush lips press thin in frustration at her foe’s verticality. Natalya arches her neck back for a second Headbutt when Victoria springs to life; shoots her arms up and between Konstantinova’s and brings them down hard on the pits of the Russian’s elbows, sacrificing a few strands of hair to free herself and upsetting Konstantinova’s balance.
Victoria sees the Murmansk Mauler’s arms windmilling and reaches out, grasping a handful of gold and yellow lycra between Konstantinova’s breasts, disappearing the middle C in CCCP. She stops her from falling, but it’s not an act of compassion; Victoria shows how they do it in Germany by yanking Konstantinova into a savage Headbutt that sends her tottering on her heels. The Towering Teuton points at the staggered ex-Soviet and she spits, “I am not some Lightweight you can push around, Schwein!”
Natalya firms up her stance and stomps toward Victoria, slapping away the offending finger to get nose to nose with the busybody blonde, “I am going to do more than push. I will show this whole arena your flat ass and send you back to hillbilly playing law-woman in pieces.”
Victoria feels a pounding in her temples and gets closer to this relic of FAWN, the tips of their noses flattening against each other. She snarls, “I’m going to send you back to whatever government-sponsored butcher shop you were wrestling for in Russia before you stain the ring with your stench.”
Mutual dislike would be a gross understatement in describing the relationship between these two, and the women’s mirroring attacks exacerbate that dislike. The strange trend continues; Natalya’s and Victoria’s arms coil around one another like snakes on the hunt and start a Bearhug duel! Their muscles shred into sharp relief as they give maximum effort right at the start. They go cheek to cheek, growling and groaning, and stamping in a small circle, trying to make the right micro-adjustment to gain an advantage. If they weren’t in a wrestling ring, you’d think they were in the middle of some intense foreplay.
A full minute passes, and sweat begins to glisten on the champion and challenger’s bodies while the official quickly circles the pillar of pulchritude, looking for any sign that someone’s giving up. Natalya forces what little space she can in the hug and slaps her rock-hard abdominals against Victoria’s. There’s a clapping sound as hot, moist flesh meets flesh and Natalya feels Victoria’s breath tickle her ear as it leaves the German’s body in a rush.
“I knew I should have been working your stomach from the start,” taunts Natalya as she gives The Knight another belly blast. She grins, feeling Victoria’s abs surrender to her superior set, “You Germans always have soft tummies. It’s all pastries you gorge on between meals.”
Natalya feels Hackenschmidt’s side of the hug loosen and eases back for a third belly blow, she’s abruptly interrupted by The Knight pulling her back in and applying more pressure than ever in the Bearhug! Natalya keeps her arms wrapped around the champion, but the torturous noose of pressure circling her ribs keeps the challenger from responding in kind.
"I knew you were of poor intelligence from our first meeting," Victoria teases, physically proving her point with a vicious squeeze, " Russia's pillar of strategy in war is to run in a straight line towards gunfire."
Knowing she's closer to getting a Bell ringer than a tap out, Victoria swings the red invader through two steps before hurling themselves to the canvas. Victoria crushes Natalya between the hard ring floor and her hard body with a Rolling Belly-to-Belly Suplex.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dF9KeZLgWHY
Natalya feels important things in her body move out of place and shift back when she's made the filling in a canvas/wrestler sandwich. The official slides in on knees to make a count, but Victoria knows it's too early and gets up with the squirming Russian still bundled in her arms. The Knight takes her dance partner for another micro-waltz and slams her with another belly-to-belly that quakes the ring.
Victoria lays atop Konstantinova, looking like a satisfied missionary and cranes her neck at the watching zebra, "Let's try now."
This time the ref gets to put palm to mat-
One!
Two!!
Natalya places her boots flat and uses those powerful yet sexy legs to flip themselves over, now Natalya’s pinning Victoria!
One!
Two!!
Victoria moves a shoulder up and rolls with the movement, getting her feet under her and rising with Natalya still in her arms.
