Post by hawkeye on Jun 6, 2023 23:25:20 GMT
The power pop of Tones and I’s Dance Monkey launches from FAWN Arena’s sound system and the people launch to their feet, having taken to the adorable Yellow Rose, a member of the recently minted Dream Team filling their wholesomeness quotient in full.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q )
From stage right, the flaxen-haired fighter, growing more popular and more relevant as recent months pass, cheerily moves to center stage. What she lacks in experience, the fresh-faced grappler has the energy of youth in excess and a sweet disposition to which the audience is drawn.
HEATHER CROFTON
Heather’s excitement at her continued placement in the spotlight is unmistakable, the babyface blonde bobbing in time with the catchy ditty.
She spins through a pirouette and waves excitedly at the delighted devotees, a vision in canary yellow.
The two-piece gear includes spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offers a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns are small caliber. She prances down the aisle, bouncing from side to side, slapping hands, joyous with a further opportunity to show the fans what she can do.
In the last several strides, the Texan takes off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and knee padst. She pushes to her feet and waggles through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly fades.
The Lone Star Girl backpedals to her corner as the ring announcer takes the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. Fighting out of Grapevine, Texas. Standing 5’4” and weighing in at 122 pounds…Miss Mustang…Heather Crofton!”
The bubbly blonde leaps into the air, dropping into a set of splits and spins an invisible lasso above her head. She pumps the raised first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grows when she maneuvers to a ball, kips to her feet, and climbs to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Whaddya say, y’all?!”
The throng responds with a feisty endorsement until all eyes turn to the stage above, expectations rising to see Miss Mustang’s foe.
The FAWNatics mood sours instantly when ’Paper Planes’ by M.I.A. heralds the entrance of the self-proclaimed King Maria the First, judoka extraordinaire and former Lightweight Champion.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewRjZoRtu0Y )
Alves steps through the curtains and surveys her subjects, dressed in a white gi and black belt, albeit much more form fitting than regulation typically allowed.
MARIA ALVES
Unlike her standard judo-wear, the cheeky brunette goes without pants for her professional wrestling matches at the behest of the marketing and wardrobe departments, bare below the hips save for a pair of black bikini bottoms to preserve her modesty.
While the Lightweight strap has many months departed, a gilded scepter, recovered from the woman who took her title, Kat Braddock, is back in her hand. And atop her noble noggin a diamond encrusted coronet reminds the audience of Maria’s royal standing. Around her waist is the dark cotton belt serving as a testament to her prodigious martial artistry.
Accompanying the King are a quartet of towering Amazons dressed in the manner of Roman legionnaires -- each armored in a bronze-plated cuirass, pleated skirt, leatherbound sandals, and knee-high greaves while carrying a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. The members of the kings’ guard flank their master on four corners as she calmly pads down the entrance ramp on her bare feet, occasionally bobbing her head to the beat of her music.
The ring announcer cuts in halfway through the journey
“And…on her way to the ring… at five feet four and 116 pounds…bow down before your Highness… KING MARIA AAAAAALLLVVEESSSSSS!”
Reaching the ring, her entourage place their swords and shields at their feet, then lead their King up the ring steps. They open the ropes wide for their liege. Alves slips through then motions the ‘eunuchs’ to remain outside.
One of the King’s loyal servants produces a microphone and hands it to the King while another hands her a rolled parchment. King Maria, first of her name, raises the stick to her lips.
“Greetings and salutations, humble peasants. Despite my better judgement, you are again graced by my regal presence! Huzzah!”
Maria treats the jeers as a rousing ovation, the crowd absorbing the surreal atmosphere the King’s presence afforded.
Alves opens the scroll.
“As your King, it is my duty and divine right to teach my people important lessons for I am the very portrait of benevolence.”
Confused murmurs pass through the crowd.
“While the usurper avoids my efforts to regain my rightful golden girdle, I have decided to make sport of this wolf in urchin’s clothing. We must keep the lightweight line of succession clean of such rabble from the hinterlands of TEX…ASS!”
The crowd is not amused. They let the King know it as Maria rolls her scroll and tosses it to one of her attendants.
“Nay nay, good peasants. I will show you presently I mean you nothing but pleasant morrows without such pathetic creatures to confuse your feeble minds. You may thank me after.”
Maria hands the microphone, her scepter and crown to a bemused Castle who in turn transfers each to a separate ‘eunuch’. All four recede to the floor and the King’s corner while Maria takes the more direct route to the buckles.
Each combatant gets in a few striking stretches before the bell brings the match to order.
The King strides to the middle of the ring, unconcerned with a poised Crofton, Heather circling like a confused shark. The Yellow Rose travels a full 360, Alves never turning to face her. Only when she’s squarely back in Maria’s view does Crofton take a step forward a collar-and-elbow when Maria raises her right palm before the connection.
From outside, one of the ‘eunuchs’ blows an elaborate French horn. The next one, at her shoulder, places a powdered wig upon her dome and unrolls a parchment.
“Hear ye. Hear ye,” she shouts. “King Maria has this day decreed a Mayhem Moment of Mercy whereupon her opponent may, instead of being beaten within an inch of her life, supplicate by dropping to her knee. kissing the feet of her royal majesty, then roll to her back for an appropriate pin.
In jaw-dropping disbelief, Heather is frozen in her tracks.
“As you can see,” the King says. “My peasants are often left speechless by my benevolence. I can be cruel, but am always fair. Lower yourself, peasant. So that you may take your rightful place at my imperial feet.”
Maria’s focus turns to the hard camera lens.
“8X10s of your King’s feet will be available on FAWN-shop.com after the conclusion of tonight’s event for the low, low price of seventy-nine-ninety-five. No one can say NOAAHHH!”
The hard sell of Maria’s merch comes to an abrupt halt when the Girl from Grapevine stuffs a toe kick deep into the knot of the King’s black belt.
Bent and bug-eyed, the King is ROCKED by European Uppercut under her chin, snapping her braincase back in a whiplash motion.
