Post by hawkeye on Aug 6, 2023 18:24:01 GMT
A catchy set of guitars and drums begins wafting through the FAWN Arena when the ring announcer breaks through the heightened murmurs and rumbling disrespect emerging from the FAWNatics.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty-minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from San Juan, Puerto Rico and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil respectively and weighing in tonight at a combined total of two hundred and fifty-seven pounds, they are Marisol Ayala and Luisa Campos, DIAMONDS & PEARLS!”
The combination of percussion and proclamation earns nothing but disgust from the crowd, many of whom count themselves among the fans of those abused and embarrassed by D&P over the years. Not that the hostile welcome does a damn thing to reduce the resolve of the dastardly dark-haired duo, indeed they bask in the hatred as they storm through the curtains.
MARISOL AYALA
LUISA CAMPOS
Marisol takes the lead as the perilous pairing march to the ring. The taller, curvier half of D&P is clad in a black velvet fightin’ two-piece, the bottoms high-waisted, the bikini top for the moment at least partially obscured by her unzipped, diamond studded black leather jacket—though Marisol’s impressive cleavage is in no way disguised. Around the Puerto Rican beauty’s neck is a narrow black choker, with white pads and boots completing the look.
Campos sports a one piece—also in black velvet, with a keyhole design that bears her cleavage, more modest than her partner’s, but no less eye catching. There are no shoulder straps with this design; instead, a string of pearls loops around her neck, connecting to the velvet just above that keyhole opening to hold the garment in place. Like her partner, she too sports white pads and boots. But Luisa also wears a pair of elbow length opera style gloves, and instead of a leather jacket, she wears an exceedingly long, black ring cape, its tail trailing behind her by a number of feet.
Luisa pays the audience no attention as she strides toward the ring, nose ever so slightly upturned and a sneer on her lips. Still, the deliberateness of her march and the swish of her hips illustrates how much she’s aware of and enjoys being the center of attention, or at least sharing the spotlight with Marisol. Ayala not only acknowledges the crowd but has no issue jawing with them at each step to the ring.
The Puerto Rican again takes the lead in heading up the steps. She keeps climbing, claiming the near ring post. Marisol steps to the second rope, raising a defiant fist into the air.
Luisa moves to the center of the apron before sweeping through the ropes, her cape catching and trailing over the middle cable as she moves toward the middle. Campos brings her hands to her shoulders and slips off the cape, allowing it to gather in a puddle behind her.
Marisol drops into the confines to join her partner.
Diamond & Pearls gaze hard-cam-side, Marisol raising her arms high and wide. Luisa dropping to one knee in front of her partner, the women making their presence felt in the arena and by those watching through the lens in front of them.
Each woman moves a thumb to her throat and draws it slowly across, a harrowing omen for tonight’s opponents.
Rising, Marisol and Luisa move to the far buckles and there they wait impatiently for their adversaries, Ayala discarding her jacket.
Behind the curtain, the golden-maned ingenue bounces off the walls in anticipation. Not far away, Lisa Legend looks the part, confident and calm, bordering on serene. Though they’d faltered in taking the tag titles from PsyOps, the buzz around the Dream Team has grown considerably. This was no gimmick combo any longer but an honest threat toward the top of the division.
As the buzzing in the crowd grows, the Dreamophiles already test their vocal chords, waiting impatiently for the icon’s arrival and that of the guileless youngster who seems to lead Lisa further down the path of virtue. A flaxen-haired North Star for the Ultimate Image.
When her iconic accompaniment fills the arena, the newly coined Dreammaker and her precocious partner push through the curtains, joining the darkness and wall of noise surrounding her and Heather.
LISA DREAM
HEATHER CROFTON
O Fortuna (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJC-_j3SnXk )
A single spot breaks the gloom and the FAWNatics’ volume rises in a crescendo, joining the stirring music as the industry icon is illuminated. The noise grows to ear-splitting levels when the adorable and adored Heather joins Lisa at her side.
The crowd welcomes Dream and her darling cohort with a resounding ovation, Lisa looking upon the masses with a placid grin, Heather bouncing with energy she cannot contain.
The Dream is a reborn vision in white. A diaphanous pale miniskirt makes her appear an angel that escaped the demons imprisoning her to find salvation in the mortal realm. And for the Dreamophiles in the audience, everyone from the massive reaction, Lisa’s ivory legs are in view, perfection covered only to mid-thigh by the delicate skirt. Ankle boots and pads in white as well.
Next to her, the Lone Star Girl pleads with The Dream to take the lead, but Lisa directs the youngster on her way with a curious smile and wave.
Crofton’s battle gear includes a yellow two-piece consisting of spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of crisscrossed strips along with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The Personification of Perfection strides down the ramp and aisle sending chills down the spine of each Dreamer, trailing the golden-maned starlet.
Lisa nods to the cheers and is comfortable enough to carefully offer her palm to slap extended hands.
Reaching the ring, Lisa allows Heather to be her ambassador, Crofton taking a lap around the squared circle. Crofton’s hand connects with every offered her, the youngster even stopping for a hug or two.
Meanwhile, the reincarnated legend ascends the ring steps, halts for a long look at her foes, then slips through the ropes. She waits in her corner until the tough, little Texan joins her. Together, they move to the middle and bow to the exalting crowd.
Without Lisa’s previously omnipresent microphone, the women move to their home corner as The Dream’s music fades and the announcer takes up his duties.
“And their opponents. At a combined weight of 245 pounds, hailing from New York, New York and Grapevine, Texas respectively, the Ultimate Image of Human Perfection…the Lone Star Girl. Lisa Dream. Heather Crofton. The Dream Team!”
The eclectic duo shares a high five then converse. The Yellow Rose enthusiastically makes her case and the legend accedes, stepping through the ropes and allowing Miss Mustang to lead the charge.
It’s no surprise when Luisa takes up the D&P banner, seeing the enthusiastic youngster starting on the opposite side. The duo circle out of their corners, slowly making their way to each other, then connecting in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The raven-haired Campos and the Yellow Rose battle for leverage and it’s Luisa who gains control, tugging Crofton into a side headlock.
Luisa pounds knots into the crown of the blonde’s noggin with a series of left fists, then wrenches at her foe’s neck when Al Carpenter complains about the closed hand. Pearls shows off her trapped counterpart to all sides of the ring before Heather gets her hands to Luisa’s hips and shoves her away.
Campos speeds to the cables and rebounds in a u-turn toward an awaiting Miss Mustang. Burying a shoulder, the Brazilian knocks a startled Heather to her back. Luisa gives her adversary a sneer then skips over her to race to the far ropes for another turn.
Crofton scrambles to her feet and is ready for a leapfrog over Luisa when Pearls returns for a second helping. The race continues for Campos but when she returns, Heather gets lower, dipping and pushing against Luisa’s legs, flipping her foe high into the Orlando sky, Pearls CRASHING to the canvas courtesy a back body drop.
Luisa arches, face pinched in pain, as she works to a seated position. From behind, the babyfaced blonde dives over Campos’ right shoulder, grabbing her head on the fly by. Heather POUNDS Luisa’s face into the deck between her foe’s extended legs. As Crofton gracefully somersaults through her landing, popping to her feet, Luisa’s body jackknifes open from the collision, Pearls pressing both sets of fingers to her beak, cursing under her breath.
