Post by hawkeye on Jun 6, 2023 23:10:37 GMT
It’s clear what FAWN’s World and Lightweight champion has in mind in following up beating Ivy Armstrong with tonight’s match. And if the only reason she has a chance to become FAWN’s preeminent wrestler is because of past accolades and her legendary name, Cynthia Mitchell doesn’t give a damn.
If anyone could catch lighting in a bottle, it would be the Carolina Hurricane.
The brunette bounces nervously from side to side, Ivy behind her, rubbing her long-time friend and partner’s shoulders.
CYNTHIA MITCHELL
IVY ARMSTRONG
“This isn’t anything you haven’t done dozens of times,” the Bama Slamma assures. “You’ve been beating the shit out of stuck-up little blondes and, let’s be honest, sweet little blonde Girl Scouts since this girl was sucking her thumb.”
Cynthia chuckles. “Thanks. I think.”
“She caught me last month, OK. Which means her odds of survival just got a lot longer with the best the Mitchell clan has to offer.”
The redhead walks Cyn to the ‘go’ position for tonight’s main event, the din of the thousands on the other side of the curtain filling Mitchell’s ears.
“It’s cliché, but you really do got this,” Ivy assures in her soft Southern drawl.
“Ain’t a single doubt,” comes the reply.
Mitchell’s baby blues close as she moves into her zone, breathing deeply, her eyes popping open at the sound of a voice piercing above the cacophony, the arena’s public address system blaring.
“Our next match is scheduled for one fall, has a 60-minute time limit, and is for the FAWN World AND Lightweight championships. Introducing first, hailing from the Queen City of the South, Charlotte, North Carolina...standing five feet and seven inches, and weighing one hundred and twenty-one pounds...CYNTHIA MMMMMMMITCHELLLLLLLLL!"
Demi Lovato's "Confident" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwLRQn61oUY) caresses the sellout throng and the crowd roars back in support.
“Go bury her,” Ivy says, sending her fellow member of Belle’s Hellions to her destiny.
Mitchell strides purposefully through the curtains, then directly toward the ring, her steely focus on tonight’s battleground. She pays no heed to the outstretched hands nor the echoing support.
Mitchell is clad in a familiar ‘one-piece’--said outfit a deep purple number with a plunging 'V' neckline that goes all the way to her navel, and a backside that generously puts her fabled derriere on ample display. The most celebrated Mitchell of her generation wears matching purple ankle boots and pads.
Reaching ringside, Cynthia ascends the steps and slips between the ropes, moving to the center, all business.
She gives a perfunctory raise of her right arm to acknowledge the fans, but it’s clear her thoughts are elsewhere, namely on emerging from the singles shadows to claim a spot at the top from a woman growing into the most hated in FAWN’s recent collective memory.
With Mayhem run rampant, the grand finale having arrived and its final combatant ready to rumble, a Richter scale roar traverses the arena’s sound system. The FAWNatics transform to spiteful ruffians as the thunder from the speakers reverberates. An earthquake-sized round of boos makes clear the crowd’s distaste for the flaxen-haired fireplug about to grace them with her unsavory talents.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a blinding light.
When the dazzling illumination subsides, the ill-mannered, ass-kicking and dual title-holding Golden State gremlin is center stage. With the Lightweight belt strapped around her plush, tanned tummy, the Cali Quake lifts the bigger, gaudier World belt off a shoulder.
KAT BRADDOCK:
Her gilded resume made clear, the buxom Brat chuckles at the wall of animosity sent in her direction.
“HERE…TO…STAY!” she mouths to the crowd.
Lowering FAWN’s top prize back across her right shoulder, Kat heads for the squared circle with a Cheshire grin. The once-upon-a-time beach fighter, plucked from obscurity by Chrissy Daniel, strides toward the combat zone in her booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece ensemble accentuating her curves both bottom and top, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks and boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
Kat’s gear (
and ( 
).
Reaching the ring, Kat passes the steps, waves at the mythical Mitchell and snatches a microphone off the announcer’s table. Braddock saunters to the steel stairs and climbs, slipping between the cables when she reaches the apron.
Taking center stage as the face of FAWN, Braddock raises the stick to her lips as her music fades. The crowd’s volume rises to try and silence the curvy blonde.
“You know the rules. It’s time to shut your damn mouths!”
The throng forces every negative decibel available from their lungs and the champ-champ waits impatiently.
“As you’ve probably realized, I sent one of Belle’s Hellions far below and I’m here to finish the job tonight.”
Kat rolls her eyes at another round of jeers.
“I said ZIP IT!” They don’t.
“I’m tempted to invite every Mitchell they can find from every corner of the Confederacy into this ring and kick their Southern-fried asses, but this sad has-been will have to do.”
Braddock chuckles. The fans seem less amused.
“Maybe we tear that pathetic little Skye a new one next month. Though at least she can still run away from me.”
Braddock turns both dark eyes in Cyn’s direction.
“Bytch. It’s already too late for you.”
“But I will give you the honor of the following.”
Kat clears her throat.
“Before you in all her glory…from Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. Your FAWN World AND Lightweight champion. THE California Quake. The most dominant champion ever seen…KAT BRADDOCK!”
The Brat drops the stick and raises a belt with each hand, reveling in the revulsion.
Cynthia takes a lightning step at Braddock who backpedals to her corner in a panic, shouting at Castle to keep the challenger back.
Reaching her corner unscathed, Kat hands over her hardware for safekeeping and regally motions she’s ready, the bell ringing quickly behind.
Mitchell and Braddock meet in the middle, champion and challenger locking up in a collar-and-elbow. They struggle for leverage, Kat grunting threats about another so-called legend meeting her end. The words seem to inject Cynthia with additional adrenaline. She backs The Brat back into her corner, pressing her foe tight to the buckles.
Castle calls for the break and, at ‘FOUR’, the Carolina Hurricane obliges. But only to land a crisp bytch SLAP across the champ-champ’s cheek. A startled Kat’s noggin swivels to the side and, when it returns, a ‘no-you-didn’ look is plastered on her face.
“You’re just another Kylie who skipped all the fake Girl Scout shyt,” Cynthia informs. “And I’m going to treat you like I’ve treated her.”
“Ya…ya…you’re…go…going to wha…”
The offended Braddock’s stammer is cut short with another open-hand crack to the same blushing cheek.
A furious Kat pushes Mitchell away then surges foward with right arm drawn for a clothesline. But Cynthia ducks under, wraps her right arm across Kat’s chest and SLAMS the titleholder to the deck with a savage reverse STO right out of the box.
Reverse STO ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLUTjNyxWrE ) :04
As the impact leaves Braddock in a face-down sprawl, Cynthia kips to her feet to a roar from the FAWNatics, the crowd eager to see the busty blonde Brat be separated from both belts. She convinces Kat to roll to her back with a boot to the ribs. Backing from her foe, the brunette blindly climbs to the middle buckle behind her, keeping both baby blues on her target.