As Alves’ arms pinwheel to keep herself vertical, Heather shakes her head.
“Thanks, your highness. But no thanks.”
Miss Mustang pulls the judoka into a side headlock and grinds Maria’s head against her right set of ribs.
“A simple ‘I’m not worthy’ would’ve sufficed,” the King grunts.
Maria slinks out of the grip, deftly slipping behind the blonde while capturing a wrist. The Brazilian ratchets the Texan’s right arm high against her back in a tight hammerlock. But it takes only a few seconds for the increasingly confident Lone Star Girl to duck under and out of the grip, garnering one of her very own, pressing Maria’s folded arm tight, lifting it high enough for a wincing Alves to raise to tiptoes in respone.
But the resourceful former Lightweight champion reverses again, this time to a graceful judo throw, Heather sent flipping over a shoulder of the dark-haired grappler. Heather hits the canvas hard across her back but rolls up quickly. Crofton turns and charges with clothesline drawn. Maria easily ducks under the swipe.
Alves’ right arm crosses Heather’s chest, wrapping around the far side of the blonde’s neck and the King shows off her unparalleled judo arsenal, easily lifting an off-balance Crofton up, over, and most definitely DOWN with a savage Uranage.
Uranage ( www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=4s_dYqMDIkw )
Heather lands heavy on the back of her neck, folded atop herself. She flops over to hands and knees and stares blankly at the mat beneath her. A gratified King presses her palms together and bows toward her fallen foe then charges with a bare foot punt to the chin of the Yellow Rose, Heather blasted to her back, her stupefied gaze now directed toward the rafters.
“There’s only one way to ascend to my rightful throne,” Maria informs the audience, as she moves to a backward-facing standing straddle of the waylaid Heather.
“Well. Actually. There’s many ways. But my favorite, at the moment, is making a girl who believes Lisa Dream is a role model see the light.”
Maria dips and crosses Heather’s stems, locking them together with both arms. She turns the wincing Heather to her chest, her Gorilla Clutch quickly secured on the beleaguered youngster.
Gorilla Clutch ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPHttH4BXpg )
“Now you may tap to show your fidelity to your King.”
Maria leans forward with her grip, threatening to break the blonde’s back in addition to torturing her stems. Miss Mustang yelps in anguish, baby face twisted in pain as she digs her nails into the mat, trying to work her way to the distant ropes.
Slowly, agonizingly, the cherished fan favorite makes her way to the strands and wraps a palm around the bottom cable. She squeals for release and the judoka surrenders her grip at Castle’s count of ‘FOUR’.
As a wincing Heather works at the knots in her back, King Maria is surprisingly satisfied to let the blonde recover. It becomes obvious why when Alves backtracks across the ring near where her ‘eunuchs’ have been working over an espresso machine rolled out since the start of the festivities.
The dark-haired beauty snaps her fingers and one of her subordinates sends the steam flying, dispensing a tiny cupful of brown nectar into a delicate porcelain cup. The muscular minion hands the tiny beverage through the ropes, the King accepting it for a well-earned coffee break, when a charging Crofton throws a flying hip check into the self-proclaimed greatest flyweight ever.
The damage to Maria is negligible, but her brew is sent flying into the front row. A scalded fan screams in pain as a devastated King can scantly believe what’s occurred. As backstage, Bethany’s lawyers prepare for a lawsuit from the singed FAWNatic, an enraged Maria is fuming at the loss of her caffeine.
Having rebounded from her first attack, the Yellow Rose rushes toward a second, but a steely-eyed Maria, denied her espresso, dips and plucks Heather off the canvas with an encircling grip around her foe’s left leg at the crotch. Maria launches Crofton heavenward, Heather’s baby blues bulging. The wide eyes are for good reason as Alves PLOWS Miss Mustang into the deck with a flapjack facebuster.
Flapjack facebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=nyu5ySyBAUU&t=4s ).
The force of the impact bounces Heather to a seated position. She rises unsteadily to her feet where she’s met by the simmering royal. Maria slides alongside the reeling youngster, Alves wrapping her left leg in a grapevine around Heather’s right. It’s the express lane to the canvas for the Lone Star Girl as King Maria rockets her foe to the mat with a side Russian Legsweep.
Side Russian Legsweep ( www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=sYknjY1T7CQ )
The judoka slickly slides to a seat behind Heather, capturing her adversary’s arms. Maria then raises and folds her legs behind the neck and head of the Texan, securing a Lotus Lock with which to punish Heather for interrupting her refreshment.
Lotus Lock ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=308SXP5A-OE )
“You decided to make it personal,” Maria grunts as she forces Heather’s chin to her chest. “And before you ask, no I didn’t bring enough for everyone, but that’s hardly the point. Nobody makes me bleed my own blood and NOBODY spills my perfectly barista-ed espresso.”
A growling Alves viciously works the capture, Crofton squirming for release but unable to find an exit. Nick asks if Heather wants to surrender. The flaxen-haired fighter shakes her head emphatically.
Miss Mustang gets her boot soles under her and leans back, placing Maria on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Alves thrusts her pelvis forward, taking her shoulders off the canvas and keister bouncing Heather’s tailbone into the thinly-sheathed floorboards. With Crofton’s face twisted in pain from the harsh landing on her derriere, Maria unlocks her ankles behind Heather’s head and pounds heel strikes aplenty into the back of the blonde’s skull. When Alves disengages from the youngster, a dazed Heather flops to hip and shoulder, baby blues vacant.
Maria moves to the ropes nearest her ‘eunuchs’ and accepts a re-poured cup of ambrosia. She imbibes, tosses the empty cup into a set of ducking FAWNatics, and fashions a chef’s kiss for the unmatched quality of her eunuchs’ brewing technique.
The dark-haired judoka turns her attention back to Heather, who’s made it to hands and knees.
“Don’t think that changes things,” the King informs. “You made me wait for my royal beverage. There is no greater dishonor.”