The Girl from Grapevine is on the move again, refusing to let the pace slow. With Campos back on her cheeks, Heather hustles toward her foe and dives into a running crossbody that plants Luisa’s back to the canvas.
Running Basement Crossbody (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHc7zfSXTI0 )
In a lateral press across the Brazilian, Crofton hooks the far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Luisa kicks free, flopping to her side, dark eyes showing mounting concern. Heather pops to vertical and surrounds Luisa’s braincase with both hands, drawing Pearls to her feet. The Lone Star Girl snaps Luisa’s head back with a European Uppercut, Campos’ arms pinwheeling to keep her upright.
Heather bodies the reeling Luisa to the Dream Team corner and hands over the reins to Lisa Legend with a slap of her hand and with Dream’s. Lisa slips through as Crofton holds Campos tight in the corner, the blonde departing when Dream secures a ¾ facelock and snapmares Luisa to a spot on her Brazilian buns.
Showing she can keep up with Crofton for short bursts, the Ultimate Image, dashes to the cables in front of a grimacing Luisa, rebounds, and sprints to a Rolling Neck Snap on Campos, Lisa applying the flipping attack from the front to Heather’s from the back, THUMPING the back of Campos’ cranium into the thinly-sheathed floorboards.
With Luisa on her back, cradling the posterior of her skull, boot soles pattering against the deck, a risen Lisa shoves the Brazilian to her chest. She drops to a kneel, folding and locking Pearl’s legs under her own then slips her torso under the right arm of Campos. The Dreamers go crazy as Lisa secures the crossface portion of her Dreamy Stretch, the legend trying to force a submission from Luisa early.
Dreamy Stretch ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwQQod_g_7A )
With Luisa’s neck, back and legs tortured simultaneously by the Personification of Perfection, Marisol pleads with her partner to break free. However, The Dream has it expertly cinched, and Ayala can’t take a chance. The Puerto Rican powerhouse bolts through the cables and lands a soccer kick to Lisa’s ribs, breaking the hold.
As a stern Carpenter guides Marisol back to her station, threatening her with disqualification for another such infraction, a wincing Lisa grabs Luisa by the head and pulls the besieged Brazilian to vertical, tucking the mewling Pearls’ noggin into a side headlock.
With Campos in tow, Dream heads for her corner and lifts off halfway there, planning to plant her adversary with a bulldog. But Luisa gets her hands to Dream’s hips and, when Lisa goes airborne, Pearls shoves her away. On her own, eyes wide, Lisa’s landing is less than perfect, her tailbone SPIKING into the mat.
Dream’s hands shoot to her backside, rubbing at her coccyx. A few feet behind, Luisa sees her chance to bail. On hands and knees, she turns and crawls toward her comparatively towering partner, while the Yellow Rose cheers on her legendary cohort to tag her back in.
The dives nearly coincide, Luisa slapping hands with Diamonds a tick before Lisa makes Crofton legal. Brunette and blonde race toward each other and a late lifted right leg from Ayala finds the mark, nearly decapitating the charging babyfaced blonde with the biggest of Big Boots.
Miss Mustang is splayed in a motionless starfish as Marisol skids to a stop. Diamonds considers her options for a moment then leaps above the splayed blonde, dropping one leg across Heather’s modest chest and the other her throat. Crofton spasms under the leggy assault, then falls still beneath the stems.
Al slides down next to the plucked Yellow Rose and hits the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Heather resuscitates, throwing a shoulder up in time, momentary relief for the Dreamers packing the stands turns to cheers of encouragement.
Ayala is less pleased. Rising to her feet, the powerful Puerto Rican turns to face the FAWNatics, grabbing the nearby top rope with both hands, and hops to the bottom cable. She shoots backwards out of the rebound, THUMPING a two-legged stomp into chest and belly, springboard-style. Diamonds enjoys the result so much, she repeats the process, threatening to break the sternum and abs of the Yellow Rose in the double-barreled process.
Springboard Double Foot Stomp ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMYQaleyHt0 )
Marisol follows with a splash across both, moving into a pinning position, the bigger brunette hooking Heather’s limp leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The stubborn Texan kicks loose, Lisa gulping hard at the sight of Carpenter’s hand barely stopping in time for the third slap.
A snarling Ayala sinks a set of nails into the long golden mane of the Girl from Grapevine. The bigger woman tugs Heather to her feet and slips behind Crofton. Marisol slips her head beneath the left arm of her adversary while wrapping her right arm around the Dream Teamer’s waist, the other pressing into her foe’s near thigh.
Diamonds effortlessly launches the beloved Lone Star Girl, pivots her cargo, and lowers the blonde’s legs across the top cable. The wide-eyed Heather springboards off the rubber-coated steel, Marisol then dropping her foe’s spine across bent knee courtesy a Slingshot Backbreaker.
Slingshot Backbreaker ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PmSIu-piJ4 )
A mewling Heather flops to the canvas, arching in agony from the attack to her vertebrae.
Again, Ayala drops in a lateral press across the splayed Yellow Rose for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…and again the willful Miss Mustang saves her match life by shoving a shoulder off the canvas.
Campos calls from the D&P corner and Marisol nods without so much as a glance in her partner’s direction. She plucks a spent Heather off the canvas and buggywhips the blonde to her territory at such a speed Crofton doesn’t have time to spin. Instead, Luisa has a special gift waiting, a raised boot lifted next to the top buckle and the Lone Star Girl’s face connects.
Heather pirouettes through the impact, ending ragdolled in the corner, throwing her arms over each top rope. Her misery accumulates when Diamonds arrives to pile on with a running forearm blast to the temple that sends her bouncing out of the corner and spilling to the center of the ring.
Running Right Han in the Corner ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfE-U2nEMNI ) 1:38
The wilting Yellow Rose ends spreadeagled in the middle as Pearls taps the shoulder of her power-packed counterpart. Disturbingly for the Dreamers, while Luisa enters Marisol remains, and they gather up a blasted Crofton as Lisa complains to Carpenter.
The dark-haired duo shoot Miss Mustang to the ropes with a double whip and set for the U-turn. When the bedraggled Heather arrives, each partner dips, grabs a leg and LAUNCHES a wide-eyed Heather but keep hold of their limb to make sure Crofton’s flapjacked into the canvas.
Double Flapjack ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkQEqhp0eZI ) 2:03
The dazed Texan absently rolls to her back, pressing at her nose with both palms.
Diamonds & Pearls kip to their feet and share a high-five before Ayala heads to the exit under Al’s watchful eye. Luisa offers Dream a one-armed salute and strides to the demolished Yellow Rose, Heather learning another painful lesson.
Luisa launches and drops a leg across the throat of the splayed Heather. Crofton spasms, pushing Campos’ stem off and rubbing at her reddening neck, rasping breaths through her narrowed windpipe.
Moving to a kneeling position, Pearls maneuvers a breathless Crofton there as well. She wraps her right arm across the Lone Star Girl’s throat in a backhand grip and pulls the blonde into a dragon sleeper, Heather’s back bent in a deep arch, thighs folding atop calves.
The impatient Luisa isn’t happy with Heather slowly fading to oblivion in the grip. Pearls wickedly slaps Crofton’s exposed ivory tummy pink then digs a nasty clawhold into the taut abs of the Girl from Grapevine.