“Clever cub, “ compliments Victoria with only a touch of sarcasm. She applies more strength to the hug, making Natalya’s bones creak and coaxing a groan out of the challenger. “Perhaps if you didn’t make a career of bullying smaller women to look strong, you’d be known as a tacticalrRRagh!”
Natalya makes good on Victoria’s nickname for her and chomps down on the side of the champion’s neck! Victoria howls out in shock and pain but has the fortitude to keep the Bearhug going and ramps up the pressure. She'll ring out Natalya like a tube of toothpaste before letting-
"Aaaieh!!"
Natalya must study under Adelaide Brewster because she refuses to unhinged her jaw and bites down even harder on Victoria’s carotid. The Valiant One endures this hellish chewing and tightens the embrace further. She'd rather lose a chunk of her neck and keep her title than let this rabid animal have another moment of consciousness. Or at least Victoria thinks she does; Natalya starts shaking her head to pull at Victoria’s flash like she means to end the match with something out of Mortal Kombat, and Victoria’s survival instincts override her competitor’s spirit. A screaming Hackenschmidt ceases the Bearhug immediately and she’s pulling on Natalya’s hair HARD, The Murmansk Mauler is pried off the champion’s neck, but she’s not finished with it yet. Natalya wraps her fingers around Hackenschmidt’s airway and throttles the blonde like there’s no tomorrow!
Victoria gags and her hands flash to Konstantinova’s wrists; she chokes and gurgles as tries to tear Natalya’s hands away, her wide and fearful eyes staring into Konstantinova’s furious face. The referee is immediately on the challenger’s ass, not bothering with a warning in fear of Victoria’s safety. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-!”
Natalya moves a hand from Victoria’s neck only to apply a probing claw between the German’s legs and lift her into the air. Victoria’s choking goes up several octaves when she feels her holy sanctum painfully invaded by the brute’s clumsy yet strong fingers. Too frustrated by the insufferable Knight to form words, Natalya lets out a triumphant roar and nearly makes a Victoria-shaped crater in the ring with a Sit-out One-Armed Chokeslam!
CHERNOBYL MELTDOWN
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_eJvfXsqUE
A ripple courses the Squared Circle and Konstantinova’s bust by the might of her Chokeslam, a sight that will be seen at the next FAWN show in the recap reel of Season’s Beatings 2022. A stunned Victoria’s head tilts to the side while her arms and legs flop by the challenger’s ankles and hips, respectively. Natalya leans forward and slaps her palms onto Victoria’s very modest tits and spueezes hatefully as the official records her win in the books.
ONE!
TWO!!
The Knight jerks to life with a wild slap that Natalya dodges by the tip of her nose. Victoria’s brains are a little scrambled by Meltdown, but she can feel how they’re positioned crosses her ankles behind Natalya’s waist. Her legs make their best Jenny Xian impression and try to cut the Russian in two with a Bodyscissors. Natalya throws her head back and grits her teeth to bite down a groan, she balls her fists and pounds at random spots on Victoria’s gams. The Valiant One grimaces, then she places her hands flat on the canvas and thrusts her hips into another waistline-reducing constriction that puts Natalya into convulsions and halts her attack.
Victoria seethes, “Dummkopf! Did you think such a lazy cover so early would win you gold? You don’t deserve this opportunity.”
Konstantinova snarls back, flecks of spit splattering on Hackenschmidt’s tummy, “And you don’t deserve your title!” Her hands dart to the blonde’s chest and latch onto her nipples, the AC of the building making them slightly visible through her top. Hackenschimdt has a microsecond to suck in a panicky breath before Natalya works her nipples like radio dials she’s trying to tear off!
"RAAaieee! Aaiee!!"
The Murmansk Mauler lives up to her name if in a hyper-focused manner; she turns the stoic champion into a teary-eyed college coed in her first catfight. Victoria wails with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, hitting higher notes than the sopranos that sing in her theme music as Natalya yanks, twists, pinches, and scratches the blonde's meagre bounty. The Valiant One takes her palms off the canvas and digs her fingers into Natalia's wrists, searching for the right nerve to pop open the Russian's steely grip. Despite the titty torture, Victoria maintains the Bodyscissors with desperate ferocity.