Heather pushes to her feet and staggers toward the judoka but Maria ducks her head between the blonde’s legs, wrapping her arms around Heather’s thighs and lifts the blonde high. With a fidgeting Crofton draping down her foe’s back when Alves reaches vertical, King Maria sends Heather careening to the canvas with an Alabama Slam.
Alabama Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqCCP-mb9vM ) :40
Maria drops to her knees between the spreadeagled stems of the Girl From Grapevine, who’s clearly bit off more than she can chew tonight. Hooking her arms around the quivering gams of the Texan, Alves ‘walks’ forward, folding Heather into a jackknife pin for the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
Crofton spasms to life, bucking to the side and lifting herself out of the pinning predicament. But the relentless and less jovial judoka is quickly upon her foe, twisting her body next to Heather’s to secure an Anaconda Vice.
Anaconda Vice ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=7QRgdP-kxHE ) :05
Before the Judo black belt can fully establish her submission, Heather ‘crunches’ her legs to within range and wraps them around Alves’ noggin. With the scissors tight, Crofton tugs Maria off and flexes her thighs, sending as much strength as she’s able into turning King Maria’s face to a royal flush.
Alves pries fruitlessly at the thighs surrounding her temples, features growing rosier by the second. Finally, it’s Maria’s turn to roll Heather into a stack, the Lone Star Girl’s ass pointed to the rafters in a determined effort to keep her head scissors tight. With the blonde’s shoulders on the canvas, Castle lowers beside the combatants and slaps the canvas for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Crofton releases and rolls away to save herself.
Both grapplers scramble to their feet, poised for the other’s approach, dewy with sweat. They’re likely relieved both remain distant, drawing in deep breaths. The appreciative fans give both women an ovation, which turns to a more partisan “HETH-ER” chant.
Blonde and raven-haired wrestlers circle, each orbit drawing them closer until they meet in a collar-and-elbow that almost instantly transitions to a side headlock from Crofton on her counterpart, then to hammerlock, then to a side suplex when a blind elbow from the judoka misses its mark and leaves Maria off-balance. Alves lands HARD on her shoulders and the back of her braincase. She somersaults over, ending on all fours.
A kipping Yellow Rose moves to a reverse, standing straddle of the King and drops her modest cup-cake into the base of Maria’s spine. The thrust is enough to force Alves to her belly and Heather grabs Alves’ ankles, lifting the tanned stems of the judoka. She wraps her arms around Maria’s shins once raised and drops to a seat on Alves’ sinewy glutes, skooching up her foe’s spine, increasing the pressure.
Boston Crab ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHLiGe5tt14 ) :02
“Give up, your majesty,” Heather demands.
Castle drops to his knees in front of a wincing King and asks if she wants to abdicate. Maria tugs at her ebony ponytail to spread the pain and mutters “To a peasant? Never.”
A further curving the arc of Maria’s spine quiets the King and her highness sinks nails into the canvas to drag herself to the nearby cables. It takes a dozen seconds of torturous travel, but Maria makes her way to the saving strands.
With Maria’s wriggling fingers inches away from salvation, Heather starts to rise out of her crouch, ready to drag Alves back to the middle and reapply the Crab. But before Crofton can manage, the King’s favorite barista/eunuch lends a hand, locking hers with Maria’s when Castle’s attention shifts to the ascending blonde. The muscular minion draws King Maria the rest of the way, allowing Alves to snatch the bottom rope.
The King shouts for Nick’s concentration and, receiving it, FAWN’s lead official calls for the break.
A frustrated Miss Mustang releases and removes herself a couple strides before turning to face a grimacing Alves. Maria the First yanks herself out of the ring, bare feet padding against the concrete. Two of her attendants work at massaging Alves’ aching lower back while Maria calls for a café latte.
“Ma’am, we couldn’t find the otter milk you prefer.”
Heartbroken. The King turns some of her attention back to the squared circle.
“Then I’ll have to take it out on that rodent in the ring.”
“Ma’am. An otter is of the weasel family. Not a rodent.”
“Shut your mouth, slave.”
During the discussion on the cocoa bean and mammalian families, the Girl from Grapevine rebounds off the distant cables and charges back toward the King. The Texan goes airborne, diving between the top and middle ropes and connecting with a shoulder block to the distracted Maria. The blasted King in turn tumbles into three eunuchs and all fall to the thinly-padded cement like a set of bowling pins.
Heather nimbly lands on her feet and plucks the King from her court only to have the judoka send a toe kick DEEP into her alabaster tummy. Maria grabs the left wrist and shoulder of the Yellow Rose and points her at the steel ring steps, then heaves. But Heather keeps connected, plants her boot soles to pivot, and reverse the toss. Instead, it’s Maria CRASHING into the unforgiving metal, Alves taking it most heavily on her right hip and shoulder.
With the crowd roaring its approval, Heather scrapes the pooled Maria off the floor and stuffs her back in the ring. The blonde rejoins her foe with a roll and a kip to her feet. Heather watches the tawny backside of the judoka as the King crawls away from her, hoping to make some space for recovery time.
“Hold on, little lady,” Heather huffs, grabbing an ankle of the King.
Maria spins to her backside so she faces the Texan, though her right leg remains in possession of her foe. She draws the limb close, then thrusts it into Heather’s chest, sending Crofton backpedaling to the ropes behind her. Unfortunately for the King and her Court, the Lone Star Girl adjusts on the fly and surges toward her seated adversary, NAILING Maria with a Basement Lariat.
Basement Lariat ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxtCzadrXDo )
As the judoka’s tawny legs fly up in the air after impact, Heather snatches both and cradles Alves onto her shoulders, the King’s royal bum pointed to the rafters as Castle counts for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The ‘eunuchs’ interrupt brewing another cup in preparation of slap number three, but Maria spasms her way out of the pinfall, flopping to her side.
On her haunches next to the aching judoka extraordinaire, Heather sweeps both sets of fingers through her dirty blonde locks. She pushes Maria to her back, mounts in a straddle, and unleashes a signature Love Tap to the modest rack of the dark-haired grappler. The signature double-barreled overhand slap of Alves’ cleavage echoes through the arena and draws the requisite ‘WOOOO’ from the crowd.
