Post by hawkeye on Oct 11, 2023 14:49:51 GMT
Avery Christian would get hers. The Kylie Corps was sure of it. Her post-match punt of their victorious heroine at Slaybor Day would find payback someday. But all that mattered to the troops now is their beloved redeemed Pixie is on the Mania card.
The secrecy of Avery’s mother regarding her opponent is certainly a concern, but just having the FAWN original in the biggest show of the year…again…is sweet as honey.
And when the glorious, melodious and upbeat Sixpence None The Richer’s ‘There She Goes’ sweeps through the arena, the crowd roars to its feet, the assembled going all out, knowing this 20th anniversary FAWNAMANIA could be her last.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMfXeuv4kZE )
The reclaimed Hawkeye heroine pushes through the curtain, raising the decibels by double.
KYLIE SANDERS
Moving to center stage, Kylie absorbs the FAWNatics’ adulation, smiling and waving, the sight of their Pleasant Valley Princess eliciting layers of love in the direction of the silvery-bobbed beauty. The energy within Sanders’ body is uncontrollable as she bounces on the balls of her feet, beaming.
Drawing on echoes of her original gear, Sanders sports a simple yellow-gold sports bra topside with black boy-cut shorts, black boots and pads. As she heads down the ramp, Ky cups a hand to an ear, enjoying the chants of ‘KY-LEE’ that overwhelm her accompaniment.
( www.yandy.com/products/lets-mesh-around-bra-set )
A radiant Sanders walks the aisle, happy to slap hands with her fans, gazing with delight at a poster proclaiming the Platinum Pixie priceless.
Reaching the ring and climbing the steps, Ky takes a moment to gaze around the arena at the massive display of affection. This would be a night to remember no matter who stepped out behind her. Sanders salutes her supporters before slipping through the cables.
Moving to the middle, Ky applauds the sellout crowd before raising a microphone to her full, Cupid’s Arrow lips.
“Thank you. Thank you all.”
The beloved blonde waits for the din to die down.
“Mania is the ultimate goal of any year. But this being number twenty is something special. FAWN has been the biggest, most important part of my life and, though we had our tough times, our breakup, you’ve been my saving grace. You’ve kept me wanting to come back for more. To perform the best I can. God knows I’m not the greatest wrestler this company’s ever seen. I’ve had my humiliations. And I’ve had my triumphs. But I’ve always given you my best. That’s what I guarantee you tonight, no matter if Godzilla comes through that curtain next. So let’s do this.”
Ky hands the stick to the ring announcer and retreats to her assigned corner under a shower of vocal support, the ovation earsplitting. There she allows lead referee Nick Castle to begin his cursory check for foreign objects as her formal introduction commences.
“Our next match is scheduled for one fall with no time limit.”
The crowd murmurs at the unusual condition.
“First…hailing from Pleasant Valley, Iowa, standing 5 feet 4 inches and weighing in at 115 pounds, the Platinum Pixie…KYLIE SANDERS!”
The house erupts in an encore of applause as Kylie nervously hops and stretches, preparing for anything.
With an odd silence hovering for long moments, the crowd is on the edge of its seat, wondering what vile behemoth or nasty nymph might be sent to test the reborn FAWN favorite.
But what couldn’t be believed is when the most iconic question in the wrestling industry is asked…
”Do you wanna get rocked?”
”LET’S GET ROCKED”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BO1Nae_EBvQ
If the response to Sanders was electric, this is a nuclear blast, spurred by the surprise. Was the Sensational One back for a last run? Was it a genius one-off by Bethany? The verdict? It didn’t matter. All that did is the orgasmic joy of what the query meant, right here, right now.
As if to confirm their greatest desire, the announcer resumes.
“And her opponent, hailing from Manchester, England… standing five feet four inches tall, and weighing in tonight at fifty-six kilos… she is THE Sensational One… SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!!”
The living legend steps out onto the stage, somehow spurring the house to further heights, a gobsmacked Ky, jaw dropping, covering her ears from the volume.
SHEA LONDON
The blonde Briton jogs down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as she does, her usual million-dollar smile on full display for the crowd.
While the Sensational One adopted a more conservative one-piece look during her final FAWN run, London favors the sellout throng with an updated version of her classic Union Jack two piece she’s used since helping establish the emerging standard of the UK wrestling scene, AWE.
Her top presented a white cross with the quadrants above in red and below in blue, and white trim leading into the shoulder straps. Her bottoms were primarily blue, save for the red, upside-down ‘V’ that started at each thigh and met at her waist, the waistband and bars both trimmed in white. Though in this case of this Union Jack, the image was broken up by an expanse of tummy, if not as much or as tanned. Still, London fills out her togs well. Her kneepads display the Union Jack in a much more traditional fashion, with white wrist tape and boots completing the ensemble.
The gorgeous blonde makes a complete circuit around ringside, continuing to slap hands and accept the well wishes of her fans. She turns to take occasional glimpses of a slack-jawed Sanders, winking at her former friend and foe.
Climbing the steps, Shea slips between the ropes.
London doesn’t hesitate, walking directly to the Hawkeye’s corner and offering a hand.
Kylie’s shock turns to awe, a small smile emerging.
“She got me,” Ky blurts, seemingly referring to her boss. “And you did too.”
Sanders takes the proffered hand and, instead of shaking, pulls Shea into a loving embrace.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ky asks softly.
“Bethany needed the best ever for the big 2-0,” Shea responds. “And who can put on a better show than us. But don’t worry. I’ve got a flight back in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Kylie whispers in the Brit’s ear.
London pulls back a step.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
The legends embrace again under a storm of applause.
“OK kid,” Shea says, splitting apart once more. “Enough of the sentimentality. Let’s rock’em.”
“Let’s,” Sanders retorts, “but you’re the only one who’s getting rocked the hardest.”
London nods with a smirk and retreats to claim her corner. The Sensational One turns and climbs onto the middle turnbuckle, rallying the boisterous crowd to her side with a pump of her fist before hopping back and down. The long-time face of FAWN begins to limber with a multitude of hearts in throats for the dream match to come.
The bell can barely be heard over the unfailing roar of the Mania masses. However, the longtime friends and enemies are aware their final battle has begun. The grapplers circle out of their respective corners and slowly meet in the middle.
Sanders extends her right hand and Shea gives it a long suspicious look. She turns her attention to the crowd, silently soliciting advice on what she should do.
“SHAKE…HER…HAND!” comes the reply in chant form.
A chuckling Sensational One lifts her palm and places it within the elfin blonde’s. They shake with a double pump, then release cleanly, the FAWNatics cheers deafening. The blondes, one dirty, one platinum, briefly circle again before throwing themselves into a tight collar-and-elbow hook-up.
The women, each in their glorious career twilight, struggle for leverage, Shea gaining slowly an advantage and walking Ky toward the corner behind her. The Brit presses the Pixie’s back against the buckles but lifts her arms away when Nick Castle calls for a break.
Beaming, London holds her arms high and backs a few steps, allowing Kylie to surge forward and link again, arms locking with each other. Sanders swings Shea in a 180 and presses the Brit’s spine to the buckles.
After a count of ‘FOUR’, the former Vanilla Chill lifts her paws from the legend’s frame and retreats enough for London to have room to maneuver. Ky shrugs and Shea nods, the fans eating their fantasy match with a spoon.