Leaping from the elevated base, Cynthia extends her legs on the descent and THWUMPS to the deck with a leg drop, her rightt CRASHING across Kat’s throat. Braddock shudders in breathless spasms as the most accomplished Mitchell maneuvers to a crossbody pin, hooking the far leg of the remaining California Quake for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Kat pushes Cyn off, rising to a seated position, gasping and rubbing at her reddening neck. Determined to show she’s not hurt this early in the match, the blonde shoves up nearly as quickly as her counterpart does steps away. But while Kat tries to regain her bearings after reaching vertical, Cynthia’s headed to the nearby ropes and rebounding. Raising her right leg high on her return, the veteran levels Braddock again with an aptly named Sick Kick.
Sick Kick ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lnh3ys8Bpso )
After hitting the canvas, Mitchell nimbly back-somersaults to her feet and again heads for the corner. She climbs to the top, the masses unable to contain their excitement when she reaches there then turns toward a slowly rising Brat. The legendary Hellion jumps from her perch and NAILS a slowly spinning Brat with a knee to the skull cortesy her signature Cynsational Sledge.
Cynsational Sledge ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cx_uxPRKyTA ) :11
Kat dramatically pirouettes from the collision, flopping to a starfish, glazed hazel eyes peering blankly to the rafters above. Landing on her knees next to the splayed dual champion, the veteran doesn’t pass on a possibility to vault to the top of FAWN relevancy in a matter of three slaps of the canvas. She dives atop The Brat in a full body pin, pressing a palm to Kat’s face, flattening it to the side as Nick claps canvas for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Braddock shifts a shoulder off the mat to the audible disappointment from the assembled. Mitchell seems unconcerned. Remaining in a kneeling straddle of the blonde, Cyn leans forward and clobbers Kat with right fist after fist, Cynthia ignoring the pleas of Castle until he starts to count.
The Quake gets her arms under Cyn’s derriere and the high-riding Mitchell is heaved up and over Kat’s head, Braddock slipping out the back door. The World and Lightweight champ pushes to her feet and staggers in a backpedal to a corner, catching herself in the buckles, the blonde windblown by Cynthia’s red-hot start.
Braddock hardly has time to catch her breath, Mitchell immediately charging. But as the brunette arrives, Kat is ready to launch Cyn over the ropes to the side, the Hellion landing on the apron. The challenger sends a right cross toward Kat’s jaw but Braddock intercepts with a blocking forearm.
Braddock wraps her hands around the back of Mitchell’s braincase and drops to her haunches, hot-shotting Cynthia’s throat across the top cable. Mitchell tumbles to the arena floor but manages to land on her feet, it the challenger’s turn to reach for her abused neck.
Kat falls to hip and shoulder and rolls out of the ring, quickly on Cyn’s tail. From behind, she grabs a wrist and a handful of spandex, YANKING high to give Mitchell a wedgie then bum-rushing the grimacing Hurricane toward the steel ring steps. Any hopes for a counter toss are quickly dashed as Mitchell CRASHES into the edifice at breakneck pace, the upper steps dislodged from the lower by the force of the blow.
Crowd silenced, a weary smile emerges on the face of the champ-champ.
“As worthless as Sanders is,” Kat says, shoving the top steps clear of the base. “At least she’s kept herself relevant. She’ll be my piece de resistance. You’re just another bytch needing to be shown the door.”
Braddock pulls a wobbly Cynthia vertical, yanking her lowered head beneath her left arm. Tossing a limp arm of Mitchell over her shoulders, The Brat shows the strength packed into her short, curvy frame, launching Cyn up, over and down, snap suplexing her foe atop THE METAL BASE OF THE STAIRS.
Cynthia’s spine CLANKS across the unforgiving steel, her body arching in anguish from the brutal impact. Sitting against the side of the steel, Kat chuckles.
“Girl. You need to get back to the aughts.”
Noticing Nick’s count gathering steam, the Quake rolls in and out of the ring, setting herself for more destruction outside.
Collecting the discarded top half of the steps, Kat raises the metal to her chest and heaves it toward the splayed Mitchell, hoping to sandwich Cyn in steel. Thankfully for the Hellion’s legion of fans and, most importantly for the Carolina Hurricane herself, Mitchell’s able to roll off the altar before Kat’s vile plans come to fruition.
A disappointed Braddock doesn’t dally. She peels Mitchell off the floor with a wrist and handful of chocolate locks and swings her toward the steel barrier separating crowd from combatants. However, Cynthia deftly reverses and Kat’s back BANGS into the metal from point-blank range.
The Brat howls in pain, vertebrae bowing over the barricade.
“From the sound of things, you need some time to get in touch with the fanbase. Lemme help ya out.”
Cyn pitches forward with right arm drawn and KNOCKS Kat into the front row with a clothesline across her foe’s clavicle, Braddock backflipping into the laps of the front row.
Instantly realizing she’s let emotion get the better of her in this title chase, Mitchell knows she needs to get the champ-chap back in the ring. Luckily, the occupants of Kat’s landing spot respond to Mitchell’s call for a little help. The fans assist Kat to a standing position within Cynthia’s reach. Cyn grabs the blonde in a front facelock and pulls Kat across the top of the barrier, halting when The Brat’s ankles catch.
With an ominous grin, Mitchell lays out, DDTing Braddock to the thinly-padded arena floor, drawing more than a few ‘OOOOHs’ from the sellout.
Out cold, Kat’s in an awkward three-point stance that includes her forehead and knees, her considerable caboose elevated for appointment viewing. And with the count growing once more, Cyn leaves her foe in a salacious display while she takes a turn rolling in and out.
Mitchell turns to Castle after rejoining Braddock on the outside.
“Don’t worry, Nicky boy. She’s coming presently.”
Cyn scrapes what’s left of Braddock off the floor, not an easy task considering the deadweight, and maneuvers her to the apron’s edge. Mitchell lifts Kat’s carcass and shoves her under the bottom rope, the Quake ending on her chest, unmoving.
A glistening Mitchell draws in an oversized inhale and pushes it out while wiping her brow, flashing a toothy smile at her supporters, letting them know this match is over and she’ll reign supreme over the singles scene.
Cyn hops to the apron and slips between the top and middle ropes. The brunette moves a few feet from the stirring champ-champ, poised as she waits for Braddock to rise. Slowly, the sturdy if vertically-challenged blonde woozily pushes to her feet.
Mitchell springs into action, leaping high as she grabs Kat’s head on the fly-by. Cyn PLANTS the Quake’s face to the thinly-sheathed floorboards on her trip down with her signature Carolina Blues, driving Katrina Two-Belts in with enough force, the blonde flops to her back in a spreadeagle.