Frustration expunged, Crofton gets back to work, pulling the grimacing Maria up as she rises, the King murmuring less than sweet nothings as she’s sent to the ropes with an Irish Whip. On the rebound of her foe, the Yellow Rose dips deep, surrounding the waist of the returning Alves. Heather lays out, tossing her cargo overhead in a snappy belly-to-belly suplex with enough judo flair to likely steam FAWN’s expert in the art. But for the moment, King Maria is occupied, massaging her aching lower vertebrae, arching in pain.
Overhead belly-to-belly suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HYdCwrUYXQ )
The babyfaced blonde kips to her feet, drawing a roar from the partisan crowd. She pumps her fist to the assembled, raising the volume further. Turning her attention back to the faltering Alves, Heather sees Maria up to a seated position and leans deep into the ropes behind her. Springboarding out, she races to the King and leaps into a meteora from behind, the unusual application a favorite of the Girl from Grapevine.
Heather’s shins land across the shoulders of the judoka and Crofton rides her foe down into a matchbooking THUMP of forehead to mat, Maria’s face striking the canvas-covered plywood between her outstretched stems. Athletically somersaulting away from her landing, Heather pops to her feet and turns to finds a flattened King in a sleepy single file. Maria’s body unfolded after impact.
With a target so inviting, Crofton passes on the pin and leaps to the middle rope to Maria’s side, the blonde grabbing the top cable as she lands. Seamlessly, Miss Mustang bounds off, twisting in a 180-turn and dropping a senton across the black belt of Alves. Or that was the plan. Maria manages to pull her knees up and Heather’s spinal column CRASHES into the bony caps. She rolls away, back curved in anguish from the disastrous landing.
Still in less-than-ideal condition, Maria rolls over and pushes up to hands and knees then crawls not toward the splayed blonde but toward her pit crew. Reaching the ropes, they’re ready with elegant watercress finger sandwiches befitting her majesty. Maria pulls one from a literal silver platter and takes a nibble, then grabs a handful, squeezes them into a ball and throws it at her loyal stooges.
“No chipotle mayo?” a shocked Alves shouts. “Espresso. Stat!”
The King greedily snatches the tiny cup and tosses back her liquid love then throws the empty receptacle to a ‘eunuch’. As if Popeye with his spinach, Maria is renewed, climbing to her feet with the help of the ropes.
The King steps toward a risen and charging Heather, Crofton raising a big boot toward the point of Maria’s chin. But Alves ducks under, the right leg of the Yellow Rose ending atop her foe’s left shoulder. Maria quickly wraps her arms around Heather’s neck on one side and under her arm with the lifted leg, then sends Crofton into the Orlando night with an emphatic Capture Suplex.
Capture Suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOERLugJzfw ) :12
Landing on her head and shoulders, the dazed and seated Heather stares blankly into the crowd. Those baby blues get no clearer when Maria delivers a leg lariat to the back of Heather’s skull, spilling the blonde to her chest.
Impeccably, the master judoka takes advantage of her foe’s position, moving perpendicular to her face down adversary. The King leans her bodyweight across Crofton’s spine while scissoring Heather’s left arm and capturing her right in a grip meant to torture both the wing and Miss Mustang’s back with her Rings of the King.
Rings of the King ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNF_3lzRpGU )
Heather squirms futilely, face turning from dazed to one etched in anguish. The Texan struggles to free herself but the seconds continue to pile up. Castle lowers to ask if Heather wants to capitulate to her better. The teary-eyed Texan shakes her head. In response, the vengeful, caffeinated King increases the punishing strength of her Rings.
“I can send you back to Texas to farm my watercress or I can send you back in a wheelchair,” Maria grunts, pouring on the pressure.
“NOAHHHHHH!” the Girl from Grapevine hollers.
The response is directed more toward Nick than Alves and a frustrated King breaks her Ring to send both sets of talons into Heather’s scalp and THUMP her foe’s features into the deck with enough force Heather’s noggin bounces off the canvas.
Seemingly unperturbed by Heather’s resistance to her Rings, Maria ups the ante. With the flagging blonde face down, Maria rises to a reverse-facing stance next to Miss Mustang’s legs. The Brazilian gathers and crosses Heather’s stems at the shins, her own left leg posted between Crofton’s thighs.
Locking the legs by slipping a boot of the blonde behind her calf, the limber judoka drops in a bridge to not only increase the ungodly pressure on the Lone Star Girl’s lower limbs, but to cup her hands under the wincing Heather’s chin and wrench away, violently stretching her rival’s neck out of alignment, the completion of her notorious Indian Deathlock.
Indian Deathlock ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmhVhkfVGsM )
Heather screams in agony, her trapped frame twisted. She fights to hold on as the King balances on the crown of her cranium, her black belt rightly signifying how she could make her body a weapon beyond compare among all lightweights.
“Give up, peasant,” Maria demands, jerking the blonde’s body further and showing no signs of tiring in the bridge. “Bow to your King!”
Literally unable, the babyfaced Miss Mustang fights on, trying to writhe her faltering body to a release point and failing to find it for five, then ten seconds.
And finally…the dam breaks. The Yellow Rose wilts under the unrelenting agony dished out by the master judoka, screaming ‘I GIVE…I GIVE’ and frantically tapping the canvas, the self-proclaimed best lightweight ever claiming another victim to prove her case.
Castle yells at the King to release her grip and the ponytailed black-belt accedes as her bridge collapses. Maria lounging atop a broken and blubbering Heather, Crofton so close to showing her career outside the Dream Team is ready to blossom but repulsed by the Brazilian badass.
Maria rises and allows Castle to lift her hand in victory as the ring announcer makes it official.
“Your winner…by submission…Maria Alves!”
The King pushes the Lone Star Girl to her back with a bare foot then places it atop Heather’s privates. She calls for a microphone, snatching it nimbly out of the air.
“So shall it ever be to those who oppose the King!”