Heather mewls in anguish without the air supply to loudly exhibit her pain. It doesn’t stop the spiteful Luisa from burrowing and clenching her digits into the meat of her foe’s midriff, adding as much cruelty as possible until Crofton slowly fades to black.
A seemingly helpless Dream watches from the sidelines as the flailing arms of her partner slow, leaving her no option if she wants the fight to continue. Lisa scoots through the ropes for the save, but Ayala is ready. She enters a split-second after, clothesline drawn for the intercept.
Though the Ultimate Image’s legendary career includes very little time as a teammate, the vision in white deftly ducks under Ayala’s effort and barrels into both bodies, breaking up the dragon before it finishes its victim.
A frustrated Marisol turns to find both partner and foes spread across the canvas. She zeroes in on the interloper, racing toward Lisa with another big right forearm loaded. The Dream ducks under and vaults the destroyer-class Puerto Rican up and over the ropes. Somehow, Diamonds manages to grab the top rope with one hand and remain on the apron, her other arm windmilling to regain her balance.
The veteran is ready for the unexpected as Lisa turns into a spin kick between the top and middle cables, landing it flush to Marisol’s midriff, casting her foe to the arena floor in a heap.
With one illegal entrant removed, Carpenter demands Lisa depart and leave the ring to a rising Luisa and a still pooled Heather.
“Hold that thought,” Lisa replies.
Dream races to the unsuspecting Pearls and dives into a flying crossbody press. However, the Rio native’s apparently playing possum as Luisa catches Dream across her chest, forced back only one unsteady step, remaining upright and showing off a squirming Lisa in her clutches.
The Brazilian’s vanity goes a bit far, long enough for a recovered Heather to leap into a dropkick of her partner’s back. Taking one for the team, Lisa receives the added ‘oomph’ she needs to flatten Campos beneath her with a delayed version of the splash she intended.
With Dream atop the crushed Luisa, Crofton dives on top of both, the Dream Team combining for a pin on Pearls.
The FAWNatics cheer out a ONE…TWO…THREE, but Carpenter only stares at the pile-up with a grouchy shake of his head.
“C’mon ladies. I can’t give you that one. Take your interference and consider yourself lucky.”
Heather rolls off to a seat, smiling angelically at the official.
“Fair, Mister Carpenter.”
Lisa pushes off and rolls her eyes at Al but strides dutifully back to the Dream Team corner.
“Come tag me,” the legend offers over her shoulder.
Heather nods, pulls Luisa to her feet with a grip on left wrist and shoulder, and heaves the faltering Campos to the Dream Team corner, Lisa waiting on the outside by the time Pearls arrives with a back-first ‘WHUMP’ against the buckles.
Heather sprints in behind for a farewell spear of the golden-brown abs of Pearls, but Campos pivots and sends the lowered head and shoulders of the Yellow Rose through the ropes to the left side of the post, HEATHER SPEARING HER PARTNER INSTEAD!
As Lisa flies off the apron, gut-shot by the Texan, a distressed Lone Star Girl apologizes profusely to the pooled Dream on the floor below.
Not waiting to see if it’s accepted, Pearls plucks the Yellow Rose from behind, yanking her back inside the ropes and rolling the blonde up and using Heather’s tights for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Luisa shoves a despairing Crofton aside, Heather ending seated, face in her hands.
Campos pumps a fist, shouting insults at the crowd for backing the wrong team.
Luisa gets the first idea something is wrong when Carpenter expresses to an entering Marisol she needs to stay out of the ring.
“No…no…no,” Al says to a confused Campos.
“Crofton just tagged her partner. She’s not legal. You need to go get Lisa.”
“You’re f’n kidding me. You’ve got to be,” Luisa shouts. The Brazilian balls a fist and threatens to deck the official.
“You do that,” Al informs, flinching as he does, “and you not only lose, you’re out for six months.”
“Start your damn count on Miss Multiple Personalities then.”
Pearls spins on a dime and races toward a startled Heather, Crofton also at first unaware her mistake constituted a tag.
Miss Mustang gathers enough awareness to flop to her back and let Luisa’s raised knee sail a few inches over the top of her skull. Heather rolls out of the ring, moves to a rising Lisa, and lays the sorrys on thick as she helps her groaning partner to the apron.
“Helluva spear ya got, kiddo,” Lisa grunts. “Next time hit someone on the other team with it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Yellow Rose replies, having joined Lisa Legend next to the post, feeling a bit better from The Dream’s level-headed response.
Unfortunately for the Dreamers in the audience and the Teamers themselves, Luisa is beside the distracted duo, if on the other side of the ropes. She reaches over, taking a handful of locks from each foe. Luisa pulls the heads of Heather and Lisa back and BANGS them together.
The literal break-up of the Dream Team occurs as the forced butting of heads sends Heather flying to the thinly-padded concrete below while a grip on Lisa’s shoulder by Campos keeps a stupefied Ultimate Image on the apron.
The dazed legend is flipped into the ring by the spicy Brazilian, Lisa crashing to her spine and arching in anguish, the Dream Team showing plenty of growing pains against a pair of veterans who’ve worked the squared circle for years.
Campos sinks her nails into the dark, shoulder-length mane of the Ultimate Image. She pulls a yipping Dream to her feet, then dips and scoops Lisa onto her right shoulder, as if to perpetrate a body slam.
Walking her cargo to the D&P corner, Luisa passes on the slam, instead dropping the pits of her foe’s knees across the top rope on either side of home base.
Locking Dream in place by securing her boot tips in front of the middle strands, a wriggling Lisa is caught in a Tree of Woe.
Pearls lifts her right wing and runs her left palm over the forearm as if she’s cocking a shotgun. It turns out to be just as dangerous in the context of Lisa’s woe. Flexing her fingers, Luisa DIGS her digits into the tender flesh of Dream’s crotch.
Lisa howls in pain as Campos ‘chews’ her talons into the thin white spandex covering her foe’s kitty, skirt having flopped ‘up’ her frame, covering her midriff.
From the distant corner, Heather screams for Carpenter to put a stop to the torture and the striped shirt finally begins his count. The squeezes become no less potent for the four final seconds Dream remains vulnerable to the vicious pincers.
Just before potential disqualification, the Brazilian holds up her hands innocently.
“OK…OK.”
Campos reaches to her partner and tags Marisol into the match, though Luisa doesn’t leave without a calling card, stomping the overturned breadbasket of The Dream.
Ayala enters, the bigger grappler hovering over the inverted Image.
“Remember when you used to scare your opponents?” Diamonds asks. “Nah. I really don’t either.”
The Puerto Rican Powerhouse drops an elbow between the spread legs of the legend, eliciting a whimpering mewl from Dream and howls of protest from the Yellow Rose and the Dreamers.
Marisol unleashes a stomp to Lisa’s chest, finally spilling Dream out of the Tree, the brunette OG flopping to her chest, hands burying between her thighs.
Ayala stares at the perfect wreckage, shaking her head. The destroyer-class Diamonds wraps both palms around the back of Dream’s neck and pulls her from all fours to vertical.
Marisol then dips an arm between Lisa’s ivory legs from behind and launches the smaller grappler across her shoulders, The Dream’s face pointed to the rafter, Lisa in a Torture Rack when Ayala’s arms wrap around either side of her frame.
