Post by hawkeye on Oct 11, 2023 14:54:58 GMT
It’s been two years, and that match still haunts Cassandra. A match she won. A match she wasn’t injured in, but a match that may define the later part of her career, a match Cassandra won by countout through sheer luck. Even when the Walking Weapon was winning, it all seemed to be part of Fallout’s delusional narrative. And when it was over, Vale was battered, her mystique shattered, and her spirit left in tatters.
Vale wanted a rematch straight away, but she and that roided rainbow Fallout never seemed to be in the same city at the same time, until now. Now She puts to rest all memes, top ten lists, and fanart of Fallout and Vale that’s plagued the merc for so long. She stands in waiting position behind the curtains shadow boxing with frightening intensity. A skittish agent notifies the veteran with a quavering voice, “Two-minute warning Miss Vale…”
The blonde veteran nods and drops her fists as she bounces foot to foot, properly tunning up before she makes a cautionary tale of Fallout. She won’t end her career, but this will be her low point.
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The FAWNatics take their seats and gaze in wonder at the state of the ring, surrounding the Squared Circle are four open steel drums painted to resemble the night sky, filled to the brim with various weapons and oddities made to or capable of harming a human being. Steel and wooden chairs are hiding under the ring apron, and an ominous structure covered by a brown tarp takes up space by the left of the ramp. There's chatter in the crowd of what it could be; the favourite guess right now is a return of Elizabeth Cromwell's stocks. The general shape is similar, if bigger; it's unlikely Cassandra Vale would allow such a thing in her matches, but the hot-blooded Floridians would love to see Vale's or Sunrise's buns subjected to a paddling. Ideally, both.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a COSMIC DEATHMATCH!"
A big cheer erupts from the excited crowd, eager to witness s new kind match. The announcer continues, "It is scheduled for one fall with a sixty-minute time limit! Introducing first… hailing from Gatlin, Nebraska. She stands at five feet five inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty-two pounds. She is the Chaos Consultant, the Walking Weapon… CASSANDRA VALE!”
CASSANDRA VALE
'Every Day is Exactly the Same' dripped from the speakers, and the sold-out crowd leapt to their feet to await the merc’s arrival. Brushing the curtain aside shortly thereafter, Cassandra pauses atop the ramp to sweep her gaze across those assembled. Once the perusal finishes, she raises both hands and very deliberately craaaaaaaaacks her knuckles. The crowd greets her with loud, enthusiastic cheers, but Vale doesn’t acknowledge them; she only has eyes for the squared circle. Possessed of a self-control that was almost impossible to fathom considering the list of atrocities attached to her name, the powerhouse blonde starts down the aisle accompanied by Trent Reznor and a whole lotta wicked intentions.
Vale wears a sturdy midnight blue two-piece so dark it was almost black and pads that actually were black. Her hair now hangs loosely to just below the curve of her shoulders. Ignoring the hands and signs extended in her direction, Vale reaches the base of the ramp, hooks right and strides up the steel steps before dipping between the top and middle ropes. Vale pauses to take in the unusually muscular for a referee, Reginald Worthington; the tall, handsome Brit is a drastic difference from the usual breed of zebra around these parts. Vale privately enjoys the sight, but he wasn’t a distraction last time, and he won’t be tonight either.
Vale resumes her trek to the middle of the ring, raises a fist to the rafters, then pops a thumb and draws it across her throat nice and slow-like. This gets a loud roar from the more bloodthirsty elements of the crowd, and it isn’t long before they start a ‘VALE IS GONNA KILL YOU!’ chant. The merc doesn’t bother to contradict ‘em. Instead, she makes her way to the far corner where she offers her elbows, wrists, knees and ankles for Worthington’s inspection. It’s time for Vale to finally rid herself of the muscle-bound clown that’s been haunting her for two years now.
Just as the announcer is about to shuffle to Fallout's info cards, an attendant sprints from the back and hands another set to the man in the suit. The announcer looks at them surprised and puts the microphone to his lips, "Due to 'movements in the celestial planes,' Fallout Sunrise will not be competing tonight."
The air begins to fill with a smattering of angry boos as Cassandra straightens at this revelation and glares at the announcer, "What?" He nervously hems and haws till he refocuses on the new information, "Coming to the ring…"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMdkPoGFJ34
An unseen battery of cannons blasts booming shots! The FAWNtron becomes a swirling tunnel of blue energy that opens and expands to a black screen, soon disrupted by a brilliant shaft of white light.
Vale narrows her eyes, "It's her entrance, so what's going on?"
The shaft of light dissipates and, confusingly, the name FALLOUT SUNSET shines in silver Spectral font instead of her usual moniker in gold. In place of a hard rock instrumental of the Thundercats theme, is a Gothic choir accompanied by organs that set a chilling mood. Fog begins to roll across the stage as guitars begin to strum, turning the song into a high-octane metal jam that gets the blood pumping.
The alarming changes continue; rather than bursting through the curtains looking like a neon rainbow, Fallout 'Sunset' cautiously walks out, hunched over and darting her eyes around fearfully like she's never been outside her home, and carrying a bouquet of black roses wrapped in purple gift paper. Fallout is a beautifully built woman of a lovely brown complexion; Her usually long wavy hair with streaks of colour is straightened and of the deepest black. She still has the askew stark white handprint painted on her face, but her lipstick is as dark as her hair.
Her gear has been drained of all colours as well but remains the usual hem: A grey sports bra with white laces that crisscross over her cleavage. Her boycut bottoms and boots are grey and her tassels are absent, replaced by black elbow and knee pads.
“Standing at 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 143 pounds, here by way of a temporal vortex... a Cosmic Warrior from the end of time! The crucible of redemption and the hammer of vengeance... Fallout Sunset!!”
Fallout shuffles her way forward, often craning her head over her shoulder like she's expecting an ambush at any moment. The audience doesn't know what to make of this muted version of the brilliant berserker that befuddled and beguiled all that Fallout came across.
The bleak oddity makes her way up the stairs and shuffles over to Cassandra's corner where the blonde stands as still as a statue, watching for any sudden movements. Fallout stops just at arm's length and gingerly stretches out her arms to hand over the flowers like she's letting a dog smell her hand so she doesn't get bitten.
Vale stares at her for a loooong moment before slowly taking the bouquet from 'Sunset' to pleased cheers from the shipping FAWNatics. She gives a polite nod of thanks and comments, "I'll give you credit for catching me off guard with reversing the gimmick, but that's not going to stop me from putting you down."
Fallout nods eagerly, giving the impression that she wants to end the interaction and be as far away from Vale as possible. In hushed tones, Fallout speaks "Let us make murder," and hurries to the safety of her corner. Cassandra’s eyes narrow at that statement and mulls over it as she tosses the flowers carelessly onto the apron “Hm. Not a good sign.”
The large referee conducts a brief, perfunctory search of each competitor out for foreign objects. With this type of match, Worthington wouldn't know what to do if he found something; for the next potentially 60 minutes almost everything's legal and fair use. Without further ado, the official motions for the bell.
DINGDING!!!
Cassandra learned from her last match with the unpredictable Fallout and skips the feeling-out process, instead making a beeline for the strange wrestler. Fallout’s slow leaving the corner and finds herself bullied back into the turnbuckles under a wave of fists. FAWNatics can't remember the last Vale Broke Out The Tire Iron within seconds of the opening bell, couch pundits will say that's how serious the mercenary takes Fallout's skills.
After a steely fist ploughs into Fallout's breadbasket, Cassandra bends her arm into a V and clubs Fallout over and over across the back with thudding shots. From that, Cassandra switches to a steady rhythm of Kneelifts into the Warrior's gut, battering Sunset into a seat on the second turnbuckle before switching her attack pattern to Forearm Shivers that rocked Fallout's jaw.
Throughout this beating, Fallout yelped and shrieked like a rookie on her first day of training. This confuses Vale but she keeps that thought at the back of her mind and focuses on delivering pain. Mind games only work if you give them space to breathe. She forces Fallout's arms behind the ropes and tugs her legs down, so The Warrior's draped in the corner like a punching bag. Cassandra palms Fallout's ears and speaks plainly, "I don't know what the deal is with the palette swap and I don't care." Then darts her skull forward striking Fallout on the bridge of her nose. “Whaugh!” Fallout tears up and she fruitlessly kicks her legs but that’s all the offence the big rookie provides.
The rules may be lax in this match but Ref. Worthington will have no leeway on the ones that remain, he gives the mandatory 5-count throughout the drubbing and bids for a separation, “We can’t have the whole match in the corner, Miss Vale. Give her space or I’ll have to end it.”
Vale steps away without looking at the large official, Leaving Fallout hanging like abused gym equipment "You'll do nothing. I'm ending it on my terms."
Vale speedwalks to the farthest set of buckles and backs into them, added by a strong tug on the ropes Cassandra streaks across the canvas to turn Fallout into a fine mist with a Running Splash. Going by Fallout’s pathetic showing so far, fans are already wincing in advance for the collision!
“GRGH!!”
Two steps before Cassandra could turn her 2-Dimensional, Fallout slips free of the corner and shoots forward, halting the Chaos Consultant’s charge with a Clothesline to the throat that liquefies into a shoulder-to-shoulder Choke. Crushing the blonde’s airway between bicep and forearm. Cassandra’s eyes bug out as she hacks and coughs and pries at the brawny limb collapsing her neck as she struggles to comprehend this sudden change in state. Fallout presses her lips to the gun for hire’s ear and whispers without any of the timidity displayed earlier. Her voice is cold and hard, a stark contrast to the boisterous warmth Fallout is known for. “Slaughter is a sacrament of which the holy never tire.”
Cassandra gives a gurgle and shifts her eyes to look hatefully into The Warrior’s, not seeing the infuriating glee that was ever present in their last encounter but an analyzing, dissecting gaze. Cassandra tries to free herself by stomping her feet on Sunset’s toes and throwing elbows into her ribs when a gleam catches the mercenary’s eye. It’s the light catching on the bare metal of the turnbuckle, its padding mysteriously missing.
She removed it! Thinks Vale alarmingly, That’s why she let- Fallout halves the choke to take some of Vale’s bottoms by the hip, then lifts the mercenary up and drops her forehead-first onto the steel. White-hot lightning flashes behind Vale's eyes and her legs turn rubbery making her grip the ropes to support herself. Fallout spins her around by the shoulders and takes Vale by the back of the neck with both hands interlaced. With a lunging step forward, Fallout tosses Cassandra out of the corner; the shocked audience looks on amazed as the stoic gun for hire that’s crushed their heroines and villains in equal measure is sent spinning into the air like a damn frisbee till she bellyflops on the ring floor.
youtu.be/QcaVRFiQj7w?t=643
Cassandra’s eyes roll in their sockets exaggerating the pounding in her skull as she rushes to all fours. The blindsided merc grumbles to herself “God damn… playing possum…shouldn’t have eased off.” The self-admonishment abruptly cuts off when Sunset pulls her knees out from under Cassandra and her chin hits the mat. Sunset folds Vale’s left leg into the pit of her right then reaches through the space between the blonde’s thighs to grab her right foot. The Warrior pulls on it like she means to break Vale’s legs and flip them inside out! Cassandra growls like an angry dog from the familiar pain, shock stalling her actions as Fallout lifts her by the knot of her stems forcing Vale into a push-up. Wrestling pundits and knowledgeable fans orate this move’s history with the merc as Fallout flips the veteran over to a seat and then kneels on the contorted limbs. Vale roars in Fallout’s searching face trying to turn pain into adrenaline. This very modified Cloverleaf is a finisher of Caliente Bailarina, a decorated wrestler from across the southern border who had an intense rivalry with the Walking Weapon.
PLIÉ
youtu.be/eaU-KX_N2IQ?t=122
Fallout Sunset’s 143lbs resting on Cassandra’s contorted legs feels like she’s having a bad encounter with a hydraulic press. Experience tells Cassandra to go for eyes but her wrists are snatched by the greyscale gargoyle millimetres from contact and wrenched to her sides. The two find themselves locked in a staredown, Vale's teeth bared in a defiant grimace of a smile while Fallout looks at the mercenary with an intense, analyzing look, gauging for something unseen.
The muscles in Cassandra's arms bulge to brilliant definition in a failing effort to rip her arms out of Fallout's grasp, The Warrior holds strong and whittles the attempt down to uneven jerks. "Been studying tape, yeah?" Cassandra infers with a half-grin on her face. Pain be damned, she finds the gall of the move more impressive than insulting. "Knew that outer space talk was all bullshit."
Sunset replies in a calm tone but keeps heated eye contact as she subtly rocks her body back and forth in a motion that threatens to snap Vale's femurs."To steal one's soul is a great crime, to extort it for base currency demeans yourself, and that soul."
Cassandra snarls as another failed escape attempt shoots acid through her lower limbs, “Oh, is this revenge or something!? Well, get over it! She got her mask back, just cost her ten grand and a dislocated shoulder.” In a spurt of movement she jerks her arms back and her skull forward, aiming for Sunset’s heart. The muted monster can’t dodge or else the submission disappears, so she negates half of the move’s power by leaning back. The Headbutt doesn’t hit heart and instead lands Vale’s face between Sunset’s hefty tits! Even with sufficient padding a Glascow Kiss from the Walking Weapon still smarts, but not enough to stop Sunset from shimmying her shoulders to treat Vale with a quick scrub-a-dub. The fans get a rare view of the intimidating star getting a forced lapdance before the blonde pulls her grimacing face free from its pillowy prison.