Maria drops the mic on the chest of the whimpering Heather with a KA-LUNK and heads for the exit with her eunuchs trailing mid-brew.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q )
From stage right, the flaxen-haired fighter, growing more popular and more relevant as recent months pass, cheerily moves to center stage. What she lacks in experience, the fresh-faced grappler has the energy of youth in excess and a sweet disposition to which the audience is drawn.
HEATHER CROFTON
Heather’s excitement at her continued placement in the spotlight is unmistakable, the babyface blonde bobbing in time with the catchy ditty.
She spins through a pirouette and waves excitedly at the delighted devotees, a vision in canary yellow.
The two-piece gear includes spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offers a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns are small caliber. She prances down the aisle, bouncing from side to side, slapping hands, joyous with a further opportunity to show the fans what she can do.
In the last several strides, the Texan takes off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and knee padst. She pushes to her feet and waggles through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly fades.
The Lone Star Girl backpedals to her corner as the ring announcer takes the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. Fighting out of Grapevine, Texas. Standing 5’4” and weighing in at 122 pounds…Miss Mustang…Heather Crofton!”
The bubbly blonde leaps into the air, dropping into a set of splits and spins an invisible lasso above her head. She pumps the raised first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grows when she maneuvers to a ball, kips to her feet, and climbs to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Whaddya say, y’all?!”
The throng responds with a feisty endorsement until all eyes turn to the stage above, expectations rising to see Miss Mustang’s foe.
The FAWNatics mood sours instantly when ’Paper Planes’ by M.I.A. heralds the entrance of the self-proclaimed King Maria the First, judoka extraordinaire and former Lightweight Champion.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewRjZoRtu0Y )
Alves steps through the curtains and surveys her subjects, dressed in a white gi and black belt, albeit much more form fitting than regulation typically allowed.
MARIA ALVES
Unlike her standard judo-wear, the cheeky brunette goes without pants for her professional wrestling matches at the behest of the marketing and wardrobe departments, bare below the hips save for a pair of black bikini bottoms to preserve her modesty.
While the Lightweight strap has many months departed, a gilded scepter, recovered from the woman who took her title, Kat Braddock, is back in her hand. And atop her noble noggin a diamond encrusted coronet reminds the audience of Maria’s royal standing. Around her waist is the dark cotton belt serving as a testament to her prodigious martial artistry.
Accompanying the King are a quartet of towering Amazons dressed in the manner of Roman legionnaires -- each armored in a bronze-plated cuirass, pleated skirt, leatherbound sandals, and knee-high greaves while carrying a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. The members of the kings’ guard flank their master on four corners as she calmly pads down the entrance ramp on her bare feet, occasionally bobbing her head to the beat of her music.
The ring announcer cuts in halfway through the journey
“And…on her way to the ring… at five feet four and 116 pounds…bow down before your Highness… KING MARIA AAAAAALLLVVEESSSSSS!”
Reaching the ring, her entourage place their swords and shields at their feet, then lead their King up the ring steps. They open the ropes wide for their liege. Alves slips through then motions the ‘eunuchs’ to remain outside.
One of the King’s loyal servants produces a microphone and hands it to the King while another hands her a rolled parchment. King Maria, first of her name, raises the stick to her lips.
“Greetings and salutations, humble peasants. Despite my better judgement, you are again graced by my regal presence! Huzzah!”
Maria treats the jeers as a rousing ovation, the crowd absorbing the surreal atmosphere the King’s presence afforded.
Alves opens the scroll.
“As your King, it is my duty and divine right to teach my people important lessons for I am the very portrait of benevolence.”
Confused murmurs pass through the crowd.
“While the usurper avoids my efforts to regain my rightful golden girdle, I have decided to make sport of this wolf in urchin’s clothing. We must keep the lightweight line of succession clean of such rabble from the hinterlands of TEX…ASS!”
The crowd is not amused. They let the King know it as Maria rolls her scroll and tosses it to one of her attendants.
“Nay nay, good peasants. I will show you presently I mean you nothing but pleasant morrows without such pathetic creatures to confuse your feeble minds. You may thank me after.”
Maria hands the microphone, her scepter and crown to a bemused Castle who in turn transfers each to a separate ‘eunuch’. All four recede to the floor and the King’s corner while Maria takes the more direct route to the buckles.
Each combatant gets in a few striking stretches before the bell brings the match to order.
The King strides to the middle of the ring, unconcerned with a poised Crofton, Heather circling like a confused shark. The Yellow Rose travels a full 360, Alves never turning to face her. Only when she’s squarely back in Maria’s view does Crofton take a step forward a collar-and-elbow when Maria raises her right palm before the connection.
From outside, one of the ‘eunuchs’ blows an elaborate French horn. The next one, at her shoulder, places a powdered wig upon her dome and unrolls a parchment.
“Hear ye. Hear ye,” she shouts. “King Maria has this day decreed a Mayhem Moment of Mercy whereupon her opponent may, instead of being beaten within an inch of her life, supplicate by dropping to her knee. kissing the feet of her royal majesty, then roll to her back for an appropriate pin.
In jaw-dropping disbelief, Heather is frozen in her tracks.
“As you can see,” the King says. “My peasants are often left speechless by my benevolence. I can be cruel, but am always fair. Lower yourself, peasant. So that you may take your rightful place at my imperial feet.”
Maria’s focus turns to the hard camera lens.
“8X10s of your King’s feet will be available on FAWN-shop.com after the conclusion of tonight’s event for the low, low price of seventy-nine-ninety-five. No one can say NOAAHHH!”
The hard sell of Maria’s merch comes to an abrupt halt when the Girl from Grapevine stuffs a toe kick deep into the knot of the King’s black belt.
Bent and bug-eyed, the King is ROCKED by European Uppercut under her chin, snapping her braincase back in a whiplash motion.
As Alves’ arms pinwheel to keep herself vertical, Heather shakes her head.
“Thanks, your highness. But no thanks.”