Carolina Blues ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tXjmTPxmUo )
Mitchell drops in a back press atop the splayed Braddock, hooking the far leg, then counting the seconds for the certified birth of her renaissance with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Buried in The Brat’s subconscious is a survival instinct that not only lets her roll a shoulder off the canvas but grab Cynthia’s left arm as she does and stack Mitchell on her shoulders in a wriggling roll-up, the brunette’s ass pointed to the rafters for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Mitchell clan’s leader squirms free, ending on hands and knees, glancing up at Castle who thankfully holds only two fingers aloft.
Kat struggles to rise and Cyn beats her there with enough time to spare she can drive a raised knee DEEP into Kat’s Achilles’ tummy. The blonde’s soft spot gives under the pressure from the bony cap, as Mitchell’s read of the scouting report tells her to impale the despicable face of FAWN.
Doubled and retching, Braddock’s lowered braincase is yanked between the alabaster stems of Mitchell. A smirking Cyn collects Kat’s limp arms one by one in underhooks in preparation for a final display of wrestling superiority on a night where a long-timer would finally have their day against the malicious upstart.
Double Underhook Piledriver ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4DvxFMk3_4 ) :53
But before Cynthia can launch and make the Quake’s impressive success a bad memory, Kat’s legs give out, Braddock ending on her knees, arms still trapped. It’s more a reaction to the beating Mitchell’s been laying upon her than a counter, but it effectively works as one.
A frustrated Hellion unhooks and pounds several forearm blows between the blonde’s shoulderblades as punishment for not taking her medicine.
Cupping a hand under the flagging Kat’s chin, Mitchell raises Braddock to a stooped kneel and ROCKS HER with a European Uppercut that leaves Kat on her back, thighs folded atop calves. Braddock stares blankly into the lights above, as Cyn pushes to her feet and moves to the nearby corner.
She climbs the buckles quickly and turns to face her target, ready to keep the pressure on her faltering foe. From the penthouse, Cynthia launches, collapsing into a tight tuck at the height of her flight, then spreading wide to crush Kat under a spectacular frog splash that would make her grappling mother proud.
Unfortunately, for all but the most contrarian fans, the calamitous Quake unfolds her abbreviated legs from beneath during the flight of her opponent then pulls them up, offering the kneecaps as Cynthia’s landing pad.
Mitchell guts herself with a disastrous landing, rolling away from the stabbing, hugging her abdomen tight, thrashing as she tries to draw in lost oxygen.
Not far from the ruined Cyn, Mitchell on her back, shifting from shoulder to shoulder, Braddock reaches a seated position and surveys amidst her own struggle to recover.
“Why do you has-beens take so long to realize you don’t measure up to the cutting-edge model?” Kat mumbles as she shakes her senses back into place with a rattle of her braincase, then achingly pushes to her feet.
Braddock rushes Mitchell, the veteran having reached all fours, and punts her foe in the ribs. Cyn barrel-rolls in the opposite direction, ending on her back, bug-eyed and blasted, again embracing her midriff.
The champ-champ is quickly upon her foe, not giving Mitchell a chance to recuperate. She sinks both sets of nails into Cyn’s scalp and tugs the breathless Hurricane to her feet. Shifting her grip to a wrist and shoulder, the flaxen-haired fireplug heaves her ho to the far buckles with an Irish Whip, Cynthia turning into a back-first collision that rattles the veteran’s frame.
Though it’s not nearly so much as a charging Braddock does when she arrives an instant later, leaping into a flying hip check to the sternum, the titleholder using her curves to their best advantage.
With Mitchell pacified, Kat wraps the challenger’s arms over the top rope on either side, leaving a clear path to Cynthia’s ticker. Rearing her head back, Kat sends it PLOWING into the cleft of Mitchell’s bosom, The Brat’s unique Heart Butt sending a tremor through Cyn’s body, her blood pumper skipping out of beat from the literal heart attack.
With Mitchell in no condition to defend herself, Kat yanks her foe out of the corner and tests Mitchell’s rubbery stems with another Irish Whip. Cyn makes it to the ropes and back in a modified zombie-like shuffle where the little, power-packed Kat awaits and elevates her returning adversary, turning and LEVELING Cynthia with her Pop-up Hip Attack.
Pop-up Hip Attack ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZYVCjpkUak )
The downgraded Hurricane splatters to the canvas, her spine and the back of her skull hitting hard enough for the impact to bounce her to a seated position, wobbling and in a daze.
The shock and awe doesn’t clear when Katrina Two-belts latches onto Mitchell’s brown locks, to keep her semi-upright, then POUNDS ass to temple, booty bombing the increasingly thunderstruck Cynthia with a round of her Bratty Butt Bumpers.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
Releasing her grip on Cyn’s mane after the last pelvic thrust, Kat watches Mitchell flop to her right hip and shoulder. The champ-champ drops to one knee next to her demolished opponent and pulls Cynthia toward her, placing shoulders to canvas.
The blonde plants the lowered knee to Cyn’s chest, raising both arms high and wide to the scattered jeers of the unhappy FAWNatics, Castle slapping the canvas for the domineering…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The lax pin likely costs Kat a successful defense of the World and Lightweight titles, at least for the time being, Mitchell refusing to have her chance ended in such humiliating fashion.
Furious at Cyn’s survival, Kay hops to her feet and stomps a mudhole out of Mitchell, the crowd showing their displeasure with increasingly loud volume. Sending boot leather to the veteran until she’s spent, Braddock flips double birds at the angered assembly.
“She knew she was getting this eventually,” The Brat shouts. “So shut your damn mouths!”
Braddock turns her attention back to the bruised and battered Mitchell, plucking each ankle off the canvas and threatening a dire final stomp to the mud between Cynthia’s thighs.
Mitchell raises her palms pleadingly as Kat’s right leg boot sole hovers ominously but, perhaps surprisingly, the vile lightning bolt doesn’t fall. Instead, The Brat tosses her foe’s left leg wide to the canvas then steps on the ankle with her right boot. With one lower limb pinned, Kat has the other in both palms at the opposite ankle.
“Hope you weren’t planning on running the rest of the match,” Kat informs.
Keeping the left leg planted wide, Kat falls with the right, stretching Cyn’s stems to as wide a set of splits as she can manage with her Wishbone Drop.
From the screech of the Hurricane, it’s well beyond Cynthia’s comfort zone, Mitchell rising to her buttocks, hands buried between her outstretched legs, trying to keep her groin muscles from snapping.
With a shoulder to the canvas, Kat shoves the limbs wider, drawing another yelp from the brunette.
“I think maybe you should ask her, Castle,” Kat advises. “Seems like she might have something to say.”
Nick does just that. Cyn bites her lower lip, so no verbalization is forthcoming, but she shakes her head, denying the Cali Quake the surrender she desires.