Reggie kneels by the intertwined duo, “Miss Vale, do you-?”
“No!” Cassandra cuts him off, the whistles from the audience for the jugg scrub are burrowing into her brain and quickening her temper. But with that temper comes strength. Their arms tremble with opposing motions, she can’t get free but now Sunset can’t pull away. Cassandra rams her forehead against the brunette’s like an angry goat, Fallout bleats and scrunches her face in pain. The most normal actions she’s made all match. Cassandra batters her again, and again. Fallout looks less and less aware of the situation, her arms a tad more rubbery. The merc uses that elasticity to give her next Headbutt more wind up; drawing her skull back like a bow and arrow Cassandra slings her head forward- Fallout whips backward and swings her right knee up! The hard joint thunking off Cassandra's forehead and knocking the vet onto her haunches in a boneless sprawl!
The arena collectively OOOOHHHs at the potential concussion Vale just suffered. The morally ambiguous mangler groggily turns over onto her fours groaning, "goddamn it, let myself get dragged into her rhythmggh!"
Vale feels her insides lurch as Sunset's powerful arms circle her middle in a Gutwrench and lift her off the mat like light luggage. Sunset carries her cursing cargo to the dead center of the ring and turns so the Hardcam gets a good angle on Vale's ass. The Cosmic Warrior imparts some wisdom to her ‘friend’, hoping Vale will understand what Fallout’s purpose is, “Repay good with good, repay evil with justice.”
She does not give a shit. Vale daggers elbow after elbow into Fallout’s thigh, looking like an angry child being taken to her room. “Fuck off! If I wanted morality lessons I wouldn’t have turned down Wainright’s churcCCHH!”
While any answer from Vale would have resulted in the same conclusion, it looks like Fallout puts in some extra ‘oomph’ when she lifts and flips Cassnadra into the air and flings her against the mat. The merc lands hard in a ring-shaking crash and seizes like her skeleton’s pressing the eject button.
GUTWRENCH SUPLEX
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mst_OHcXlr8
Cassandra suffers in silence, wanting to reject all aspects of her opponent even the natural phenomena of pain. She tries to roll but a pulling on her hip and shoulder forces her face up and flat against the canvas. Fallout throws herself over the blonde’s belly and places her hands against the mat. A cover, albeit a weak and disrespectful one.
ONE!
Cassandra twists swiftly to her side, something not overly difficult with her limbs free. Fallout slithers an arm under Cassandra’s and helps the veteran rise with a half-nelson. Once they’re standing Fallout turns Cassandra to face her, and gets a teeth-rattling right cross that puts the Warrior on her heels! “No more bullshit,” Cassandra states bluntly as she fires her punching arm into a sharp Knife-Edge Chop that ripples Fallout’s chest. “No more fake Shakespeare.” The Walking Weapon makes the monochromatic monster give way with a flurry of one-armed offence; a punch to the face on the fore-swing and a Chop to the breasts on the back-swing. The crowd gives a swell of support for Vale being back on the offence, which is a bizarre thing to witness. Vale’s dragging herself out of the mental quagmire Fallout emits with one jaw-jack and tit-slap at a time, and she’s looking stronger with each hit.
They almost travel the whole of the ring when Cassandra switches arms and lets her left have a turn; she swivels Fallout’s neck with a left cross turning the strange Destroyer’s stems wobbly, then She points her shoulder for the follow-up Knife-Edge when Fallout’s legs finally fail and she melts against Cassandra, hugging her under the arms to stand up. She wriggles, twists and shuffles about to get out of Fallout’s grasp, but only succeeds in moving about the ring like a couple dancing after one too many drinks. Vale takes a handful of the oddity’s dark tresses and yanks it back, forcing Sunset’s face up with a hiss, “Get off of me!” She pulls on those follicles harder when Sunset doesn’t move fast enough, “Get off, freak!” She doesn’t, but Fallout does move. The alluring anomaly goes from wet noodle to coiled spring, spinning the Nebraskan off her feet and falling forward, banging Vale against the canvas.
SIDE BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX (3:24)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqRYObslQaU
Cassandra lets out a hoarse gasp as gravity and the ring floor turn against her, Ref. Worthington starts to kneel to count a pinfall but Fallout scuttles in reverse out of the ring, startling several in the stands who suffer from arachnophobia, she approaches one of the many painted steel drums around the ring and lifts it straight up. After taking a moment to measure the distance she shotputs throws the galaxy-decorated can into the ring. It's unclear whether or not she was aiming for or away from Cassandra, either way, the crawling weapon catches the edge of the flying drum on her head “Argh!” the weapons cache tumbles on its side spilling some of its contents while the blonde contorts on the canvas with a palm pressing above her eyebrows, it hit the spot as the uncovered turnbuckle. When Cassandra moves her hand away she sees a spattering of red against her tan skin, first blood to Fallout.
The dark incarnation of the jovial giant skeeters back into the ring and heads straight for the new toys she brought into play. Which one will she choose? The two-by-four with embedded nails? The boxing glove with a strand of barbed wire? The classic steel chair? Fallout’s weapon of choice is… a leather riding crop. An odd choice for an odd woman considering it’s a ‘deathmatch’ but it’s certainly a crowd pleaser for the FAWN arena, whistles and hoots become the background noise as Sunset grips it at both ends and testingly bends it back and forth, then takes it by the handle for a few swipes in the air. If you freezeframe and zoom in on the switch as it whisks in the air you’ll see ‘Miriam Gaiman Approved, Sophie Mitchell Tested’ inscribed on the flat end. A universally trusted seal of quality.
The throbbing in Vale’s skull begins to subside and it looks like the gash isn’t bleeding too badly, it’s not weeping enough to blind her or affect her stamina in the near future. She waves away Worthington who’s been hovering over her, concerned “I’m alright, it’s a papercut.” Vale gets one knee under her and straightens up- Thwack! “AAargh!!” Then shudders and falls to all fours when lightning lashes across her back. Fallout steps on Cassandra’s soles to keep the merc pinned and lets loose with that crop! Using the full length of her arm, Fallout rapidly crisscrosses strikes with that riding crop up and down Cassandra’s back, neck and shoulders, turning the veteran into a quivering mess. FAWNatics rarely hear Vale’s voice hit what fans call the babyface octave, a sort of twisted ASMR fans can only get from an overwhelmed heroine mid-thrashing (See SheaLondon/SIC for a recent example), and Vale's hitting that auditory sweet spot tonight. The mercenary thrashes and twists trying to cover up, escape and counterattack all at once. But Fallout uses that crop with a disturbing skill that hints at many hours of practice and keeps her opponent writhing at her mercy.
At least a baker’s dozen of welts are made on Cassandra’s body before Fallout halts her assault with her whipping hand held high, the crop vibrating with leftover momentum. Her voice takes on a haunting tone, “Our battles in this sacred square are ones of glory, blood and honour. But our Gladiatorial displays mean nothing in the face of those who face true violence. True consequences. You belittled a soldier’s sacrifice to build your own false legend.”
Vale has been reduced to crossing her arms over the back of her neck and propping up on her elbows. Panting with pain, she pushes past the burning landscape the colour-drained idiot’s made of her back to make sense of Fallout’s ramblings, “Hahhh…Hahhhh…. Y-you’re talking about Clayton? That shit’s been over for years! She got her dog tags back. If you’re not strong enough to keep them, don’t bring personal shit toNNGH!”
Unsatisfied with her answer, Sunset grabs Cassandra’s midnight blue bottoms by the waistband and hikes them between those muscular buns. With four-fifths of those Nebraskan buns bared Sunset concentrates her anger solely on Cassandra’s ass! That riding crop whistles through the air as the strange visitor switches to a backhand/forehand motion that puts some scarcely seen jiggles in the veteran’s backside. Cassandra can’t stop the waterworks from welling in her eyes or the wail bursting from her lips as her hips wiggle and shift trying to escape the lash, so Fallout keeps laying into those vulnerable glutes with a deep fervour! When it gets too much Cassandra buries her pride and moves her hands down to cover her bruising butt. Thwack! “AAAARGH!!” A simple redirection of the wrist moves the crop from below the waist to above, hitting Vale right on the gash above her eyebrow!
Fallout steps off the wrestler for hire's feet allowing Cassandra to flounder on the mat, now with fresh red droplets staining the white canvas wherever the blonde rolled, “You’re not listening.” A nervous murmur starts to grow from the stands, it’s disconcerting to see the Walking Weapon so on the ropes for so long. Unaffected with the fans’ feelings, Fallout whisks the crop in the air to rid it of any excess blood and moves her grip to above the handle, she runs into the closest set of ropes and springs back to the vulnerable Vale while holding the weapon in a Double Axehandle. She leaps into the air ready to bring down the crop hard on Vale’s cut, taking a page from the Brewster playbook she’s going to bleed the big girl out.
THWAM!
Cassandra surges up and catches Sunset while she’s mid-air and SLAMS her almost through the ring with an epic Spinebuster! Fallout’s stunned and breathless on the canvas as Cassandra pops up to her full height with a face full of fury and a crimson mask covering her left eye down to her jaw.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DgDC3eqjsQ
In an instant Vale regains her aura of precise sadism, this woman makes alpha bitch heels beg and never-give-up heroic babyfaces bawl for mercy. She swabs some blood off her face and wipes it on her abdomen, "No more riddles, you gimmicky bitch." She snatches a messy handful of hair and forces Fallout to get on her feet or risk a sizable bald patch. Cassandra takes her by the forearm and uses that shocking strength of hers to buggywhip Fallout into the cables and catch the oddity with a Scoop Powerslam on the return. Sunset recoils back to Cassandra just as The Walking Weapon leans into an underhand swing that brings an arm through Sunset's stems to grab a hunk of that bountiful backside, just as Cassandra's high arm swoops over her shoulder to snag the back of Fallout’s sports bra. With such power and speed that Reginald nearly falls over, Cassandra lifts the Cosmic Warrior off her feet through a 180-degree arc that brings spine to pine for the second time in just over a decasecond.
SCOOP SLAM
youtu.be/LXrmX23sar0?t=116
The ring floor greets Sunset like she owes it money. She goes slack on the canvas as her empty lungs hiccup, easy prey for a cover, but that’s not enough revenge for the Gatlin Hammer. Cassandra shoots up from her knees and raises Sunset to her level with another fistful of hair. After driving a Kneelift into the larger woman’s breadbasket Cassandra takes her into a Front Facelock and raises Sunset to the sky with a Suplex Lift. The Merc displays that chilling muscle yet again by keeping Fallout upside down and ramrod straight while she shuffles to a different spot in the ring. The FAWNatics whether they’re fans of the blonde or not count the seconds as the blood rushes to Fallout’s head.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!
On ‘TEN!’ Cassandra achieves her goal of positioning themselves by the spilled steel drum and drops back; Fallout’s body smashes into the foreign object causing the opening and bottom of the can to bloom upwards as the eccentric wrestler heavily indents one side, turning it into a clunky C. Fallout shivers and her face twists in pain as she lets loose an agonized howl, her fingers curl inwards from misfiring pulses from her frenzied nerves.
The noise level dies down from the impressed OOOHHHH from the Suplex to concerned murmurs about Sunset’s health. Cassandra rises to one knee and takes in the scene with subdued satisfaction, this is the sound she wants when she’s wrestling. The pitying silence of an audience that wants her to stop punishing whoever’s dumb enough to step into the ring when she’s on the clock. After picking her bottoms out from between her cheeks, Cassandra wipes more blood out of her eye then reaches for her right kneepad with her clean hand, ripping open a hidden seam. Worthington straightens up and steels himself in an attempt to talk Vale down from using whatever weapon she snuck in, but looks on in confusion when Vale pulls out a clear packet of some translucent goo.
“What is-?” The merc rips open a corner of the packet and coaxes its contents onto her cut then smears it flat. “It's a liquid gauze, this isn’t my first Deathmatch.” Worthington nods fascinated, he doesn’t find Vale very personable but certainly respects her ingenuity. Now that her wound is temporarily taken care of Vale gets back to business. She stands up and walks over to the metal crater she left her opponent in and tugs in Fallout's hair so she can look into her glazed eyes.
"You wanna make a name off me?" Vale whips her free hand and CRAACKs it on Fallout's cheek. The bitch slap whips the strange one's head to the side exasperating the pull on her scalp and giving her a fresh welt. "You hire me to clear a path to a title. Now I have to break you to set a precedent."
Vale CRAACKs her across the face again just for fun and pulls Fallout to her feet by the follicles, the crushed can still clamping onto the Warrior’s sides. She busts Fallout belly’s with a broadside Kneelift to double her over and kicks the the open side of the can to knock it free. Vale sets her feet and leans over to wrap her brawny arms around Sunset’s middle, The Walking Weapon straightens flipping the Warrior up her body then hurls Sunset against the deck with a falling Gutwrench Powerbomb that sounds like it cracked the plywood.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-0uuUS4CfA
Sunset’s flesh ripples upon impact with the ring floor as she lets out a shocked rasp at the power in that move, the ring indents and juts like a bass speaker bouncing Sunset onto her side. Just where Vale wants her; the Gatlin Hammer kneewalks over to Fallout’s front and folds the weird wrestler’s left heel against her butt, then raises the limb so she can stretch a leg through the gap and plant a base foot. Holding that left boot by the toe Vale pulls on it like she’s applying a strong Half Crab from the wrong position, then doubles up on the submission when she works her other arm around Fallout’s head and cranks it back like she’s trying to close the loop.