Miss Mustang pulls the judoka into a side headlock and grinds Maria’s head against her right set of ribs.
“A simple ‘I’m not worthy’ would’ve sufficed,” the King grunts.
Maria slinks out of the grip, deftly slipping behind the blonde while capturing a wrist. The Brazilian ratchets the Texan’s right arm high against her back in a tight hammerlock. But it takes only a few seconds for the increasingly confident Lone Star Girl to duck under and out of the grip, garnering one of her very own, pressing Maria’s folded arm tight, lifting it high enough for a wincing Alves to raise to tiptoes in respone.
But the resourceful former Lightweight champion reverses again, this time to a graceful judo throw, Heather sent flipping over a shoulder of the dark-haired grappler. Heather hits the canvas hard across her back but rolls up quickly. Crofton turns and charges with clothesline drawn. Maria easily ducks under the swipe.
Alves’ right arm crosses Heather’s chest, wrapping around the far side of the blonde’s neck and the King shows off her unparalleled judo arsenal, easily lifting an off-balance Crofton up, over, and most definitely DOWN with a savage Uranage.
Uranage ( www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=4s_dYqMDIkw )
Heather lands heavy on the back of her neck, folded atop herself. She flops over to hands and knees and stares blankly at the mat beneath her. A gratified King presses her palms together and bows toward her fallen foe then charges with a bare foot punt to the chin of the Yellow Rose, Heather blasted to her back, her stupefied gaze now directed toward the rafters.
“There’s only one way to ascend to my rightful throne,” Maria informs the audience, as she moves to a backward-facing standing straddle of the waylaid Heather.
“Well. Actually. There’s many ways. But my favorite, at the moment, is making a girl who believes Lisa Dream is a role model see the light.”
Maria dips and crosses Heather’s stems, locking them together with both arms. She turns the wincing Heather to her chest, her Gorilla Clutch quickly secured on the beleaguered youngster.
Gorilla Clutch ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPHttH4BXpg )
“Now you may tap to show your fidelity to your King.”
Maria leans forward with her grip, threatening to break the blonde’s back in addition to torturing her stems. Miss Mustang yelps in anguish, baby face twisted in pain as she digs her nails into the mat, trying to work her way to the distant ropes.
Slowly, agonizingly, the cherished fan favorite makes her way to the strands and wraps a palm around the bottom cable. She squeals for release and the judoka surrenders her grip at Castle’s count of ‘FOUR’.
As a wincing Heather works at the knots in her back, King Maria is surprisingly satisfied to let the blonde recover. It becomes obvious why when Alves backtracks across the ring near where her ‘eunuchs’ have been working over an espresso machine rolled out since the start of the festivities.
The dark-haired beauty snaps her fingers and one of her subordinates sends the steam flying, dispensing a tiny cupful of brown nectar into a delicate porcelain cup. The muscular minion hands the tiny beverage through the ropes, the King accepting it for a well-earned coffee break, when a charging Crofton throws a flying hip check into the self-proclaimed greatest flyweight ever.
The damage to Maria is negligible, but her brew is sent flying into the front row. A scalded fan screams in pain as a devastated King can scantly believe what’s occurred. As backstage, Bethany’s lawyers prepare for a lawsuit from the singed FAWNatic, an enraged Maria is fuming at the loss of her caffeine.
Having rebounded from her first attack, the Yellow Rose rushes toward a second, but a steely-eyed Maria, denied her espresso, dips and plucks Heather off the canvas with an encircling grip around her foe’s left leg at the crotch. Maria launches Crofton heavenward, Heather’s baby blues bulging. The wide eyes are for good reason as Alves PLOWS Miss Mustang into the deck with a flapjack facebuster.
Flapjack facebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=nyu5ySyBAUU&t=4s ).
The force of the impact bounces Heather to a seated position. She rises unsteadily to her feet where she’s met by the simmering royal. Maria slides alongside the reeling youngster, Alves wrapping her left leg in a grapevine around Heather’s right. It’s the express lane to the canvas for the Lone Star Girl as King Maria rockets her foe to the mat with a side Russian Legsweep.
Side Russian Legsweep ( www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=sYknjY1T7CQ )
The judoka slickly slides to a seat behind Heather, capturing her adversary’s arms. Maria then raises and folds her legs behind the neck and head of the Texan, securing a Lotus Lock with which to punish Heather for interrupting her refreshment.
Lotus Lock ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=308SXP5A-OE )
“You decided to make it personal,” Maria grunts as she forces Heather’s chin to her chest. “And before you ask, no I didn’t bring enough for everyone, but that’s hardly the point. Nobody makes me bleed my own blood and NOBODY spills my perfectly barista-ed espresso.”
A growling Alves viciously works the capture, Crofton squirming for release but unable to find an exit. Nick asks if Heather wants to surrender. The flaxen-haired fighter shakes her head emphatically.
Miss Mustang gets her boot soles under her and leans back, placing Maria on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Alves thrusts her pelvis forward, taking her shoulders off the canvas and keister bouncing Heather’s tailbone into the thinly-sheathed floorboards. With Crofton’s face twisted in pain from the harsh landing on her derriere, Maria unlocks her ankles behind Heather’s head and pounds heel strikes aplenty into the back of the blonde’s skull. When Alves disengages from the youngster, a dazed Heather flops to hip and shoulder, baby blues vacant.
Maria moves to the ropes nearest her ‘eunuchs’ and accepts a re-poured cup of ambrosia. She imbibes, tosses the empty cup into a set of ducking FAWNatics, and fashions a chef’s kiss for the unmatched quality of her eunuchs’ brewing technique.
The dark-haired judoka turns her attention back to Heather, who’s made it to hands and knees.
“Don’t think that changes things,” the King informs. “You made me wait for my royal beverage. There is no greater dishonor.”
Heather pushes to her feet and staggers toward the judoka but Maria ducks her head between the blonde’s legs, wrapping her arms around Heather’s thighs and lifts the blonde high. With a fidgeting Crofton draping down her foe’s back when Alves reaches vertical, King Maria sends Heather careening to the canvas with an Alabama Slam.