The Pleasant Valley Princess reaches for another tie-up but Shea ducks under. Ky spins to face her illustrious adversary and receives a gutting toe kick to the tummy for her trouble. With Sanders bent at the waist, hazel eyes bulging. London snatches Kylie’s lowered noggin in a side headlock and races for the far buckles. Halfway, London leaves her feet, ready to bulldog Sanders to the deck. But the Pixie has her palms to London’s hips and shoves her foe off, sending London flying.
Shea sticks a landing on her boot soles instead of her tailbone, turns to face the Hawkeye and gives Sanders a golf clap. Kylie rolls her eyes.
“You’re not taking the ‘W’ tonight, Shea,” Ky insists. “This is my organization now.”
“I believe there’s dozens of ladies backstage who might disagree. But I’m not one of them. I’m just here to prove I’ve still got it. And believe me, I’m pretty sure I do.”
Shea steps to her fellow FAWN original and raises her arms, offering a test of strength. Ky arches an eyebrow.
“You really are old school,” Sanders says, finding it hard to contain a grin.
“Always was,” comes the fervent reply. London wriggles her fingers and Sanders can’t resist.
The Pixie lifts her digits and interlocks her right hand, then her left. Immediately the arms are thrown wide and modest bosoms bang together. Little biceps bulge as the women try to overpower the other. Slowly, the arms rise and Kylie’s wrists roll over those of the Englishwoman. Shea lowers toward a genuflection a few inches at a time.
London grits her perfect pearlies as she descends, perspiration growing on her brow.
Shea grunts, a noise emerging from deep within, and her Sensational arms begin on an upward arc. Ky leans in but continues to lose ground until she’s back at the starting point. Sanders shakes her head in disbelief as she continues to give ground, London pressing her hard-won lead until the Iowan is bridged, balancing atop the crown of her head with London slightly to her side, having proved herself the more powerful.
Shea hops to her right and lands atop the bridging Pixie, kneecaps pushing into alabaster midriff and Kylie collapses, the Brit flattening Sanders to the canvas and scrambling to a schoolgirl press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The once-upon-a-time Girl Scout gets her arms in the crack between Shea’s arse and her own flat belly, then shoves Shea up and over, sneaking out London’s back door to avoid the early ending.
The women scramble to their feet and turn. As in the olden days, the Sensational One is slightly faster. She pivots and hooks her right arm around Sanders’ braincase with a ¾ facelock grip and snap mares Kylie to her backside, Sanders landing HARD on her cheeks. Shea presses with a soccer kick between the shoulders of which her fellow Maunchester United fans would be proud.
Kylie arches in pain from the impact, her spandex top pushed toward its limit.
Standing above and behind the lowered Pixie, London sinks her fingers into Ky’s silvery mop on either side and begins to crank on Sanders’ neck, eliciting yet more of an uncomfortable look on the mug of the Hawkeye.
Pressing backward into the frame of the legend, Sanders uses London’s body to rise, that is until Shea pivots around the ascending blonde and DECKS HER with a savage clothesline across the clavicle, leaving the PVP flat on the mat.
The Brit skips over the splayed Sanders and leaps to the middle rope not far removed, grabbing the top with both hands. Using the cable like a springboard, Shea gracefully backflips toward the splattered Ky, ready to leaves Sanders breathless with her Lionsault.
But Kylie has a different result in mind, pulling up her knees and offering a wide-eyed London a very different landing pad.
The Iowan guts her counterpart from across the pond, Shea’s tanned tummy skewered by the bony joints. London ends on her back moaning, shifting from shoulder to shoulder as she swaddles her abdomen tight, as if to keep her internal organs in place.
Kylie slowly rises to a seated position and reviews the results of her counter. She motions to her Corps for support but finds only about half are cheering her on. It would have to do.
She kips to her feet, drawing a little more enthusiasm from the Mania masses then stalks London from her foe’s blindside as the Brit starts to rise. Slipping her arms under and around those of the Englishwoman’s, Sanders secures a full nelson and rattles London’s cage from side to side. She guides Shea to a corner and swings her noggin back, only to throw it forward, banging the Brit’s forehead into the top buckle.
Switching positions so she’s on the inside, Ky twists Shea’s left arm behind her and secures a hammerlock on the stunned legend. Sanders lays raised knees into London’s chest several times to soften her foe further. The Pixie then heaves Shea up and over with a Buckle Hammerlock Suplex that sends the Brit CRASHING against the corner, Shea ending stacked on her shoulders, the Manchester native’s legs folding over her in a matchbook.
Buckle Hammerlock Suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Si1FqooRqvw )
Kylie takes advantage, moving to a seat across the pits of London’s knees, her cheeks rather obtrusively also settling atop Shea’s face between the bracket of the Brit’s stems. With London tucked tight beneath Sanders, Nick slides into position and slaps the canvas for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…Shea’s shoulders remain planted under Iowa ass, but there’s no third connection with the canvas. A confused Ky looks to Castle and sees him pointing at a palm of the Sensational One wrapping tightly around a bottom rope.
Kylie rolls her hazel peepers as if to signify she should’ve known.
Sanders dismounts grabs the Brit’s ankles as Shea adds a second grip around the bottom cable and the fight becomes a tug of war with London’s body the rope.
In stages, the Best Brit Ever ascends to middle then top strand, stretched to her limit by Kylie, when a final tug from Ky breaks London free and she plummets to the canvas, hitting the thinly-sheathed floorboards with an echoing THUMP. Shea cradles the back of her skull, boot soles pattering against the deck.
Kylie leaps into the air above the splayed Shea and lands a double-barreled stomp to London’s taut, tanned abs, the Brit jackknifing under the landing.
Sanders grabs the nearby top rope with both hands, standing on her ‘V’-shaped adversary. She places a boot sole against London’s forehead and THUMPS it into the deck a half-dozen times, using the uppermost cable to steady herself as she tries to remove the senses from FAWN’s most famous English import.
With Ky getting a scattering of boos for treating London so harshly, Sanders dismounts the dazed Brit and shrugs at the crowd, feeling no apology is necessary.
The Platinum Pixie grabs Shea’s ankles and pulls the Sensational One away from the cables.
Reaching mid-ring, Ky dips her grips so she can encircle Shea’s shins with a loop of her arms, Sanders’ fingers lacing the limbs together. A crouched Kylie lifts London to near vertical as she straightens. Kylie steps over and flips Shea to her chest, having captured the returnee in a perfectly-positioned Boston Crab.
Boston Crab ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIbHpKq32iQ )
The Pixie drops deep into a squat, testing the tension in London’s spinal column, Shea mewling in pain and tugging at her locks to spread the increasing anguish.
Ky doesn’t request a surrender out of respect, but Castle feels the obligation.
London waves him off, shaking her head. The living legend presses her palms onto the canvas and pushes her torso off it. In a show that the Englishwoman maintains her underrated strength, she ‘walks’ the several feet to the ropes, tugging Sanders with her, Ky shaking her head in disbelief as London gets closer, Shea finally wrapping a palm around the bottom strand.
Releasing simultaneously with Nick’s demand, a pumped Kylie backs away and hops in place, unable to contain the energy and excitement of facing Shea freakin’ London at FAWNAMANIA and having her in trouble.
The Pixie waits patiently for a wincing London to rise with the help of the ropes. Once her opponent is vertical, the animated Sanders can wait no longer, grabbing a wrist and pulling Shea away from the ropes. Pivoting, the Hawkeye flings Shea across the canvas with an Irish Whip, following her adversary to the middle then waiting for the inevitable return.
