Post by SammieSinclair on Nov 9, 2014 14:32:53 GMT
Nyssa Bloodwind...
Kylie Sanders...
Having treated Shea like the rubbish she is at the biggest show of the FAWN year, there i plenty to feel good about, but as Kylie Sanders ruffles through the latest edition of Gladiatrix, her elfin features grow more red by the second.
“60 seconds…Kylie,” a man shouts from the gorilla position and Sanders responds with a growly ‘HUMMMPH’.
Closing the periodical and looking at the cover, full of Bloodwinds and, most definitely not her, doesn’t help the Hawkeye’s disposition.
“I destroy a FAWN legend. THE FAWN legend. And barely a mention,” the blonde says, turning to the flunky. “And London’s little injun helpmates get the whole damn cover to themselves?”
Kylie holds up the magazine as evidence and the man shrugs.
“They did win belts, both of them, at Mania. Pretty remarkable if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” comes the surly response. Sanders tosses the reading material at the man as she moves into the launch position.
“Well, I’m damn well putting Nyssa on the cover of ‘This Week in the ICU’ after this match and take her gold in the process.”
Sanders fluffs her flaxen locks.
“If she can be a two-time lightweight champ, I sure as hell will be.”
The sound of The Clash starts to fill the arena, namely a song from a certain album by the name of ‘London Calling’. Clearly, every person in tonight’s crowd had seen Mania and a deafening set of jeers fill the bowl.
“Guess that’s my new cue,” Kylie says with a smirk. “Morons.”
From stage right, the Hawkeye appears, hopping and rolling her shoulders, her colors turned from gold to black, though she retains her trademark Tigerhawk emblem, it going gold, her standard hues reversed, pads and boots getting the gilded treatment as well and very noticeably, fists wrapped in black tape.
Reaching center stage, Kylie settles and shakes her head at the masses as The Clash continues…
“So alone I keep the wolves at bay…
And there’s only one thing I can say..ayy…ayy…
You didn’t stand by me…
No not at all…
You didn’t stand by me…
No way”
(“TRAIN IN VAIN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYkQK8QsQ2w&index=3&list=LLU6MWpP-rt2kWv-tOm824HA )
Seemingly energized by the words and the hate, Kylie jogs down the ramp and aisle, ignoring most reaching hands before taking a couple mock swings with her taped fists. Reaching the ring and rising up the steps, Kylie turns and takes a view of the packed bowl, seemingly every seat occupied by Shea’s vapid fans and those jumping off the bandwagon, leaving the Corps a ragged few. Ky walks down the length of the apron and accepts a microphone from a flunky. While she does, the PA officially announces her arrival as The Clash fades.
“Tonight’s next match is for the FAWN Lightweight championship. First…the challenger…standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in at 115 pounds, from Pleasant Valley, Iowa…KYLIE SANDERS!”
The crowd only doubles its enmity and volume. Sanders slips through the ropes and claims the center of the ring.
“Shut your mouths,” Kylie shouts into the stick. “SHUT THEM!”
Sanders strolls until the sound of the assembled falls to a dull roar.
“Shea got what she deserved and you all know it. Just like Krystal. Just like a whole hell of a lot of people will around here. Just like you will when you return to your pitiful lives. And foremost on the list are those bytches that stuck their noses in my business. The Bloodwinds.”
The crowd turns on a dime, roaring with approval for the newly crowned champions. The sound does not sit well with Sanders. She grimaces and cover her ears until the ovation abates.
“Luck. That’s what put gold around their waists. Nothing more. But there ain’t no luck that’s going to account for what I’m doing to that little squaw. Tonight, I’m leaving with gold. But don’t bothering getting back in the Corps. I’ve wised up. You scum are no longer allowed.”
As much as the crowd had once LOVED the Pleasant Valley Princess, they now seem every bit as soured on Kylie as she is on them. The FAWNatics answer Sanders’ parting insult with a new round of jeers, while the ring announcer steps back to the center of the ring.
“And now, the CHAMPION..." he resumes, spawning a ROAR of deafening cheers. “Hailing from Tempe, Arizona… She stands five feet three inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty-two pounds… Ladies and gentlemen, she is the Nubile Navajo… NYYYYYSSSSSSSSA BLLLOOOOOOODDDDWWWWIIIIINNNNNNNDDD!”
The murmur of the crowd is interrupted by the first note of Rage Against the Machine. But instead of the elder Bloodwind's ‘Killing in the Name‘, the speakers blare the defiant chords of ‘Testify‘. An instant later and Nyssa pushes the curtains aside, bursting out onto the aisle, the fans bursting into warm cheers for the talented lightweight. The pedigree is no doubt responsible for part of her reception, but there is little denying that the tyro’s choice of ring gear also wins her a fair few whistles. The raven haired beauty stands clad in a faux deerskin halter, the shoulder straps eventually becoming two thin strings that crisscross her otherwise bare back. She also wears matching bikini bottoms, augmented by for lack of a better term a "half loin cloth" that descends to mid-thigh in the front, and that fails to obscure the view of her exquisite derriere in the back. Ugg boots molded to resemble moccasins complete the ensemble.