Diamonds marches around the ring, stomping the thinly-sheathed floorboards, jarring the hell out Lisa Legend’s spinal column, Dream yelping out a whiny burst of ‘NO’s in case anyone’s wondering.
Marisol doesn’t seem to be. She’s just having a great time trying to give the Ultimate Image several slipped discs.
A dutiful Al walks alongside the forced hike, trying to stay in Dream’s eyesight, asking if she wants a lifeline. There’s no affirmative response, so he grabs a wrist and lifts. It falls. The crowd and Miss Mustang grow quiet. He lifts again. Another lifeless drop.
Marisol ends her trek so Carpenter can raise the deadweight of Lisa’s limb a final time…BUT…it stays up. Suddenly, Dream’s left wing becomes a battering ram as she delivers elbow after elbow into Marisol’s near temple, Ayala crumpling to her knees and releasing the aching Inage.
As Diamonds shakes out some cobwebs, Dream struggles to her feet and backpedals to the cables behind her. Lisa springboards into a sprint, lifting her right arm in a long arc and POUNDING it into the back of the Puerto Rican’s skull with her signature clubbing blow, the Dreamsicle.
Marisol splatters to her face and chest, but Dream doesn’t look in much better shape. She’s standing but is bent over, hands on her knees.
An upbeat shout from the Lone Star Girl gets The Dream in motion, Lisa stumbling to her young counterpart. Wearily, she tags in Heather and an energetic Crofton grabs the top strand and hurdles over, landing in an immediate sprint. The Texan skips over the splayed Marisol, then hits the ropes for a u-turn and a somersault flip, Heather’s taut alabaster abdomen CRASHING down across Ayala’s bowed back, sending Marisol flat to the canvas again.
The smaller grappler shovels a grimacing Diamonds to her back and drops across her adversary in a lateral press, hooking a muscular leg of Marisol’s for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Ayala heaves the wide-eyed blonde to her haunches, Heather understanding there’s a lot of fight left in the Puerto Rican Powerhouse.
Crofton grabs an arm of the brunette and draws Marisol to her feet. With Ayala hunched, Miss Mustang turns away from her adversary, reaching over her left shoulder to find Diamonds’ braincase with a ¾ facelock.
The babyfaced blonde hops to the middle buckle in front of her (and a recovering Lisa), then stairsteps to the top and launches herself in a backflip. Heather acratically drops to her knees, PLANTING the back of Marisol’s skull and shoulders roughly to the canvas with her signature Texas Toast, Crofton’s Lone Star version of Sliced Bread.
Texas Toast ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoyDE-F5lO4 ) :14
Heather dives atop spreadeagled Ayala; taut, ivory abs landing on Marisol’s pained features, giving her foe a tummy smother as the Dreamers count along with Carpenter’s slaps for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Having entered from the distant corner, Luisa’s palms surround an ankle of the Yellow Rose and the Brazilian beauty tugs Crofton off, stopping the count and eliciting a resounding round of boos from the sellout throng.
Using her handle, Campos pulls the Girl from Grapevine to a stance on her remaining free foot and the blonde immediately leaps into an enziguri Pearls ducks under.
Having pirouetted in front of Luisa after the miss, Heather’s gutted by a toe kick to the belly. Campos digs her digits deep into the flowing golden locks, leaps and sits out, RAMMING Heather’s face into the unforgiving deck with a Hairpull facebuster that leaves Crofton splayed, chest and face to the canvas.
Luisa turns to help her partner reach the dilapidated Texan, but finds The Dream having entered, meeting the Brazilian’s interference with some from the city so nice they named it twice. Lisa Legend charges and leapfrogs over a crouching Campos.
While Luisa spins to face her fellow illegal entrant, the Ultimate Image pivots into a superkick, catching Luisa flush under the jaw. Pearls rotates away from the impact, leaving her back to the dangerous Dream.
The Personification of Perfection lives up to her moniker, placing her hands on Luisa’s shoulders and vaulting to a scissors of Campos’ noggin from behind. The legend throws her frame in reverse and RIPS Luisa off the canvas, SPIKING Pearls’ skull into the mat with her Dream Driver.
Dream Driver ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=-X4axggp4ww ) :41
Any tension in the Brazilian’s body is instantly gone. The most difficult part for Dream to eject Campos from the squared circle is lifting her nearly deadweight. Lisa bum-rushes the zombified Luisa up, over and out, Pearls CRASHING to the floor below after bouncing off the apron.
Lisa plays to the Dreamophiles, lifting her arms high and wide toward her fans, then pays for it dearly when a recovered Ayala NAILS Dream from behind with a forearm shiver to the base of her impeccable skull. A furious Marisol drapes Lisa’s bosom across the top cable and grinds her spandex-sheathed gurls all the way to the corner, then back to the middle, the features of the Ultimate Image twisted in anguish from the burn to her boobs.
The Puerto Rican Powerhouse dips and slips Lisa’s head beneath the uppermost strand then pulls the brunette toward her, Dream’s shoulderblades pressed against the outside of the top rope. Lifting her right arm high, Marisol CLUBS the beejeezus out of Lisa’s chest, racking up a full ten, the crowd unable to stop themselves from counting along as Dream’s body sags with the accumulation.
Ayala shoves what’s left of Dream out, the Ultimate Image weakly tumbling to join a pooled Luisa.
Diamonds turns to finish off the weak link of the Dream Team, but the Yellow Rose is mid-flight. The wide-eyed Ayala is grabbed across the chest by Heather, Crofton taking a momentary seat on the middle rope, then laying out and THUMPING Marisol’s face into the deck with her Tex Wrex.
Tex Wrex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsLBKnxTnaM ) :00
As Ayala absently spins to a sprawl, vacant eyes pointed to the rafters, Crofton back somersaults out of her landing, popping to her feet.
As the FAWNatics roar their approval, but plead with the Lone Star Girl to go for the pin, Heather motions Ayala up instead. Marisol slowly makes it to a dazed stance, Heather sneaking alongside. The babyfaced blonde lifts Marisol’s near leg and whips it forward with all her might, Ayala RIPPED off her feet, THUMKING to the deck, the back of her skull striking canvas at a disturbing speed courtesy Miss Mustang’s Texas Tornado.
Texas Tornado ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2GIgmtiovI 2:04
Diamonds ends on her face and chest after a somersault from the massive momentum of the collision.
All that’s left is for the Yellow Rose to shove an unconscious Ayala to her back and cover with a weary lateral press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
There isn’t a hint of a response from Marisol as the count passes.
A risen but spent Luisa watches limply from outside, leaning against the apron. She slaps the mat in frustration as Lisa brushes by, the Image re-entering to join her fellow Dream Teamer. An elated Lisa helps Heather to her feet and they embrace.
“Damn, kiddo,” Dream shouts over the crowd. “You brought down a big one.”
“I guess I did,” the Texan responds modestly, then realizing her feat.
“Hell yeah I did!”
Legend and ingenue, with her prime still ahead, Lisa and Heather break from their hug.
The Dream lifts an arm of the Yellow Rose high, pointing at Crofton with her free hand, perfect timing for the ring announcer’s proclamation.
“Your winners…Heather Crofton…Lisa Dream…the DREEEEAM TEEEEAM!”