THE WRINGER
youtu.be/7UZXzUA8GO4?t=952
Fallout howls with agony as her leg, neck, and back suddenly feel like they’re in the electric chair! Normally, Cassandra gives herself room to ramp up the hold to give her target time to consider her future and give up. Fallout flat-out embarrassed her last match and has been making a fool of her tonight, so she goes full throttle from the jump. The merc’s upper body shreds into stark definition as she goes to town Fallout’s poor body like she’s using gym equipment, doing her best to clasp her hands and make the bytch a perfect circle of hell.
“If you want to walk anytime soon I suggest you throw in the towel, “ Cassandra threatens cooly over Fallout’s caterwauling. Reginald flashes over and gets close to the contorted Destroyer, raising in voice in worry and to make sure he’s heard over Fallout’s screaming, “Do you yield!?”
The monochromatic mystery’s face is a twitching mess of signals that communicates AGONY, but when offered an escape she roars to the heavens “I feel Napalm in my veeiinns!!” Bewildered, the large referee looks at Vale hoping the Nebraskan would translate that statement to ‘I give up.’ Vale brow furrows in dissatisfaction and closes the gap between Fallout’s ends by another inch, wringing a warbling sob from the young woman.
“Check with Daniels, check with London, check with Jacobs.” Vale smirks seeing a trembling hand begin to hover above the mat, “Ask what trying to outlast me gets you, new meat. Just a longer stay in the hospitarrRGH!”
Fallout takes that trembling and moves it to Cassandra’s mouth, slipping her ring and middle fingers between the blonde’s lips and wrenching a horrific grin with a hateful Fish hook. Cassandra's eyes blaze with fury which combined with her demonic grin makes her the perfect horror movie monster. The Walking Weapon keeps the spine-stressing hold intact until Fallout extends an invading digit and digs a fingernail into her gums. Cassandra releases Fallout with a snarl and gets off the mat, stalking an angry circle of the ring and probing the inside of her mouth for cuts. Sunset unkinks her back and tilts onto her front with a sob, slight shudders rock her form as she reaches back with both hands and massages away what little pain she can.
“The thing with the gums was interesting. I’ll remember that.” Vale returns growling from her pissed-off pilgrimage and flips Sunset face-up by the ankles. With almost casual care and pace, Vale raises the Warrior’s stems and spreads them wide, Sunset only has time to raise her eyebrows in fear before the Gatlin Hammer raises a boot and hatefully stomps on her womanhood. “Wwwaughh!!” Fallout’s girlish shriek pierces in the air as she curls into the fetal position with her hands between her legs. “Stay here,” Cassandra orders, with no indication of pleasure or shame at her actions. She walks over and steps through the ropes and off the apron, hopping onto the padded cement floor by another painted drum filled with weapons. Cassandra rummages through the assorted items muttering “What have they got for me?” A whiffleball bat with metal studs? Stupid. A high heel with a metal stiletto? Not her fetish. A plunger with thumbtacks in the cup? Ludicrous. Cassandra spots an old favourite, “There we go…”
A kendo stick, old faithful. She gives it a few swings in the air to test its balance and solidity before sliding back into the ring. Cassandra presses the end of the stick into the canvas as an unneeded crutch to stand up, Fallout was rallying as the gun for hire procured a weapon and is back on her feet but there's a lot of shaking going around her knees. The greyscale gargoyle throws herself at Cassandra with a desperate punch, and the veteran calmly drops the Kendo stick and shifts slightly to avoid the blow while taking her by the attacking arm and the back of the neck. With remarkable skill, Cassandra effortlessly flips Fallout over a hip and drops the Destroyer on the back of her head.
Kubi Nagi
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zCgLqa1VbI
The worried silence of the arena breaks out in an echoing coo of appreciation for Vale’s Judo throw, FAWNatics will always give that brick hit-house her props even when beating far more beloved talent like the legendary Jenny Jacobs or Shea London. FS cradles her ringing skull and turns onto her side while Vale picks up her chosen weapon, “You had to know you’d pay your bill one day? It doesn’t matter that I won that match, you used me as a stepping stone.” She chokes up on the Kendo stick with both hands and raises it high, “I don’t take that shit from anyone.”
THWACK! Vale wields that wooden sword like Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai and scythes it down hard on Fallout’s ribs. The once dominant young woman flops like a beached fish hugging her struck side and silently screaming… Vale readies for a second swing and sees her next target once her prey is its knees, THWACK! THWACK! It lands twice across Fallout’s upper back. There’s no suppressing it this time, FS’s kissable lips curl back and she hollers so loud dust shakes off the rafters “AAAAAARGH!!” Her fingers spasm and her spine arches upward as nerves play acid jazz under her skin. Fallout lowers her forehead to the canvas and takes chest-heaving breaths, which raises her beauteous backside and an eagle-eyed cameraman subtly zooms in on to earn his paycheck. Seeing Fallout provide a juicy new target, Cassandra allows herself a small smirk and then sets her stick against her shoulder like she’s stepping up to the plate in the Major Leagues. The Chaos Consultant moves that lumber like a pro, the Kendo stick is a blur of motion till it CRACKS against that delicious rump, briefly bisecting two cheeks into four.
“YAAaargh!!” Fallout bolts off the mat with her chin up and her ass still jiggling from a spanking even Miriam Gaimen would find too harsh. She clenches her fists and grits her teeth, her body quivering, but there’s something odd. Cassandra’s beaten enough women in the ring to tell when a wrestler’s shaking from pain, pleasure, or…. Oh no.
“Not this shit again,” Cassandra growls and whacks Sunset across the shoulders, The Cosmic Warrior hisses and violently shakes her head up and down, but doesn’t acknowledge the pain further than that, Sunset keeps those strange and swift movements going as she steps away from Vale who rears back and whacks her again. The sickening sound of wood hitting flesh rings in the air but Sunset keeps walking seemingly vibrating with barely restrained energy, mere moments from an explosion. The crowd’s caught on to Fallout’s ‘hulking up’ by this point and begins to buzz with excitement again; Cassandra raises her training sword and brings it down on the top of the gimmicky freak’s skull, feeling perfectly fine with a win by knockout. Reggie brings a fist to his mouth fretting over Fallout’s brain, but she whirls about to face Cassandra no-selling the strike, poking an accusing finger against the tip of the blonde’s nose and yelling a single word parroted by the tens of thousands in attendance.
“YOU!!”
This cartoon bullshit happened last time and Cassandra has the same answer. “Fuck off!” The Chaos Consultant slashes down on Fallout’s head aiming to bifurcate the brunette through sheer force, Fallout leans to the side letting the wooden sword swing through the space she occupied and hit the top rope! The rubber-coated steel cable bends and springs back, recoiling the sword to smack against Cassandra’s face and drop from her hands. The slightest shift in the Kendo stick’s angle saves Cassandra’s nose from a severe break, but the self-administered friendly fire waters the merc’s eyes and stuns her long enough for Sunset to run to the ropes behind the veteran. Her experienced senses tell Cassandra her big-bodied opponent is drawing on her six; the arguably most dangerous wrestler in a generation turns in time for a big, Black bicep to ram into Vale’s visage and turn the veteran inside out!
HEAVEN’S TETHER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgInH0M_ccw
If you’ve never seen an arena full of people wince and groan in sympathy all at the same time, you’re seeing it now. The Clothesline from hell knocks Vale off her feet and three-quarters through a full backflip before the veteran’s lifeless body flops face down on the canvas. Sunset gives one of Vale’s glutes a tart swat and rolls her face up after the fans enjoy the ripple. “You could have been a true champion for the light, an inspiration for all of wrestling history,” Sunset manipulates Cassandra’s limbs into a T pose and climbs aboard in a Fullbody pin, taking care to press her wrist into the canvas.
“Instead you broke under mere gossip and became a whore for devils.”
ONE!
TWO!!
T- Cassandra kicks out!
The Walking Weapon comes to life under Fallout like a one-woman pack of wild dogs. Cassandra sits up FS on her lap and in control of her arms in a mirror image of the match’s beginning practically foaming at the mouth in fury, “The fuck you say to me youmMMPHMPHH!! Fallout forces Cassandra’s arms down and tucks them between the Nebraskan’s hips and her thighs then grabs two handfuls of Cassandra’s hair and plunges the veteran’s face DEEP into her cleavage for a Front Sleeper she calls the Event Horizon.
“There’s still time! I ask the hidden you, leave the dying animal you call your life behind!”
Even with her arms trapped Cassandra Vale bucks like a wild bull, if Fallout was a Lightweight she might have been thrown off the blonde and sent flying into the front row. Too bad for Vale that Fallout’s no Lightweight; the pulchritudinous powerhouse moves her grip from the Nebraskan’s hair to her elbows to apply more smothering pressure, Vale’s nose flattens against The Cosmic Warrior’s sternum and a muffled, angry whine can be heard from between Fallout’s tits.
“You thought there was honesty in exporting pain,” Fallout stays glued to her strong, experienced foe’s body throughout all of Vale’s thrashings, and makes sure to scrub her wobblers back and forth against Cassandra’s face when the merc opens her mouth to scream to get the taste of a superior women’s sweat on her tongue. "But you were lying to yourself to numb your own. Slumming with villains so you wouldn’t have to fight as a hero."
Cassandra roars “I will not be lectured to by a space freak with multiple personalities!” Or at least she tries to. With Fallout’s breasts forming a tight seal on her face it comes out as “MMPH! MRGPH MMMMGHPH!” Cassandra begins to feel lightheaded and a heaviness starts to seep into her limbs, a deep sense of urgency floods the Gatlin Hammer; she hasn’t been jugged out once in her entire FAWN career and she definitely won’t be at Mania! Cassandra lurches and kicks off the canvas forcing the entwined pair to turn over, Sunset won’t be caught with a surprise pin and bucks as soon as she finds herself under the veteran’s hard body and forces another turn. The pugnacious pair tumble like lovers across the expanse of the canvas fighting for the mount position; Sunset feels something brush her shoulder. She ignores it to keep the smother in place, but when her stomach drops FS realizes it was a warning. They’ve rolled under the bottom rope and off the apron’s edge!
Cassandra feels the incessant pull of gravity and twists one last time so her multifaceted foe acts as a cushion between her and the arena floor. Cassandra’s full 142lbs hits and flattens Sunset against the covered arena floor, she lets out a breathless shout as Vale rips her flushed face free from betwixt Sunset’s hills and takes in a needy gulp of air. The oxygen-starved mercenary shoves off Fallout and rolls away from her and the ring, carelessly knocking over another steel drum onto its side.
The FAWNatics cheer their hearts. Out for these resilient gladiatrixes, urging them on to FIGHT FOR-EVER!
CLAP! CLAP! CLAPCLAPCLAP!
The love of these people means nothing to Vale. She could be wrestling this match untelevised in a soundproof room, all that exists to Vale is the woman in front of her who’s about to be ripped into black and white confetti. The Walking Weapon grabs the bars of the guardrail and uses them to drag herself up to her feet. Vale sees Fallout still struggling to get up and spitefully whirls an Overhand Chop that ripples the flesh between her shoulder blades with a Thwack!. Fallout rears up on her haunches taut as a bow with her fists and teeth clenched as the pain radiates. Cassandra barks at her kneeling target, “Get up!” Egging Sunset on with her motioning hands she crouches to get eye to eye, “I want you on your feet when I kick your ass.”
Fallout takes a controlling breath through her nose and slowly rises from the floor, “You will transform. You don’t see it, but the metamorphosis has already be-” Cassandra’s arm moves with the speed of a striking cobra and turns Fallout’s head with a Palm Thrust, The Warrior whips her head back angrily just for a second thrust to hit her other cheek. “No more diatribes! Fight me!” Cassandra’s upper limbs become a whirlwind of pulverizing Palm strikes that batter Fallout’s head and body like buckshot. The Walking Weapon lands three clean smacks before Sunset retaliates in the same manner and the two exhilarate the crowd with energetic hand-fighting. They trade Smecking blows that sound like pouring rain and set their skin afire and ripple the softer parts of their bodies, Sunset's volleys echo and pink Vale's flesh but it's a losing endeavour. The oddity's jabs grow sloppy while Cassandra’s get faster, harder and more precise; after a rapid combo to Sunset’s left breast stuns the larger woman, the veteran lands a hard one to Sunset’s jaw ahead of a harder one to the ear that weakens Fallout’s stems and brings The Warrior low.
“Felt that one, did you?” Cassandra rhetorically questions as Sunset crumples to her knees while throwing haphazard hands, the rookie’s aim thrown off her eyes rolling her sockets. Sunset would’ve likely fallen on her face if her shoulders hadn’t caught on Cassandra’s sturdy thighs, putting Sunset in an impromptu Headscissors. The merc’s anger breeds vile innovation; wrapping her sinewy arms around Fallout’s waist, Cassandra lifts her sister Destroyer like a Powerbomb attempt but pauses halfway, making Fallout dangle in the air so they form an upside-down L. Her muscles flaring in their struggle to keep the Fallout aloft, the hair raises on the back of everyone’s necks as Cassandra rushes ahead and BWUNG! Ricochet’s Fallout’s dome against a steel post!