As Ky dips to send London flying with a back body drop, Shea leapfrogs the lowered Sanders and races to her next set of ropes. Again, the legend hits back-first and u-turns toward Kylie.
Sanders spins into a side kick deep into the pit of a charging Shea’s stomach. Doubled at the waist, eyes bulging, London has no defense when Kylie sinks her nails into the Brit’s mane and sits out, legs wide, SLAMMING London’s face between the stems and into the deck with a ring-rattling X-Factor.
X-Factor (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQCGX0VKVJA )
Kylie shovels the shellshocked Shea to her back, London flopping bonelessly to her back in a starfish. Sanders dives atop her friend, at the moment foe, hooking a limp far leg with the crossbody pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
An electric shock seems to enter Shea’s frame and she emphatically kicks loose, Sanders seemingly far from surprised.
Not wasting anytime with the dazed Brit, Ky grabs a wrist and shoulder and hauls the rubbery London to her feet. She spins and heaves the Sensational One toward the far buckles, Shea racing toward her destination, finally turning and CRASHING back-fist into the thin padding. London manages to stay upright, tossing a limp arm over the top rope on either side. Sanders doesn’t pass on the opportunity to push her advantage.
The slender but sturdy Iowan sprints toward the ragged Manchester native and leaps from a few feet out SPLASHING all over the languid London, compressing Shea beneath, taking the starch out of the returning icon.
Keeping pressed tight to the Brit to make sure she doesn’t melt to a puddle at the Iowan’s feet, Kylie scoops under London’s thighs and vaults her fellow lightweight to a seat on the top buckle.
Ky grabs the wrists of a slumped Shea, crosses them as she spins her back to the Brit, then surges forward, bringing her raised arms down and sending London flying overhead with a sparkling Iconoclasm.
Iconoclasm ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlDWO254zdQ )
With Shea splayed between her extended ivory-skinned legs, Kylie reaches forward and scoops the Englishwoman’s tanned gams toward her, capturing London in a matchbook pin, the crown of Shea’s head tight to Sanders’ crotch.
Castle slides to the canvas next to the dueling superstars and counts for Kylie’s Corps with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Shea’s body springs open, London escaping Ky’s grip while lifting both shoulders off the deck as she flops to her side, the Best Brit left reeling under the growing tide of Sanders’ success.
Feeling the tide and the crowd turn in her favor, Ky takes Shea’s noggin in both hands and pulls the Englishwoman up with her as she rises. The Pixie tugs a pliant London into a tight front facelock, latching onto the spandex on Shea’s hip.
Sanders launches the prodigal daughter high, the boot soles of the Sensational One pointed to the rafters for long seconds as Kylie shows off a little with her longtime both friend and enemy. After a few seconds, her arms begin to waver, and she pivots to drop Shea’s shins across the top rope. Using the spring in the rubber-coated steel, Sanders bounces London up and over, depositing the legend to her spine with a Slingshot Suplex.
Slingshot Suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gj6mq4VC5FU )
The Pixie hops to her feet and pumps her fist at the FAWNatics, drawing a loud cheer from her Corps, desperate to see their former Girl Scout win the final battle against her fellow FAWN original.
In the few seconds Ky plays to the crowd, a wincing Shea is struggling to her feet. Kylie intercepts the Brit halfway there, digging a toe kick deep into the lightly tanned tummy of her adversary, gutting London, leaving Shea bent and gasping. Sanders dips her right shoulder and slips her arm between the sinewy stems of Shea. The platinum blonde ‘hups’ London into a fireman’s carry and the intensity level of the assembled peaks, the masses ready for Shea to be sent to Pleasant Valley for the night.
But as London wriggles for an escape, Ky begins to rotate, slow at first but gaining speed quickly, Sanders going old school on the Brit with an Airplane Spin. With Shea as the propellor, the Pixie does her best imitation of a top, pushing the RPMs on the Sensational One. Finally, Kylie lets Shea fly, dipping her shoulders and heaving London off mid-spin. The Manchester native takes an extra half-turn on her own before gravity works its wonder and the legend THUMPS to earth on her chest.
London, looking airsick, rolls to her back, eyes spinning. Sanders is more than a little unsteady on her feet, but she manages to find Shea and impale her navel with a pointed elbow drop. London groans as she reflexively folds around the impact.
Sitting beside her opponent, Ky quickly clamps on a crossface grip, S-grip tight across the far portion of London’s jaw as the PVP works a reeling Shea into her Herky Jerky (Border City Stretch).
Herky Jerky ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7DQ9jCe8k8 )
Kylie leans into her foe and wrenches on her head and neck, desperately trying to convince London it’s time to get back on a 747 and skip back across the pond to her own blooming federation.
Castle drops to one knee in front of the Englishwoman and asks.
London’s features are etched in anguish, but the Brit didn’t become a legend for no reason, showing as much persistence as Kylie is famous for mustering.
Sensing the slightest dip in concentration on the Hawkeye’s part, Shea rolls to her back and a bit beyond, stacking Sanders on her shoulders, Ky’s spandex-clad rump pointed to the rafters.
Kylie’s legs bicycle wildly as Castle slaps the canvas with an unexpected…
ONE…
TWO…
The Iowan releases her grip to spasm her shoulders off the canvas, flopping over to hands and knees, looking nervously at Nick, then greatly relieved when she sees two fingers aloft.
Safe, Kylie shoves a stirring London to her chest and drops her backside across the base of Shea’s backbone, landing in a seated reverse straddle of the Brit. Grin emerging, Kylie raises her right hand high and fashions it into a claw.
“FARM…HAND,” the FAWNatics chant on cue.
Sanders drives her curled digits into the meat and muscle of Shea’s left thigh, just below the curve of her gluteus. Ky digs the fingers, seeking the nerve bundle within, pushing her hammy clamp deeper and deeper until the squirming, mewling London’s left leg seems to go dead in her grip.
This only prompts Kylie to push her left hand atop her ‘chewing’ right and London’s lower limb begins to twitch involuntarily.
“Give it up, Shea,” Ky advises, “you won’t be able to beat me with one good wheel.”
“I didn’t come this far to lose,” London grunts.
“Yes, you did,” comes the stern reply from the silvery-bobbed Hawkeye.
Castle drops to his chest and goes nose to nose with the living legend.
“You had enough, London.”
Shea shakes her head, dirty blonde locks flying from side to side.
“Not even a little bit.”
A frustrated Sanders pulls her tines free and gives the butt cheek just above the indentations in London’s thighs a meaty SMACK.
“Let’s go to the Valley, Shea.”
Kylie rises to a knee next to the Brit from her straddle, sinks both sets of fingers into London’s locks, and guides the Englishwoman up with her as she ascends.
With Shea hobbled, only able to put weight on her right leg, Sanders easily dips and scoops London onto her shoulders once more. She moves to the middle so there are no escapes and…before Shea’s sent tumbling to defeat via the Pleasant Valley Driver, the Sensational One begins banging elbow after elbow to Ky’s left temple. After a half dozen, London frees herself, sliding down Kylie’s back.
Sanders spins with a clothesline drawn, but London’s left leg’s given way, still ‘dead’ from the Farm Hand. She’s involuntarily dropped to a genuflection, thus avoiding the sweeping scythe. With the swing-and-miss, Sanders is off balance, and the living legend tugs the Pixie off her feet, rolling Kylie into a small package for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Ky busts free to the great relief of her Corps. Sanders staggers to her feet while London reaches a seated position, rubbing at her left thigh to bring the nerves and muscles back to life, temporarily unable to climb any higher.
