Post by alyadmirer on Mar 25, 2023 2:13:29 GMT
This wasn’t supposed to happen this soon.
LYNDA SHAYNE
LAYLA KEMP
It had not even been eight months since Lynda Shayne and Layla Kemp had wrestled their together, in a small California high school gym in front of maaaaybe 100 people. And sure, they lost that match...
And the next three.
But before long, the team of the La-La’s started putting some wins together. And stopped losing consecutive matches. And started building a little buzz on the indy circuit to watch. A team that, maybe in a few years might expect a call from FAWN, to be brought into developmental.
Instead, they got a call last week, to appear on a house show in Phoenix. Now, the nice gentleman from talent relations didn’t come out and say it was a tryout, but he didn’t have to. It simply stood to reason: as long as Lynda and Layla went out and showed out, then they had a chance of getting another call.
And getting a jump start on their careers.
As they say, the future is now.
Moments after the ring announcer welcomed the crowd of 4000--easily the biggest audience either Lynda or Layla had ever seen—the duo push through the curtains and step out onto the stage. No entrance music. No fanfare. The fans certainly know enough to know they’re looking at fodder. “Bikini meat”, to use the crasser vernacular of the fandom. And the La-La’s certainly know that’s all that’s expected of them. But all that means to them tonight is that they have a low bar to clear.
And as far as “bikini meat” goes… well, they definitely fill out their fightin’ two pieces quite pleasantly. Neither look older than 25, both are pretty much about the same height at 5’6”, and maybe there’s a couple of pounds difference between them. Lynda—the ever so slightly sleeker of the two—sports a purple two piece with gold trim, as well as white pads along with purple boots. Her long auburn hair spills to the small of her back. Layla—the somewhat curvier of the two—wears a similar ensemble, except with green replacing the purple, her hair darker and just a little bit shorter. Both wear black ring jackets with “La-La’s” printed on the back, Lynda’s in purple and Layla’s in green, those jackets extending only to about the small of the backs and leaving an unimpeded view of their tight and taut backsides.
“Introducing first,” the announcer declares once Shayne and Kemp have stepped through the ropes, “at a combined weight of two hundred and sixty-four pounds… Lynda Shayne… Layla Kemp… THHHEEE LAAAAAAAAA-LAAAAAAAAA’SSS!!!!!”
The FAWNatics welcome the newcomers with a round of polite, respectful applause—which only grows when a blush Layla smiles and Lynda waves in response. The duo slip off their ring jackets, revealing the crisscrossing gold laces that secure their tops at the back, and pass those jackets to a ringside staffer.
“And their opponents…”
As his voice trails off, a low, unfamiliar, and somewhat haunting guitar riff begins to play over the arena sound system. It slowly builds until, after about 30 seconds, kicking into high gear when drums join the fray. The good folks of Phoenix can be forgiven for not recognizing a metal version of “Katyusha”, a Soviet wartime anthem. But it was just the first of a series of surprises in store for the crowd.
“KATYUSHA”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Io9o1W-OuOA
The second surprise comes when not two, but three women step through the curtains, two moving swiftly to the front of the stage, each taking position at attention to one of the trailing women’s flanks. The woman a couple of steps behind is not dressed for combat… well, not ring combat. Instead, she sports the uniform of a rather highly decorated Russian military officer. And she certainly looks like she could step in the ring, if she wanted to, standing 5’9”, her long auburn hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
THE OFFICER
The two women in front of her each wear wool caps and gray, full length fur coats, left open to at least partially expose the ensembles underneath. For the women to the officer’s left—a curvaceous brunette easily every bit of the officer’s 5’9” height—that is a black two piece, with gold hammer and sickle emblems emblazoned upon each cup. For the other woman—a shorter lady of about 5’5”, with medium length crimson locks—that’s a red one piece, the midriff partially bared by a hammer and sickle cutout. Each woman wears gold pads and boots.
THE WRESTLER
And, for the third surprise of the evening, the shorter woman is a familiar one…
At least, the FAWNatics ought to recognize a former FAWN Tag team champion.
KIRA KOSLOVA
“Weighing in at a combined weight of two hundred and fifty-five pounds,” the announcer resumes, “Nikita Petrova… Kira Koslova… THE FIIIEEERRRCCCEEE SIIIBBBEEERRRIIIAAANNN BEEEAAAUUUTTTIIIEEESSS!!!!!”
The trio march down to the ring, Nikita and Kira leading the way. The third member of the group, as yet still unidentified to the FAWNatics, remains at ringside as first Kira and then Nikita ascend the ringsteps. Once within the ropes, the Russians slip out of their coats, passing them to their compatriot before Petrova slips back onto the apron.