Alabama Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqCCP-mb9vM ) :40
Maria drops to her knees between the spreadeagled stems of the Girl From Grapevine, who’s clearly bit off more than she can chew tonight. Hooking her arms around the quivering gams of the Texan, Alves ‘walks’ forward, folding Heather into a jackknife pin for the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
Crofton spasms to life, bucking to the side and lifting herself out of the pinning predicament. But the relentless and less jovial judoka is quickly upon her foe, twisting her body next to Heather’s to secure an Anaconda Vice.
Anaconda Vice ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=7QRgdP-kxHE ) :05
Before the Judo black belt can fully establish her submission, Heather ‘crunches’ her legs to within range and wraps them around Alves’ noggin. With the scissors tight, Crofton tugs Maria off and flexes her thighs, sending as much strength as she’s able into turning King Maria’s face to a royal flush.
Alves pries fruitlessly at the thighs surrounding her temples, features growing rosier by the second. Finally, it’s Maria’s turn to roll Heather into a stack, the Lone Star Girl’s ass pointed to the rafters in a determined effort to keep her head scissors tight. With the blonde’s shoulders on the canvas, Castle lowers beside the combatants and slaps the canvas for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Crofton releases and rolls away to save herself.
Both grapplers scramble to their feet, poised for the other’s approach, dewy with sweat. They’re likely relieved both remain distant, drawing in deep breaths. The appreciative fans give both women an ovation, which turns to a more partisan “HETH-ER” chant.
Blonde and raven-haired wrestlers circle, each orbit drawing them closer until they meet in a collar-and-elbow that almost instantly transitions to a side headlock from Crofton on her counterpart, then to hammerlock, then to a side suplex when a blind elbow from the judoka misses its mark and leaves Maria off-balance. Alves lands HARD on her shoulders and the back of her braincase. She somersaults over, ending on all fours.
A kipping Yellow Rose moves to a reverse, standing straddle of the King and drops her modest cup-cake into the base of Maria’s spine. The thrust is enough to force Alves to her belly and Heather grabs Alves’ ankles, lifting the tanned stems of the judoka. She wraps her arms around Maria’s shins once raised and drops to a seat on Alves’ sinewy glutes, skooching up her foe’s spine, increasing the pressure.
Boston Crab ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHLiGe5tt14 ) :02
“Give up, your majesty,” Heather demands.
Castle drops to his knees in front of a wincing King and asks if she wants to abdicate. Maria tugs at her ebony ponytail to spread the pain and mutters “To a peasant? Never.”
A further curving the arc of Maria’s spine quiets the King and her highness sinks nails into the canvas to drag herself to the nearby cables. It takes a dozen seconds of torturous travel, but Maria makes her way to the saving strands.
With Maria’s wriggling fingers inches away from salvation, Heather starts to rise out of her crouch, ready to drag Alves back to the middle and reapply the Crab. But before Crofton can manage, the King’s favorite barista/eunuch lends a hand, locking hers with Maria’s when Castle’s attention shifts to the ascending blonde. The muscular minion draws King Maria the rest of the way, allowing Alves to snatch the bottom rope.
The King shouts for Nick’s concentration and, receiving it, FAWN’s lead official calls for the break.
A frustrated Miss Mustang releases and removes herself a couple strides before turning to face a grimacing Alves. Maria the First yanks herself out of the ring, bare feet padding against the concrete. Two of her attendants work at massaging Alves’ aching lower back while Maria calls for a café latte.
“Ma’am, we couldn’t find the otter milk you prefer.”
Heartbroken. The King turns some of her attention back to the squared circle.
“Then I’ll have to take it out on that rodent in the ring.”
“Ma’am. An otter is of the weasel family. Not a rodent.”
“Shut your mouth, slave.”
During the discussion on the cocoa bean and mammalian families, the Girl from Grapevine rebounds off the distant cables and charges back toward the King. The Texan goes airborne, diving between the top and middle ropes and connecting with a shoulder block to the distracted Maria. The blasted King in turn tumbles into three eunuchs and all fall to the thinly-padded cement like a set of bowling pins.
Heather nimbly lands on her feet and plucks the King from her court only to have the judoka send a toe kick DEEP into her alabaster tummy. Maria grabs the left wrist and shoulder of the Yellow Rose and points her at the steel ring steps, then heaves. But Heather keeps connected, plants her boot soles to pivot, and reverse the toss. Instead, it’s Maria CRASHING into the unforgiving metal, Alves taking it most heavily on her right hip and shoulder.
With the crowd roaring its approval, Heather scrapes the pooled Maria off the floor and stuffs her back in the ring. The blonde rejoins her foe with a roll and a kip to her feet. Heather watches the tawny backside of the judoka as the King crawls away from her, hoping to make some space for recovery time.
“Hold on, little lady,” Heather huffs, grabbing an ankle of the King.
Maria spins to her backside so she faces the Texan, though her right leg remains in possession of her foe. She draws the limb close, then thrusts it into Heather’s chest, sending Crofton backpedaling to the ropes behind her. Unfortunately for the King and her Court, the Lone Star Girl adjusts on the fly and surges toward her seated adversary, NAILING Maria with a Basement Lariat.
Basement Lariat ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxtCzadrXDo )
As the judoka’s tawny legs fly up in the air after impact, Heather snatches both and cradles Alves onto her shoulders, the King’s royal bum pointed to the rafters as Castle counts for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The ‘eunuchs’ interrupt brewing another cup in preparation of slap number three, but Maria spasms her way out of the pinfall, flopping to her side.
On her haunches next to the aching judoka extraordinaire, Heather sweeps both sets of fingers through her dirty blonde locks. She pushes Maria to her back, mounts in a straddle, and unleashes a signature Love Tap to the modest rack of the dark-haired grappler. The signature double-barreled overhand slap of Alves’ cleavage echoes through the arena and draws the requisite ‘WOOOO’ from the crowd.