FALLOUT SPECIAL
youtu.be/CvY7xR1wNIM?t=123
There isn’t a single person watching the match who doesn’t momentarily freak out watching Sunset suffer cranial distress! The gorgeous gargoyle ends up facedown and splayed on the apron in the aftermath, her left boot raised and hooked on the middle rope while the limbs on her right side sway over the floor. If her thoughts weren’t consumed with the all-consuming, pulsing agony Fallout would’ve closed her mouth instead of letting the camera catch her drooling on the canvas like it was her pillow. That image doesn’t broadcast for long; as soon as she has enough breath Cassandra’s back on Fallout, taking both of her arms in a Double Chickenwing and scrapping her off the apron and into the air. In a calmer state of mind, she would have kept Fallout suspended and her weight work against her sockets maybe showing her off to all sides of the arena. Instead it’s a quick and nasty up and down, raising FS as high as possible before sitting out to bust her face against the padded concrete floor.
RENDER OF THE VEILS
youtu.be/f_xr0dboQe8?t=48
The sickening Thawp! of Sunset’s body hitting the floor is drowned out by the OOOOOOOHHHH of the audience watching Vale hit her finisher on the outside. The Walking Weapon falls back exhausted on the floor with her arms overhead, staring up at the houselights in the afterglow of dealing some much-deserved pain. From the high ground of the ring Reginald checks on the wrestlers's conditions; Cassandra's tired but gaining focus when the haze of fury disappears, her toned middle fluttering as she catches her breath. Fallout has one cheek against the floor and looks out like a light, subtle twitch of her leg and butt signalling her brain misfiring as she tries to get up.
Lacking most of his usual authority, Reginald asks politely, "There are no count-outs and I can't count a pin on the floor. Could we take this back with the ropes please?"
Cassandra sits up and palms Sunset’s thicc ass, “Be there in a second.” She pushes off those buns to stand up then deadlifts the lifeless Sunset off the ground and onto the apron with a Gutwrench grasp and rolls her limp body into the ring. Cassandra reclines against the comatose Sunset’s middle and props The Warrior’s head with her left arm, “We’re done.”
ONE
TWO
THRE-Fallout reverses the pin! Fallout wrenches onto her side, shifting Cassandra’s shoulders on the mat.
ONE
TWO
THRENOOOO!
The Chaos Consultant risks dislocating her left arm to flip onto her knees with a microsecond to spare. Cassandra looks at Ref, Worthington with more fear than she’s shown in years (Which is any), “Two!?”
He holds up two fingers and nods, “The match is still on, Miss Vale.”
She lets out a relieved sigh and hates herself for it, Cassandra directs that hate toward Sunset who’s sluggishly crawling on her elbows to the ropes. She pounces on Sunset with a clubbing forearm to her back that doubles on the pain when Fallout’s nose bounces off the canvas, “Want a break, freak?” Cassandra hauls the mysterious young wrestler to her feet in stages with a searing yank on Fallout’s raven hair and an upward tug on her bottoms that treats the front row to a half-wedgie. “Let me help you to the ropes,” Cassandra forces Sunset to turn around and makes her eyes bulge with a choking grip on her goozle and a hard slap between the legs that becomes a probing grasp. The sellsword lets out a “Hnf!” of exertion as she smoothly lifts Fallout's big, beautiful body into a Military Press. The muscles in Vale’s arms flex and bulge while keeping Fallout suspended in the air, after repping her opponent like a barbell she slowly starts a march around the ring to show off the latest wreck of a woman who thought Cassandra Vale was a person to fuck with. While the audience is pulling for the strange rookie, the FAWNatics can’t help themselves and give Vale applause for the feat of strength, When the lap of the ring draws to a close at the Merc’s home corner Cassandra's pace ramps up to a run and she launches Fallout into the air to fly the final few feet. Wide-eyed and dread-filled, Fallout has the sense to clench her teeth before her alluring features collide with the top buckle. The Cosmic Warrior’s bell is so rung must be like Vatican City inside her skull. FS collapses to the mat bumping against the turnbuckles and cables till she’s on a hip and shoulder, with her upper half draped over the bottom rope. A pitiful moan dribbles from Fallout’s lips as she turns over, accidentally crushing the flowers she gave to Cassandra before the opening bell.
Drinking in the sights and sounds of a humbled mark, Cassandra flicks her bottoms back into place and dictates the next few moments the alpha zebra keeping watch. “I’m going to treat the living gimmick to headbutt, three Harbingers in a row, and then pin her. You're going to count to five instead of three. Do that and I'll leave Sunshine in one piece." Reginald knows any protest would be superficial at best and could bring more harm to the suffering Sunset, so he nods in resignation, “Very well. If it keeps unnecessary violence to a minimum, I’ll acquiesce.”
THE HARBINGER(Towerhacker Bomb)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ds58Rh7wWi8
“I’m doing just enough to send a message.” Cassandra cracks her knuckles on her way to the final moments of the match, eager to put the rest the ghost of Mania ‘21 that’s haunted The Walking Weapon for the past two years. She reaches under the middle rope to grab the back of Fallout’s top and reels her within the Squared Circle. Missed by Vale but not by the FAWNtron, are the roses falling like rain to the floor from the apron as Fallout is pulled back from the edge, their wrapping mysteriously undone.
Cassandra trails Fallout’s semi-conscious body to the middle of the ring and pulls her up with an added hold on her briefs, once she’s on unsteady feet Cassandra hikes the material till it’s wedged DEEP and lets it snap free from her fingers. Now that FS is sporting a thong pundits will agree later on that the multi-personalitied monster is a definite BMD contender. “This has been a long time coming,” Vale bullies the punchdrunk Fallout around to face her for a Headbutt that will surely break the Warrior’s nose. “If you don’t whine after the loss I might send you to Deschain to polish you up.”
Fallout mumbles a groan and the veteran takes it as a thank-you. Vale presses the sides of Fallout’s head tightly and tilts her head back for a Glasgow Kiss. But just as Vale’s about to concave the rookie’s proboscis something long, thin object ending with two prongs slides down Sunset’s forearm to be held in her fist with her thumb on a button. She jams the business end into Vale’s underboob and tazes the living hell out of her!
“GGGRGKK!!”
An untold but assuredly high voltage courses through Cassandra’s body making her convulse like an inmate on the electric chair! She has her hands on Fallout so the current is also lighting up the strange one’s nervous system like the fourth of July, the two are a closed loop of lightning till Fallout pushes Cassandra over to let her writhe on the mat. The tazing turns a brutal legend into a twitching mess but it seems to act like a cold shower to the Agent of Annihilation, she whips her head back and forth and blinks like the lights have been turned on for the first time tonight. She wipes sweat from her face and quickly smoothes down her hair, ”Blessings from Jupiter! That cleared the fog.”
From her horizontal position, Vale’s struggling not to twist herself into knots. She can’t unclench her fists she points a shivering fist at her unpredicatble foe, trying to spew out her all-consuming hatred “Ch-ch-cheat-ing bi-tch!”
Fallout grimaces as she pulls her bottoms back to factory settings then lowers to a knee, and speaks to the senior wrestler like a gracious tutor to a struggling student, “Had you looked at the gift you possessed instead of throwing it away to become a hammer, your journey could have taken a very different direction.” Then she swings the taser overhead and jams it above Vale’s like a stake into a vampire. Vale howls and flounders for an uncomfortably long time as the jolts run up down her body end to end. After staring in metaphoric shock for five seconds the official rushes to their side to stop Vale’s literal shock, “Stop this now or I will disqualify you!”
To everyone’s surprise, Fallout ceases the electrocution at once and places the tazer in Reginald’s fumbling hands, “Have no worry, Heracles. Nimrod’s life is in no danger from me. Just false pride and self-delusion. Ah, good fortune!”
She sees Vale’s thrashing has turned her face down, so Fallout crouches and grabs hold of the blonde’s two-piece and drags her along the rough canvas. The abrasive cloth burns the veteran's exposed flesh until
l Vale’s shot under the bottom rope to an ungainly and painful fall to the outside. Fallout slides under the cable in a much more controlled landing on her feet and lightly slaps her face with both hands, still clearing away the canaries from the Veil Rending on the floor and the header into the post. Fallout checks on Vale and sees the morally ambiguous freelancer valiantly trying to rally, but the aftershocks are still disrupting her system and she can’t get onto her fours without falling over.
Sunset nods approval of Cassandra’s ruination, “The celestial gears are in place.” She looks up at the masses of FAWNatics and points at the tarp-covered structure triggering a wave of excited noise from the wondering spectators, two backstage staffers waiting in the wings for a signal. They grab two corners of the cloth and carefully back away, dragging the tarp off whatever torture device Fallout had prepared.
“It’s time! Come, fair Nimrod.” The devious Destroyer picks Cassandra off the floor and supports her under an arm to help the merc walk over like they’re drinking buddies on the way home. “Your final crucible awaits.”
“G-get of-f!” As they pass the ramp Cassandra finally starts to get some control over her muscles and starts taking flailing shots at Sunset’s abdomen. They’re surprisingly firm punches for someone who was just tazed, but they’re far from the stiff shots that put some of the toughest women in the business on their backs, Fallout takes them with mild grunts in irritation and keeps their pace to the nearly uncovered object. “Get off me, freak! Think you can pull this shit and get away-!”
Cassandra halts mid-sentence when she sees what Fallout has prepared; a section of plate-glass wall weighted down and secured to the arena floor. The audience OOOOH in astoundment and intrigue, and several diehard fans of Jenny Jacobs bolt out of their seats and watch with rapt attention. Every Jacobite remembers the night Vale interfered in a world title match on behalf of her then-client and World Champion, Portia VanBuren and cost Jenny a victory. Then, when the Innovator confronted the Chaos Consultant Cassandra slammed Jenny through a recording booth, triggering an intense trio of matches.
Sunset gestures at the glass wall with one hand as pulls on the back of Vale’s hair with the other to make sure she’s paying attention, “You taught Jacobs a valuable lesson, but only after you committed great injustices onUURK!”
Vale sacrifices some golden locks to whirl on Sunset with a crushing hand on her throat and looks her dead in the eyes with an icy stare, “You think you can dredge up my past for some fucking lesson? I don’t give a shit, a job’s a job and this is a business and lives on pain. If you don’t understand that, find a newAAIEE!!”
A hard punt between the legs puts a tremor in Vale’s stems and sets off fireworks in her crotch. The mercenary goes pale and starts to slowly double over but amazingly keeps her grip on Sunset’s neck, though it’s more of a caress at this point. The Monochromatic Monster pulls the asphyxiating hand from her throat and then hups her sister Destroyer into her arms by the waist so Vale’s hanging over her left shoulder. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand Cassandra.”
Fallout sprints toward the wall with her living cargo in tow and WHAMS Cassandra against the plate-glass barrier leaving a sweaty imprint of her back. The battered blonde gives a pained and angry moan and beats against her captor’s back and head as Fallout winds up another charge at the immovable object.
WHAM
The entire structure vibrates from the impact and Cassandra goes limp in Fallout’s arms. An erratic web of cracks appears in the wall where the Nebraskan’s body splattered against it like an egg on a windshield. Fallout backs up again and juggles her opponent up her body till she has her in the Powerbomb position. The Agent of Animation runs forward and shatters the plate-glass with the Chaos Consultant’s form! Cassandra lands bonelessly in a mess of broken glass, now bleeding from dozens of tiny cuts from the shards covering the floor like freshly fallen snow. The arena barely had time to lose their collective shit at the sight of the carless crash when Fallout walked around the barrier to pull Cassandra off the floor. Bracing her right arm against Vale’s chest, the tall young woman performs an awe-inducing backflip that slams her flat-backed onto the glass shards!
JENNYCIDE
youtu.be/HSvAuNo6b0Y?t=281
Somewhere, Jenny Jacobs feels the tiniest weight lift off her shoulders and smiles without knowing why.
Cassandra is awake with her eyes and mouth slightly open, but her cognizance is debatable; her spine is arced, thrusting her navel to the sky and her hands are clenched tight as tiny tremors assault her body. She offers no resistance to Sunset when she picks her up with a Fireman's Carry and brings them back to the relative safety of the ring. Sunset places her on the apron with surprising care and rolls Cassandra under the bottom rope before sliding in herself, she asks Reginald politely, “Prepare to perform the ritual, Heracles,” as she scoops up a limp Vale by the armpits and forces her to bend over slip into a standing Headscissors.
“This is probably unnecessary,” Fallout explains to Reginald’s questioning look,“ but I wouldn’t dare underestimate her tenacity.”
The Cosmic Warrior wraps her pythons tightly around Cassandra’s middle and raises her off the mat, soles to sky in a Piledriver stance. They’re still as stone for two seconds letting the moment sink in before Sunset sits out, dropping Cassandra on the top of her head like a fencepost in the dirt.
MAUHIKA’S NAIL
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDM-74GBDNQ
One of the most feared women in wrestling history slumps to her side like a slinky, thankfully unconscious and longer suffering, Sunset pulls her flat and face up, then climbs aboard in a pin. She kneels on her opponent’s insensate body, one shin crushing Cassandra’s breasts and the other digging into her tummy. Sunset slaps her hands on her thighs and stares into the camera laser focused as Ref. Worthington makes the count.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE
DINGDINGDING!!
A definitive win for Fallout’s career.
As her music pours through the building’s speakers, Fallout dismounts her defeated quarry, then leans and whispers into her ear, “You’re through the early stages, now the difficult part’s up to you alone.” Leaving Cassandra to her slumber, Fallout extends a wrist to the referee who takes and raises it to the approval of the Floridian crowd. Wiping away cold sweat from his face, Reginald breathes a heavy sigh of relief. “Glad that’s over, thank you for not piling on by going ‘Old School.’”