Across the ring, Lynda and Layla exchange a few words of strategy before Shayne exits the ring, leaving her partner in to start the match against the former tag champ. With the ring now down to two women, the ref calls for the bell, and we are underway.
Meeting at center ring, Layla extends her hand—a gesture which prompts a collective sense of fear and concern from the FAWNatics. Surely this kid knew better than to expect a display of sportswomanship from Koslova, who had never previously demonstrated anything of the sort.
However, the Soviet Stunner doesn’t respond with a cheap shot. Of course, she doesn’t accept the hand, either. She merely regards it with a dismissive sneer. “Surely you do not expect to trick me with such obvious subterfuge?”
“Hey, no tricks,” Layla replies, shaking her head. “Just saying we know where we fit in here, and just wanna show you respect.”
Koslova finally makes it move, but it’s to slap away Kemp’s hand rather than shake it. “Respect is earned,” she says. “Show us you deserve it. If you can.”
“Fair enough,” Kayla responds, surging forward, with Kira responding in kind. The two tie up in a collar and elbow, jockeying for position… and it is the rookie who gains the initial advantage, slipping around behind the Russian redhead with an arm in tow, cinching in a hammerlock. “How’s that?” the Cali brunette asks.
“Pitiful,” Kira hisses. “And predictable.” Koslova manages to work her way out of the hammerlock, reversing it into a tight side headlock, drawing the American’s head in tight against her side. But Kayla’s not discouraged. The brunette manages to shove her way out, sending Koslova into the ropes. Setting her feet as the Russian hurtles back toward her, Kemp braces herself for a shoulderblock…
‘THWUMP!’
The two women collide, but neither goes down, Kira staggered back a half step and Layla a full one. Having failed to take her down from a stationary position, Kemp pivots and takes off toward the ropes, hitting the cables and racing back toward the Fierce Siberian Beauty….
… but instead of setting herself to potential one-up the Cali girl with a shoulderblock of her own, Koslova welcomes the rebounding brunette with a spinning heel kick that doesn’t just take Layla off her feet but almost takes Kemp’s head off her shoulder. The brunette hits the mat with a thud and a groan, rolling over to her stomach, cradling the back of her neck in her hands as Kayla’s feet drum the mat.
“Not an impressive start,” Kira notes, her voice icy as she hairhauls the Cali girl up to her feet. Setting her own feet, Koslova takes a wrists and whips Kayla into the corner—the Russian corner, obviously. No sooner does she send Kemp on the ride, Kira takes off after her, the American’s eyes widening in alarm as she turns her back to the buckles, just in time for the former tag champ’s arm to slam across her sternum with a clothesline made more brutal by the fact that Layla has nowhere to go except back into the buckles.
Kemp can only groan as Kira bodies into her, raising her hand above the Cali brunette’s left shoulder. From the apron, Nikita makes the tag. The referee acknowledges it, but Kira doesn’t depart. Instead, she lowers a shoulder as her partner strolls down the apron, driving forward to ram a stomach into Layla’s midriff—a process she repeats two more times as Petrova slips through the ropes, each impact driving Layla’s tush up onto the middle buckle for a second or so before her feet touch back down to the mat.
Approaching the reeling brunette without a care in the world, Nikita takes Layla’s head in both hands, turning her face toward the top rope before pressing down, shoving the Cali youngster’s eyes down against the rubber coated steel. Tightening her grip on Kemp’s locks, the Siberian Siren leads her away from the Russian corner, Layla shrieking with every step as the top ropes burns her eyes.
“C’mon, Nikita,” the official barks, “let her up!”
Nikita pays him no mind, leaving the referee little choice but to start a count. Only when he reaches “FOUR!” does Petrova relent, stepping back with her hands raised, allowing Layla to crumple to her knees and sag against the ropes.
Turning her attention from her opponent to the ref, Petrova launches into a fierce and fiery tirade. At least, it certainly sounds like a tirade. The fact that’s it’s being delivered in a language that the referee doesn’t speak means that he’s left trying to piece together the seemingly outraged woman’s protests from her tone and her gestures. “I… I can’t hear you out if I don’t know what you’re saying…” he pleads with her.
Anyone fluent in Russian close enough to hear would have recognized that the first thing Nikita had said was, “Come on, foolish American. Just keep your eyes on me and follow me, and pay NO attention to Katiya out there…” And because the official was unwittingly doing exactly as he was told, the third member of the Russian delegation is free to reach into the ring, grab the back of Layla’s head, and pull the brunette’s throat down across the top rope. Of course, Kemp TRIES to cry out. But with that taut, rubber coat steel collapsing her windpipe, the only sounds that emerge are strained gurgles, accompanied by frantic stomps of her boots.