Aggravated by the lack of surrender, Kat stuffs an elbow into the open crotch of Mitchell, drawing a guttural groan from the brunette. But Braddock relents on the leg spread to move toward victory in a different direction.
The blonde bully peels Cynthia off the deck and backs her foe deep into a set of ropes. Springing out, she flings Cyn to the opposite cables with an Irish Whip then charges after the challenger as Mitchell rotates into her return trip.
Kat lowers her shoulders to spear the holy hell out of the Carolina Hurricane, but somehow the veteran finds the wherewithal to leapfrog over the dipped Quake.
As Kat puts on the brakes, Cynthia u-turns out of her second set of ropes and charges toward a turning Braddock. Kat takes a swipe of a clothesline Cyn ducks. Mitchell wraps her right arm around the champ-champ’s clavicle s she leaps, spinning around her foe’s frame. Cynthia lands on Kat’s opposite side with a front facelock acquired and PLANTS the crown of Kat’s skull into the canvas with a Floatover DDT.
Floatover DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=68FSRxPLrjY )
Braddock bonelessly tumbles over to a starfish from the impact, but Cyn isn’t in shape to immediately cover. She shakes some of her senses back into place after rising to a seat but by the time she crawls to The Brat, Braddock’s rolled to her chest.
Denied the immediate pin attempt, Cynthia knee-walks beside the face-down Cali Quake, grabbing an ankle as she does. Moving to a seat in front of Kat, the brunette sinks her nails into Kat’s golden mane and pulls Braddock’s chin onto her lap. Mitchell then folds a scissors around The Brat’s noggin while working the captured stem in a reverse Crab.
Cyn gazes down into the troubled face of Braddock, Kat grimacing in anguish.
“This was always one of Kylie’s favorites,” Cynthia educates. “I think you’ll enjoy it too.”
Mortal Cyn ( i.imgur.com/uKOjadR.jpg )
Cynthia’s thighs flex as she simultaneously tugs on the single-leg Crab, testing Kat’s spinal column while also cutting off the blood supply to her braincase with her python-like legs.
“Speak into the microphone,” Cyn chuckles, Kat’s face pressed tight against her lower pelvis. “I think Nick can still hear ya say ‘I quit’.”
Kat rubs her nose against Cynthia’s privates, shaking her head in humiliating fashion to show Castle she hasn’t offered her submission.
“Really?” Mitchell asks. “Maybe you aren’t Kylie.”
To make sure, Cyn pulls Kat’s captured lower limb toward her until the tip of her foe’s boot is nearly touching the top of Braddock’s skull.
“Please…please,” Kat begs.
“Say it,” Cyn insists. “Say it and it’s over.”
“FAAAK YOU!”
Cynthia shakes her head and releases Kat’s leg, Braddock’s limb and spine unfolding to their proper locations. Mitchell unclamps her scissors as well, pushing from under Braddock then to her feet.
“You are a piece of work, Mitchell admits. “But your time is done.”
Cynthis pulls Kat off the canvas and tugs her adversary’s lowered head between her thighs, ready to deliver cranium to canvas with her infamous Drop Out and claim both titles.
Drop Out ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=34UOY9Tjejo ) :10
But before Mitchell can claim both underhooks, Kat’s previously limp arms encircle the thighs of the brunette and up-n-over a startled Cynthia goes with a back body drop, the veteran landing flush on her lower vertebrae.
The second-generation superstar rises to a seated position, back arched in pain. The stubborn Mitchell rises before a poised Kat and Braddock strikes with a new addition to her fatal arsenal. She swings her body through a brutal Skull Kick, boot connecting in violent fashion with the brunette’s temple.
Cyn timbers to her side from the thunder of the Quake’s attack but the champ-champ passes on a cover in front of the silenced crowd. Instead, Kat peels Mitchell off the deck, secures a front facelock and drops Cyn’s near arm over her shoulders.
The Brat ‘hups’ Mitchell to an elevated position against her chest in a cradled capture. The FAWNatics have that sinking feeling, which is quickly confirmed when Kat lays out and SPIKES Cynthia’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood with her devastating Kat Nap.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYABwz8Xi44 )
A smirking, seated Braddock doesn’t bother looking over her shoulder, knowing she’s hit every bit of it. She dusts off her hands dramatically to minimal complaint from the crowd.
Grabbing the spreadeagled Cynthia’s ankles, the kneeling Cali Quake drags Cyn toward her and center stage, then drops across her in a lackadaisical back-press pin that nevertheless does the job with Mitchell unconscious for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEEE!
Kat raises her arms in triumph to the displeasure of the fans. The blonde turns and uses Cynthia’s carcass to push to her feet, then places a boot sole on Mitchell’s chest for the Gladiatrix money shot, the announcer making it official as she does.
“Your winner and STILL FAWN World and Lightweight Champion…KAT BRADDOCK!”
The Quake rips her raised arm away from Castle and demands he retrieve her belts and a microphone. Eager to prevent Kat from having her way with Cynthia, Nick does as he’s told, placing a belt over each shoulder per Kat’s direction and handing over the stick.
“And another one bites the dust! I’ve sent both the Hellions to dark match hell. Who else wants a trip?”
The accompaniment for Muy Caliente fills the arena bowl and the sellout throng, immediately turns to the upper stage to this incredible, unexpected answer.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ui0hDQLcWTg
Moving into view, a phalanx of Latina Heat assembles. Led by the irrepressible Gabby Mendoza are Soshana Soto and Sofia Garcia at her sides.
GABBY MENDOZA
SOSHANA SOTO
SOFIA GARCIA
Absent in force since their dismantling of Team Sanders at All Hallows’ Evil (with Charlie Dawson), the despicable trio receives a few supportive hoots, not unlikely considering who it is they seem ready to call out.
The babyfaced Bubblicious connoisseur and her two tawny-skinned cohorts are in their Caliente gear, purple and gold displays, the two piece of crop top and booty shorts showing solidarity ( www.etsy.com/no-en/listing/671209460/pro-wrestling-gear-womens-crop-top-and ). Black pads and gold boots complete the gear.
“Don’t you dare support us now,” Gabby shouts at the fickle fandom. “We didn’t need you when we put that stupid bytch Kylie in her place and we don’t need you now.”
In the ring, Kat clears her throat.
“Again, I have to hear that career loser’s name?” Braddock responds. “Just get out of my arena. I don’t need the likes of you losers wasting my…”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH GRINGA!”
The crowd ‘ooooohs’ on cue and admittedly an astonished Kat indeed closes her gaping maw, hazel lasers pointed in Gabby’s direction.
“It’s been a long time coming and it might be a little more,” Mendoza continues. “But we will convince the powers that be to give Muy Caliente its rightful opportunity to leave you a greasespot on the canvas. And if we don’t, we’ll do it anyway. Start counting the days!”
Gabby drops the mic and together Caliente exits to a mixed response from the FAWNatics.