Fallout turns to him with eyebrows raised in interest, “I’d considered it, but all the glass made it seem unwise.”
Reginald had no choice but to agree.
Vale wanted a rematch straight away, but she and that roided rainbow Fallout never seemed to be in the same city at the same time, until now. Now She puts to rest all memes, top ten lists, and fanart of Fallout and Vale that’s plagued the merc for so long. She stands in waiting position behind the curtains shadow boxing with frightening intensity. A skittish agent notifies the veteran with a quavering voice, “Two-minute warning Miss Vale…”
The blonde veteran nods and drops her fists as she bounces foot to foot, properly tunning up before she makes a cautionary tale of Fallout. She won’t end her career, but this will be her low point.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The FAWNatics take their seats and gaze in wonder at the state of the ring, surrounding the Squared Circle are four open steel drums painted to resemble the night sky, filled to the brim with various weapons and oddities made to or capable of harming a human being. Steel and wooden chairs are hiding under the ring apron, and an ominous structure covered by a brown tarp takes up space by the left of the ramp. There's chatter in the crowd of what it could be; the favourite guess right now is a return of Elizabeth Cromwell's stocks. The general shape is similar, if bigger; it's unlikely Cassandra Vale would allow such a thing in her matches, but the hot-blooded Floridians would love to see Vale's or Sunrise's buns subjected to a paddling. Ideally, both.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a COSMIC DEATHMATCH!"
A big cheer erupts from the excited crowd, eager to witness s new kind match. The announcer continues, "It is scheduled for one fall with a sixty-minute time limit! Introducing first… hailing from Gatlin, Nebraska. She stands at five feet five inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and forty-two pounds. She is the Chaos Consultant, the Walking Weapon… CASSANDRA VALE!”
CASSANDRA VALE
'Every Day is Exactly the Same' dripped from the speakers, and the sold-out crowd leapt to their feet to await the merc’s arrival. Brushing the curtain aside shortly thereafter, Cassandra pauses atop the ramp to sweep her gaze across those assembled. Once the perusal finishes, she raises both hands and very deliberately craaaaaaaaacks her knuckles. The crowd greets her with loud, enthusiastic cheers, but Vale doesn’t acknowledge them; she only has eyes for the squared circle. Possessed of a self-control that was almost impossible to fathom considering the list of atrocities attached to her name, the powerhouse blonde starts down the aisle accompanied by Trent Reznor and a whole lotta wicked intentions.
Vale wears a sturdy midnight blue two-piece so dark it was almost black and pads that actually were black. Her hair now hangs loosely to just below the curve of her shoulders. Ignoring the hands and signs extended in her direction, Vale reaches the base of the ramp, hooks right and strides up the steel steps before dipping between the top and middle ropes. Vale pauses to take in the unusually muscular for a referee, Reginald Worthington; the tall, handsome Brit is a drastic difference from the usual breed of zebra around these parts. Vale privately enjoys the sight, but he wasn’t a distraction last time, and he won’t be tonight either.
Vale resumes her trek to the middle of the ring, raises a fist to the rafters, then pops a thumb and draws it across her throat nice and slow-like. This gets a loud roar from the more bloodthirsty elements of the crowd, and it isn’t long before they start a ‘VALE IS GONNA KILL YOU!’ chant. The merc doesn’t bother to contradict ‘em. Instead, she makes her way to the far corner where she offers her elbows, wrists, knees and ankles for Worthington’s inspection. It’s time for Vale to finally rid herself of the muscle-bound clown that’s been haunting her for two years now.
Just as the announcer is about to shuffle to Fallout's info cards, an attendant sprints from the back and hands another set to the man in the suit. The announcer looks at them surprised and puts the microphone to his lips, "Due to 'movements in the celestial planes,' Fallout Sunrise will not be competing tonight."
The air begins to fill with a smattering of angry boos as Cassandra straightens at this revelation and glares at the announcer, "What?" He nervously hems and haws till he refocuses on the new information, "Coming to the ring…"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMdkPoGFJ34
An unseen battery of cannons blasts booming shots! The FAWNtron becomes a swirling tunnel of blue energy that opens and expands to a black screen, soon disrupted by a brilliant shaft of white light.
Vale narrows her eyes, "It's her entrance, so what's going on?"
The shaft of light dissipates and, confusingly, the name FALLOUT SUNSET shines in silver Spectral font instead of her usual moniker in gold. In place of a hard rock instrumental of the Thundercats theme, is a Gothic choir accompanied by organs that set a chilling mood. Fog begins to roll across the stage as guitars begin to strum, turning the song into a high-octane metal jam that gets the blood pumping.
The alarming changes continue; rather than bursting through the curtains looking like a neon rainbow, Fallout 'Sunset' cautiously walks out, hunched over and darting her eyes around fearfully like she's never been outside her home, and carrying a bouquet of black roses wrapped in purple gift paper. Fallout is a beautifully built woman of a lovely brown complexion; Her usually long wavy hair with streaks of colour is straightened and of the deepest black. She still has the askew stark white handprint painted on her face, but her lipstick is as dark as her hair.
Her gear has been drained of all colours as well but remains the usual hem: A grey sports bra with white laces that crisscross over her cleavage. Her boycut bottoms and boots are grey and her tassels are absent, replaced by black elbow and knee pads.
“Standing at 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing in at 143 pounds, here by way of a temporal vortex... a Cosmic Warrior from the end of time! The crucible of redemption and the hammer of vengeance... Fallout Sunset!!”
Fallout shuffles her way forward, often craning her head over her shoulder like she's expecting an ambush at any moment. The audience doesn't know what to make of this muted version of the brilliant berserker that befuddled and beguiled all that Fallout came across.
The bleak oddity makes her way up the stairs and shuffles over to Cassandra's corner where the blonde stands as still as a statue, watching for any sudden movements. Fallout stops just at arm's length and gingerly stretches out her arms to hand over the flowers like she's letting a dog smell her hand so she doesn't get bitten.
Vale stares at her for a loooong moment before slowly taking the bouquet from 'Sunset' to pleased cheers from the shipping FAWNatics. She gives a polite nod of thanks and comments, "I'll give you credit for catching me off guard with reversing the gimmick, but that's not going to stop me from putting you down."
Fallout nods eagerly, giving the impression that she wants to end the interaction and be as far away from Vale as possible. In hushed tones, Fallout speaks "Let us make murder," and hurries to the safety of her corner. Cassandra’s eyes narrow at that statement and mulls over it as she tosses the flowers carelessly onto the apron “Hm. Not a good sign.”
The large referee conducts a brief, perfunctory search of each competitor out for foreign objects. With this type of match, Worthington wouldn't know what to do if he found something; for the next potentially 60 minutes almost everything's legal and fair use. Without further ado, the official motions for the bell.
DINGDING!!!
Cassandra learned from her last match with the unpredictable Fallout and skips the feeling-out process, instead making a beeline for the strange wrestler. Fallout’s slow leaving the corner and finds herself bullied back into the turnbuckles under a wave of fists. FAWNatics can't remember the last Vale Broke Out The Tire Iron within seconds of the opening bell, couch pundits will say that's how serious the mercenary takes Fallout's skills.
After a steely fist ploughs into Fallout's breadbasket, Cassandra bends her arm into a V and clubs Fallout over and over across the back with thudding shots. From that, Cassandra switches to a steady rhythm of Kneelifts into the Warrior's gut, battering Sunset into a seat on the second turnbuckle before switching her attack pattern to Forearm Shivers that rocked Fallout's jaw.
Throughout this beating, Fallout yelped and shrieked like a rookie on her first day of training. This confuses Vale but she keeps that thought at the back of her mind and focuses on delivering pain. Mind games only work if you give them space to breathe. She forces Fallout's arms behind the ropes and tugs her legs down, so The Warrior's draped in the corner like a punching bag. Cassandra palms Fallout's ears and speaks plainly, "I don't know what the deal is with the palette swap and I don't care." Then darts her skull forward striking Fallout on the bridge of her nose. “Whaugh!” Fallout tears up and she fruitlessly kicks her legs but that’s all the offence the big rookie provides.
The rules may be lax in this match but Ref. Worthington will have no leeway on the ones that remain, he gives the mandatory 5-count throughout the drubbing and bids for a separation, “We can’t have the whole match in the corner, Miss Vale. Give her space or I’ll have to end it.”
Vale steps away without looking at the large official, Leaving Fallout hanging like abused gym equipment "You'll do nothing. I'm ending it on my terms."
Vale speedwalks to the farthest set of buckles and backs into them, added by a strong tug on the ropes Cassandra streaks across the canvas to turn Fallout into a fine mist with a Running Splash. Going by Fallout’s pathetic showing so far, fans are already wincing in advance for the collision!
“GRGH!!”
Two steps before Cassandra could turn her 2-Dimensional, Fallout slips free of the corner and shoots forward, halting the Chaos Consultant’s charge with a Clothesline to the throat that liquefies into a shoulder-to-shoulder Choke. Crushing the blonde’s airway between bicep and forearm. Cassandra’s eyes bug out as she hacks and coughs and pries at the brawny limb collapsing her neck as she struggles to comprehend this sudden change in state. Fallout presses her lips to the gun for hire’s ear and whispers without any of the timidity displayed earlier. Her voice is cold and hard, a stark contrast to the boisterous warmth Fallout is known for. “Slaughter is a sacrament of which the holy never tire.”
Cassandra gives a gurgle and shifts her eyes to look hatefully into The Warrior’s, not seeing the infuriating glee that was ever present in their last encounter but an analyzing, dissecting gaze. Cassandra tries to free herself by stomping her feet on Sunset’s toes and throwing elbows into her ribs when a gleam catches the mercenary’s eye. It’s the light catching on the bare metal of the turnbuckle, its padding mysteriously missing.
She removed it! Thinks Vale alarmingly, That’s why she let- Fallout halves the choke to take some of Vale’s bottoms by the hip, then lifts the mercenary up and drops her forehead-first onto the steel. White-hot lightning flashes behind Vale's eyes and her legs turn rubbery making her grip the ropes to support herself. Fallout spins her around by the shoulders and takes Vale by the back of the neck with both hands interlaced. With a lunging step forward, Fallout tosses Cassandra out of the corner; the shocked audience looks on amazed as the stoic gun for hire that’s crushed their heroines and villains in equal measure is sent spinning into the air like a damn frisbee till she bellyflops on the ring floor.
youtu.be/QcaVRFiQj7w?t=643
Cassandra’s eyes roll in their sockets exaggerating the pounding in her skull as she rushes to all fours. The blindsided merc grumbles to herself “God damn… playing possum…shouldn’t have eased off.” The self-admonishment abruptly cuts off when Sunset pulls her knees out from under Cassandra and her chin hits the mat. Sunset folds Vale’s left leg into the pit of her right then reaches through the space between the blonde’s thighs to grab her right foot. The Warrior pulls on it like she means to break Vale’s legs and flip them inside out! Cassandra growls like an angry dog from the familiar pain, shock stalling her actions as Fallout lifts her by the knot of her stems forcing Vale into a push-up. Wrestling pundits and knowledgeable fans orate this move’s history with the merc as Fallout flips the veteran over to a seat and then kneels on the contorted limbs. Vale roars in Fallout’s searching face trying to turn pain into adrenaline. This very modified Cloverleaf is a finisher of Caliente Bailarina, a decorated wrestler from across the southern border who had an intense rivalry with the Walking Weapon.
PLIÉ
youtu.be/eaU-KX_N2IQ?t=122
Fallout Sunset’s 143lbs resting on Cassandra’s contorted legs feels like she’s having a bad encounter with a hydraulic press. Experience tells Cassandra to go for eyes but her wrists are snatched by the greyscale gargoyle millimetres from contact and wrenched to her sides. The two find themselves locked in a staredown, Vale's teeth bared in a defiant grimace of a smile while Fallout looks at the mercenary with an intense, analyzing look, gauging for something unseen.
The muscles in Cassandra's arms bulge to brilliant definition in a failing effort to rip her arms out of Fallout's grasp, The Warrior holds strong and whittles the attempt down to uneven jerks. "Been studying tape, yeah?" Cassandra infers with a half-grin on her face. Pain be damned, she finds the gall of the move more impressive than insulting. "Knew that outer space talk was all bullshit."
Sunset replies in a calm tone but keeps heated eye contact as she subtly rocks her body back and forth in a motion that threatens to snap Vale's femurs."To steal one's soul is a great crime, to extort it for base currency demeans yourself, and that soul."
Cassandra snarls as another failed escape attempt shoots acid through her lower limbs, “Oh, is this revenge or something!? Well, get over it! She got her mask back, just cost her ten grand and a dislocated shoulder.” In a spurt of movement she jerks her arms back and her skull forward, aiming for Sunset’s heart. The muted monster can’t dodge or else the submission disappears, so she negates half of the move’s power by leaning back. The Headbutt doesn’t hit heart and instead lands Vale’s face between Sunset’s hefty tits! Even with sufficient padding a Glascow Kiss from the Walking Weapon still smarts, but not enough to stop Sunset from shimmying her shoulders to treat Vale with a quick scrub-a-dub. The fans get a rare view of the intimidating star getting a forced lapdance before the blonde pulls her grimacing face free from its pillowy prison.
Reggie kneels by the intertwined duo, “Miss Vale, do you-?”