All of which are drowned out by sympathetic FAWNatics, PLEADING with the ref to turn around.
An outraged Lynda bursts through the ropes. But unfortunately, she IS in the referee’s direct line of sight, and he pushes past Nikita to intercept the charging American—much to the crowd’s vocal displeasure. The Siberian Siren flashes the furious Shayne a taunting smile before dragging Layla up onto wobbly legs. Positioning herself to the right of the woozy, breathless brunette, Nikita uses her left hand to grab the waistline of Layla’s briefs, while her right arm reaches across the American’s chest. Then, with only a minimal grunt of exertion, Petrova powers the Cali girl off her feet, Layla’s briefs having just a moment to start slipping between her cheeks before the Russian lets go. Nikita drops back, drawing her knees up toward her chest—knees that Layla crashes down upon. The American beauty cries out in pain as she bounces off those bony joints, before flopping to the mat, sprawled face down and mewling.
RED DAWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-u0tbizdYY
Nikita likely could have rolled Layla over for the pin, but she elects not to. Instead, she hauls the youngster up and whips her toward the corner—yup, you guessed it, the Russian corner. Just as Kira had done, Petrova sprints in after her, ultimately extending one long, luscious leg to smash a boot into Kemp’s face with a Yakuza kick.
Nikita proves in no hurry to pull back, smirking out at the crowd, her leg remaining draped over the top rope. Kira reaches over, placing a light slap on Petrova’s shoulder and tagging herself in. Slipping through the ropes, the former tag champ snatches a handful of Layla’s brunette locks and guides a slumping Kemp toward the center of the ring. With the Cali girl already slightly doubled, it’s easy work for Koslova to guide the brunette’s under her arm. Then, gathering up and underhooking Layla’s wings, the Russian redhead pops her hips and drives Kemp to the mat with a wicked Butterfly Suplex.
BUTTERFLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3B55csISd0
Mewling, Kemp rolls over, unable to keep one hand from reaching for the small of her back. Kira, meanwhile, leisurely climbs back to her feet, regarding the brunette with a disdainful sneer as the brunette begins to slither toward her corner. The Russian redhead saunters over to her, standing over her as the California girl starts to struggle up to her hands and knees…
… at which point, Kira drops her butt down across the small of Layla’s back, sending her collapsing again to the canvas.
Remaining in a straddle of the brunette, Koslova takes her opponent’s right wrist, lifting Kemp’s arm off the mat. Locking her eyes on a fuming Lynda in the La La’s corner, the redhead stretches Layla’s arm toward her partner. “Care to try your luck?” Kira asks. “Trust me, you won’t far any better.”
Lynda steps up onto the bottom rope, reaching her arm in as far as she can reach… but it doesn’t matter. Kira tugs the brunette’s hand back before any tag can be made.
Rising off her opponent, Kira maintains wrist control as she yanks Layla up to her feet as well. Turning the brunette away from her, Koslova reaches her free arm toward Kemp’s head, spinning the youngster back to face her as she stuffs Layla’s head under her left arm—Kemps right arm now wrenched tight behind her back in a hammerlock. The Soviet Stunner then drops backward with malicious intent, SPIKING Layla’s head into the mat with a ruthless Hammerlock DDT that shoots Kemp back up to a seated position for a moment, facing her corner, her eyes glazed, vacant and unblinking as she stares ahead at an increasingly concerned Lynda Shayne…
HAMMERLOCK DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5XNxePpuas
… and then Layla topples backward, winding up starfished on the canvas.
And just like Nikita moments earlier, Kira foregoes the pin. Climbing to her feet, the Russian redhead peels Kemp off the mat. Slinging an arm around Layla’s neck, Koslova starts to race toward her corner, Nikita deftly slipping around the ringpost to clear the path for her partner. Somehow, Layla’s rubbery legs manage to keep up with the sprinting Koslova. Kira leaps toward the corner, her legs flying through the ropes as she lands seated on the middle rope, SLAMMING Kemp’s face into the middle buckle.
RUSSIAN TERRIER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDJb3bf86zQ
Layla whiplashes away from the corner, falling to her knees before pitching forward, landing in a sprawled heap while Kira continues to bounce on her perch on the middle rope. A smiling Nikita raises her hand, and Koslova tags, slipping out to the apron once her partner enters the ring. Tugging Kemp up with a handful of hair, Petrova turns the spaghetti-legged Cali brunette back toward Russian territory, and slams Layla’s face into the top turnbuckle three times. Kemp crumples to her knees, but Nikita keeps going, treating the American’s face to another three turnbuckle smashes. STILL not satisfied, the Siberian Siren draws Layla’s head back a little further this time, only to smash Kemp’s face into the BOTTOM buckle three more times. Then, she brings Kemp back to her feet with a violent yank. Petrova spins the brunette away from the corner, her eyes glazed, her legs rubber, her arms swaying limp as the raven haired Russian shows off her foe… before turning her back toward the corner and SLAMMING her face into the top turnbuckle for a TENTH, and final, time.