As Luisa slips under the bottom rope far enough to grab a wrist of her stirring partner and pull her out, the unlikely partners and victors take to the front corners, rising to the top, playing to the FAWNatics in stereo, the masses eating it up like apple pie.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty-minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from San Juan, Puerto Rico and Rio de Janeiro, Brazil respectively and weighing in tonight at a combined total of two hundred and fifty-seven pounds, they are Marisol Ayala and Luisa Campos, DIAMONDS & PEARLS!”
The combination of percussion and proclamation earns nothing but disgust from the crowd, many of whom count themselves among the fans of those abused and embarrassed by D&P over the years. Not that the hostile welcome does a damn thing to reduce the resolve of the dastardly dark-haired duo, indeed they bask in the hatred as they storm through the curtains.
MARISOL AYALA
LUISA CAMPOS
Marisol takes the lead as the perilous pairing march to the ring. The taller, curvier half of D&P is clad in a black velvet fightin’ two-piece, the bottoms high-waisted, the bikini top for the moment at least partially obscured by her unzipped, diamond studded black leather jacket—though Marisol’s impressive cleavage is in no way disguised. Around the Puerto Rican beauty’s neck is a narrow black choker, with white pads and boots completing the look.
Campos sports a one piece—also in black velvet, with a keyhole design that bears her cleavage, more modest than her partner’s, but no less eye catching. There are no shoulder straps with this design; instead, a string of pearls loops around her neck, connecting to the velvet just above that keyhole opening to hold the garment in place. Like her partner, she too sports white pads and boots. But Luisa also wears a pair of elbow length opera style gloves, and instead of a leather jacket, she wears an exceedingly long, black ring cape, its tail trailing behind her by a number of feet.
Luisa pays the audience no attention as she strides toward the ring, nose ever so slightly upturned and a sneer on her lips. Still, the deliberateness of her march and the swish of her hips illustrates how much she’s aware of and enjoys being the center of attention, or at least sharing the spotlight with Marisol. Ayala not only acknowledges the crowd but has no issue jawing with them at each step to the ring.
The Puerto Rican again takes the lead in heading up the steps. She keeps climbing, claiming the near ring post. Marisol steps to the second rope, raising a defiant fist into the air.
Luisa moves to the center of the apron before sweeping through the ropes, her cape catching and trailing over the middle cable as she moves toward the middle. Campos brings her hands to her shoulders and slips off the cape, allowing it to gather in a puddle behind her.
Marisol drops into the confines to join her partner.
Diamond & Pearls gaze hard-cam-side, Marisol raising her arms high and wide. Luisa dropping to one knee in front of her partner, the women making their presence felt in the arena and by those watching through the lens in front of them.
Each woman moves a thumb to her throat and draws it slowly across, a harrowing omen for tonight’s opponents.
Rising, Marisol and Luisa move to the far buckles and there they wait impatiently for their adversaries, Ayala discarding her jacket.
Behind the curtain, the golden-maned ingenue bounces off the walls in anticipation. Not far away, Lisa Legend looks the part, confident and calm, bordering on serene. Though they’d faltered in taking the tag titles from PsyOps, the buzz around the Dream Team has grown considerably. This was no gimmick combo any longer but an honest threat toward the top of the division.
As the buzzing in the crowd grows, the Dreamophiles already test their vocal chords, waiting impatiently for the icon’s arrival and that of the guileless youngster who seems to lead Lisa further down the path of virtue. A flaxen-haired North Star for the Ultimate Image.
When her iconic accompaniment fills the arena, the newly coined Dreammaker and her precocious partner push through the curtains, joining the darkness and wall of noise surrounding her and Heather.
LISA DREAM
HEATHER CROFTON
O Fortuna (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJC-_j3SnXk )
A single spot breaks the gloom and the FAWNatics’ volume rises in a crescendo, joining the stirring music as the industry icon is illuminated. The noise grows to ear-splitting levels when the adorable and adored Heather joins Lisa at her side.
The crowd welcomes Dream and her darling cohort with a resounding ovation, Lisa looking upon the masses with a placid grin, Heather bouncing with energy she cannot contain.
The Dream is a reborn vision in white. A diaphanous pale miniskirt makes her appear an angel that escaped the demons imprisoning her to find salvation in the mortal realm. And for the Dreamophiles in the audience, everyone from the massive reaction, Lisa’s ivory legs are in view, perfection covered only to mid-thigh by the delicate skirt. Ankle boots and pads in white as well.
Next to her, the Lone Star Girl pleads with The Dream to take the lead, but Lisa directs the youngster on her way with a curious smile and wave.
Crofton’s battle gear includes a yellow two-piece consisting of spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of crisscrossed strips along with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The Personification of Perfection strides down the ramp and aisle sending chills down the spine of each Dreamer, trailing the golden-maned starlet.
Lisa nods to the cheers and is comfortable enough to carefully offer her palm to slap extended hands.
Reaching the ring, Lisa allows Heather to be her ambassador, Crofton taking a lap around the squared circle. Crofton’s hand connects with every offered her, the youngster even stopping for a hug or two.
Meanwhile, the reincarnated legend ascends the ring steps, halts for a long look at her foes, then slips through the ropes. She waits in her corner until the tough, little Texan joins her. Together, they move to the middle and bow to the exalting crowd.
Without Lisa’s previously omnipresent microphone, the women move to their home corner as The Dream’s music fades and the announcer takes up his duties.
“And their opponents. At a combined weight of 245 pounds, hailing from New York, New York and Grapevine, Texas respectively, the Ultimate Image of Human Perfection…the Lone Star Girl. Lisa Dream. Heather Crofton. The Dream Team!”
The eclectic duo shares a high five then converse. The Yellow Rose enthusiastically makes her case and the legend accedes, stepping through the ropes and allowing Miss Mustang to lead the charge.
It’s no surprise when Luisa takes up the D&P banner, seeing the enthusiastic youngster starting on the opposite side. The duo circle out of their corners, slowly making their way to each other, then connecting in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The raven-haired Campos and the Yellow Rose battle for leverage and it’s Luisa who gains control, tugging Crofton into a side headlock.
Luisa pounds knots into the crown of the blonde’s noggin with a series of left fists, then wrenches at her foe’s neck when Al Carpenter complains about the closed hand. Pearls shows off her trapped counterpart to all sides of the ring before Heather gets her hands to Luisa’s hips and shoves her away.
Campos speeds to the cables and rebounds in a u-turn toward an awaiting Miss Mustang. Burying a shoulder, the Brazilian knocks a startled Heather to her back. Luisa gives her adversary a sneer then skips over her to race to the far ropes for another turn.
Crofton scrambles to her feet and is ready for a leapfrog over Luisa when Pearls returns for a second helping. The race continues for Campos but when she returns, Heather gets lower, dipping and pushing against Luisa’s legs, flipping her foe high into the Orlando sky, Pearls CRASHING to the canvas courtesy a back body drop.
Luisa arches, face pinched in pain, as she works to a seated position. From behind, the babyfaced blonde dives over Campos’ right shoulder, grabbing her head on the fly by. Heather POUNDS Luisa’s face into the deck between her foe’s extended legs. As Crofton gracefully somersaults through her landing, popping to her feet, Luisa’s body jackknifes open from the collision, Pearls pressing both sets of fingers to her beak, cursing under her breath.