“No!” Cassandra cuts him off, the whistles from the audience for the jugg scrub are burrowing into her brain and quickening her temper. But with that temper comes strength. Their arms tremble with opposing motions, she can’t get free but now Sunset can’t pull away. Cassandra rams her forehead against the brunette’s like an angry goat, Fallout bleats and scrunches her face in pain. The most normal actions she’s made all match. Cassandra batters her again, and again. Fallout looks less and less aware of the situation, her arms a tad more rubbery. The merc uses that elasticity to give her next Headbutt more wind up; drawing her skull back like a bow and arrow Cassandra slings her head forward- Fallout whips backward and swings her right knee up! The hard joint thunking off Cassandra's forehead and knocking the vet onto her haunches in a boneless sprawl!
The arena collectively OOOOHHHs at the potential concussion Vale just suffered. The morally ambiguous mangler groggily turns over onto her fours groaning, "goddamn it, let myself get dragged into her rhythmggh!"
Vale feels her insides lurch as Sunset's powerful arms circle her middle in a Gutwrench and lift her off the mat like light luggage. Sunset carries her cursing cargo to the dead center of the ring and turns so the Hardcam gets a good angle on Vale's ass. The Cosmic Warrior imparts some wisdom to her ‘friend’, hoping Vale will understand what Fallout’s purpose is, “Repay good with good, repay evil with justice.”
She does not give a shit. Vale daggers elbow after elbow into Fallout’s thigh, looking like an angry child being taken to her room. “Fuck off! If I wanted morality lessons I wouldn’t have turned down Wainright’s churcCCHH!”
While any answer from Vale would have resulted in the same conclusion, it looks like Fallout puts in some extra ‘oomph’ when she lifts and flips Cassnadra into the air and flings her against the mat. The merc lands hard in a ring-shaking crash and seizes like her skeleton’s pressing the eject button.
GUTWRENCH SUPLEX
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mst_OHcXlr8
Cassandra suffers in silence, wanting to reject all aspects of her opponent even the natural phenomena of pain. She tries to roll but a pulling on her hip and shoulder forces her face up and flat against the canvas. Fallout throws herself over the blonde’s belly and places her hands against the mat. A cover, albeit a weak and disrespectful one.
ONE!
Cassandra twists swiftly to her side, something not overly difficult with her limbs free. Fallout slithers an arm under Cassandra’s and helps the veteran rise with a half-nelson. Once they’re standing Fallout turns Cassandra to face her, and gets a teeth-rattling right cross that puts the Warrior on her heels! “No more bullshit,” Cassandra states bluntly as she fires her punching arm into a sharp Knife-Edge Chop that ripples Fallout’s chest. “No more fake Shakespeare.” The Walking Weapon makes the monochromatic monster give way with a flurry of one-armed offence; a punch to the face on the fore-swing and a Chop to the breasts on the back-swing. The crowd gives a swell of support for Vale being back on the offence, which is a bizarre thing to witness. Vale’s dragging herself out of the mental quagmire Fallout emits with one jaw-jack and tit-slap at a time, and she’s looking stronger with each hit.
They almost travel the whole of the ring when Cassandra switches arms and lets her left have a turn; she swivels Fallout’s neck with a left cross turning the strange Destroyer’s stems wobbly, then She points her shoulder for the follow-up Knife-Edge when Fallout’s legs finally fail and she melts against Cassandra, hugging her under the arms to stand up. She wriggles, twists and shuffles about to get out of Fallout’s grasp, but only succeeds in moving about the ring like a couple dancing after one too many drinks. Vale takes a handful of the oddity’s dark tresses and yanks it back, forcing Sunset’s face up with a hiss, “Get off of me!” She pulls on those follicles harder when Sunset doesn’t move fast enough, “Get off, freak!” She doesn’t, but Fallout does move. The alluring anomaly goes from wet noodle to coiled spring, spinning the Nebraskan off her feet and falling forward, banging Vale against the canvas.
SIDE BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX (3:24)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqRYObslQaU
Cassandra lets out a hoarse gasp as gravity and the ring floor turn against her, Ref. Worthington starts to kneel to count a pinfall but Fallout scuttles in reverse out of the ring, startling several in the stands who suffer from arachnophobia, she approaches one of the many painted steel drums around the ring and lifts it straight up. After taking a moment to measure the distance she shotputs throws the galaxy-decorated can into the ring. It's unclear whether or not she was aiming for or away from Cassandra, either way, the crawling weapon catches the edge of the flying drum on her head “Argh!” the weapons cache tumbles on its side spilling some of its contents while the blonde contorts on the canvas with a palm pressing above her eyebrows, it hit the spot as the uncovered turnbuckle. When Cassandra moves her hand away she sees a spattering of red against her tan skin, first blood to Fallout.
The dark incarnation of the jovial giant skeeters back into the ring and heads straight for the new toys she brought into play. Which one will she choose? The two-by-four with embedded nails? The boxing glove with a strand of barbed wire? The classic steel chair? Fallout’s weapon of choice is… a leather riding crop. An odd choice for an odd woman considering it’s a ‘deathmatch’ but it’s certainly a crowd pleaser for the FAWN arena, whistles and hoots become the background noise as Sunset grips it at both ends and testingly bends it back and forth, then takes it by the handle for a few swipes in the air. If you freezeframe and zoom in on the switch as it whisks in the air you’ll see ‘Miriam Gaiman Approved, Sophie Mitchell Tested’ inscribed on the flat end. A universally trusted seal of quality.
The throbbing in Vale’s skull begins to subside and it looks like the gash isn’t bleeding too badly, it’s not weeping enough to blind her or affect her stamina in the near future. She waves away Worthington who’s been hovering over her, concerned “I’m alright, it’s a papercut.” Vale gets one knee under her and straightens up- Thwack! “AAargh!!” Then shudders and falls to all fours when lightning lashes across her back. Fallout steps on Cassandra’s soles to keep the merc pinned and lets loose with that crop! Using the full length of her arm, Fallout rapidly crisscrosses strikes with that riding crop up and down Cassandra’s back, neck and shoulders, turning the veteran into a quivering mess. FAWNatics rarely hear Vale’s voice hit what fans call the babyface octave, a sort of twisted ASMR fans can only get from an overwhelmed heroine mid-thrashing (See SheaLondon/SIC for a recent example), and Vale's hitting that auditory sweet spot tonight. The mercenary thrashes and twists trying to cover up, escape and counterattack all at once. But Fallout uses that crop with a disturbing skill that hints at many hours of practice and keeps her opponent writhing at her mercy.
At least a baker’s dozen of welts are made on Cassandra’s body before Fallout halts her assault with her whipping hand held high, the crop vibrating with leftover momentum. Her voice takes on a haunting tone, “Our battles in this sacred square are ones of glory, blood and honour. But our Gladiatorial displays mean nothing in the face of those who face true violence. True consequences. You belittled a soldier’s sacrifice to build your own false legend.”
Vale has been reduced to crossing her arms over the back of her neck and propping up on her elbows. Panting with pain, she pushes past the burning landscape the colour-drained idiot’s made of her back to make sense of Fallout’s ramblings, “Hahhh…Hahhhh…. Y-you’re talking about Clayton? That shit’s been over for years! She got her dog tags back. If you’re not strong enough to keep them, don’t bring personal shit toNNGH!”
Unsatisfied with her answer, Sunset grabs Cassandra’s midnight blue bottoms by the waistband and hikes them between those muscular buns. With four-fifths of those Nebraskan buns bared Sunset concentrates her anger solely on Cassandra’s ass! That riding crop whistles through the air as the strange visitor switches to a backhand/forehand motion that puts some scarcely seen jiggles in the veteran’s backside. Cassandra can’t stop the waterworks from welling in her eyes or the wail bursting from her lips as her hips wiggle and shift trying to escape the lash, so Fallout keeps laying into those vulnerable glutes with a deep fervour! When it gets too much Cassandra buries her pride and moves her hands down to cover her bruising butt. Thwack! “AAAARGH!!” A simple redirection of the wrist moves the crop from below the waist to above, hitting Vale right on the gash above her eyebrow!
Fallout steps off the wrestler for hire's feet allowing Cassandra to flounder on the mat, now with fresh red droplets staining the white canvas wherever the blonde rolled, “You’re not listening.” A nervous murmur starts to grow from the stands, it’s disconcerting to see the Walking Weapon so on the ropes for so long. Unaffected with the fans’ feelings, Fallout whisks the crop in the air to rid it of any excess blood and moves her grip to above the handle, she runs into the closest set of ropes and springs back to the vulnerable Vale while holding the weapon in a Double Axehandle. She leaps into the air ready to bring down the crop hard on Vale’s cut, taking a page from the Brewster playbook she’s going to bleed the big girl out.
THWAM!
Cassandra surges up and catches Sunset while she’s mid-air and SLAMS her almost through the ring with an epic Spinebuster! Fallout’s stunned and breathless on the canvas as Cassandra pops up to her full height with a face full of fury and a crimson mask covering her left eye down to her jaw.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DgDC3eqjsQ
In an instant Vale regains her aura of precise sadism, this woman makes alpha bitch heels beg and never-give-up heroic babyfaces bawl for mercy. She swabs some blood off her face and wipes it on her abdomen, "No more riddles, you gimmicky bitch." She snatches a messy handful of hair and forces Fallout to get on her feet or risk a sizable bald patch. Cassandra takes her by the forearm and uses that shocking strength of hers to buggywhip Fallout into the cables and catch the oddity with a Scoop Powerslam on the return. Sunset recoils back to Cassandra just as The Walking Weapon leans into an underhand swing that brings an arm through Sunset's stems to grab a hunk of that bountiful backside, just as Cassandra's high arm swoops over her shoulder to snag the back of Fallout’s sports bra. With such power and speed that Reginald nearly falls over, Cassandra lifts the Cosmic Warrior off her feet through a 180-degree arc that brings spine to pine for the second time in just over a decasecond.
SCOOP SLAM
youtu.be/LXrmX23sar0?t=116
The ring floor greets Sunset like she owes it money. She goes slack on the canvas as her empty lungs hiccup, easy prey for a cover, but that’s not enough revenge for the Gatlin Hammer. Cassandra shoots up from her knees and raises Sunset to her level with another fistful of hair. After driving a Kneelift into the larger woman’s breadbasket Cassandra takes her into a Front Facelock and raises Sunset to the sky with a Suplex Lift. The Merc displays that chilling muscle yet again by keeping Fallout upside down and ramrod straight while she shuffles to a different spot in the ring. The FAWNatics whether they’re fans of the blonde or not count the seconds as the blood rushes to Fallout’s head.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!
On ‘TEN!’ Cassandra achieves her goal of positioning themselves by the spilled steel drum and drops back; Fallout’s body smashes into the foreign object causing the opening and bottom of the can to bloom upwards as the eccentric wrestler heavily indents one side, turning it into a clunky C. Fallout shivers and her face twists in pain as she lets loose an agonized howl, her fingers curl inwards from misfiring pulses from her frenzied nerves.
The noise level dies down from the impressed OOOHHHH from the Suplex to concerned murmurs about Sunset’s health. Cassandra rises to one knee and takes in the scene with subdued satisfaction, this is the sound she wants when she’s wrestling. The pitying silence of an audience that wants her to stop punishing whoever’s dumb enough to step into the ring when she’s on the clock. After picking her bottoms out from between her cheeks, Cassandra wipes more blood out of her eye then reaches for her right kneepad with her clean hand, ripping open a hidden seam. Worthington straightens up and steels himself in an attempt to talk Vale down from using whatever weapon she snuck in, but looks on in confusion when Vale pulls out a clear packet of some translucent goo.
“What is-?” The merc rips open a corner of the packet and coaxes its contents onto her cut then smears it flat. “It's a liquid gauze, this isn’t my first Deathmatch.” Worthington nods fascinated, he doesn’t find Vale very personable but certainly respects her ingenuity. Now that her wound is temporarily taken care of Vale gets back to business. She stands up and walks over to the metal crater she left her opponent in and tugs in Fallout's hair so she can look into her glazed eyes.
"You wanna make a name off me?" Vale whips her free hand and CRAACKs it on Fallout's cheek. The bitch slap whips the strange one's head to the side exasperating the pull on her scalp and giving her a fresh welt. "You hire me to clear a path to a title. Now I have to break you to set a precedent."
Vale CRAACKs her across the face again just for fun and pulls Fallout to her feet by the follicles, the crushed can still clamping onto the Warrior’s sides. She busts Fallout belly’s with a broadside Kneelift to double her over and kicks the the open side of the can to knock it free. Vale sets her feet and leans over to wrap her brawny arms around Sunset’s middle, The Walking Weapon straightens flipping the Warrior up her body then hurls Sunset against the deck with a falling Gutwrench Powerbomb that sounds like it cracked the plywood.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-0uuUS4CfA
Sunset’s flesh ripples upon impact with the ring floor as she lets out a shocked rasp at the power in that move, the ring indents and juts like a bass speaker bouncing Sunset onto her side. Just where Vale wants her; the Gatlin Hammer kneewalks over to Fallout’s front and folds the weird wrestler’s left heel against her butt, then raises the limb so she can stretch a leg through the gap and plant a base foot. Holding that left boot by the toe Vale pulls on it like she’s applying a strong Half Crab from the wrong position, then doubles up on the submission when she works her other arm around Fallout’s head and cranks it back like she’s trying to close the loop.