"I know why you wear that armour," growls the challenger as she gets her knees under her, punctuating her evaluation with another vile twist of Victoria's nubs. "You need a hard shell to cover up how soft you are!"
Natalya rises slowly off the mat, lifting a shrieking Hackenschmidt by the nipples, the champion's stems still wrapped around her waist. The redhead breaks into a run and charges into a corner, squashing Victoria into the buckles in a messy crash. Those well-built walking sticks of the champ finally drop from Natalya's waist and plop to the mat, so she releases her talons from Victoria's sore nipples to move on to her usual offense of smashing and pounding.
Taking the middle ropes by Hackenschmidt's sagging body in hand, Natalya Lower's herself into a tackler's crouch and drives a Shoulder Thrust into the German's middle. Hackenschmidt groans as she curls around Natalya’s form and she’s pushed into a seat onto the middle buckle, thrusting her gym-toned ass clad in white lycra to a camera, broadcasting it across the gigantic FAWNtron screen. The red Destroyer pulverizes Victoria's midsection with machine-like precision and swiftness, shouting with cruel joy at each impact, She gets six corner-shaking hits before the ref finishes his warning count, forcing Natalya to back up a step or risk disqualification. Victoria slowly lurches out of her perch on the middle turnbuckle, looking sickly and pliant. Her boots have trouble supporting her weight, and The Knight falls forward against Konstantinova in an impromptu, tacky embrace. Victoria slides down the Russian’s form till her chin catches on the neckline of Natayla’s top, her features now buried in the redhead’s flush and sweaty cleavage as she muffles a low moan.
Natalya’s lips curl in irritation, and she grabs a messy handful of Victoria’s hair, pulling the champion’s slack face from her mounds and standing her straight. She swivels Victoria’s head with a nasty forehand that echoes with a Crack! Sending spit and breast sweat flying off her lips, “извращенец(pervert), I am not your diminutive ex-partner.”
On that humbling note, Konstantinova takes Hackenschmidt by the wrist and sends her flying off to the far corner with an Irish Whip. The challenger runs after her and then stands ready at the center of the ring. Konstantinova knows that whether Victoria turns in time or not, she'll hit the padded steel hard enough to bounce back into her clutches for a Suplex.
Victoria pivots in time for the little good that does her, the turnbuckles hit her spine with a force that shakes the ropes and ricochets Victoria en route to Natalya. She lets outs a gnarled yell at the screaming knot of pain blossoming in her vertebrae and uses it as motivation to turn her stumble into a dash. The Towering Teuton closes the distance faster than Natalya anticipates and gets decked for it! Victoria gives the Russian a running knuckle sandwich with her right(gloved) fist, taking Natalya off her feet into a sprawl. The champion shakes out her hand over a challenger knocked loopy and grasping at nothing.
“My Nanny would be pleased,” reminisces Victoria as flashes of her early training and learning to throw a proper punch spark in her mind. Finding Natalya too slow to get up, Victoria snags a wrist, hauls the Ruskie to her feet, and Whips her to the ropes. Natalya hits the ropes hard and runs harder after the recoil; driven by the embarrassment of being felled by a single punch, she speedily, if sloppily, runs toward the German for a receipt Right Cross; instead, she gets an unexpected look at Victoria’s sole. Natalya runs straight into a Big Boot and is made horizontal for the second time in less than a minute. Hackenschmidt’s already moving before Konstantinova’s finishes falling; The Knight bounds to the coils to their left, comes back with a running leap, and drops that long, pale across Natalya’s upper chest like falling I-beam.
youtu.be/IILPKBndeAE?t=248
A wave travels through Natalya’s body that kicks her legs up when Victoria makes her heart skip with a Leg Drop; that gorgeous gam stays on Natalya’s hills for a cover, and red boots clatter back down against the canvas just as the official slides in for the count.