What’s not mixed is the dumbfounded visage on Kat’s face, Braddock left speechless at the audacity of the Latina Strikeforce as the Mayhem PPV fades to black.
If anyone could catch lighting in a bottle, it would be the Carolina Hurricane.
The brunette bounces nervously from side to side, Ivy behind her, rubbing her long-time friend and partner’s shoulders.
CYNTHIA MITCHELL
IVY ARMSTRONG
“This isn’t anything you haven’t done dozens of times,” the Bama Slamma assures. “You’ve been beating the shit out of stuck-up little blondes and, let’s be honest, sweet little blonde Girl Scouts since this girl was sucking her thumb.”
Cynthia chuckles. “Thanks. I think.”
“She caught me last month, OK. Which means her odds of survival just got a lot longer with the best the Mitchell clan has to offer.”
The redhead walks Cyn to the ‘go’ position for tonight’s main event, the din of the thousands on the other side of the curtain filling Mitchell’s ears.
“It’s cliché, but you really do got this,” Ivy assures in her soft Southern drawl.
“Ain’t a single doubt,” comes the reply.
Mitchell’s baby blues close as she moves into her zone, breathing deeply, her eyes popping open at the sound of a voice piercing above the cacophony, the arena’s public address system blaring.
“Our next match is scheduled for one fall, has a 60-minute time limit, and is for the FAWN World AND Lightweight championships. Introducing first, hailing from the Queen City of the South, Charlotte, North Carolina...standing five feet and seven inches, and weighing one hundred and twenty-one pounds...CYNTHIA MMMMMMMITCHELLLLLLLLL!"
Demi Lovato's "Confident" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwLRQn61oUY) caresses the sellout throng and the crowd roars back in support.
“Go bury her,” Ivy says, sending her fellow member of Belle’s Hellions to her destiny.
Mitchell strides purposefully through the curtains, then directly toward the ring, her steely focus on tonight’s battleground. She pays no heed to the outstretched hands nor the echoing support.
Mitchell is clad in a familiar ‘one-piece’--said outfit a deep purple number with a plunging 'V' neckline that goes all the way to her navel, and a backside that generously puts her fabled derriere on ample display. The most celebrated Mitchell of her generation wears matching purple ankle boots and pads.
Reaching ringside, Cynthia ascends the steps and slips between the ropes, moving to the center, all business.
She gives a perfunctory raise of her right arm to acknowledge the fans, but it’s clear her thoughts are elsewhere, namely on emerging from the singles shadows to claim a spot at the top from a woman growing into the most hated in FAWN’s recent collective memory.
With Mayhem run rampant, the grand finale having arrived and its final combatant ready to rumble, a Richter scale roar traverses the arena’s sound system. The FAWNatics transform to spiteful ruffians as the thunder from the speakers reverberates. An earthquake-sized round of boos makes clear the crowd’s distaste for the flaxen-haired fireplug about to grace them with her unsavory talents.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a blinding light.
When the dazzling illumination subsides, the ill-mannered, ass-kicking and dual title-holding Golden State gremlin is center stage. With the Lightweight belt strapped around her plush, tanned tummy, the Cali Quake lifts the bigger, gaudier World belt off a shoulder.
KAT BRADDOCK:
Her gilded resume made clear, the buxom Brat chuckles at the wall of animosity sent in her direction.
“HERE…TO…STAY!” she mouths to the crowd.
Lowering FAWN’s top prize back across her right shoulder, Kat heads for the squared circle with a Cheshire grin. The once-upon-a-time beach fighter, plucked from obscurity by Chrissy Daniel, strides toward the combat zone in her booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece ensemble accentuating her curves both bottom and top, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks and boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
Kat’s gear (
and ( ).Reaching the ring, Kat passes the steps, waves at the mythical Mitchell and snatches a microphone off the announcer’s table. Braddock saunters to the steel stairs and climbs, slipping between the cables when she reaches the apron.
Taking center stage as the face of FAWN, Braddock raises the stick to her lips as her music fades. The crowd’s volume rises to try and silence the curvy blonde.
“You know the rules. It’s time to shut your damn mouths!”
The throng forces every negative decibel available from their lungs and the champ-champ waits impatiently.
“As you’ve probably realized, I sent one of Belle’s Hellions far below and I’m here to finish the job tonight.”
Kat rolls her eyes at another round of jeers.
“I said ZIP IT!” They don’t.
“I’m tempted to invite every Mitchell they can find from every corner of the Confederacy into this ring and kick their Southern-fried asses, but this sad has-been will have to do.”
Braddock chuckles. The fans seem less amused.
“Maybe we tear that pathetic little Skye a new one next month. Though at least she can still run away from me.”
Braddock turns both dark eyes in Cyn’s direction.
“Bytch. It’s already too late for you.”
“But I will give you the honor of the following.”
Kat clears her throat.
“Before you in all her glory…from Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. Your FAWN World AND Lightweight champion. THE California Quake. The most dominant champion ever seen…KAT BRADDOCK!”
The Brat drops the stick and raises a belt with each hand, reveling in the revulsion.
Cynthia takes a lightning step at Braddock who backpedals to her corner in a panic, shouting at Castle to keep the challenger back.
Reaching her corner unscathed, Kat hands over her hardware for safekeeping and regally motions she’s ready, the bell ringing quickly behind.
Mitchell and Braddock meet in the middle, champion and challenger locking up in a collar-and-elbow. They struggle for leverage, Kat grunting threats about another so-called legend meeting her end. The words seem to inject Cynthia with additional adrenaline. She backs The Brat back into her corner, pressing her foe tight to the buckles.
Castle calls for the break and, at ‘FOUR’, the Carolina Hurricane obliges. But only to land a crisp bytch SLAP across the champ-champ’s cheek. A startled Kat’s noggin swivels to the side and, when it returns, a ‘no-you-didn’ look is plastered on her face.
“You’re just another Kylie who skipped all the fake Girl Scout shyt,” Cynthia informs. “And I’m going to treat you like I’ve treated her.”
“Ya…ya…you’re…go…going to wha…”
The offended Braddock’s stammer is cut short with another open-hand crack to the same blushing cheek.
A furious Kat pushes Mitchell away then surges foward with right arm drawn for a clothesline. But Cynthia ducks under, wraps her right arm across Kat’s chest and SLAMS the titleholder to the deck with a savage reverse STO right out of the box.
Reverse STO ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLUTjNyxWrE ) :04
As the impact leaves Braddock in a face-down sprawl, Cynthia kips to her feet to a roar from the FAWNatics, the crowd eager to see the busty blonde Brat be separated from both belts. She convinces Kat to roll to her back with a boot to the ribs. Backing from her foe, the brunette blindly climbs to the middle buckle behind her, keeping both baby blues on her target.