THE WRINGER
youtu.be/7UZXzUA8GO4?t=952
Fallout howls with agony as her leg, neck, and back suddenly feel like they’re in the electric chair! Normally, Cassandra gives herself room to ramp up the hold to give her target time to consider her future and give up. Fallout flat-out embarrassed her last match and has been making a fool of her tonight, so she goes full throttle from the jump. The merc’s upper body shreds into stark definition as she goes to town Fallout’s poor body like she’s using gym equipment, doing her best to clasp her hands and make the bytch a perfect circle of hell.
“If you want to walk anytime soon I suggest you throw in the towel, “ Cassandra threatens cooly over Fallout’s caterwauling. Reginald flashes over and gets close to the contorted Destroyer, raising in voice in worry and to make sure he’s heard over Fallout’s screaming, “Do you yield!?”
The monochromatic mystery’s face is a twitching mess of signals that communicates AGONY, but when offered an escape she roars to the heavens “I feel Napalm in my veeiinns!!” Bewildered, the large referee looks at Vale hoping the Nebraskan would translate that statement to ‘I give up.’ Vale brow furrows in dissatisfaction and closes the gap between Fallout’s ends by another inch, wringing a warbling sob from the young woman.
“Check with Daniels, check with London, check with Jacobs.” Vale smirks seeing a trembling hand begin to hover above the mat, “Ask what trying to outlast me gets you, new meat. Just a longer stay in the hospitarrRGH!”
Fallout takes that trembling and moves it to Cassandra’s mouth, slipping her ring and middle fingers between the blonde’s lips and wrenching a horrific grin with a hateful Fish hook. Cassandra's eyes blaze with fury which combined with her demonic grin makes her the perfect horror movie monster. The Walking Weapon keeps the spine-stressing hold intact until Fallout extends an invading digit and digs a fingernail into her gums. Cassandra releases Fallout with a snarl and gets off the mat, stalking an angry circle of the ring and probing the inside of her mouth for cuts. Sunset unkinks her back and tilts onto her front with a sob, slight shudders rock her form as she reaches back with both hands and massages away what little pain she can.
“The thing with the gums was interesting. I’ll remember that.” Vale returns growling from her pissed-off pilgrimage and flips Sunset face-up by the ankles. With almost casual care and pace, Vale raises the Warrior’s stems and spreads them wide, Sunset only has time to raise her eyebrows in fear before the Gatlin Hammer raises a boot and hatefully stomps on her womanhood. “Wwwaughh!!” Fallout’s girlish shriek pierces in the air as she curls into the fetal position with her hands between her legs. “Stay here,” Cassandra orders, with no indication of pleasure or shame at her actions. She walks over and steps through the ropes and off the apron, hopping onto the padded cement floor by another painted drum filled with weapons. Cassandra rummages through the assorted items muttering “What have they got for me?” A whiffleball bat with metal studs? Stupid. A high heel with a metal stiletto? Not her fetish. A plunger with thumbtacks in the cup? Ludicrous. Cassandra spots an old favourite, “There we go…”
A kendo stick, old faithful. She gives it a few swings in the air to test its balance and solidity before sliding back into the ring. Cassandra presses the end of the stick into the canvas as an unneeded crutch to stand up, Fallout was rallying as the gun for hire procured a weapon and is back on her feet but there's a lot of shaking going around her knees. The greyscale gargoyle throws herself at Cassandra with a desperate punch, and the veteran calmly drops the Kendo stick and shifts slightly to avoid the blow while taking her by the attacking arm and the back of the neck. With remarkable skill, Cassandra effortlessly flips Fallout over a hip and drops the Destroyer on the back of her head.
Kubi Nagi
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zCgLqa1VbI
The worried silence of the arena breaks out in an echoing coo of appreciation for Vale’s Judo throw, FAWNatics will always give that brick hit-house her props even when beating far more beloved talent like the legendary Jenny Jacobs or Shea London. FS cradles her ringing skull and turns onto her side while Vale picks up her chosen weapon, “You had to know you’d pay your bill one day? It doesn’t matter that I won that match, you used me as a stepping stone.” She chokes up on the Kendo stick with both hands and raises it high, “I don’t take that shit from anyone.”
THWACK! Vale wields that wooden sword like Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai and scythes it down hard on Fallout’s ribs. The once dominant young woman flops like a beached fish hugging her struck side and silently screaming… Vale readies for a second swing and sees her next target once her prey is its knees, THWACK! THWACK! It lands twice across Fallout’s upper back. There’s no suppressing it this time, FS’s kissable lips curl back and she hollers so loud dust shakes off the rafters “AAAAAARGH!!” Her fingers spasm and her spine arches upward as nerves play acid jazz under her skin. Fallout lowers her forehead to the canvas and takes chest-heaving breaths, which raises her beauteous backside and an eagle-eyed cameraman subtly zooms in on to earn his paycheck. Seeing Fallout provide a juicy new target, Cassandra allows herself a small smirk and then sets her stick against her shoulder like she’s stepping up to the plate in the Major Leagues. The Chaos Consultant moves that lumber like a pro, the Kendo stick is a blur of motion till it CRACKS against that delicious rump, briefly bisecting two cheeks into four.
“YAAaargh!!” Fallout bolts off the mat with her chin up and her ass still jiggling from a spanking even Miriam Gaimen would find too harsh. She clenches her fists and grits her teeth, her body quivering, but there’s something odd. Cassandra’s beaten enough women in the ring to tell when a wrestler’s shaking from pain, pleasure, or…. Oh no.
“Not this shit again,” Cassandra growls and whacks Sunset across the shoulders, The Cosmic Warrior hisses and violently shakes her head up and down, but doesn’t acknowledge the pain further than that, Sunset keeps those strange and swift movements going as she steps away from Vale who rears back and whacks her again. The sickening sound of wood hitting flesh rings in the air but Sunset keeps walking seemingly vibrating with barely restrained energy, mere moments from an explosion. The crowd’s caught on to Fallout’s ‘hulking up’ by this point and begins to buzz with excitement again; Cassandra raises her training sword and brings it down on the top of the gimmicky freak’s skull, feeling perfectly fine with a win by knockout. Reggie brings a fist to his mouth fretting over Fallout’s brain, but she whirls about to face Cassandra no-selling the strike, poking an accusing finger against the tip of the blonde’s nose and yelling a single word parroted by the tens of thousands in attendance.
“YOU!!”
This cartoon bullshit happened last time and Cassandra has the same answer. “Fuck off!” The Chaos Consultant slashes down on Fallout’s head aiming to bifurcate the brunette through sheer force, Fallout leans to the side letting the wooden sword swing through the space she occupied and hit the top rope! The rubber-coated steel cable bends and springs back, recoiling the sword to smack against Cassandra’s face and drop from her hands. The slightest shift in the Kendo stick’s angle saves Cassandra’s nose from a severe break, but the self-administered friendly fire waters the merc’s eyes and stuns her long enough for Sunset to run to the ropes behind the veteran. Her experienced senses tell Cassandra her big-bodied opponent is drawing on her six; the arguably most dangerous wrestler in a generation turns in time for a big, Black bicep to ram into Vale’s visage and turn the veteran inside out!
HEAVEN’S TETHER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgInH0M_ccw
If you’ve never seen an arena full of people wince and groan in sympathy all at the same time, you’re seeing it now. The Clothesline from hell knocks Vale off her feet and three-quarters through a full backflip before the veteran’s lifeless body flops face down on the canvas. Sunset gives one of Vale’s glutes a tart swat and rolls her face up after the fans enjoy the ripple. “You could have been a true champion for the light, an inspiration for all of wrestling history,” Sunset manipulates Cassandra’s limbs into a T pose and climbs aboard in a Fullbody pin, taking care to press her wrist into the canvas.
“Instead you broke under mere gossip and became a whore for devils.”
ONE!
TWO!!
T- Cassandra kicks out!
The Walking Weapon comes to life under Fallout like a one-woman pack of wild dogs. Cassandra sits up FS on her lap and in control of her arms in a mirror image of the match’s beginning practically foaming at the mouth in fury, “The fuck you say to me youmMMPHMPHH!! Fallout forces Cassandra’s arms down and tucks them between the Nebraskan’s hips and her thighs then grabs two handfuls of Cassandra’s hair and plunges the veteran’s face DEEP into her cleavage for a Front Sleeper she calls the Event Horizon.
“There’s still time! I ask the hidden you, leave the dying animal you call your life behind!”
Even with her arms trapped Cassandra Vale bucks like a wild bull, if Fallout was a Lightweight she might have been thrown off the blonde and sent flying into the front row. Too bad for Vale that Fallout’s no Lightweight; the pulchritudinous powerhouse moves her grip from the Nebraskan’s hair to her elbows to apply more smothering pressure, Vale’s nose flattens against The Cosmic Warrior’s sternum and a muffled, angry whine can be heard from between Fallout’s tits.
“You thought there was honesty in exporting pain,” Fallout stays glued to her strong, experienced foe’s body throughout all of Vale’s thrashings, and makes sure to scrub her wobblers back and forth against Cassandra’s face when the merc opens her mouth to scream to get the taste of a superior women’s sweat on her tongue. "But you were lying to yourself to numb your own. Slumming with villains so you wouldn’t have to fight as a hero."
Cassandra roars “I will not be lectured to by a space freak with multiple personalities!” Or at least she tries to. With Fallout’s breasts forming a tight seal on her face it comes out as “MMPH! MRGPH MMMMGHPH!” Cassandra begins to feel lightheaded and a heaviness starts to seep into her limbs, a deep sense of urgency floods the Gatlin Hammer; she hasn’t been jugged out once in her entire FAWN career and she definitely won’t be at Mania! Cassandra lurches and kicks off the canvas forcing the entwined pair to turn over, Sunset won’t be caught with a surprise pin and bucks as soon as she finds herself under the veteran’s hard body and forces another turn. The pugnacious pair tumble like lovers across the expanse of the canvas fighting for the mount position; Sunset feels something brush her shoulder. She ignores it to keep the smother in place, but when her stomach drops FS realizes it was a warning. They’ve rolled under the bottom rope and off the apron’s edge!
Cassandra feels the incessant pull of gravity and twists one last time so her multifaceted foe acts as a cushion between her and the arena floor. Cassandra’s full 142lbs hits and flattens Sunset against the covered arena floor, she lets out a breathless shout as Vale rips her flushed face free from betwixt Sunset’s hills and takes in a needy gulp of air. The oxygen-starved mercenary shoves off Fallout and rolls away from her and the ring, carelessly knocking over another steel drum onto its side.
The FAWNatics cheer their hearts. Out for these resilient gladiatrixes, urging them on to FIGHT FOR-EVER!
CLAP! CLAP! CLAPCLAPCLAP!
The love of these people means nothing to Vale. She could be wrestling this match untelevised in a soundproof room, all that exists to Vale is the woman in front of her who’s about to be ripped into black and white confetti. The Walking Weapon grabs the bars of the guardrail and uses them to drag herself up to her feet. Vale sees Fallout still struggling to get up and spitefully whirls an Overhand Chop that ripples the flesh between her shoulder blades with a Thwack!. Fallout rears up on her haunches taut as a bow with her fists and teeth clenched as the pain radiates. Cassandra barks at her kneeling target, “Get up!” Egging Sunset on with her motioning hands she crouches to get eye to eye, “I want you on your feet when I kick your ass.”
Fallout takes a controlling breath through her nose and slowly rises from the floor, “You will transform. You don’t see it, but the metamorphosis has already be-” Cassandra’s arm moves with the speed of a striking cobra and turns Fallout’s head with a Palm Thrust, The Warrior whips her head back angrily just for a second thrust to hit her other cheek. “No more diatribes! Fight me!” Cassandra’s upper limbs become a whirlwind of pulverizing Palm strikes that batter Fallout’s head and body like buckshot. The Walking Weapon lands three clean smacks before Sunset retaliates in the same manner and the two exhilarate the crowd with energetic hand-fighting. They trade Smecking blows that sound like pouring rain and set their skin afire and ripple the softer parts of their bodies, Sunset's volleys echo and pink Vale's flesh but it's a losing endeavour. The oddity's jabs grow sloppy while Cassandra’s get faster, harder and more precise; after a rapid combo to Sunset’s left breast stuns the larger woman, the veteran lands a hard one to Sunset’s jaw ahead of a harder one to the ear that weakens Fallout’s stems and brings The Warrior low.
“Felt that one, did you?” Cassandra rhetorically questions as Sunset crumples to her knees while throwing haphazard hands, the rookie’s aim thrown off her eyes rolling her sockets. Sunset would’ve likely fallen on her face if her shoulders hadn’t caught on Cassandra’s sturdy thighs, putting Sunset in an impromptu Headscissors. The merc’s anger breeds vile innovation; wrapping her sinewy arms around Fallout’s waist, Cassandra lifts her sister Destroyer like a Powerbomb attempt but pauses halfway, making Fallout dangle in the air so they form an upside-down L. Her muscles flaring in their struggle to keep the Fallout aloft, the hair raises on the back of everyone’s necks as Cassandra rushes ahead and BWUNG! Ricochet’s Fallout’s dome against a steel post!