TOUR OF THE TURNBUCKLES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHZ2uaQnWKk
Kemp would have collapsed if Nikita simply let go of her hair. But she doesn’t. Again, she uses her grip on the American brunette’s locks to turn her away from the corner. Finally letting go of Layla’s hair, Petrova quickly dips and thrusts her head between Kemp’s quivering thighs. Nikita straightens up, allowing Layla’s upper body to collapse against the Russian’s glistening back. Petrova reaches back with her left arm, pulling the youngster’s head alongside Nikita’s left hip. She then drops to her right knee, bringing the back of Layla’s neck crashing down across the Russian’s powerful outstretched thigh, Kemp being brought violently to Earth via the Cosmonaut Crunch.
COSMONAUT CRUNCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWyp9ohT3tY
Layla crashes and burns, rolling over, clutching the back of her neck with both hands. Nikita, meanwhile, pushes to her feet, snatching a helping of Kemp’s dark locs and pulling her up to her feet. Keeping the youngster doubled, Petrova shoves Layla’s head between her thighs, clamping on a standing headscissors. Reaching underneath the Cali girl’s torso, the Siberian Siren claims both of Layla’s wrists, drawing the brunette’s arms across her chest before muscling her into the air. And there Nikita holds her for several seconds, letting the blood rush to Kemp’s head, as well as letting whatever hope might have remained amongst the FAWNatics drain away before she hops into the air, dropping to her butt and making Layla Kemp the first victim of the Tunguska Blast in FAWN.
TUNGUSKA BLAST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dZQL_usU-o
Layla might not have left an impact crater in the center of the ring, but her body is left quivering once she tumbles over onto her back. And finally, Nikita Petrova rolls over, mashing her left hand down across Layla’s right cheek as the Russian’s right arm gathers up and hooks Kemp’s left leg.
Even though the outcome was all but decided, Lynda Shayne explodes through the ropes. Now, one could argue that she wasn’t doing her friend and partner any favors trying to come to her rescue. Maybe she was motivated by a never say die attitude while hoping for a miracle. Maybe it was just the frustration of having never been able to legally enter the match.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Before she can reach Layla and Nikita, Kira Koslova intercepts her. Ducking under Shayne’s arm, the Soviet Stunner reaches one arm across her chest and another behind her back, lifting Lynda off her feet, only to drop her into a cruel kneelift right between the eyes that promptly turns the redhead’s lights out.
FROM RUSSIAN WITH LOVE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCbZgV7iDYg
ONE…
Just to make absolutely sure Lynda would not get any further ideas, Kira stays on her, deftly tying the American up in her Bear Trap cobra clutch triangle choke.
BEAR TRAP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0eessliDH0&t=1s
TWO…
Even as the referee’s hand rises off the mat from the two count, Lynda’s hand starts slapping at Koslova’s back. So much for the calvary, surrendering before the outcome was official.
THREE!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
Nikita rises to her knees, smirking as the official raises her hand. Across the ring, Lynda’s previously frantic slaps have become feeble swats. But even so, Kira keeps the Bear Trap applied tightly, even as the referee moves over and starts to pull her off. Finally, she lets go, allowing one La-La to roll lifelessly to her back alongside the other, each American beauty left sprawled and demolished.
The FAWNatics shower the Russians with jeers as they depart the ring, joining their compatriot at ringside before they head back up the aisle. But their departure is blocked when Joanna Coleman emerges on the stage, microphone in hand.
JOANNA COLEMAN
“Excuse me,” FAWN’s intrepid resident interviewer asks of the woman in uniform, “would you care to provide our fans some answers? First one being, who might you be?”
“Of course,” the woman responds, her heavily accented English nevertheless flawless. “My name is Katiya Kameneva, and I am the Kremlin’s… liaison… overseeing our athletic operations here in FAWN. The Comrade Supreme Commander was most impressed with our previous efforts, until we were let down by Polly Lapdog…”
“You mean Lockwood,” Joanna corrects her.
Katiya just smirks. “’Lockwood’ means ‘Lapdog’ in Russian,” she counters. “But any rate, after extensive research and training, we feel we now have the perfect partner to stand beside Comrade Koslova. And to ultimately bring the FAWN Tag Team championship back to Mother Russia.”
The FAWNatics scoff and boo, in the face of the overwhelming display they had just witnessed.
“Trust me when I say,” Katiya continues, “this will be no ‘Cold War.’ Ladies… consider yourselves on notice. The FSB ALWAYS wins.”