Leaping from the elevated base, Cynthia extends her legs on the descent and THWUMPS to the deck with a leg drop, her rightt CRASHING across Kat’s throat. Braddock shudders in breathless spasms as the most accomplished Mitchell maneuvers to a crossbody pin, hooking the far leg of the remaining California Quake for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Kat pushes Cyn off, rising to a seated position, gasping and rubbing at her reddening neck. Determined to show she’s not hurt this early in the match, the blonde shoves up nearly as quickly as her counterpart does steps away. But while Kat tries to regain her bearings after reaching vertical, Cynthia’s headed to the nearby ropes and rebounding. Raising her right leg high on her return, the veteran levels Braddock again with an aptly named Sick Kick.
Sick Kick ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lnh3ys8Bpso )
After hitting the canvas, Mitchell nimbly back-somersaults to her feet and again heads for the corner. She climbs to the top, the masses unable to contain their excitement when she reaches there then turns toward a slowly rising Brat. The legendary Hellion jumps from her perch and NAILS a slowly spinning Brat with a knee to the skull cortesy her signature Cynsational Sledge.
Cynsational Sledge ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cx_uxPRKyTA ) :11
Kat dramatically pirouettes from the collision, flopping to a starfish, glazed hazel eyes peering blankly to the rafters above. Landing on her knees next to the splayed dual champion, the veteran doesn’t pass on a possibility to vault to the top of FAWN relevancy in a matter of three slaps of the canvas. She dives atop The Brat in a full body pin, pressing a palm to Kat’s face, flattening it to the side as Nick claps canvas for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Braddock shifts a shoulder off the mat to the audible disappointment from the assembled. Mitchell seems unconcerned. Remaining in a kneeling straddle of the blonde, Cyn leans forward and clobbers Kat with right fist after fist, Cynthia ignoring the pleas of Castle until he starts to count.
The Quake gets her arms under Cyn’s derriere and the high-riding Mitchell is heaved up and over Kat’s head, Braddock slipping out the back door. The World and Lightweight champ pushes to her feet and staggers in a backpedal to a corner, catching herself in the buckles, the blonde windblown by Cynthia’s red-hot start.
Braddock hardly has time to catch her breath, Mitchell immediately charging. But as the brunette arrives, Kat is ready to launch Cyn over the ropes to the side, the Hellion landing on the apron. The challenger sends a right cross toward Kat’s jaw but Braddock intercepts with a blocking forearm.
Braddock wraps her hands around the back of Mitchell’s braincase and drops to her haunches, hot-shotting Cynthia’s throat across the top cable. Mitchell tumbles to the arena floor but manages to land on her feet, it the challenger’s turn to reach for her abused neck.
Kat falls to hip and shoulder and rolls out of the ring, quickly on Cyn’s tail. From behind, she grabs a wrist and a handful of spandex, YANKING high to give Mitchell a wedgie then bum-rushing the grimacing Hurricane toward the steel ring steps. Any hopes for a counter toss are quickly dashed as Mitchell CRASHES into the edifice at breakneck pace, the upper steps dislodged from the lower by the force of the blow.
Crowd silenced, a weary smile emerges on the face of the champ-champ.
“As worthless as Sanders is,” Kat says, shoving the top steps clear of the base. “At least she’s kept herself relevant. She’ll be my piece de resistance. You’re just another bytch needing to be shown the door.”
Braddock pulls a wobbly Cynthia vertical, yanking her lowered head beneath her left arm. Tossing a limp arm of Mitchell over her shoulders, The Brat shows the strength packed into her short, curvy frame, launching Cyn up, over and down, snap suplexing her foe atop THE METAL BASE OF THE STAIRS.
Cynthia’s spine CLANKS across the unforgiving steel, her body arching in anguish from the brutal impact. Sitting against the side of the steel, Kat chuckles.
“Girl. You need to get back to the aughts.”
Noticing Nick’s count gathering steam, the Quake rolls in and out of the ring, setting herself for more destruction outside.
Collecting the discarded top half of the steps, Kat raises the metal to her chest and heaves it toward the splayed Mitchell, hoping to sandwich Cyn in steel. Thankfully for the Hellion’s legion of fans and, most importantly for the Carolina Hurricane herself, Mitchell’s able to roll off the altar before Kat’s vile plans come to fruition.
A disappointed Braddock doesn’t dally. She peels Mitchell off the floor with a wrist and handful of chocolate locks and swings her toward the steel barrier separating crowd from combatants. However, Cynthia deftly reverses and Kat’s back BANGS into the metal from point-blank range.
The Brat howls in pain, vertebrae bowing over the barricade.
“From the sound of things, you need some time to get in touch with the fanbase. Lemme help ya out.”
Cyn pitches forward with right arm drawn and KNOCKS Kat into the front row with a clothesline across her foe’s clavicle, Braddock backflipping into the laps of the front row.
Instantly realizing she’s let emotion get the better of her in this title chase, Mitchell knows she needs to get the champ-chap back in the ring. Luckily, the occupants of Kat’s landing spot respond to Mitchell’s call for a little help. The fans assist Kat to a standing position within Cynthia’s reach. Cyn grabs the blonde in a front facelock and pulls Kat across the top of the barrier, halting when The Brat’s ankles catch.
With an ominous grin, Mitchell lays out, DDTing Braddock to the thinly-padded arena floor, drawing more than a few ‘OOOOHs’ from the sellout.
Out cold, Kat’s in an awkward three-point stance that includes her forehead and knees, her considerable caboose elevated for appointment viewing. And with the count growing once more, Cyn leaves her foe in a salacious display while she takes a turn rolling in and out.
Mitchell turns to Castle after rejoining Braddock on the outside.
“Don’t worry, Nicky boy. She’s coming presently.”
Cyn scrapes what’s left of Braddock off the floor, not an easy task considering the deadweight, and maneuvers her to the apron’s edge. Mitchell lifts Kat’s carcass and shoves her under the bottom rope, the Quake ending on her chest, unmoving.
A glistening Mitchell draws in an oversized inhale and pushes it out while wiping her brow, flashing a toothy smile at her supporters, letting them know this match is over and she’ll reign supreme over the singles scene.
Cyn hops to the apron and slips between the top and middle ropes. The brunette moves a few feet from the stirring champ-champ, poised as she waits for Braddock to rise. Slowly, the sturdy if vertically-challenged blonde woozily pushes to her feet.
Mitchell springs into action, leaping high as she grabs Kat’s head on the fly-by. Cyn PLANTS the Quake’s face to the thinly-sheathed floorboards on her trip down with her signature Carolina Blues, driving Katrina Two-Belts in with enough force, the blonde flops to her back in a spreadeagle.