ONE!
TWO!!
Natalya shoves the leg off of her like she’s bursting out of rubble, putting Victoria on her hip. The blonde looks at the redhead incredulously, seeing Natalya climb to her feet in faltering but rapid stages and pushes to stand herself. Victoria beats her to verticality and snaps into an attack stance, angling her left shoulder at the rising Natalya, then flattening her hand into a paddle and reaching across to touch her right shoulder. As soon as Konstantinova raises her head, she finds herself on the wrong side of a mammoth-sized Knife-Edge Chop! The ambient sound of the arena is destroyed with a sharp, resonating CRACK! Natalya staggers back with a redding welt already visible on the slopes of her cleavage; Victoria reloads and mashes Natalya’s matryoshkas again CRACK! Fans shrink away in their seats at the devastating sound as the walking mass of power that is Konstantinova seems to shrink. Her aura of ruthless aggression fades as she clutches her aching gurls, and pinpricks of tears begin to form in her eyes.
CRACK!... CRACK!... CRACK
Speed is never the greatest asset for a Destroyer Class wrestler, though Victoria is faster than expected, which enhances the Hesse Heroine’s trademark method of Chopping; quality over quantity. The shock of Victoria’s punishing palm travels through the breasts, takes the air out of your lungs, and weakens your knees and feet. The opponent, in this instance Natalya, is left vulnerable for another Chop or any other move in Victoria’s vast arsenal. A Bloodwind-style massacre is excellent to see, but a Hackenschmidt bombing leaves an impact!
Natalya suffers Victoria's wrath for half a dozen lashings, backing her into the ropes and, with a parting with an elbow to a jaw, she high knees it across the ring into the ropes. The air flows through Victoria as she runs back to the rumpled Russian and throws herself into a Crossbody to batter Natalya out of the ring and give her a bad landing. The challenger renders those plans moot when she explodes out of the coils and catches Victoria’s 152lbs like she’s thrown luggage. Before the champ can process things that have gone awry, Natalya spins Victoria like a street sign and slams on a knee with a Tilt-A-Whirl Backbreaker!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YomYDLmDyjc
“Gaaahhh!!!!
Her mother’s prized butterfly collection springs to the forefront of Hackenschmidt’s mind when Konstantinova attempts to break her in two. She literally bounces off the Mauler’s knee into a spasmatic heap on the floor; Natalya drops forward with her posted leg into a small Kneedrop to Victoria’s cheek, then leaps into the air and lands a bigger one to her forehead. Seeing her prey sufficiently stunned, Natalya forces Vic face up and pounces into a straddling pin. She forces Victoria’s wrists above her head and gets nose to nose with the IC champ, she stares down angrily into the German unfocused eyes so she can ground her win into Victoria’s soul.
ONE!
TWO!!
T-! “Rraa!”
Victoria twists her head and chomps down on Natalya’s nose! Natalya lets go of her wrists, and jackhammers punches to The Knight’s liver till Victoria’s teeth are off her proboscis. Natalya gets up with her hands tented on her nose, checking if the skin is broken and grumbling like low thunder, stomping in an angry circle till she can think clearly. Victoria teeters over to all fours and places and gingerly places a hand at her aching back and moans, “Teufel noch mal… I felt my heels touch the back of my head.”
The Valiant One trudges to a knee and starts to rise up from the mat- Natalya sprints over and kicks her in the back of the head. Sparks fill her vision as she falls back on the mat, cradling her skull as Natalya hatefully stomps any and every part of the young German woman’s body. The official looks uncomfortable and helpless as he stands by watching Konstantinova try to stomp a bleating Victoria into mush while cursing her out in Mother Russia’s native tongue.
“Шлюха! Cyka! Cвинья! No more games! I will leave you broken and humbled!”