The Girl from Grapevine is on the move again, refusing to let the pace slow. With Campos back on her cheeks, Heather hustles toward her foe and dives into a running crossbody that plants Luisa’s back to the canvas.
Running Basement Crossbody (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHc7zfSXTI0 )
In a lateral press across the Brazilian, Crofton hooks the far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Luisa kicks free, flopping to her side, dark eyes showing mounting concern. Heather pops to vertical and surrounds Luisa’s braincase with both hands, drawing Pearls to her feet. The Lone Star Girl snaps Luisa’s head back with a European Uppercut, Campos’ arms pinwheeling to keep her upright.
Heather bodies the reeling Luisa to the Dream Team corner and hands over the reins to Lisa Legend with a slap of her hand and with Dream’s. Lisa slips through as Crofton holds Campos tight in the corner, the blonde departing when Dream secures a ¾ facelock and snapmares Luisa to a spot on her Brazilian buns.
Showing she can keep up with Crofton for short bursts, the Ultimate Image, dashes to the cables in front of a grimacing Luisa, rebounds, and sprints to a Rolling Neck Snap on Campos, Lisa applying the flipping attack from the front to Heather’s from the back, THUMPING the back of Campos’ cranium into the thinly-sheathed floorboards.
With Luisa on her back, cradling the posterior of her skull, boot soles pattering against the deck, a risen Lisa shoves the Brazilian to her chest. She drops to a kneel, folding and locking Pearl’s legs under her own then slips her torso under the right arm of Campos. The Dreamers go crazy as Lisa secures the crossface portion of her Dreamy Stretch, the legend trying to force a submission from Luisa early.
Dreamy Stretch ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwQQod_g_7A )
With Luisa’s neck, back and legs tortured simultaneously by the Personification of Perfection, Marisol pleads with her partner to break free. However, The Dream has it expertly cinched, and Ayala can’t take a chance. The Puerto Rican powerhouse bolts through the cables and lands a soccer kick to Lisa’s ribs, breaking the hold.
As a stern Carpenter guides Marisol back to her station, threatening her with disqualification for another such infraction, a wincing Lisa grabs Luisa by the head and pulls the besieged Brazilian to vertical, tucking the mewling Pearls’ noggin into a side headlock.
With Campos in tow, Dream heads for her corner and lifts off halfway there, planning to plant her adversary with a bulldog. But Luisa gets her hands to Dream’s hips and, when Lisa goes airborne, Pearls shoves her away. On her own, eyes wide, Lisa’s landing is less than perfect, her tailbone SPIKING into the mat.
Dream’s hands shoot to her backside, rubbing at her coccyx. A few feet behind, Luisa sees her chance to bail. On hands and knees, she turns and crawls toward her comparatively towering partner, while the Yellow Rose cheers on her legendary cohort to tag her back in.
The dives nearly coincide, Luisa slapping hands with Diamonds a tick before Lisa makes Crofton legal. Brunette and blonde race toward each other and a late lifted right leg from Ayala finds the mark, nearly decapitating the charging babyfaced blonde with the biggest of Big Boots.
Miss Mustang is splayed in a motionless starfish as Marisol skids to a stop. Diamonds considers her options for a moment then leaps above the splayed blonde, dropping one leg across Heather’s modest chest and the other her throat. Crofton spasms under the leggy assault, then falls still beneath the stems.
Al slides down next to the plucked Yellow Rose and hits the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Heather resuscitates, throwing a shoulder up in time, momentary relief for the Dreamers packing the stands turns to cheers of encouragement.
Ayala is less pleased. Rising to her feet, the powerful Puerto Rican turns to face the FAWNatics, grabbing the nearby top rope with both hands, and hops to the bottom cable. She shoots backwards out of the rebound, THUMPING a two-legged stomp into chest and belly, springboard-style. Diamonds enjoys the result so much, she repeats the process, threatening to break the sternum and abs of the Yellow Rose in the double-barreled process.
Springboard Double Foot Stomp ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMYQaleyHt0 )
Marisol follows with a splash across both, moving into a pinning position, the bigger brunette hooking Heather’s limp leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The stubborn Texan kicks loose, Lisa gulping hard at the sight of Carpenter’s hand barely stopping in time for the third slap.
A snarling Ayala sinks a set of nails into the long golden mane of the Girl from Grapevine. The bigger woman tugs Heather to her feet and slips behind Crofton. Marisol slips her head beneath the left arm of her adversary while wrapping her right arm around the Dream Teamer’s waist, the other pressing into her foe’s near thigh.
Diamonds effortlessly launches the beloved Lone Star Girl, pivots her cargo, and lowers the blonde’s legs across the top cable. The wide-eyed Heather springboards off the rubber-coated steel, Marisol then dropping her foe’s spine across bent knee courtesy a Slingshot Backbreaker.
Slingshot Backbreaker ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PmSIu-piJ4 )
A mewling Heather flops to the canvas, arching in agony from the attack to her vertebrae.
Again, Ayala drops in a lateral press across the splayed Yellow Rose for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…and again the willful Miss Mustang saves her match life by shoving a shoulder off the canvas.
Campos calls from the D&P corner and Marisol nods without so much as a glance in her partner’s direction. She plucks a spent Heather off the canvas and buggywhips the blonde to her territory at such a speed Crofton doesn’t have time to spin. Instead, Luisa has a special gift waiting, a raised boot lifted next to the top buckle and the Lone Star Girl’s face connects.
Heather pirouettes through the impact, ending ragdolled in the corner, throwing her arms over each top rope. Her misery accumulates when Diamonds arrives to pile on with a running forearm blast to the temple that sends her bouncing out of the corner and spilling to the center of the ring.
Running Right Han in the Corner ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfE-U2nEMNI ) 1:38
The wilting Yellow Rose ends spreadeagled in the middle as Pearls taps the shoulder of her power-packed counterpart. Disturbingly for the Dreamers, while Luisa enters Marisol remains, and they gather up a blasted Crofton as Lisa complains to Carpenter.
The dark-haired duo shoot Miss Mustang to the ropes with a double whip and set for the U-turn. When the bedraggled Heather arrives, each partner dips, grabs a leg and LAUNCHES a wide-eyed Heather but keep hold of their limb to make sure Crofton’s flapjacked into the canvas.
Double Flapjack ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkQEqhp0eZI ) 2:03
The dazed Texan absently rolls to her back, pressing at her nose with both palms.
Diamonds & Pearls kip to their feet and share a high-five before Ayala heads to the exit under Al’s watchful eye. Luisa offers Dream a one-armed salute and strides to the demolished Yellow Rose, Heather learning another painful lesson.
Luisa launches and drops a leg across the throat of the splayed Heather. Crofton spasms, pushing Campos’ stem off and rubbing at her reddening neck, rasping breaths through her narrowed windpipe.
Moving to a kneeling position, Pearls maneuvers a breathless Crofton there as well. She wraps her right arm across the Lone Star Girl’s throat in a backhand grip and pulls the blonde into a dragon sleeper, Heather’s back bent in a deep arch, thighs folding atop calves.
The impatient Luisa isn’t happy with Heather slowly fading to oblivion in the grip. Pearls wickedly slaps Crofton’s exposed ivory tummy pink then digs a nasty clawhold into the taut abs of the Girl from Grapevine.