Carolina Blues ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tXjmTPxmUo )
Mitchell drops in a back press atop the splayed Braddock, hooking the far leg, then counting the seconds for the certified birth of her renaissance with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Buried in The Brat’s subconscious is a survival instinct that not only lets her roll a shoulder off the canvas but grab Cynthia’s left arm as she does and stack Mitchell on her shoulders in a wriggling roll-up, the brunette’s ass pointed to the rafters for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Mitchell clan’s leader squirms free, ending on hands and knees, glancing up at Castle who thankfully holds only two fingers aloft.
Kat struggles to rise and Cyn beats her there with enough time to spare she can drive a raised knee DEEP into Kat’s Achilles’ tummy. The blonde’s soft spot gives under the pressure from the bony cap, as Mitchell’s read of the scouting report tells her to impale the despicable face of FAWN.
Doubled and retching, Braddock’s lowered braincase is yanked between the alabaster stems of Mitchell. A smirking Cyn collects Kat’s limp arms one by one in underhooks in preparation for a final display of wrestling superiority on a night where a long-timer would finally have their day against the malicious upstart.
Double Underhook Piledriver ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4DvxFMk3_4 ) :53
But before Cynthia can launch and make the Quake’s impressive success a bad memory, Kat’s legs give out, Braddock ending on her knees, arms still trapped. It’s more a reaction to the beating Mitchell’s been laying upon her than a counter, but it effectively works as one.
A frustrated Hellion unhooks and pounds several forearm blows between the blonde’s shoulderblades as punishment for not taking her medicine.
Cupping a hand under the flagging Kat’s chin, Mitchell raises Braddock to a stooped kneel and ROCKS HER with a European Uppercut that leaves Kat on her back, thighs folded atop calves. Braddock stares blankly into the lights above, as Cyn pushes to her feet and moves to the nearby corner.
She climbs the buckles quickly and turns to face her target, ready to keep the pressure on her faltering foe. From the penthouse, Cynthia launches, collapsing into a tight tuck at the height of her flight, then spreading wide to crush Kat under a spectacular frog splash that would make her grappling mother proud.
Unfortunately, for all but the most contrarian fans, the calamitous Quake unfolds her abbreviated legs from beneath during the flight of her opponent then pulls them up, offering the kneecaps as Cynthia’s landing pad.
Mitchell guts herself with a disastrous landing, rolling away from the stabbing, hugging her abdomen tight, thrashing as she tries to draw in lost oxygen.
Not far from the ruined Cyn, Mitchell on her back, shifting from shoulder to shoulder, Braddock reaches a seated position and surveys amidst her own struggle to recover.
“Why do you has-beens take so long to realize you don’t measure up to the cutting-edge model?” Kat mumbles as she shakes her senses back into place with a rattle of her braincase, then achingly pushes to her feet.
Braddock rushes Mitchell, the veteran having reached all fours, and punts her foe in the ribs. Cyn barrel-rolls in the opposite direction, ending on her back, bug-eyed and blasted, again embracing her midriff.
The champ-champ is quickly upon her foe, not giving Mitchell a chance to recuperate. She sinks both sets of nails into Cyn’s scalp and tugs the breathless Hurricane to her feet. Shifting her grip to a wrist and shoulder, the flaxen-haired fireplug heaves her ho to the far buckles with an Irish Whip, Cynthia turning into a back-first collision that rattles the veteran’s frame.
Though it’s not nearly so much as a charging Braddock does when she arrives an instant later, leaping into a flying hip check to the sternum, the titleholder using her curves to their best advantage.
With Mitchell pacified, Kat wraps the challenger’s arms over the top rope on either side, leaving a clear path to Cynthia’s ticker. Rearing her head back, Kat sends it PLOWING into the cleft of Mitchell’s bosom, The Brat’s unique Heart Butt sending a tremor through Cyn’s body, her blood pumper skipping out of beat from the literal heart attack.
With Mitchell in no condition to defend herself, Kat yanks her foe out of the corner and tests Mitchell’s rubbery stems with another Irish Whip. Cyn makes it to the ropes and back in a modified zombie-like shuffle where the little, power-packed Kat awaits and elevates her returning adversary, turning and LEVELING Cynthia with her Pop-up Hip Attack.
Pop-up Hip Attack ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZYVCjpkUak )
The downgraded Hurricane splatters to the canvas, her spine and the back of her skull hitting hard enough for the impact to bounce her to a seated position, wobbling and in a daze.
The shock and awe doesn’t clear when Katrina Two-belts latches onto Mitchell’s brown locks, to keep her semi-upright, then POUNDS ass to temple, booty bombing the increasingly thunderstruck Cynthia with a round of her Bratty Butt Bumpers.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
Releasing her grip on Cyn’s mane after the last pelvic thrust, Kat watches Mitchell flop to her right hip and shoulder. The champ-champ drops to one knee next to her demolished opponent and pulls Cynthia toward her, placing shoulders to canvas.
The blonde plants the lowered knee to Cyn’s chest, raising both arms high and wide to the scattered jeers of the unhappy FAWNatics, Castle slapping the canvas for the domineering…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The lax pin likely costs Kat a successful defense of the World and Lightweight titles, at least for the time being, Mitchell refusing to have her chance ended in such humiliating fashion.
Furious at Cyn’s survival, Kay hops to her feet and stomps a mudhole out of Mitchell, the crowd showing their displeasure with increasingly loud volume. Sending boot leather to the veteran until she’s spent, Braddock flips double birds at the angered assembly.
“She knew she was getting this eventually,” The Brat shouts. “So shut your damn mouths!”
Braddock turns her attention back to the bruised and battered Mitchell, plucking each ankle off the canvas and threatening a dire final stomp to the mud between Cynthia’s thighs.
Mitchell raises her palms pleadingly as Kat’s right leg boot sole hovers ominously but, perhaps surprisingly, the vile lightning bolt doesn’t fall. Instead, The Brat tosses her foe’s left leg wide to the canvas then steps on the ankle with her right boot. With one lower limb pinned, Kat has the other in both palms at the opposite ankle.
“Hope you weren’t planning on running the rest of the match,” Kat informs.
Keeping the left leg planted wide, Kat falls with the right, stretching Cyn’s stems to as wide a set of splits as she can manage with her Wishbone Drop.
From the screech of the Hurricane, it’s well beyond Cynthia’s comfort zone, Mitchell rising to her buttocks, hands buried between her outstretched legs, trying to keep her groin muscles from snapping.
With a shoulder to the canvas, Kat shoves the limbs wider, drawing another yelp from the brunette.
“I think maybe you should ask her, Castle,” Kat advises. “Seems like she might have something to say.”
Nick does just that. Cyn bites her lower lip, so no verbalization is forthcoming, but she shakes her head, denying the Cali Quake the surrender she desires.
Aggravated by the lack of surrender, Kat stuffs an elbow into the open crotch of Mitchell, drawing a guttural groan from the brunette. But Braddock relents on the leg spread to move toward victory in a different direction.