LYNDA SHAYNE
LAYLA KEMP
It had not even been eight months since Lynda Shayne and Layla Kemp had wrestled their together, in a small California high school gym in front of maaaaybe 100 people. And sure, they lost that match...
And the next three.
But before long, the team of the La-La’s started putting some wins together. And stopped losing consecutive matches. And started building a little buzz on the indy circuit to watch. A team that, maybe in a few years might expect a call from FAWN, to be brought into developmental.
Instead, they got a call last week, to appear on a house show in Phoenix. Now, the nice gentleman from talent relations didn’t come out and say it was a tryout, but he didn’t have to. It simply stood to reason: as long as Lynda and Layla went out and showed out, then they had a chance of getting another call.
And getting a jump start on their careers.
As they say, the future is now.
Moments after the ring announcer welcomed the crowd of 4000--easily the biggest audience either Lynda or Layla had ever seen—the duo push through the curtains and step out onto the stage. No entrance music. No fanfare. The fans certainly know enough to know they’re looking at fodder. “Bikini meat”, to use the crasser vernacular of the fandom. And the La-La’s certainly know that’s all that’s expected of them. But all that means to them tonight is that they have a low bar to clear.
And as far as “bikini meat” goes… well, they definitely fill out their fightin’ two pieces quite pleasantly. Neither look older than 25, both are pretty much about the same height at 5’6”, and maybe there’s a couple of pounds difference between them. Lynda—the ever so slightly sleeker of the two—sports a purple two piece with gold trim, as well as white pads along with purple boots. Her long auburn hair spills to the small of her back. Layla—the somewhat curvier of the two—wears a similar ensemble, except with green replacing the purple, her hair darker and just a little bit shorter. Both wear black ring jackets with “La-La’s” printed on the back, Lynda’s in purple and Layla’s in green, those jackets extending only to about the small of the backs and leaving an unimpeded view of their tight and taut backsides.
“Introducing first,” the announcer declares once Shayne and Kemp have stepped through the ropes, “at a combined weight of two hundred and sixty-four pounds… Lynda Shayne… Layla Kemp… THHHEEE LAAAAAAAAA-LAAAAAAAAA’SSS!!!!!”
The FAWNatics welcome the newcomers with a round of polite, respectful applause—which only grows when a blush Layla smiles and Lynda waves in response. The duo slip off their ring jackets, revealing the crisscrossing gold laces that secure their tops at the back, and pass those jackets to a ringside staffer.
“And their opponents…”
As his voice trails off, a low, unfamiliar, and somewhat haunting guitar riff begins to play over the arena sound system. It slowly builds until, after about 30 seconds, kicking into high gear when drums join the fray. The good folks of Phoenix can be forgiven for not recognizing a metal version of “Katyusha”, a Soviet wartime anthem. But it was just the first of a series of surprises in store for the crowd.
“KATYUSHA”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Io9o1W-OuOA
The second surprise comes when not two, but three women step through the curtains, two moving swiftly to the front of the stage, each taking position at attention to one of the trailing women’s flanks. The woman a couple of steps behind is not dressed for combat… well, not ring combat. Instead, she sports the uniform of a rather highly decorated Russian military officer. And she certainly looks like she could step in the ring, if she wanted to, standing 5’9”, her long auburn hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
THE OFFICER
The two women in front of her each wear wool caps and gray, full length fur coats, left open to at least partially expose the ensembles underneath. For the women to the officer’s left—a curvaceous brunette easily every bit of the officer’s 5’9” height—that is a black two piece, with gold hammer and sickle emblems emblazoned upon each cup. For the other woman—a shorter lady of about 5’5”, with medium length crimson locks—that’s a red one piece, the midriff partially bared by a hammer and sickle cutout. Each woman wears gold pads and boots.
THE WRESTLER
And, for the third surprise of the evening, the shorter woman is a familiar one…
At least, the FAWNatics ought to recognize a former FAWN Tag team champion.
KIRA KOSLOVA
“Weighing in at a combined weight of two hundred and fifty-five pounds,” the announcer resumes, “Nikita Petrova… Kira Koslova… THE FIIIEEERRRCCCEEE SIIIBBBEEERRRIIIAAANNN BEEEAAAUUUTTTIIIEEESSS!!!!!”
The trio march down to the ring, Nikita and Kira leading the way. The third member of the group, as yet still unidentified to the FAWNatics, remains at ringside as first Kira and then Nikita ascend the ringsteps. Once within the ropes, the Russians slip out of their coats, passing them to their compatriot before Petrova slips back onto the apron.