Frustration expunged, Crofton gets back to work, pulling the grimacing Maria up as she rises, the King murmuring less than sweet nothings as she’s sent to the ropes with an Irish Whip. On the rebound of her foe, the Yellow Rose dips deep, surrounding the waist of the returning Alves. Heather lays out, tossing her cargo overhead in a snappy belly-to-belly suplex with enough judo flair to likely steam FAWN’s expert in the art. But for the moment, King Maria is occupied, massaging her aching lower vertebrae, arching in pain.
Overhead belly-to-belly suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HYdCwrUYXQ )
The babyfaced blonde kips to her feet, drawing a roar from the partisan crowd. She pumps her fist to the assembled, raising the volume further. Turning her attention back to the faltering Alves, Heather sees Maria up to a seated position and leans deep into the ropes behind her. Springboarding out, she races to the King and leaps into a meteora from behind, the unusual application a favorite of the Girl from Grapevine.
Heather’s shins land across the shoulders of the judoka and Crofton rides her foe down into a matchbooking THUMP of forehead to mat, Maria’s face striking the canvas-covered plywood between her outstretched stems. Athletically somersaulting away from her landing, Heather pops to her feet and turns to finds a flattened King in a sleepy single file. Maria’s body unfolded after impact.
With a target so inviting, Crofton passes on the pin and leaps to the middle rope to Maria’s side, the blonde grabbing the top cable as she lands. Seamlessly, Miss Mustang bounds off, twisting in a 180-turn and dropping a senton across the black belt of Alves. Or that was the plan. Maria manages to pull her knees up and Heather’s spinal column CRASHES into the bony caps. She rolls away, back curved in anguish from the disastrous landing.
Still in less-than-ideal condition, Maria rolls over and pushes up to hands and knees then crawls not toward the splayed blonde but toward her pit crew. Reaching the ropes, they’re ready with elegant watercress finger sandwiches befitting her majesty. Maria pulls one from a literal silver platter and takes a nibble, then grabs a handful, squeezes them into a ball and throws it at her loyal stooges.
“No chipotle mayo?” a shocked Alves shouts. “Espresso. Stat!”
The King greedily snatches the tiny cup and tosses back her liquid love then throws the empty receptacle to a ‘eunuch’. As if Popeye with his spinach, Maria is renewed, climbing to her feet with the help of the ropes.
The King steps toward a risen and charging Heather, Crofton raising a big boot toward the point of Maria’s chin. But Alves ducks under, the right leg of the Yellow Rose ending atop her foe’s left shoulder. Maria quickly wraps her arms around Heather’s neck on one side and under her arm with the lifted leg, then sends Crofton into the Orlando night with an emphatic Capture Suplex.
Capture Suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOERLugJzfw ) :12
Landing on her head and shoulders, the dazed and seated Heather stares blankly into the crowd. Those baby blues get no clearer when Maria delivers a leg lariat to the back of Heather’s skull, spilling the blonde to her chest.
Impeccably, the master judoka takes advantage of her foe’s position, moving perpendicular to her face down adversary. The King leans her bodyweight across Crofton’s spine while scissoring Heather’s left arm and capturing her right in a grip meant to torture both the wing and Miss Mustang’s back with her Rings of the King.
Rings of the King ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNF_3lzRpGU )
Heather squirms futilely, face turning from dazed to one etched in anguish. The Texan struggles to free herself but the seconds continue to pile up. Castle lowers to ask if Heather wants to capitulate to her better. The teary-eyed Texan shakes her head. In response, the vengeful, caffeinated King increases the punishing strength of her Rings.
“I can send you back to Texas to farm my watercress or I can send you back in a wheelchair,” Maria grunts, pouring on the pressure.
“NOAHHHHHH!” the Girl from Grapevine hollers.
The response is directed more toward Nick than Alves and a frustrated King breaks her Ring to send both sets of talons into Heather’s scalp and THUMP her foe’s features into the deck with enough force Heather’s noggin bounces off the canvas.
Seemingly unperturbed by Heather’s resistance to her Rings, Maria ups the ante. With the flagging blonde face down, Maria rises to a reverse-facing stance next to Miss Mustang’s legs. The Brazilian gathers and crosses Heather’s stems at the shins, her own left leg posted between Crofton’s thighs.
Locking the legs by slipping a boot of the blonde behind her calf, the limber judoka drops in a bridge to not only increase the ungodly pressure on the Lone Star Girl’s lower limbs, but to cup her hands under the wincing Heather’s chin and wrench away, violently stretching her rival’s neck out of alignment, the completion of her notorious Indian Deathlock.
Indian Deathlock ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmhVhkfVGsM )
Heather screams in agony, her trapped frame twisted. She fights to hold on as the King balances on the crown of her cranium, her black belt rightly signifying how she could make her body a weapon beyond compare among all lightweights.
“Give up, peasant,” Maria demands, jerking the blonde’s body further and showing no signs of tiring in the bridge. “Bow to your King!”
Literally unable, the babyfaced Miss Mustang fights on, trying to writhe her faltering body to a release point and failing to find it for five, then ten seconds.
And finally…the dam breaks. The Yellow Rose wilts under the unrelenting agony dished out by the master judoka, screaming ‘I GIVE…I GIVE’ and frantically tapping the canvas, the self-proclaimed best lightweight ever claiming another victim to prove her case.
Castle yells at the King to release her grip and the ponytailed black-belt accedes as her bridge collapses. Maria lounging atop a broken and blubbering Heather, Crofton so close to showing her career outside the Dream Team is ready to blossom but repulsed by the Brazilian badass.
Maria rises and allows Castle to lift her hand in victory as the ring announcer makes it official.
“Your winner…by submission…Maria Alves!”
The King pushes the Lone Star Girl to her back with a bare foot then places it atop Heather’s privates. She calls for a microphone, snatching it nimbly out of the air.
“So shall it ever be to those who oppose the King!”
Maria drops the mic on the chest of the whimpering Heather with a KA-LUNK and heads for the exit with her eunuchs trailing mid-brew.