Kylie zooms by Shea’s left shoulder and hits the ropes in front of the settled London. Racing out of her u-turn, Ky briskly somersaults over that same shoulder on the way back, grabbing the Brit’s head on the fly-by and POUNDING the back of her adversary’s skull into the thinly sheathed floorboards with her Running Neckbreaker.
Running Neckbreaker ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZoXCv3QYDo )
An instant after landing, Kylie scrambles into a tight crossbody pin, hooking the far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Shea shoves a shoulder up, denying her first FAWN pupil the Mania victory she so desperately craves, Ky ending on all fours next to the splayed Shea.
“Really?” Ky blurts to herself.
“Really,” comes a breathless whisper from below. “You didn’t want it to be easy.”
“Y’know, easy gets a bad rap,” Sanders chuckles softly. “But no. I guess not.”
Kylie slowly pushes to her feet and launches over the splayed Shea, extending both legs in front of her, one above London’s throat, the other her chest. But the Best Brit rolls clear at the last second and Ky only manages to spike the tip of her tailbone into the deck.
Ky’s elfin features screw in pain, her hands burying beneath her buttocks to give them a massaging squeeze.
With both women now seated, painfully, their eyes turn to each other and meet. They stayed locked for a long second then each clamber toward vertical, the grapplers making it simultaneously.
Shea sends a balled right hand into Kylie’s jaw, rocking the Pixie. But the Hawkeye comes right back with one of her own, staggering Shea. Back and forth the punches fly until, after a half-dozen, London blocks and doubles up on the Iowan. Then triple. And quadruple. Kylie’s legs are looser with each connection.
Finally, a wobbling Sanders, arms at her sides, defenses dilapidated, has no guard as Shea kisses her right fist and PLOWS it into the Pixie’s chin, decking Sanders to growing appreciation from the assembled, including Kylie’s Corps.
Skipping over the levelled Sanders, the Brit heads for the ropes and, as she does, Ky’s hard-headed perseverance allows her to push to her feet and ready a sloppy clothesline as London approaches.
But ever the acrobatic, Shea vaults into a picture-perfect Running Calf Kick, steamrolling the wobbly Pixie.
Calf Kick ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=xopmvfXwrF8 ).
Shea lands next to the demolished Ky on hands and knees, somersaults to her back and kips to her feet, most of the Mania masses unable to contain themselves at the thought of seeing a final London Run.
Shea loads her left boot, stomping it against the canvas, showing the crowd a Farm Hand has a limited lifespan. She motions Sanders to her feet and a dazed Ky pushes there, as reliable as ever in her fight to keep going.
The Platinum Pixie spins to find her foe and her chin is dented with a perfectly-placed Superkick from the legend. Kylie careens in reverse, ending deep in a corner, arms limply laying over the top ropes on either side.
It takes barely an instant for the glistening London to be at the buckles opposite. She storms across the canvas and leaps into a Sensational Splash that removes the remaining starch from the Hawkeye, Ky plopping to her backside, head bobbling atop a seated Sanders, limp legs extended in front of her.
The Englishwoman is quickly ready for another onslaught in the far corner, and she races across the canvas at warp speed, lifting off from several feet out, her slightly spread lower limbs leading the way.
‘WHAM’
Shea’s ass CRASHES into Kylie’s chest, the Brit’s junk plastering Sanders’ chin. And it only gets worse for the platinum-bobbed bronco-to-be-busted when London grabs the ropes on either side and THRUSTS her undercarriage into Ky’s face again and again, leaving the Hawkeye a steaming mess after a ten-spot of pelvic pounding.
The Brit back-somersaults off her mount, popping to her feet, arms high and wide, enjoying the ovation.
This is why she came back one final time. This feeling. These people. This moment.
London collects the splattered Sanders by her ankles and pulls her several feet out from the corner, turning her a suspicious 90 degrees.
And Shea climbs. Perhaps not quite as quickly as twenty years ago. And when she turns to face her target and lifts off, perhaps she’s not scraping the rafters like ten years ago. But when her Sensational Leg Drop CRASHES across the throat of Kylie’s limp frame, it seems no time has gone by at all.
Sensational Leg Drop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMXrotXnD_M )
The FAWNatics roar at earsplitting levels as London clambers to a lateral press for the pin and the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The ‘HOLY SHIT’ chants are instantaneous, Sanders revivifying to ‘eek’ a shoulder off the canvas, Castle screaming out ‘TWO’ to make sure everyone knows they didn’t just imagine Ky’s survival.
As startled as London appears, she, perhaps better than anyone, realizes what Kylie’s capable of and quickly rolls the shellshocked Sanders onto her chest.
The tawny Brit drops her knees across Ky’s spine from the side. She folds Sanders’ legs in a ‘X’ on one side, hooking the juncture with an arm, while wrapping the other arm around Kylie’s neck.
And, as if it were a Mania in her prime, the Sensational One rolls to her back, stopping just short of placing her shoulder down but going far enough to lift a curled Kylie above her in an agonizing bow-and-arrow arch anyone worth their salt knows as London’s Bridge.
London’s Bridge ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tW3NAfLdV8 )
The overturned Kylie wails in agony, hazel eyes clenched in pain, reaching vainly in front of her for ropes that might as well be miles away.
Shea shakes the captured Sanders and pulls down harder on either side, extending the arc of Ky’s vertebrae to unsustainable lengths. For long seconds, Kylie holds on, perhaps responding to the ‘PLEASE…DON’T…TAP’ chants of her Corps. But as Shea keeps her Bridge intact for longer and longer, Ky’s squirms slow and her howls grow faint until she weakly taps away the remainder of her strength, blurting out a whispered…”I QUIT”.
London immediately releases as Castle leaps to his feet and calls for the bell, the crowd roaring to its feet at the climax of a classic battle between two icons, the visitor becoming the victor at the expense of their beloved, redeemed Girl Scout.
A spent Shea rolls to her feet lifts her arms high and wide then bows to the adoring crowd next to a shifting but broken Sanders, Ky unable to get off her back, hand beneath her rubbing at the base of her spine.
Playfully, or perhaps not, London plants a boot atop Kylie’s chest for her Mania money shot as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner…by submission…SENSATIONAL SHEA LONDON!”
A whimpering Ky pushes the Brit’s foot off, but it’s all she can manage.
London moves to the four corners, scaling each to bask in what might be her last moment of FAWN glory. She celebrates with the fans until Kylie’s splintered spine feels well enough to allow her to sit up, Ky’s head burying in her hands. The chance to make her statement gone. Instead, Shea’s status is reinforced both by the triumph and by the fans.
Wrecked, Ky feels a palm on her shoulder. She turns to see London above her.
“You’re a superstar, Kylie. I know it. These people know it.”
Shea offers a hand and Sanders accepts the tug to her feet. Ky takes a couple deep breaths then the legends surround each other with a warm and worn embrace.
“I guess you get the final word,” Ky whispers in London’s ear.
“Between us, maybe. But not in FAWN. You get that when you kick Kat’s ass. Something I couldn’t.”
Sanders sighs, chin on Shea’s shoulder.
“You always were the best friend a girl could have, even when I didn’t want you.”
“And you’re the woman most people will think of when they think of FAWN. Not me. Kylie Sanders.”