The Murmansk Mauler scoops a jellied Victoria onto a shoulder, her legs trailing down Natalya’s back while her upper body and arms trail down the challenger’s form towards the ring floor. Natalya carries her softy whimpering cargo to her corner and presses Vic into the buckles, expertly folding the champion’s legs around the steel connecting the top buckle to the post; Natalya backs away and sees her Tree of Woe can properly sustain Victoria’s weight. As the rage-filled Russian raises her fists, knowledgeable fans either wince or take out their phones depending on their level of bloodlust. The champ’s about to suffer a Siberian Meltdown.
Pek! Pek! Pekpekpek! Thwack! Thwack!
Natalya’s heavy fists blur, hitting Victoria’s body so hard that sprays of sweat fly with each echoing hit, mixing in kicks and stomps when the mood strikes. She travels up and down the blonde’s body, working the thighs, pummeling up and down the belly, beating the breasts with jabs and hooks. A count of five would be horrendous for a wrestler to suffer through the Meltdown, and thanks to a whisper in the official’s earpiece from Bethany, The Murmansj Mauler gets some additional seconds to work the heavy bag.
Hackenschmidt’s not one for calling for the ref’s assistance, but that composed exterior is being beaten to mush, along with her internal organs. Shameful tears run from her eyes into her hairline as she wails with a pleading voice, vibrating with the chops Natalya lashes on her navel and breasts.”
“R-r-Ref! Cor-Or-Ner!”
The watching zebra shows some kindness and gives a fast count, blurring the spaces between the numbers before throwing himself in harm’s and pulling Konstantinova by the bicep away from the abused Hackenschmidt. Natalya whirls on the spots and backs the wilting ref into the far corner, haranguing him in Russian for showing blatant favouritism. Meanwhile, Hackenchmidt has loosened the knot of her legs enough to slip free and thump on the mat in a painful pile of humanity. She sluggishly army crawls under the bottom cable and lies face down on the apron, gathering every mental trick studied and discovered to numb the pain of her full-body bludgeoning.
At last, done with her admonishing of the official, Natalya leaves him shaking in the buckles to stalk the perimeter of the Squared Circle to loudly degrade the fat, unwashed, uneducated American fans that dare to boo her perfection. She screams back at the wave of boos from the Florida audience, “Chaff! Chaff and dung, that’s all you amount to!”
When she turns her attention back to Victoria, she finds The Knight is standing on the apron with the aide of the top rope, looking bruised and blemished but not beaten.
“You should have stayed down,” Natalya chastises as she makes her over, “Any mercy I may show you yet, is running out by the moment.”
She winds up another jawbreaker of a right hook, but Victoria blocks with her forearm in time and grabs Natalya by her red mane with the same limb. Victoria drags Natalya along that side of the ring to a corner and bwungs the challenger's face into the top buckle. Natalya pitches back, eyes watering, the bite to her nose inflamed by the leather and steel collision. The Knight takes the top cable with both hands and leans back, “I need nothing from you but your capitulation.”
Victoria slingshots her Destroyer-self over the ropes like she was a Lightweight and bowls over Natalya with the promised Crossbody!
youtu.be/b-ZO--c8yX4?t=214
It’s a rare and beautiful thing when the crowd is fully behind the Intercontinental champion, and we witness it today. Victoria sandwiches Konstantinova between herself and the canvas to a window-rattling pop, the harassment-plagued champ will be riding that high for weeks! Victoria bounces off her opponent into a semi-comfortable landing on her hands and feet while Natalya folds in on herself into a messy backroll into a faceplant. The Knight sees an opportunity and speedily crawls forward till she can grab one of the Ruskie’s ankles. Then, she shifts perpendicular to Konstantinova, rolls up her body, and rises with the leg curled around her neck. Natalya becomes the stereotypical Russian bear in a beartrap, screaming and clawing at the mat as her leg contorts and bends in a Stretch Muffler.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Brqk8Abltds
“Submit, Konstantinova!” Shouts Victoria over Natalya’s screams. She rises out of the crouch momentarily to further leverage the Mauler’s body weight into the submission sending her into a set of fits. Natalya ignores the champion’s order completely and swipes at the official when he comes near, making him nearly trip over his own feet. Victoria huffs in frustration and stands taller; almost all of Natalya’s weight pull on the joint causing the redhead to pull at her hair to keep from tapping. Victoria lowers into a crouch again, decreasing the pain but keeping the hold intact. She could have won if Victoria had stayed at her full height... But she can’t. Natalya really worked her middle when Hackenschmidt was in the Tree of Woe, and her core can’t take the strain of them combined for too long. Beads of sweat run down Victoria’s flushed face as she tries to keep the Muffler going for a few seconds longer… but lets go. Natalya’s stamina wins out in this exchange. The two collapse on the mat, Natalya holding her seething knee, and Victoria curled up with arms crossed over her burning middle.