Heather mewls in anguish without the air supply to loudly exhibit her pain. It doesn’t stop the spiteful Luisa from burrowing and clenching her digits into the meat of her foe’s midriff, adding as much cruelty as possible until Crofton slowly fades to black.
A seemingly helpless Dream watches from the sidelines as the flailing arms of her partner slow, leaving her no option if she wants the fight to continue. Lisa scoots through the ropes for the save, but Ayala is ready. She enters a split-second after, clothesline drawn for the intercept.
Though the Ultimate Image’s legendary career includes very little time as a teammate, the vision in white deftly ducks under Ayala’s effort and barrels into both bodies, breaking up the dragon before it finishes its victim.
A frustrated Marisol turns to find both partner and foes spread across the canvas. She zeroes in on the interloper, racing toward Lisa with another big right forearm loaded. The Dream ducks under and vaults the destroyer-class Puerto Rican up and over the ropes. Somehow, Diamonds manages to grab the top rope with one hand and remain on the apron, her other arm windmilling to regain her balance.
The veteran is ready for the unexpected as Lisa turns into a spin kick between the top and middle cables, landing it flush to Marisol’s midriff, casting her foe to the arena floor in a heap.
With one illegal entrant removed, Carpenter demands Lisa depart and leave the ring to a rising Luisa and a still pooled Heather.
“Hold that thought,” Lisa replies.
Dream races to the unsuspecting Pearls and dives into a flying crossbody press. However, the Rio native’s apparently playing possum as Luisa catches Dream across her chest, forced back only one unsteady step, remaining upright and showing off a squirming Lisa in her clutches.
The Brazilian’s vanity goes a bit far, long enough for a recovered Heather to leap into a dropkick of her partner’s back. Taking one for the team, Lisa receives the added ‘oomph’ she needs to flatten Campos beneath her with a delayed version of the splash she intended.
With Dream atop the crushed Luisa, Crofton dives on top of both, the Dream Team combining for a pin on Pearls.
The FAWNatics cheer out a ONE…TWO…THREE, but Carpenter only stares at the pile-up with a grouchy shake of his head.
“C’mon ladies. I can’t give you that one. Take your interference and consider yourself lucky.”
Heather rolls off to a seat, smiling angelically at the official.
“Fair, Mister Carpenter.”
Lisa pushes off and rolls her eyes at Al but strides dutifully back to the Dream Team corner.
“Come tag me,” the legend offers over her shoulder.
Heather nods, pulls Luisa to her feet with a grip on left wrist and shoulder, and heaves the faltering Campos to the Dream Team corner, Lisa waiting on the outside by the time Pearls arrives with a back-first ‘WHUMP’ against the buckles.
Heather sprints in behind for a farewell spear of the golden-brown abs of Pearls, but Campos pivots and sends the lowered head and shoulders of the Yellow Rose through the ropes to the left side of the post, HEATHER SPEARING HER PARTNER INSTEAD!
As Lisa flies off the apron, gut-shot by the Texan, a distressed Lone Star Girl apologizes profusely to the pooled Dream on the floor below.
Not waiting to see if it’s accepted, Pearls plucks the Yellow Rose from behind, yanking her back inside the ropes and rolling the blonde up and using Heather’s tights for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Luisa shoves a despairing Crofton aside, Heather ending seated, face in her hands.
Campos pumps a fist, shouting insults at the crowd for backing the wrong team.
Luisa gets the first idea something is wrong when Carpenter expresses to an entering Marisol she needs to stay out of the ring.
“No…no…no,” Al says to a confused Campos.
“Crofton just tagged her partner. She’s not legal. You need to go get Lisa.”
“You’re f’n kidding me. You’ve got to be,” Luisa shouts. The Brazilian balls a fist and threatens to deck the official.
“You do that,” Al informs, flinching as he does, “and you not only lose, you’re out for six months.”
“Start your damn count on Miss Multiple Personalities then.”
Pearls spins on a dime and races toward a startled Heather, Crofton also at first unaware her mistake constituted a tag.
Miss Mustang gathers enough awareness to flop to her back and let Luisa’s raised knee sail a few inches over the top of her skull. Heather rolls out of the ring, moves to a rising Lisa, and lays the sorrys on thick as she helps her groaning partner to the apron.
“Helluva spear ya got, kiddo,” Lisa grunts. “Next time hit someone on the other team with it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Yellow Rose replies, having joined Lisa Legend next to the post, feeling a bit better from The Dream’s level-headed response.
Unfortunately for the Dreamers in the audience and the Teamers themselves, Luisa is beside the distracted duo, if on the other side of the ropes. She reaches over, taking a handful of locks from each foe. Luisa pulls the heads of Heather and Lisa back and BANGS them together.
The literal break-up of the Dream Team occurs as the forced butting of heads sends Heather flying to the thinly-padded concrete below while a grip on Lisa’s shoulder by Campos keeps a stupefied Ultimate Image on the apron.
The dazed legend is flipped into the ring by the spicy Brazilian, Lisa crashing to her spine and arching in anguish, the Dream Team showing plenty of growing pains against a pair of veterans who’ve worked the squared circle for years.
Campos sinks her nails into the dark, shoulder-length mane of the Ultimate Image. She pulls a yipping Dream to her feet, then dips and scoops Lisa onto her right shoulder, as if to perpetrate a body slam.
Walking her cargo to the D&P corner, Luisa passes on the slam, instead dropping the pits of her foe’s knees across the top rope on either side of home base.
Locking Dream in place by securing her boot tips in front of the middle strands, a wriggling Lisa is caught in a Tree of Woe.
Pearls lifts her right wing and runs her left palm over the forearm as if she’s cocking a shotgun. It turns out to be just as dangerous in the context of Lisa’s woe. Flexing her fingers, Luisa DIGS her digits into the tender flesh of Dream’s crotch.
Lisa howls in pain as Campos ‘chews’ her talons into the thin white spandex covering her foe’s kitty, skirt having flopped ‘up’ her frame, covering her midriff.
From the distant corner, Heather screams for Carpenter to put a stop to the torture and the striped shirt finally begins his count. The squeezes become no less potent for the four final seconds Dream remains vulnerable to the vicious pincers.
Just before potential disqualification, the Brazilian holds up her hands innocently.
“OK…OK.”
Campos reaches to her partner and tags Marisol into the match, though Luisa doesn’t leave without a calling card, stomping the overturned breadbasket of The Dream.
Ayala enters, the bigger grappler hovering over the inverted Image.
“Remember when you used to scare your opponents?” Diamonds asks. “Nah. I really don’t either.”
The Puerto Rican Powerhouse drops an elbow between the spread legs of the legend, eliciting a whimpering mewl from Dream and howls of protest from the Yellow Rose and the Dreamers.
Marisol unleashes a stomp to Lisa’s chest, finally spilling Dream out of the Tree, the brunette OG flopping to her chest, hands burying between her thighs.
Ayala stares at the perfect wreckage, shaking her head. The destroyer-class Diamonds wraps both palms around the back of Dream’s neck and pulls her from all fours to vertical.
Marisol then dips an arm between Lisa’s ivory legs from behind and launches the smaller grappler across her shoulders, The Dream’s face pointed to the rafter, Lisa in a Torture Rack when Ayala’s arms wrap around either side of her frame.
Diamonds marches around the ring, stomping the thinly-sheathed floorboards, jarring the hell out Lisa Legend’s spinal column, Dream yelping out a whiny burst of ‘NO’s in case anyone’s wondering.