The women break their bearhug and turn to the hard cam, Kylie grabbing a wrist and lifting Shea’s arm high.
If not the perfect ending for Sanders, it was a happy ending.
The secrecy of Avery’s mother regarding her opponent is certainly a concern, but just having the FAWN original in the biggest show of the year…again…is sweet as honey.
And when the glorious, melodious and upbeat Sixpence None The Richer’s ‘There She Goes’ sweeps through the arena, the crowd roars to its feet, the assembled going all out, knowing this 20th anniversary FAWNAMANIA could be her last.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMfXeuv4kZE )
The reclaimed Hawkeye heroine pushes through the curtain, raising the decibels by double.
KYLIE SANDERS
Moving to center stage, Kylie absorbs the FAWNatics’ adulation, smiling and waving, the sight of their Pleasant Valley Princess eliciting layers of love in the direction of the silvery-bobbed beauty. The energy within Sanders’ body is uncontrollable as she bounces on the balls of her feet, beaming.
Drawing on echoes of her original gear, Sanders sports a simple yellow-gold sports bra topside with black boy-cut shorts, black boots and pads. As she heads down the ramp, Ky cups a hand to an ear, enjoying the chants of ‘KY-LEE’ that overwhelm her accompaniment.
( www.yandy.com/products/lets-mesh-around-bra-set )
A radiant Sanders walks the aisle, happy to slap hands with her fans, gazing with delight at a poster proclaiming the Platinum Pixie priceless.
Reaching the ring and climbing the steps, Ky takes a moment to gaze around the arena at the massive display of affection. This would be a night to remember no matter who stepped out behind her. Sanders salutes her supporters before slipping through the cables.
Moving to the middle, Ky applauds the sellout crowd before raising a microphone to her full, Cupid’s Arrow lips.
“Thank you. Thank you all.”
The beloved blonde waits for the din to die down.
“Mania is the ultimate goal of any year. But this being number twenty is something special. FAWN has been the biggest, most important part of my life and, though we had our tough times, our breakup, you’ve been my saving grace. You’ve kept me wanting to come back for more. To perform the best I can. God knows I’m not the greatest wrestler this company’s ever seen. I’ve had my humiliations. And I’ve had my triumphs. But I’ve always given you my best. That’s what I guarantee you tonight, no matter if Godzilla comes through that curtain next. So let’s do this.”
Ky hands the stick to the ring announcer and retreats to her assigned corner under a shower of vocal support, the ovation earsplitting. There she allows lead referee Nick Castle to begin his cursory check for foreign objects as her formal introduction commences.
“Our next match is scheduled for one fall with no time limit.”
The crowd murmurs at the unusual condition.
“First…hailing from Pleasant Valley, Iowa, standing 5 feet 4 inches and weighing in at 115 pounds, the Platinum Pixie…KYLIE SANDERS!”
The house erupts in an encore of applause as Kylie nervously hops and stretches, preparing for anything.
With an odd silence hovering for long moments, the crowd is on the edge of its seat, wondering what vile behemoth or nasty nymph might be sent to test the reborn FAWN favorite.
But what couldn’t be believed is when the most iconic question in the wrestling industry is asked…
”Do you wanna get rocked?”
”LET’S GET ROCKED”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BO1Nae_EBvQ
If the response to Sanders was electric, this is a nuclear blast, spurred by the surprise. Was the Sensational One back for a last run? Was it a genius one-off by Bethany? The verdict? It didn’t matter. All that did is the orgasmic joy of what the query meant, right here, right now.
As if to confirm their greatest desire, the announcer resumes.
“And her opponent, hailing from Manchester, England… standing five feet four inches tall, and weighing in tonight at fifty-six kilos… she is THE Sensational One… SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!!”
The living legend steps out onto the stage, somehow spurring the house to further heights, a gobsmacked Ky, jaw dropping, covering her ears from the volume.
SHEA LONDON
The blonde Briton jogs down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as she does, her usual million-dollar smile on full display for the crowd.
While the Sensational One adopted a more conservative one-piece look during her final FAWN run, London favors the sellout throng with an updated version of her classic Union Jack two piece she’s used since helping establish the emerging standard of the UK wrestling scene, AWE.
Her top presented a white cross with the quadrants above in red and below in blue, and white trim leading into the shoulder straps. Her bottoms were primarily blue, save for the red, upside-down ‘V’ that started at each thigh and met at her waist, the waistband and bars both trimmed in white. Though in this case of this Union Jack, the image was broken up by an expanse of tummy, if not as much or as tanned. Still, London fills out her togs well. Her kneepads display the Union Jack in a much more traditional fashion, with white wrist tape and boots completing the ensemble.
The gorgeous blonde makes a complete circuit around ringside, continuing to slap hands and accept the well wishes of her fans. She turns to take occasional glimpses of a slack-jawed Sanders, winking at her former friend and foe.
Climbing the steps, Shea slips between the ropes.
London doesn’t hesitate, walking directly to the Hawkeye’s corner and offering a hand.
Kylie’s shock turns to awe, a small smile emerging.
“She got me,” Ky blurts, seemingly referring to her boss. “And you did too.”
Sanders takes the proffered hand and, instead of shaking, pulls Shea into a loving embrace.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ky asks softly.
“Bethany needed the best ever for the big 2-0,” Shea responds. “And who can put on a better show than us. But don’t worry. I’ve got a flight back in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Kylie whispers in the Brit’s ear.
London pulls back a step.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
The legends embrace again under a storm of applause.
“OK kid,” Shea says, splitting apart once more. “Enough of the sentimentality. Let’s rock’em.”
“Let’s,” Sanders retorts, “but you’re the only one who’s getting rocked the hardest.”
London nods with a smirk and retreats to claim her corner. The Sensational One turns and climbs onto the middle turnbuckle, rallying the boisterous crowd to her side with a pump of her fist before hopping back and down. The long-time face of FAWN begins to limber with a multitude of hearts in throats for the dream match to come.
The bell can barely be heard over the unfailing roar of the Mania masses. However, the longtime friends and enemies are aware their final battle has begun. The grapplers circle out of their respective corners and slowly meet in the middle.
Sanders extends her right hand and Shea gives it a long suspicious look. She turns her attention to the crowd, silently soliciting advice on what she should do.
“SHAKE…HER…HAND!” comes the reply in chant form.
A chuckling Sensational One lifts her palm and places it within the elfin blonde’s. They shake with a double pump, then release cleanly, the FAWNatics cheers deafening. The blondes, one dirty, one platinum, briefly circle again before throwing themselves into a tight collar-and-elbow hook-up.
The women, each in their glorious career twilight, struggle for leverage, Shea gaining slowly an advantage and walking Ky toward the corner behind her. The Brit presses the Pixie’s back against the buckles but lifts her arms away when Nick Castle calls for a break.
Beaming, London holds her arms high and backs a few steps, allowing Kylie to surge forward and link again, arms locking with each other. Sanders swings Shea in a 180 and presses the Brit’s spine to the buckles.
After a count of ‘FOUR’, the former Vanilla Chill lifts her paws from the legend’s frame and retreats enough for London to have room to maneuver. Ky shrugs and Shea nods, the fans eating their fantasy match with a spoon.
The Pleasant Valley Princess reaches for another tie-up but Shea ducks under. Ky spins to face her illustrious adversary and receives a gutting toe kick to the tummy for her trouble. With Sanders bent at the waist, hazel eyes bulging. London snatches Kylie’s lowered noggin in a side headlock and races for the far buckles. Halfway, London leaves her feet, ready to bulldog Sanders to the deck. But the Pixie has her palms to London’s hips and shoves her foe off, sending London flying.