The official stands nearby and begins a double Count Out with the FAWN arena echoing in perfect tandem.
“ONE!! TWO!! THREE!!...”
The two women lay nursing their culminating wounds and catching their breath till the ref hits "SIX!!" The champion and challenger decide to get in gear and drag their shambling forms inch by inch back up. These battling beauties face the entrance ramp in a single file, Natalya ahead of Victoria. The tired Knight takes in the sight back of her enemy’s slumped shoulders and matted hair. In the FAWNtron, she can see Konstantinova’s breathing heavily, discomfort and exhaustion hanging off her in droves, the Russian’s near her end, and Victoria’s in the same position.
It takes fuel to be angry, and Victoria doesn’t have enough to spare; she licks her dry lips and sighs out an offering for civilized combat. “Listen, let’s settle this like true wrestlers. We don’t need to debase-.”
WHAM!
Konstantinova spins on a dime and nails the Intercontinental champion with a Discus Lariat!
THE IRON CURTAIN
youtu.be/724AAZ5cgBM?t=31
Natalya’s arm, made strong by years of crushing dreams, connects across Hackenschmidt’s clavicle and breast and beats her flat to the canvas. The totalled Teuton blinks in a shocked ‘What happened?” look as her hands rise on their and grasp at nothing, her belly and chest flutter trying to pull back the air that’s been knocked out of her lungs. Natalya stares down with eyes burning just as hotly as they did at the start of the match. Apparently, The Murmansk Mauler’s anger is limitless. She points down at the paper champion and barks, “I warned you that your chance for mercy was running out! Now, you suffer!”
Natalya yanks Vic off the ring floor by her top, nearly stripping the body-anxious blonde before she gets to her feet. With a nails-focused grip on Victoria’s chest and between her legs, Natalya lifts the champion high above her head with a Gorilla Press. No showboating or antagonizing the audience now, the Russian walks over to the eastern side of the ring and tosses Victoria over the ropes like so much garbage. There’s an instant where the panicking champ is waving her arms, hoping she can fly, and those hopes are dashed. She flops on the barely padded concrete with a Smack! that’ll be in many FAWN’s Bad Falls compilation videos from now on.
MiG-29
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdBj3VxWq2o
It’s not her first abrupt landing outside the ring, but there’s only so much you can get used to; Victoria writhes on the floor inches from the guardrail and silently screams, denying Natalya the satisfaction of the sound. Titles don’t change hands on Count Out victories, so the challenger slides out of the ring to collect her prey…. After an important detour. Natalya walks over and grabs Victoria by the scruff, then drags the struggling Knight over to a set of steel steps.
The cacophony of the crowd takes on a worrying tone as Natalya carefully backs up the steps with the hurtin' German in hand. She doesn’t usually announce her moves, but given this special occasion, Natalya inserts Victoria into a tight headscissors and screams to the audience, “Red Scare!” And the worrying tone turns into various pleas for the Russian to change her mind! Konstantinova’s patented Package Piledriver has put more than a few women on the injured list, and one into the steel could end Victoria’s career.
The FAWNatic's worry falls on deaf ears; Natalya never has and will never care about anyone’s opinion. She circles her arms around the German’s middle and tries to flip Victoria into position, but the champion balls up and hooks her fingers into Natalya's bootlaces to stay grounded.