The blonde bully peels Cynthia off the deck and backs her foe deep into a set of ropes. Springing out, she flings Cyn to the opposite cables with an Irish Whip then charges after the challenger as Mitchell rotates into her return trip.
Kat lowers her shoulders to spear the holy hell out of the Carolina Hurricane, but somehow the veteran finds the wherewithal to leapfrog over the dipped Quake.
As Kat puts on the brakes, Cynthia u-turns out of her second set of ropes and charges toward a turning Braddock. Kat takes a swipe of a clothesline Cyn ducks. Mitchell wraps her right arm around the champ-champ’s clavicle s she leaps, spinning around her foe’s frame. Cynthia lands on Kat’s opposite side with a front facelock acquired and PLANTS the crown of Kat’s skull into the canvas with a Floatover DDT.
Floatover DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=68FSRxPLrjY )
Braddock bonelessly tumbles over to a starfish from the impact, but Cyn isn’t in shape to immediately cover. She shakes some of her senses back into place after rising to a seat but by the time she crawls to The Brat, Braddock’s rolled to her chest.
Denied the immediate pin attempt, Cynthia knee-walks beside the face-down Cali Quake, grabbing an ankle as she does. Moving to a seat in front of Kat, the brunette sinks her nails into Kat’s golden mane and pulls Braddock’s chin onto her lap. Mitchell then folds a scissors around The Brat’s noggin while working the captured stem in a reverse Crab.
Cyn gazes down into the troubled face of Braddock, Kat grimacing in anguish.
“This was always one of Kylie’s favorites,” Cynthia educates. “I think you’ll enjoy it too.”
Mortal Cyn ( i.imgur.com/uKOjadR.jpg )
Cynthia’s thighs flex as she simultaneously tugs on the single-leg Crab, testing Kat’s spinal column while also cutting off the blood supply to her braincase with her python-like legs.
“Speak into the microphone,” Cyn chuckles, Kat’s face pressed tight against her lower pelvis. “I think Nick can still hear ya say ‘I quit’.”
Kat rubs her nose against Cynthia’s privates, shaking her head in humiliating fashion to show Castle she hasn’t offered her submission.
“Really?” Mitchell asks. “Maybe you aren’t Kylie.”
To make sure, Cyn pulls Kat’s captured lower limb toward her until the tip of her foe’s boot is nearly touching the top of Braddock’s skull.
“Please…please,” Kat begs.
“Say it,” Cyn insists. “Say it and it’s over.”
“FAAAK YOU!”
Cynthia shakes her head and releases Kat’s leg, Braddock’s limb and spine unfolding to their proper locations. Mitchell unclamps her scissors as well, pushing from under Braddock then to her feet.
“You are a piece of work, Mitchell admits. “But your time is done.”
Cynthis pulls Kat off the canvas and tugs her adversary’s lowered head between her thighs, ready to deliver cranium to canvas with her infamous Drop Out and claim both titles.
Drop Out ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=34UOY9Tjejo ) :10
But before Mitchell can claim both underhooks, Kat’s previously limp arms encircle the thighs of the brunette and up-n-over a startled Cynthia goes with a back body drop, the veteran landing flush on her lower vertebrae.
The second-generation superstar rises to a seated position, back arched in pain. The stubborn Mitchell rises before a poised Kat and Braddock strikes with a new addition to her fatal arsenal. She swings her body through a brutal Skull Kick, boot connecting in violent fashion with the brunette’s temple.
Cyn timbers to her side from the thunder of the Quake’s attack but the champ-champ passes on a cover in front of the silenced crowd. Instead, Kat peels Mitchell off the deck, secures a front facelock and drops Cyn’s near arm over her shoulders.
The Brat ‘hups’ Mitchell to an elevated position against her chest in a cradled capture. The FAWNatics have that sinking feeling, which is quickly confirmed when Kat lays out and SPIKES Cynthia’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood with her devastating Kat Nap.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYABwz8Xi44 )
A smirking, seated Braddock doesn’t bother looking over her shoulder, knowing she’s hit every bit of it. She dusts off her hands dramatically to minimal complaint from the crowd.
Grabbing the spreadeagled Cynthia’s ankles, the kneeling Cali Quake drags Cyn toward her and center stage, then drops across her in a lackadaisical back-press pin that nevertheless does the job with Mitchell unconscious for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEEE!
Kat raises her arms in triumph to the displeasure of the fans. The blonde turns and uses Cynthia’s carcass to push to her feet, then places a boot sole on Mitchell’s chest for the Gladiatrix money shot, the announcer making it official as she does.
“Your winner and STILL FAWN World and Lightweight Champion…KAT BRADDOCK!”
The Quake rips her raised arm away from Castle and demands he retrieve her belts and a microphone. Eager to prevent Kat from having her way with Cynthia, Nick does as he’s told, placing a belt over each shoulder per Kat’s direction and handing over the stick.
“And another one bites the dust! I’ve sent both the Hellions to dark match hell. Who else wants a trip?”
The accompaniment for Muy Caliente fills the arena bowl and the sellout throng, immediately turns to the upper stage to this incredible, unexpected answer.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ui0hDQLcWTg
Moving into view, a phalanx of Latina Heat assembles. Led by the irrepressible Gabby Mendoza are Soshana Soto and Sofia Garcia at her sides.
GABBY MENDOZA
SOSHANA SOTO
SOFIA GARCIA
Absent in force since their dismantling of Team Sanders at All Hallows’ Evil (with Charlie Dawson), the despicable trio receives a few supportive hoots, not unlikely considering who it is they seem ready to call out.
The babyfaced Bubblicious connoisseur and her two tawny-skinned cohorts are in their Caliente gear, purple and gold displays, the two piece of crop top and booty shorts showing solidarity ( www.etsy.com/no-en/listing/671209460/pro-wrestling-gear-womens-crop-top-and ). Black pads and gold boots complete the gear.
“Don’t you dare support us now,” Gabby shouts at the fickle fandom. “We didn’t need you when we put that stupid bytch Kylie in her place and we don’t need you now.”
In the ring, Kat clears her throat.
“Again, I have to hear that career loser’s name?” Braddock responds. “Just get out of my arena. I don’t need the likes of you losers wasting my…”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH GRINGA!”
The crowd ‘ooooohs’ on cue and admittedly an astonished Kat indeed closes her gaping maw, hazel lasers pointed in Gabby’s direction.
“It’s been a long time coming and it might be a little more,” Mendoza continues. “But we will convince the powers that be to give Muy Caliente its rightful opportunity to leave you a greasespot on the canvas. And if we don’t, we’ll do it anyway. Start counting the days!”
Gabby drops the mic and together Caliente exits to a mixed response from the FAWNatics.
What’s not mixed is the dumbfounded visage on Kat’s face, Braddock left speechless at the audacity of the Latina Strikeforce as the Mayhem PPV fades to black.