Shea sticks a landing on her boot soles instead of her tailbone, turns to face the Hawkeye and gives Sanders a golf clap. Kylie rolls her eyes.
“You’re not taking the ‘W’ tonight, Shea,” Ky insists. “This is my organization now.”
“I believe there’s dozens of ladies backstage who might disagree. But I’m not one of them. I’m just here to prove I’ve still got it. And believe me, I’m pretty sure I do.”
Shea steps to her fellow FAWN original and raises her arms, offering a test of strength. Ky arches an eyebrow.
“You really are old school,” Sanders says, finding it hard to contain a grin.
“Always was,” comes the fervent reply. London wriggles her fingers and Sanders can’t resist.
The Pixie lifts her digits and interlocks her right hand, then her left. Immediately the arms are thrown wide and modest bosoms bang together. Little biceps bulge as the women try to overpower the other. Slowly, the arms rise and Kylie’s wrists roll over those of the Englishwoman. Shea lowers toward a genuflection a few inches at a time.
London grits her perfect pearlies as she descends, perspiration growing on her brow.
Shea grunts, a noise emerging from deep within, and her Sensational arms begin on an upward arc. Ky leans in but continues to lose ground until she’s back at the starting point. Sanders shakes her head in disbelief as she continues to give ground, London pressing her hard-won lead until the Iowan is bridged, balancing atop the crown of her head with London slightly to her side, having proved herself the more powerful.
Shea hops to her right and lands atop the bridging Pixie, kneecaps pushing into alabaster midriff and Kylie collapses, the Brit flattening Sanders to the canvas and scrambling to a schoolgirl press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The once-upon-a-time Girl Scout gets her arms in the crack between Shea’s arse and her own flat belly, then shoves Shea up and over, sneaking out London’s back door to avoid the early ending.
The women scramble to their feet and turn. As in the olden days, the Sensational One is slightly faster. She pivots and hooks her right arm around Sanders’ braincase with a ¾ facelock grip and snap mares Kylie to her backside, Sanders landing HARD on her cheeks. Shea presses with a soccer kick between the shoulders of which her fellow Maunchester United fans would be proud.
Kylie arches in pain from the impact, her spandex top pushed toward its limit.
Standing above and behind the lowered Pixie, London sinks her fingers into Ky’s silvery mop on either side and begins to crank on Sanders’ neck, eliciting yet more of an uncomfortable look on the mug of the Hawkeye.
Pressing backward into the frame of the legend, Sanders uses London’s body to rise, that is until Shea pivots around the ascending blonde and DECKS HER with a savage clothesline across the clavicle, leaving the PVP flat on the mat.
The Brit skips over the splayed Sanders and leaps to the middle rope not far removed, grabbing the top with both hands. Using the cable like a springboard, Shea gracefully backflips toward the splattered Ky, ready to leaves Sanders breathless with her Lionsault.
But Kylie has a different result in mind, pulling up her knees and offering a wide-eyed London a very different landing pad.
The Iowan guts her counterpart from across the pond, Shea’s tanned tummy skewered by the bony joints. London ends on her back moaning, shifting from shoulder to shoulder as she swaddles her abdomen tight, as if to keep her internal organs in place.
Kylie slowly rises to a seated position and reviews the results of her counter. She motions to her Corps for support but finds only about half are cheering her on. It would have to do.
She kips to her feet, drawing a little more enthusiasm from the Mania masses then stalks London from her foe’s blindside as the Brit starts to rise. Slipping her arms under and around those of the Englishwoman’s, Sanders secures a full nelson and rattles London’s cage from side to side. She guides Shea to a corner and swings her noggin back, only to throw it forward, banging the Brit’s forehead into the top buckle.
Switching positions so she’s on the inside, Ky twists Shea’s left arm behind her and secures a hammerlock on the stunned legend. Sanders lays raised knees into London’s chest several times to soften her foe further. The Pixie then heaves Shea up and over with a Buckle Hammerlock Suplex that sends the Brit CRASHING against the corner, Shea ending stacked on her shoulders, the Manchester native’s legs folding over her in a matchbook.
Buckle Hammerlock Suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Si1FqooRqvw )
Kylie takes advantage, moving to a seat across the pits of London’s knees, her cheeks rather obtrusively also settling atop Shea’s face between the bracket of the Brit’s stems. With London tucked tight beneath Sanders, Nick slides into position and slaps the canvas for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…Shea’s shoulders remain planted under Iowa ass, but there’s no third connection with the canvas. A confused Ky looks to Castle and sees him pointing at a palm of the Sensational One wrapping tightly around a bottom rope.
Kylie rolls her hazel peepers as if to signify she should’ve known.
Sanders dismounts grabs the Brit’s ankles as Shea adds a second grip around the bottom cable and the fight becomes a tug of war with London’s body the rope.
In stages, the Best Brit Ever ascends to middle then top strand, stretched to her limit by Kylie, when a final tug from Ky breaks London free and she plummets to the canvas, hitting the thinly-sheathed floorboards with an echoing THUMP. Shea cradles the back of her skull, boot soles pattering against the deck.
Kylie leaps into the air above the splayed Shea and lands a double-barreled stomp to London’s taut, tanned abs, the Brit jackknifing under the landing.
Sanders grabs the nearby top rope with both hands, standing on her ‘V’-shaped adversary. She places a boot sole against London’s forehead and THUMPS it into the deck a half-dozen times, using the uppermost cable to steady herself as she tries to remove the senses from FAWN’s most famous English import.
With Ky getting a scattering of boos for treating London so harshly, Sanders dismounts the dazed Brit and shrugs at the crowd, feeling no apology is necessary.
The Platinum Pixie grabs Shea’s ankles and pulls the Sensational One away from the cables.
Reaching mid-ring, Ky dips her grips so she can encircle Shea’s shins with a loop of her arms, Sanders’ fingers lacing the limbs together. A crouched Kylie lifts London to near vertical as she straightens. Kylie steps over and flips Shea to her chest, having captured the returnee in a perfectly-positioned Boston Crab.
Boston Crab ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIbHpKq32iQ )
The Pixie drops deep into a squat, testing the tension in London’s spinal column, Shea mewling in pain and tugging at her locks to spread the increasing anguish.
Ky doesn’t request a surrender out of respect, but Castle feels the obligation.
London waves him off, shaking her head. The living legend presses her palms onto the canvas and pushes her torso off it. In a show that the Englishwoman maintains her underrated strength, she ‘walks’ the several feet to the ropes, tugging Sanders with her, Ky shaking her head in disbelief as London gets closer, Shea finally wrapping a palm around the bottom strand.
Releasing simultaneously with Nick’s demand, a pumped Kylie backs away and hops in place, unable to contain the energy and excitement of facing Shea freakin’ London at FAWNAMANIA and having her in trouble.
The Pixie waits patiently for a wincing London to rise with the help of the ropes. Once her opponent is vertical, the animated Sanders can wait no longer, grabbing a wrist and pulling Shea away from the ropes. Pivoting, the Hawkeye flings Shea across the canvas with an Irish Whip, following her adversary to the middle then waiting for the inevitable return.
As Ky dips to send London flying with a back body drop, Shea leapfrogs the lowered Sanders and races to her next set of ropes. Again, the legend hits back-first and u-turns toward Kylie.