"Don't be a coward!" Natalya grunts, unable to move the obstinate bitch. "Take your loss with dignity-OOAUH!!"
Victoria whips her head up and thuds Natalya between the legs with the back of her skull! Natalya disengages from Victoria and backs up a couple of shaky steps, looking pale, sweaty and her hands clutching her кошечка. The Knight pushes off the cold metal to stand intimidatingly over the bowed challenger. The moment their eyes meet, Hackenschmidt moves with deadly efficiency and traps Konstantinova’s arms in Double Underhooks, lifts the Russian off her feet and rams her headfirst into the steel with a sickening CLUNK!
youtu.be/qtsMCF3NDho?t=45
OOOOOHHHH!!!!
The FAWNatics have never shown concern for Konstantinova before, mainly because they’ve never had to. However, tonight many are glancing toward the ringside medic or outright yelling at him to check on Natalya’s welfare. The redhead tumbles off the side of the steps into a boneless puddle on the mats below with her eyes and mouth slightly open. Her hands and feet make weak aimless movements, assuaging some concerns about injuries. However, the absurdly significant dent in the steel steps the cameraman zooms in on provides a strong argument for a referee stoppage.
Victoria, who fell far less painfully into a seat on the landing of the steps, reaches over and raps her knuckles twice on the deepest part of the dent and speaks into a nearby camera, “An object lesson for respect and civility in professional wrestling.”
She looks down at the covered arena floor and sees Natalya has turned over and is in the beginning stages of getting up. The VERY beginning. The challenger has her legs tucked in and hands flat on the floor but doesn’t have the strength to push off the floor, so all Natalya achieves is presenting her firm ass to Victoria. The champion observes those glutes disapprovingly, “Hmmm… still more resistance than I’d like.”
Victoria makes the slight drop to the floor and picks up Natalya by the back of her asymmetrical singlet, and slides her into the ring. Victoria makes a point of climbing the stairs to the ring apron and stepping through the ropes; she’s the IC champion and can end this anytime. To her credit, Natalya’s forcing herself back up in stages to stand on two feet to crush the arrogant German. She took a dozen kicks to the head from Victoria and Ariane after a full match and walked away under her power. Still, the sight of her upright and struggling to keep her balance when expected to be in a coma is a testament to Natalya’s fortitude.
Not that Victoria cares. She grabs the wavering Russian by a bicep, pulls her into a back-to-back position, and hooks their arms. There’s an anticipatory buzz in the audience as she dips and shoots out of a crouch, Natalya’s feet now caught on the German’s hips. The official questions the necessity of such a brutal move after a header into steel steps while Victoria releases their arms, leans her torso to Natalya’s right, and takes her in a Headlock.
“Are you sure that’s-?
“Yes.”
The Knight moves so fast that those not watching from home think the feed skipped a few frames in the recording. Victoria goes from vertical to horizontal and makes the second dent of the match with Natalya’s face!
FAFNIR’S FANG
youtu.be/rqLNHx2ySHQ?t=9
Like a pickaxe driven into the ground, Natalya’s face supports the whole body weight before she falls and tilts to her side, out like a broken light. With Victory assured, Victoria’s animosity depletes, and she ends the match with a respectable pin. She pushes the unconscious redhead flat and hooks the near leg out of routine than security.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
DINGDINGDINGDING!!!
“Your winner….. and still Intercontinental champion…. Victoria Hackenschmidt!!!!!”
Victoria tosses the leg aside and pushes up on Natalya's body to stand, and places a boot on her breast as she's handed the most talked about belt in wrestling today. She raises it to the lights while grinding her heel on Natalya's nipple, stirring the mauled Mauler to whine and move restlessly, but not fully reawaken.
"I must thank you, Natalya. With this win, I'm on the cusp of being in the record books alongside Jennifer Jacobs. You were always going to be a footnote in wrestling history, now you'll be a notable one."