Across the ring, Lynda and Layla exchange a few words of strategy before Shayne exits the ring, leaving her partner in to start the match against the former tag champ. With the ring now down to two women, the ref calls for the bell, and we are underway.
Meeting at center ring, Layla extends her hand—a gesture which prompts a collective sense of fear and concern from the FAWNatics. Surely this kid knew better than to expect a display of sportswomanship from Koslova, who had never previously demonstrated anything of the sort.
However, the Soviet Stunner doesn’t respond with a cheap shot. Of course, she doesn’t accept the hand, either. She merely regards it with a dismissive sneer. “Surely you do not expect to trick me with such obvious subterfuge?”
“Hey, no tricks,” Layla replies, shaking her head. “Just saying we know where we fit in here, and just wanna show you respect.”
Koslova finally makes it move, but it’s to slap away Kemp’s hand rather than shake it. “Respect is earned,” she says. “Show us you deserve it. If you can.”
“Fair enough,” Kayla responds, surging forward, with Kira responding in kind. The two tie up in a collar and elbow, jockeying for position… and it is the rookie who gains the initial advantage, slipping around behind the Russian redhead with an arm in tow, cinching in a hammerlock. “How’s that?” the Cali brunette asks.
“Pitiful,” Kira hisses. “And predictable.” Koslova manages to work her way out of the hammerlock, reversing it into a tight side headlock, drawing the American’s head in tight against her side. But Kayla’s not discouraged. The brunette manages to shove her way out, sending Koslova into the ropes. Setting her feet as the Russian hurtles back toward her, Kemp braces herself for a shoulderblock…
‘THWUMP!’
The two women collide, but neither goes down, Kira staggered back a half step and Layla a full one. Having failed to take her down from a stationary position, Kemp pivots and takes off toward the ropes, hitting the cables and racing back toward the Fierce Siberian Beauty….
… but instead of setting herself to potential one-up the Cali girl with a shoulderblock of her own, Koslova welcomes the rebounding brunette with a spinning heel kick that doesn’t just take Layla off her feet but almost takes Kemp’s head off her shoulder. The brunette hits the mat with a thud and a groan, rolling over to her stomach, cradling the back of her neck in her hands as Kayla’s feet drum the mat.
“Not an impressive start,” Kira notes, her voice icy as she hairhauls the Cali girl up to her feet. Setting her own feet, Koslova takes a wrists and whips Kayla into the corner—the Russian corner, obviously. No sooner does she send Kemp on the ride, Kira takes off after her, the American’s eyes widening in alarm as she turns her back to the buckles, just in time for the former tag champ’s arm to slam across her sternum with a clothesline made more brutal by the fact that Layla has nowhere to go except back into the buckles.
Kemp can only groan as Kira bodies into her, raising her hand above the Cali brunette’s left shoulder. From the apron, Nikita makes the tag. The referee acknowledges it, but Kira doesn’t depart. Instead, she lowers a shoulder as her partner strolls down the apron, driving forward to ram a stomach into Layla’s midriff—a process she repeats two more times as Petrova slips through the ropes, each impact driving Layla’s tush up onto the middle buckle for a second or so before her feet touch back down to the mat.
Approaching the reeling brunette without a care in the world, Nikita takes Layla’s head in both hands, turning her face toward the top rope before pressing down, shoving the Cali youngster’s eyes down against the rubber coated steel. Tightening her grip on Kemp’s locks, the Siberian Siren leads her away from the Russian corner, Layla shrieking with every step as the top ropes burns her eyes.
“C’mon, Nikita,” the official barks, “let her up!”
Nikita pays him no mind, leaving the referee little choice but to start a count. Only when he reaches “FOUR!” does Petrova relent, stepping back with her hands raised, allowing Layla to crumple to her knees and sag against the ropes.
Turning her attention from her opponent to the ref, Petrova launches into a fierce and fiery tirade. At least, it certainly sounds like a tirade. The fact that’s it’s being delivered in a language that the referee doesn’t speak means that he’s left trying to piece together the seemingly outraged woman’s protests from her tone and her gestures. “I… I can’t hear you out if I don’t know what you’re saying…” he pleads with her.
Anyone fluent in Russian close enough to hear would have recognized that the first thing Nikita had said was, “Come on, foolish American. Just keep your eyes on me and follow me, and pay NO attention to Katiya out there…” And because the official was unwittingly doing exactly as he was told, the third member of the Russian delegation is free to reach into the ring, grab the back of Layla’s head, and pull the brunette’s throat down across the top rope. Of course, Kemp TRIES to cry out. But with that taut, rubber coat steel collapsing her windpipe, the only sounds that emerge are strained gurgles, accompanied by frantic stomps of her boots.
All of which are drowned out by sympathetic FAWNatics, PLEADING with the ref to turn around.