Sanders spins into a side kick deep into the pit of a charging Shea’s stomach. Doubled at the waist, eyes bulging, London has no defense when Kylie sinks her nails into the Brit’s mane and sits out, legs wide, SLAMMING London’s face between the stems and into the deck with a ring-rattling X-Factor.
X-Factor (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQCGX0VKVJA )
Kylie shovels the shellshocked Shea to her back, London flopping bonelessly to her back in a starfish. Sanders dives atop her friend, at the moment foe, hooking a limp far leg with the crossbody pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
An electric shock seems to enter Shea’s frame and she emphatically kicks loose, Sanders seemingly far from surprised.
Not wasting anytime with the dazed Brit, Ky grabs a wrist and shoulder and hauls the rubbery London to her feet. She spins and heaves the Sensational One toward the far buckles, Shea racing toward her destination, finally turning and CRASHING back-fist into the thin padding. London manages to stay upright, tossing a limp arm over the top rope on either side. Sanders doesn’t pass on the opportunity to push her advantage.
The slender but sturdy Iowan sprints toward the ragged Manchester native and leaps from a few feet out SPLASHING all over the languid London, compressing Shea beneath, taking the starch out of the returning icon.
Keeping pressed tight to the Brit to make sure she doesn’t melt to a puddle at the Iowan’s feet, Kylie scoops under London’s thighs and vaults her fellow lightweight to a seat on the top buckle.
Ky grabs the wrists of a slumped Shea, crosses them as she spins her back to the Brit, then surges forward, bringing her raised arms down and sending London flying overhead with a sparkling Iconoclasm.
Iconoclasm ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlDWO254zdQ )
With Shea splayed between her extended ivory-skinned legs, Kylie reaches forward and scoops the Englishwoman’s tanned gams toward her, capturing London in a matchbook pin, the crown of Shea’s head tight to Sanders’ crotch.
Castle slides to the canvas next to the dueling superstars and counts for Kylie’s Corps with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Shea’s body springs open, London escaping Ky’s grip while lifting both shoulders off the deck as she flops to her side, the Best Brit left reeling under the growing tide of Sanders’ success.
Feeling the tide and the crowd turn in her favor, Ky takes Shea’s noggin in both hands and pulls the Englishwoman up with her as she rises. The Pixie tugs a pliant London into a tight front facelock, latching onto the spandex on Shea’s hip.
Sanders launches the prodigal daughter high, the boot soles of the Sensational One pointed to the rafters for long seconds as Kylie shows off a little with her longtime both friend and enemy. After a few seconds, her arms begin to waver, and she pivots to drop Shea’s shins across the top rope. Using the spring in the rubber-coated steel, Sanders bounces London up and over, depositing the legend to her spine with a Slingshot Suplex.
Slingshot Suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gj6mq4VC5FU )
The Pixie hops to her feet and pumps her fist at the FAWNatics, drawing a loud cheer from her Corps, desperate to see their former Girl Scout win the final battle against her fellow FAWN original.
In the few seconds Ky plays to the crowd, a wincing Shea is struggling to her feet. Kylie intercepts the Brit halfway there, digging a toe kick deep into the lightly tanned tummy of her adversary, gutting London, leaving Shea bent and gasping. Sanders dips her right shoulder and slips her arm between the sinewy stems of Shea. The platinum blonde ‘hups’ London into a fireman’s carry and the intensity level of the assembled peaks, the masses ready for Shea to be sent to Pleasant Valley for the night.
But as London wriggles for an escape, Ky begins to rotate, slow at first but gaining speed quickly, Sanders going old school on the Brit with an Airplane Spin. With Shea as the propellor, the Pixie does her best imitation of a top, pushing the RPMs on the Sensational One. Finally, Kylie lets Shea fly, dipping her shoulders and heaving London off mid-spin. The Manchester native takes an extra half-turn on her own before gravity works its wonder and the legend THUMPS to earth on her chest.
London, looking airsick, rolls to her back, eyes spinning. Sanders is more than a little unsteady on her feet, but she manages to find Shea and impale her navel with a pointed elbow drop. London groans as she reflexively folds around the impact.
Sitting beside her opponent, Ky quickly clamps on a crossface grip, S-grip tight across the far portion of London’s jaw as the PVP works a reeling Shea into her Herky Jerky (Border City Stretch).
Herky Jerky ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7DQ9jCe8k8 )
Kylie leans into her foe and wrenches on her head and neck, desperately trying to convince London it’s time to get back on a 747 and skip back across the pond to her own blooming federation.
Castle drops to one knee in front of the Englishwoman and asks.
London’s features are etched in anguish, but the Brit didn’t become a legend for no reason, showing as much persistence as Kylie is famous for mustering.
Sensing the slightest dip in concentration on the Hawkeye’s part, Shea rolls to her back and a bit beyond, stacking Sanders on her shoulders, Ky’s spandex-clad rump pointed to the rafters.
Kylie’s legs bicycle wildly as Castle slaps the canvas with an unexpected…
ONE…
TWO…
The Iowan releases her grip to spasm her shoulders off the canvas, flopping over to hands and knees, looking nervously at Nick, then greatly relieved when she sees two fingers aloft.
Safe, Kylie shoves a stirring London to her chest and drops her backside across the base of Shea’s backbone, landing in a seated reverse straddle of the Brit. Grin emerging, Kylie raises her right hand high and fashions it into a claw.
“FARM…HAND,” the FAWNatics chant on cue.
Sanders drives her curled digits into the meat and muscle of Shea’s left thigh, just below the curve of her gluteus. Ky digs the fingers, seeking the nerve bundle within, pushing her hammy clamp deeper and deeper until the squirming, mewling London’s left leg seems to go dead in her grip.
This only prompts Kylie to push her left hand atop her ‘chewing’ right and London’s lower limb begins to twitch involuntarily.
“Give it up, Shea,” Ky advises, “you won’t be able to beat me with one good wheel.”
“I didn’t come this far to lose,” London grunts.
“Yes, you did,” comes the stern reply from the silvery-bobbed Hawkeye.
Castle drops to his chest and goes nose to nose with the living legend.
“You had enough, London.”
Shea shakes her head, dirty blonde locks flying from side to side.
“Not even a little bit.”
A frustrated Sanders pulls her tines free and gives the butt cheek just above the indentations in London’s thighs a meaty SMACK.
“Let’s go to the Valley, Shea.”
Kylie rises to a knee next to the Brit from her straddle, sinks both sets of fingers into London’s locks, and guides the Englishwoman up with her as she ascends.
With Shea hobbled, only able to put weight on her right leg, Sanders easily dips and scoops London onto her shoulders once more. She moves to the middle so there are no escapes and…before Shea’s sent tumbling to defeat via the Pleasant Valley Driver, the Sensational One begins banging elbow after elbow to Ky’s left temple. After a half dozen, London frees herself, sliding down Kylie’s back.
Sanders spins with a clothesline drawn, but London’s left leg’s given way, still ‘dead’ from the Farm Hand. She’s involuntarily dropped to a genuflection, thus avoiding the sweeping scythe. With the swing-and-miss, Sanders is off balance, and the living legend tugs the Pixie off her feet, rolling Kylie into a small package for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Ky busts free to the great relief of her Corps. Sanders staggers to her feet while London reaches a seated position, rubbing at her left thigh to bring the nerves and muscles back to life, temporarily unable to climb any higher.