Marisol doesn’t seem to be. She’s just having a great time trying to give the Ultimate Image several slipped discs.
A dutiful Al walks alongside the forced hike, trying to stay in Dream’s eyesight, asking if she wants a lifeline. There’s no affirmative response, so he grabs a wrist and lifts. It falls. The crowd and Miss Mustang grow quiet. He lifts again. Another lifeless drop.
Marisol ends her trek so Carpenter can raise the deadweight of Lisa’s limb a final time…BUT…it stays up. Suddenly, Dream’s left wing becomes a battering ram as she delivers elbow after elbow into Marisol’s near temple, Ayala crumpling to her knees and releasing the aching Inage.
As Diamonds shakes out some cobwebs, Dream struggles to her feet and backpedals to the cables behind her. Lisa springboards into a sprint, lifting her right arm in a long arc and POUNDING it into the back of the Puerto Rican’s skull with her signature clubbing blow, the Dreamsicle.
Marisol splatters to her face and chest, but Dream doesn’t look in much better shape. She’s standing but is bent over, hands on her knees.
An upbeat shout from the Lone Star Girl gets The Dream in motion, Lisa stumbling to her young counterpart. Wearily, she tags in Heather and an energetic Crofton grabs the top strand and hurdles over, landing in an immediate sprint. The Texan skips over the splayed Marisol, then hits the ropes for a u-turn and a somersault flip, Heather’s taut alabaster abdomen CRASHING down across Ayala’s bowed back, sending Marisol flat to the canvas again.
The smaller grappler shovels a grimacing Diamonds to her back and drops across her adversary in a lateral press, hooking a muscular leg of Marisol’s for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Ayala heaves the wide-eyed blonde to her haunches, Heather understanding there’s a lot of fight left in the Puerto Rican Powerhouse.
Crofton grabs an arm of the brunette and draws Marisol to her feet. With Ayala hunched, Miss Mustang turns away from her adversary, reaching over her left shoulder to find Diamonds’ braincase with a ¾ facelock.
The babyfaced blonde hops to the middle buckle in front of her (and a recovering Lisa), then stairsteps to the top and launches herself in a backflip. Heather acratically drops to her knees, PLANTING the back of Marisol’s skull and shoulders roughly to the canvas with her signature Texas Toast, Crofton’s Lone Star version of Sliced Bread.
Texas Toast ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoyDE-F5lO4 ) :14
Heather dives atop spreadeagled Ayala; taut, ivory abs landing on Marisol’s pained features, giving her foe a tummy smother as the Dreamers count along with Carpenter’s slaps for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Having entered from the distant corner, Luisa’s palms surround an ankle of the Yellow Rose and the Brazilian beauty tugs Crofton off, stopping the count and eliciting a resounding round of boos from the sellout throng.
Using her handle, Campos pulls the Girl from Grapevine to a stance on her remaining free foot and the blonde immediately leaps into an enziguri Pearls ducks under.
Having pirouetted in front of Luisa after the miss, Heather’s gutted by a toe kick to the belly. Campos digs her digits deep into the flowing golden locks, leaps and sits out, RAMMING Heather’s face into the unforgiving deck with a Hairpull facebuster that leaves Crofton splayed, chest and face to the canvas.
Luisa turns to help her partner reach the dilapidated Texan, but finds The Dream having entered, meeting the Brazilian’s interference with some from the city so nice they named it twice. Lisa Legend charges and leapfrogs over a crouching Campos.
While Luisa spins to face her fellow illegal entrant, the Ultimate Image pivots into a superkick, catching Luisa flush under the jaw. Pearls rotates away from the impact, leaving her back to the dangerous Dream.
The Personification of Perfection lives up to her moniker, placing her hands on Luisa’s shoulders and vaulting to a scissors of Campos’ noggin from behind. The legend throws her frame in reverse and RIPS Luisa off the canvas, SPIKING Pearls’ skull into the mat with her Dream Driver.
Dream Driver ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=-X4axggp4ww ) :41
Any tension in the Brazilian’s body is instantly gone. The most difficult part for Dream to eject Campos from the squared circle is lifting her nearly deadweight. Lisa bum-rushes the zombified Luisa up, over and out, Pearls CRASHING to the floor below after bouncing off the apron.
Lisa plays to the Dreamophiles, lifting her arms high and wide toward her fans, then pays for it dearly when a recovered Ayala NAILS Dream from behind with a forearm shiver to the base of her impeccable skull. A furious Marisol drapes Lisa’s bosom across the top cable and grinds her spandex-sheathed gurls all the way to the corner, then back to the middle, the features of the Ultimate Image twisted in anguish from the burn to her boobs.
The Puerto Rican Powerhouse dips and slips Lisa’s head beneath the uppermost strand then pulls the brunette toward her, Dream’s shoulderblades pressed against the outside of the top rope. Lifting her right arm high, Marisol CLUBS the beejeezus out of Lisa’s chest, racking up a full ten, the crowd unable to stop themselves from counting along as Dream’s body sags with the accumulation.
Ayala shoves what’s left of Dream out, the Ultimate Image weakly tumbling to join a pooled Luisa.
Diamonds turns to finish off the weak link of the Dream Team, but the Yellow Rose is mid-flight. The wide-eyed Ayala is grabbed across the chest by Heather, Crofton taking a momentary seat on the middle rope, then laying out and THUMPING Marisol’s face into the deck with her Tex Wrex.
Tex Wrex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsLBKnxTnaM ) :00
As Ayala absently spins to a sprawl, vacant eyes pointed to the rafters, Crofton back somersaults out of her landing, popping to her feet.
As the FAWNatics roar their approval, but plead with the Lone Star Girl to go for the pin, Heather motions Ayala up instead. Marisol slowly makes it to a dazed stance, Heather sneaking alongside. The babyfaced blonde lifts Marisol’s near leg and whips it forward with all her might, Ayala RIPPED off her feet, THUMKING to the deck, the back of her skull striking canvas at a disturbing speed courtesy Miss Mustang’s Texas Tornado.
Texas Tornado ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2GIgmtiovI 2:04
Diamonds ends on her face and chest after a somersault from the massive momentum of the collision.
All that’s left is for the Yellow Rose to shove an unconscious Ayala to her back and cover with a weary lateral press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
There isn’t a hint of a response from Marisol as the count passes.
A risen but spent Luisa watches limply from outside, leaning against the apron. She slaps the mat in frustration as Lisa brushes by, the Image re-entering to join her fellow Dream Teamer. An elated Lisa helps Heather to her feet and they embrace.
“Damn, kiddo,” Dream shouts over the crowd. “You brought down a big one.”
“I guess I did,” the Texan responds modestly, then realizing her feat.
“Hell yeah I did!”
Legend and ingenue, with her prime still ahead, Lisa and Heather break from their hug.
The Dream lifts an arm of the Yellow Rose high, pointing at Crofton with her free hand, perfect timing for the ring announcer’s proclamation.
“Your winners…Heather Crofton…Lisa Dream…the DREEEEAM TEEEEAM!”
As Luisa slips under the bottom rope far enough to grab a wrist of her stirring partner and pull her out, the unlikely partners and victors take to the front corners, rising to the top, playing to the FAWNatics in stereo, the masses eating it up like apple pie.