An outraged Lynda bursts through the ropes. But unfortunately, she IS in the referee’s direct line of sight, and he pushes past Nikita to intercept the charging American—much to the crowd’s vocal displeasure. The Siberian Siren flashes the furious Shayne a taunting smile before dragging Layla up onto wobbly legs. Positioning herself to the right of the woozy, breathless brunette, Nikita uses her left hand to grab the waistline of Layla’s briefs, while her right arm reaches across the American’s chest. Then, with only a minimal grunt of exertion, Petrova powers the Cali girl off her feet, Layla’s briefs having just a moment to start slipping between her cheeks before the Russian lets go. Nikita drops back, drawing her knees up toward her chest—knees that Layla crashes down upon. The American beauty cries out in pain as she bounces off those bony joints, before flopping to the mat, sprawled face down and mewling.
RED DAWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-u0tbizdYY
Nikita likely could have rolled Layla over for the pin, but she elects not to. Instead, she hauls the youngster up and whips her toward the corner—yup, you guessed it, the Russian corner. Just as Kira had done, Petrova sprints in after her, ultimately extending one long, luscious leg to smash a boot into Kemp’s face with a Yakuza kick.
Nikita proves in no hurry to pull back, smirking out at the crowd, her leg remaining draped over the top rope. Kira reaches over, placing a light slap on Petrova’s shoulder and tagging herself in. Slipping through the ropes, the former tag champ snatches a handful of Layla’s brunette locks and guides a slumping Kemp toward the center of the ring. With the Cali girl already slightly doubled, it’s easy work for Koslova to guide the brunette’s under her arm. Then, gathering up and underhooking Layla’s wings, the Russian redhead pops her hips and drives Kemp to the mat with a wicked Butterfly Suplex.
BUTTERFLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3B55csISd0
Mewling, Kemp rolls over, unable to keep one hand from reaching for the small of her back. Kira, meanwhile, leisurely climbs back to her feet, regarding the brunette with a disdainful sneer as the brunette begins to slither toward her corner. The Russian redhead saunters over to her, standing over her as the California girl starts to struggle up to her hands and knees…
… at which point, Kira drops her butt down across the small of Layla’s back, sending her collapsing again to the canvas.
Remaining in a straddle of the brunette, Koslova takes her opponent’s right wrist, lifting Kemp’s arm off the mat. Locking her eyes on a fuming Lynda in the La La’s corner, the redhead stretches Layla’s arm toward her partner. “Care to try your luck?” Kira asks. “Trust me, you won’t far any better.”
Lynda steps up onto the bottom rope, reaching her arm in as far as she can reach… but it doesn’t matter. Kira tugs the brunette’s hand back before any tag can be made.
Rising off her opponent, Kira maintains wrist control as she yanks Layla up to her feet as well. Turning the brunette away from her, Koslova reaches her free arm toward Kemp’s head, spinning the youngster back to face her as she stuffs Layla’s head under her left arm—Kemps right arm now wrenched tight behind her back in a hammerlock. The Soviet Stunner then drops backward with malicious intent, SPIKING Layla’s head into the mat with a ruthless Hammerlock DDT that shoots Kemp back up to a seated position for a moment, facing her corner, her eyes glazed, vacant and unblinking as she stares ahead at an increasingly concerned Lynda Shayne…
HAMMERLOCK DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5XNxePpuas
… and then Layla topples backward, winding up starfished on the canvas.
And just like Nikita moments earlier, Kira foregoes the pin. Climbing to her feet, the Russian redhead peels Kemp off the mat. Slinging an arm around Layla’s neck, Koslova starts to race toward her corner, Nikita deftly slipping around the ringpost to clear the path for her partner. Somehow, Layla’s rubbery legs manage to keep up with the sprinting Koslova. Kira leaps toward the corner, her legs flying through the ropes as she lands seated on the middle rope, SLAMMING Kemp’s face into the middle buckle.
RUSSIAN TERRIER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDJb3bf86zQ
Layla whiplashes away from the corner, falling to her knees before pitching forward, landing in a sprawled heap while Kira continues to bounce on her perch on the middle rope. A smiling Nikita raises her hand, and Koslova tags, slipping out to the apron once her partner enters the ring. Tugging Kemp up with a handful of hair, Petrova turns the spaghetti-legged Cali brunette back toward Russian territory, and slams Layla’s face into the top turnbuckle three times. Kemp crumples to her knees, but Nikita keeps going, treating the American’s face to another three turnbuckle smashes. STILL not satisfied, the Siberian Siren draws Layla’s head back a little further this time, only to smash Kemp’s face into the BOTTOM buckle three more times. Then, she brings Kemp back to her feet with a violent yank. Petrova spins the brunette away from the corner, her eyes glazed, her legs rubber, her arms swaying limp as the raven haired Russian shows off her foe… before turning her back toward the corner and SLAMMING her face into the top turnbuckle for a TENTH, and final, time.