FALLOUT SPECIAL
youtu.be/CvY7xR1wNIM?t=123
There isn’t a single person watching the match who doesn’t momentarily freak out watching Sunset suffer cranial distress! The gorgeous gargoyle ends up facedown and splayed on the apron in the aftermath, her left boot raised and hooked on the middle rope while the limbs on her right side sway over the floor. If her thoughts weren’t consumed with the all-consuming, pulsing agony Fallout would’ve closed her mouth instead of letting the camera catch her drooling on the canvas like it was her pillow. That image doesn’t broadcast for long; as soon as she has enough breath Cassandra’s back on Fallout, taking both of her arms in a Double Chickenwing and scrapping her off the apron and into the air. In a calmer state of mind, she would have kept Fallout suspended and her weight work against her sockets maybe showing her off to all sides of the arena. Instead it’s a quick and nasty up and down, raising FS as high as possible before sitting out to bust her face against the padded concrete floor.
RENDER OF THE VEILS
youtu.be/f_xr0dboQe8?t=48
The sickening Thawp! of Sunset’s body hitting the floor is drowned out by the OOOOOOOHHHH of the audience watching Vale hit her finisher on the outside. The Walking Weapon falls back exhausted on the floor with her arms overhead, staring up at the houselights in the afterglow of dealing some much-deserved pain. From the high ground of the ring Reginald checks on the wrestlers's conditions; Cassandra's tired but gaining focus when the haze of fury disappears, her toned middle fluttering as she catches her breath. Fallout has one cheek against the floor and looks out like a light, subtle twitch of her leg and butt signalling her brain misfiring as she tries to get up.
Lacking most of his usual authority, Reginald asks politely, "There are no count-outs and I can't count a pin on the floor. Could we take this back with the ropes please?"
Cassandra sits up and palms Sunset’s thicc ass, “Be there in a second.” She pushes off those buns to stand up then deadlifts the lifeless Sunset off the ground and onto the apron with a Gutwrench grasp and rolls her limp body into the ring. Cassandra reclines against the comatose Sunset’s middle and props The Warrior’s head with her left arm, “We’re done.”
ONE
TWO
THRE-Fallout reverses the pin! Fallout wrenches onto her side, shifting Cassandra’s shoulders on the mat.
ONE
TWO
THRENOOOO!
The Chaos Consultant risks dislocating her left arm to flip onto her knees with a microsecond to spare. Cassandra looks at Ref, Worthington with more fear than she’s shown in years (Which is any), “Two!?”
He holds up two fingers and nods, “The match is still on, Miss Vale.”
She lets out a relieved sigh and hates herself for it, Cassandra directs that hate toward Sunset who’s sluggishly crawling on her elbows to the ropes. She pounces on Sunset with a clubbing forearm to her back that doubles on the pain when Fallout’s nose bounces off the canvas, “Want a break, freak?” Cassandra hauls the mysterious young wrestler to her feet in stages with a searing yank on Fallout’s raven hair and an upward tug on her bottoms that treats the front row to a half-wedgie. “Let me help you to the ropes,” Cassandra forces Sunset to turn around and makes her eyes bulge with a choking grip on her goozle and a hard slap between the legs that becomes a probing grasp. The sellsword lets out a “Hnf!” of exertion as she smoothly lifts Fallout's big, beautiful body into a Military Press. The muscles in Vale’s arms flex and bulge while keeping Fallout suspended in the air, after repping her opponent like a barbell she slowly starts a march around the ring to show off the latest wreck of a woman who thought Cassandra Vale was a person to fuck with. While the audience is pulling for the strange rookie, the FAWNatics can’t help themselves and give Vale applause for the feat of strength, When the lap of the ring draws to a close at the Merc’s home corner Cassandra's pace ramps up to a run and she launches Fallout into the air to fly the final few feet. Wide-eyed and dread-filled, Fallout has the sense to clench her teeth before her alluring features collide with the top buckle. The Cosmic Warrior’s bell is so rung must be like Vatican City inside her skull. FS collapses to the mat bumping against the turnbuckles and cables till she’s on a hip and shoulder, with her upper half draped over the bottom rope. A pitiful moan dribbles from Fallout’s lips as she turns over, accidentally crushing the flowers she gave to Cassandra before the opening bell.
Drinking in the sights and sounds of a humbled mark, Cassandra flicks her bottoms back into place and dictates the next few moments the alpha zebra keeping watch. “I’m going to treat the living gimmick to headbutt, three Harbingers in a row, and then pin her. You're going to count to five instead of three. Do that and I'll leave Sunshine in one piece." Reginald knows any protest would be superficial at best and could bring more harm to the suffering Sunset, so he nods in resignation, “Very well. If it keeps unnecessary violence to a minimum, I’ll acquiesce.”
THE HARBINGER(Towerhacker Bomb)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ds58Rh7wWi8
“I’m doing just enough to send a message.” Cassandra cracks her knuckles on her way to the final moments of the match, eager to put the rest the ghost of Mania ‘21 that’s haunted The Walking Weapon for the past two years. She reaches under the middle rope to grab the back of Fallout’s top and reels her within the Squared Circle. Missed by Vale but not by the FAWNtron, are the roses falling like rain to the floor from the apron as Fallout is pulled back from the edge, their wrapping mysteriously undone.
Cassandra trails Fallout’s semi-conscious body to the middle of the ring and pulls her up with an added hold on her briefs, once she’s on unsteady feet Cassandra hikes the material till it’s wedged DEEP and lets it snap free from her fingers. Now that FS is sporting a thong pundits will agree later on that the multi-personalitied monster is a definite BMD contender. “This has been a long time coming,” Vale bullies the punchdrunk Fallout around to face her for a Headbutt that will surely break the Warrior’s nose. “If you don’t whine after the loss I might send you to Deschain to polish you up.”
Fallout mumbles a groan and the veteran takes it as a thank-you. Vale presses the sides of Fallout’s head tightly and tilts her head back for a Glasgow Kiss. But just as Vale’s about to concave the rookie’s proboscis something long, thin object ending with two prongs slides down Sunset’s forearm to be held in her fist with her thumb on a button. She jams the business end into Vale’s underboob and tazes the living hell out of her!
“GGGRGKK!!”
An untold but assuredly high voltage courses through Cassandra’s body making her convulse like an inmate on the electric chair! She has her hands on Fallout so the current is also lighting up the strange one’s nervous system like the fourth of July, the two are a closed loop of lightning till Fallout pushes Cassandra over to let her writhe on the mat. The tazing turns a brutal legend into a twitching mess but it seems to act like a cold shower to the Agent of Annihilation, she whips her head back and forth and blinks like the lights have been turned on for the first time tonight. She wipes sweat from her face and quickly smoothes down her hair, ”Blessings from Jupiter! That cleared the fog.”
From her horizontal position, Vale’s struggling not to twist herself into knots. She can’t unclench her fists she points a shivering fist at her unpredicatble foe, trying to spew out her all-consuming hatred “Ch-ch-cheat-ing bi-tch!”
Fallout grimaces as she pulls her bottoms back to factory settings then lowers to a knee, and speaks to the senior wrestler like a gracious tutor to a struggling student, “Had you looked at the gift you possessed instead of throwing it away to become a hammer, your journey could have taken a very different direction.” Then she swings the taser overhead and jams it above Vale’s like a stake into a vampire. Vale howls and flounders for an uncomfortably long time as the jolts run up down her body end to end. After staring in metaphoric shock for five seconds the official rushes to their side to stop Vale’s literal shock, “Stop this now or I will disqualify you!”
To everyone’s surprise, Fallout ceases the electrocution at once and places the tazer in Reginald’s fumbling hands, “Have no worry, Heracles. Nimrod’s life is in no danger from me. Just false pride and self-delusion. Ah, good fortune!”
She sees Vale’s thrashing has turned her face down, so Fallout crouches and grabs hold of the blonde’s two-piece and drags her along the rough canvas. The abrasive cloth burns the veteran's exposed flesh until
l Vale’s shot under the bottom rope to an ungainly and painful fall to the outside. Fallout slides under the cable in a much more controlled landing on her feet and lightly slaps her face with both hands, still clearing away the canaries from the Veil Rending on the floor and the header into the post. Fallout checks on Vale and sees the morally ambiguous freelancer valiantly trying to rally, but the aftershocks are still disrupting her system and she can’t get onto her fours without falling over.
Sunset nods approval of Cassandra’s ruination, “The celestial gears are in place.” She looks up at the masses of FAWNatics and points at the tarp-covered structure triggering a wave of excited noise from the wondering spectators, two backstage staffers waiting in the wings for a signal. They grab two corners of the cloth and carefully back away, dragging the tarp off whatever torture device Fallout had prepared.
“It’s time! Come, fair Nimrod.” The devious Destroyer picks Cassandra off the floor and supports her under an arm to help the merc walk over like they’re drinking buddies on the way home. “Your final crucible awaits.”
“G-get of-f!” As they pass the ramp Cassandra finally starts to get some control over her muscles and starts taking flailing shots at Sunset’s abdomen. They’re surprisingly firm punches for someone who was just tazed, but they’re far from the stiff shots that put some of the toughest women in the business on their backs, Fallout takes them with mild grunts in irritation and keeps their pace to the nearly uncovered object. “Get off me, freak! Think you can pull this shit and get away-!”
Cassandra halts mid-sentence when she sees what Fallout has prepared; a section of plate-glass wall weighted down and secured to the arena floor. The audience OOOOH in astoundment and intrigue, and several diehard fans of Jenny Jacobs bolt out of their seats and watch with rapt attention. Every Jacobite remembers the night Vale interfered in a world title match on behalf of her then-client and World Champion, Portia VanBuren and cost Jenny a victory. Then, when the Innovator confronted the Chaos Consultant Cassandra slammed Jenny through a recording booth, triggering an intense trio of matches.
Sunset gestures at the glass wall with one hand as pulls on the back of Vale’s hair with the other to make sure she’s paying attention, “You taught Jacobs a valuable lesson, but only after you committed great injustices onUURK!”
Vale sacrifices some golden locks to whirl on Sunset with a crushing hand on her throat and looks her dead in the eyes with an icy stare, “You think you can dredge up my past for some fucking lesson? I don’t give a shit, a job’s a job and this is a business and lives on pain. If you don’t understand that, find a newAAIEE!!”
A hard punt between the legs puts a tremor in Vale’s stems and sets off fireworks in her crotch. The mercenary goes pale and starts to slowly double over but amazingly keeps her grip on Sunset’s neck, though it’s more of a caress at this point. The Monochromatic Monster pulls the asphyxiating hand from her throat and then hups her sister Destroyer into her arms by the waist so Vale’s hanging over her left shoulder. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand Cassandra.”
Fallout sprints toward the wall with her living cargo in tow and WHAMS Cassandra against the plate-glass barrier leaving a sweaty imprint of her back. The battered blonde gives a pained and angry moan and beats against her captor’s back and head as Fallout winds up another charge at the immovable object.
WHAM
The entire structure vibrates from the impact and Cassandra goes limp in Fallout’s arms. An erratic web of cracks appears in the wall where the Nebraskan’s body splattered against it like an egg on a windshield. Fallout backs up again and juggles her opponent up her body till she has her in the Powerbomb position. The Agent of Animation runs forward and shatters the plate-glass with the Chaos Consultant’s form! Cassandra lands bonelessly in a mess of broken glass, now bleeding from dozens of tiny cuts from the shards covering the floor like freshly fallen snow. The arena barely had time to lose their collective shit at the sight of the carless crash when Fallout walked around the barrier to pull Cassandra off the floor. Bracing her right arm against Vale’s chest, the tall young woman performs an awe-inducing backflip that slams her flat-backed onto the glass shards!
JENNYCIDE
youtu.be/HSvAuNo6b0Y?t=281
Somewhere, Jenny Jacobs feels the tiniest weight lift off her shoulders and smiles without knowing why.
Cassandra is awake with her eyes and mouth slightly open, but her cognizance is debatable; her spine is arced, thrusting her navel to the sky and her hands are clenched tight as tiny tremors assault her body. She offers no resistance to Sunset when she picks her up with a Fireman's Carry and brings them back to the relative safety of the ring. Sunset places her on the apron with surprising care and rolls Cassandra under the bottom rope before sliding in herself, she asks Reginald politely, “Prepare to perform the ritual, Heracles,” as she scoops up a limp Vale by the armpits and forces her to bend over slip into a standing Headscissors.
“This is probably unnecessary,” Fallout explains to Reginald’s questioning look,“ but I wouldn’t dare underestimate her tenacity.”
The Cosmic Warrior wraps her pythons tightly around Cassandra’s middle and raises her off the mat, soles to sky in a Piledriver stance. They’re still as stone for two seconds letting the moment sink in before Sunset sits out, dropping Cassandra on the top of her head like a fencepost in the dirt.
MAUHIKA’S NAIL
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDM-74GBDNQ
One of the most feared women in wrestling history slumps to her side like a slinky, thankfully unconscious and longer suffering, Sunset pulls her flat and face up, then climbs aboard in a pin. She kneels on her opponent’s insensate body, one shin crushing Cassandra’s breasts and the other digging into her tummy. Sunset slaps her hands on her thighs and stares into the camera laser focused as Ref. Worthington makes the count.
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE
DINGDINGDING!!
A definitive win for Fallout’s career.
As her music pours through the building’s speakers, Fallout dismounts her defeated quarry, then leans and whispers into her ear, “You’re through the early stages, now the difficult part’s up to you alone.” Leaving Cassandra to her slumber, Fallout extends a wrist to the referee who takes and raises it to the approval of the Floridian crowd. Wiping away cold sweat from his face, Reginald breathes a heavy sigh of relief. “Glad that’s over, thank you for not piling on by going ‘Old School.’”
Fallout turns to him with eyebrows raised in interest, “I’d considered it, but all the glass made it seem unwise.”
Reginald had no choice but to agree.