Kylie zooms by Shea’s left shoulder and hits the ropes in front of the settled London. Racing out of her u-turn, Ky briskly somersaults over that same shoulder on the way back, grabbing the Brit’s head on the fly-by and POUNDING the back of her adversary’s skull into the thinly sheathed floorboards with her Running Neckbreaker.
Running Neckbreaker ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZoXCv3QYDo )
An instant after landing, Kylie scrambles into a tight crossbody pin, hooking the far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Shea shoves a shoulder up, denying her first FAWN pupil the Mania victory she so desperately craves, Ky ending on all fours next to the splayed Shea.
“Really?” Ky blurts to herself.
“Really,” comes a breathless whisper from below. “You didn’t want it to be easy.”
“Y’know, easy gets a bad rap,” Sanders chuckles softly. “But no. I guess not.”
Kylie slowly pushes to her feet and launches over the splayed Shea, extending both legs in front of her, one above London’s throat, the other her chest. But the Best Brit rolls clear at the last second and Ky only manages to spike the tip of her tailbone into the deck.
Ky’s elfin features screw in pain, her hands burying beneath her buttocks to give them a massaging squeeze.
With both women now seated, painfully, their eyes turn to each other and meet. They stayed locked for a long second then each clamber toward vertical, the grapplers making it simultaneously.
Shea sends a balled right hand into Kylie’s jaw, rocking the Pixie. But the Hawkeye comes right back with one of her own, staggering Shea. Back and forth the punches fly until, after a half-dozen, London blocks and doubles up on the Iowan. Then triple. And quadruple. Kylie’s legs are looser with each connection.
Finally, a wobbling Sanders, arms at her sides, defenses dilapidated, has no guard as Shea kisses her right fist and PLOWS it into the Pixie’s chin, decking Sanders to growing appreciation from the assembled, including Kylie’s Corps.
Skipping over the levelled Sanders, the Brit heads for the ropes and, as she does, Ky’s hard-headed perseverance allows her to push to her feet and ready a sloppy clothesline as London approaches.
But ever the acrobatic, Shea vaults into a picture-perfect Running Calf Kick, steamrolling the wobbly Pixie.
Calf Kick ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=xopmvfXwrF8 ).
Shea lands next to the demolished Ky on hands and knees, somersaults to her back and kips to her feet, most of the Mania masses unable to contain themselves at the thought of seeing a final London Run.
Shea loads her left boot, stomping it against the canvas, showing the crowd a Farm Hand has a limited lifespan. She motions Sanders to her feet and a dazed Ky pushes there, as reliable as ever in her fight to keep going.
The Platinum Pixie spins to find her foe and her chin is dented with a perfectly-placed Superkick from the legend. Kylie careens in reverse, ending deep in a corner, arms limply laying over the top ropes on either side.
It takes barely an instant for the glistening London to be at the buckles opposite. She storms across the canvas and leaps into a Sensational Splash that removes the remaining starch from the Hawkeye, Ky plopping to her backside, head bobbling atop a seated Sanders, limp legs extended in front of her.
The Englishwoman is quickly ready for another onslaught in the far corner, and she races across the canvas at warp speed, lifting off from several feet out, her slightly spread lower limbs leading the way.
‘WHAM’
Shea’s ass CRASHES into Kylie’s chest, the Brit’s junk plastering Sanders’ chin. And it only gets worse for the platinum-bobbed bronco-to-be-busted when London grabs the ropes on either side and THRUSTS her undercarriage into Ky’s face again and again, leaving the Hawkeye a steaming mess after a ten-spot of pelvic pounding.
The Brit back-somersaults off her mount, popping to her feet, arms high and wide, enjoying the ovation.
This is why she came back one final time. This feeling. These people. This moment.
London collects the splattered Sanders by her ankles and pulls her several feet out from the corner, turning her a suspicious 90 degrees.
And Shea climbs. Perhaps not quite as quickly as twenty years ago. And when she turns to face her target and lifts off, perhaps she’s not scraping the rafters like ten years ago. But when her Sensational Leg Drop CRASHES across the throat of Kylie’s limp frame, it seems no time has gone by at all.
Sensational Leg Drop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMXrotXnD_M )
The FAWNatics roar at earsplitting levels as London clambers to a lateral press for the pin and the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The ‘HOLY SHIT’ chants are instantaneous, Sanders revivifying to ‘eek’ a shoulder off the canvas, Castle screaming out ‘TWO’ to make sure everyone knows they didn’t just imagine Ky’s survival.
As startled as London appears, she, perhaps better than anyone, realizes what Kylie’s capable of and quickly rolls the shellshocked Sanders onto her chest.
The tawny Brit drops her knees across Ky’s spine from the side. She folds Sanders’ legs in a ‘X’ on one side, hooking the juncture with an arm, while wrapping the other arm around Kylie’s neck.
And, as if it were a Mania in her prime, the Sensational One rolls to her back, stopping just short of placing her shoulder down but going far enough to lift a curled Kylie above her in an agonizing bow-and-arrow arch anyone worth their salt knows as London’s Bridge.
London’s Bridge ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tW3NAfLdV8 )
The overturned Kylie wails in agony, hazel eyes clenched in pain, reaching vainly in front of her for ropes that might as well be miles away.
Shea shakes the captured Sanders and pulls down harder on either side, extending the arc of Ky’s vertebrae to unsustainable lengths. For long seconds, Kylie holds on, perhaps responding to the ‘PLEASE…DON’T…TAP’ chants of her Corps. But as Shea keeps her Bridge intact for longer and longer, Ky’s squirms slow and her howls grow faint until she weakly taps away the remainder of her strength, blurting out a whispered…”I QUIT”.
London immediately releases as Castle leaps to his feet and calls for the bell, the crowd roaring to its feet at the climax of a classic battle between two icons, the visitor becoming the victor at the expense of their beloved, redeemed Girl Scout.
A spent Shea rolls to her feet lifts her arms high and wide then bows to the adoring crowd next to a shifting but broken Sanders, Ky unable to get off her back, hand beneath her rubbing at the base of her spine.
Playfully, or perhaps not, London plants a boot atop Kylie’s chest for her Mania money shot as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner…by submission…SENSATIONAL SHEA LONDON!”
A whimpering Ky pushes the Brit’s foot off, but it’s all she can manage.
London moves to the four corners, scaling each to bask in what might be her last moment of FAWN glory. She celebrates with the fans until Kylie’s splintered spine feels well enough to allow her to sit up, Ky’s head burying in her hands. The chance to make her statement gone. Instead, Shea’s status is reinforced both by the triumph and by the fans.
Wrecked, Ky feels a palm on her shoulder. She turns to see London above her.
“You’re a superstar, Kylie. I know it. These people know it.”
Shea offers a hand and Sanders accepts the tug to her feet. Ky takes a couple deep breaths then the legends surround each other with a warm and worn embrace.
“I guess you get the final word,” Ky whispers in London’s ear.
“Between us, maybe. But not in FAWN. You get that when you kick Kat’s ass. Something I couldn’t.”
Sanders sighs, chin on Shea’s shoulder.
“You always were the best friend a girl could have, even when I didn’t want you.”
“And you’re the woman most people will think of when they think of FAWN. Not me. Kylie Sanders.”
The women break their bearhug and turn to the hard cam, Kylie grabbing a wrist and lifting Shea’s arm high.
If not the perfect ending for Sanders, it was a happy ending.