TOUR OF THE TURNBUCKLES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHZ2uaQnWKk
Kemp would have collapsed if Nikita simply let go of her hair. But she doesn’t. Again, she uses her grip on the American brunette’s locks to turn her away from the corner. Finally letting go of Layla’s hair, Petrova quickly dips and thrusts her head between Kemp’s quivering thighs. Nikita straightens up, allowing Layla’s upper body to collapse against the Russian’s glistening back. Petrova reaches back with her left arm, pulling the youngster’s head alongside Nikita’s left hip. She then drops to her right knee, bringing the back of Layla’s neck crashing down across the Russian’s powerful outstretched thigh, Kemp being brought violently to Earth via the Cosmonaut Crunch.
COSMONAUT CRUNCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWyp9ohT3tY
Layla crashes and burns, rolling over, clutching the back of her neck with both hands. Nikita, meanwhile, pushes to her feet, snatching a helping of Kemp’s dark locs and pulling her up to her feet. Keeping the youngster doubled, Petrova shoves Layla’s head between her thighs, clamping on a standing headscissors. Reaching underneath the Cali girl’s torso, the Siberian Siren claims both of Layla’s wrists, drawing the brunette’s arms across her chest before muscling her into the air. And there Nikita holds her for several seconds, letting the blood rush to Kemp’s head, as well as letting whatever hope might have remained amongst the FAWNatics drain away before she hops into the air, dropping to her butt and making Layla Kemp the first victim of the Tunguska Blast in FAWN.
TUNGUSKA BLAST:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dZQL_usU-o
Layla might not have left an impact crater in the center of the ring, but her body is left quivering once she tumbles over onto her back. And finally, Nikita Petrova rolls over, mashing her left hand down across Layla’s right cheek as the Russian’s right arm gathers up and hooks Kemp’s left leg.
Even though the outcome was all but decided, Lynda Shayne explodes through the ropes. Now, one could argue that she wasn’t doing her friend and partner any favors trying to come to her rescue. Maybe she was motivated by a never say die attitude while hoping for a miracle. Maybe it was just the frustration of having never been able to legally enter the match.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Before she can reach Layla and Nikita, Kira Koslova intercepts her. Ducking under Shayne’s arm, the Soviet Stunner reaches one arm across her chest and another behind her back, lifting Lynda off her feet, only to drop her into a cruel kneelift right between the eyes that promptly turns the redhead’s lights out.
FROM RUSSIAN WITH LOVE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCbZgV7iDYg
ONE…
Just to make absolutely sure Lynda would not get any further ideas, Kira stays on her, deftly tying the American up in her Bear Trap cobra clutch triangle choke.
BEAR TRAP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0eessliDH0&t=1s
TWO…
Even as the referee’s hand rises off the mat from the two count, Lynda’s hand starts slapping at Koslova’s back. So much for the calvary, surrendering before the outcome was official.
THREE!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
Nikita rises to her knees, smirking as the official raises her hand. Across the ring, Lynda’s previously frantic slaps have become feeble swats. But even so, Kira keeps the Bear Trap applied tightly, even as the referee moves over and starts to pull her off. Finally, she lets go, allowing one La-La to roll lifelessly to her back alongside the other, each American beauty left sprawled and demolished.
The FAWNatics shower the Russians with jeers as they depart the ring, joining their compatriot at ringside before they head back up the aisle. But their departure is blocked when Joanna Coleman emerges on the stage, microphone in hand.
JOANNA COLEMAN
“Excuse me,” FAWN’s intrepid resident interviewer asks of the woman in uniform, “would you care to provide our fans some answers? First one being, who might you be?”
“Of course,” the woman responds, her heavily accented English nevertheless flawless. “My name is Katiya Kameneva, and I am the Kremlin’s… liaison… overseeing our athletic operations here in FAWN. The Comrade Supreme Commander was most impressed with our previous efforts, until we were let down by Polly Lapdog…”
“You mean Lockwood,” Joanna corrects her.
Katiya just smirks. “’Lockwood’ means ‘Lapdog’ in Russian,” she counters. “But any rate, after extensive research and training, we feel we now have the perfect partner to stand beside Comrade Koslova. And to ultimately bring the FAWN Tag Team championship back to Mother Russia.”
The FAWNatics scoff and boo, in the face of the overwhelming display they had just witnessed.
“Trust me when I say,” Katiya continues, “this will be no ‘Cold War.’ Ladies… consider yourselves on notice. The FSB ALWAYS wins.”