But of course, the crowning touch of the ensemble was the ultimate accessory: the championship belt of the Lightweight division, gracing her midsection.
Buoyed by the support of the FAWNatics and the an unquenchable thirst to follow up on the lesson she had taught one FAWN turncoat by enlightening another, a beaming Nyssa makes her way down the aisle, slapping hands along the guardrail, and doing her absolute best not to miss a single palm. Finally reaching the ring steps, Bloodwind takes them nearly two at a time, eager to get in the ring. Stopping just long enough to wipe her boots on the apron, the Nubile Navajo slips through the ropes and makes a beeline for the nearest corner. Nyssa bounds onto the middle rope, pumping a fist in the air, drawing another loud roar of support from the crowd in response.
Ordinarily, this would be the referee’s cue to gather the combatants, inspect them for foreign objects and impart the opening instructions--only there’s no referee in the ring, just Kylie, Nyssa and the announcer, who again addresses the crowd.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “announcing tonight’s Special Guest Referee...”
As his voice trails off, there’s a brief, lingering silence... which is promptly broken by the opening of Marcy Playground’s “Coming Up from Behind”. It’s anybody’s guess who loses their sh!t first and more completely, the FAWNatics or the Pleasant Valley princess. But there’s NO denying that it’s deafening in the FAWN Arena when none other than the Tacoma Titan, Krystal Erway, steps through the curtains and onto the ramp.
Krystal takes a moment to wave to the raucous FAWNatics, delighted to be back in the FAWN Arena--even if the number Kylie had done on her a couple of months ago had forced another brace onto her knee. It might still be a little time before Erway could slip through the ropes and kick some ass as a competitor again, but she could certainly enforce law and order. The brunette fills out her zebra stripes decidedly more pleasingly than Al Carpenter, it has to be said, her referee’s shirt tied off just below her bust. Below that are her usual wrestling lavender hipster briefs and white boots.
Krystal heads down the aisle to the ring, quickly climbing the steps and slipping through the ropes. Her eyes locking on her one-time tag team partner’s, Erway can’t keep herself from offering a small, smug smirk. “Surprise, bytch,” the brunette mutters. “Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me...”
Kylie raises her microphone to her lips but Krystal slaps it away, the 'stick' falling to the canvas with a 'KLUNK'.
"No one wants to hear anymore out of you," Erway informs.
Sanders' now empty hands move to her shoulder-length golden locks and pull at the follicles in frustration and amazement. "This is not right," she screams to anyone who cares, which seems precious few. "This is not fair."
Kylie stomps around the ring protesting to the boos of the fans and a shrug from Krystal. "Deal with it Little K," Erway informs, pointing Kylie toward her corner. Krystal follows Sanders there and demands to review her pads and boots then checks her hands.
"Sorry. Not happening."
Grabbing a scissors out of her shirt pocket, she cuts the tape off one fist then the other, Sanders flabbergasted. Her work done with Ky, Krystal tosses the utensil to a FAWN flunky and turns toward the champ. "Hope you have another brace at the ready," Kylie calls out over Krystal's shoulder. "Just sayin'."
Erway's examination of the Nubile Navajo goes much more smoothly, and much more quickly--TOO quickly ,to hear Kylie tell it. "No pressure," Krystal says softly with a sly grin, "but please don't let me have to raise that bytch's hand."
Nyssa shakes her head. "Don't worry. I just got this back."
Bloodwind passes Erway the Lightweight title.
"I'm not about to let it go anytime soon."
Nodding, Krystal steps back to the center of the ring and holds the strap aloft--the gold earning one more round of cheers from the crowd. Finally, passing the belt to a ringside staffer, Krystal calls for the bell--and Nyssa Bloodwind moves out of her corner, watching the challenger with a weary eye.
Kylie strides toward Bloodwind, left hand raised and extended, palm flattened in a 'stop' sign. "Let's get something straight," Sanders says as she approaches, "this is going to be a fair fight. I don't want to see any favoritism." But while her right says 'stop', her left hand says 'go' when Ky gets in range, delivering a backhand chop to Nyssa's chest. A pleased Kylie now raises both hands to the crowd. "Is it possible? Even more stupid than Shea?"
Sanders' blow forces a wincing Nyssa a half step back, both hands flying toward her bosom. Krystal raises an admonishing finger to her former partner--by Kylie holds up both hands in innocence. "Open hand," the elfin blonde remarks. "Totally legal. You don't have a leg to stand on here..." The soft chuckle the Hawkeye offers as she steps past the ref is more than enough to tell Erway that was no accidental choice of words. Moving toward the reigning champ, Kylie reaches out to grab a shoulder... but the Nubile Navajo abruptly spins back toward her foe, BLASTING Sanders' chest with a forearm shot, followed by another, and another. A good quartet back Sanders into the ropes, Bloodwind pivoting as she draws back her open right hand. "Wanna know what's stupid?" the Nubile Navajo asks. "Challenging a Bloodwind to a choppin' contest."
And Nyssa lets loose with a flurry of knife-edges almost too fast to see, though the crowd can certainly hear them echo through the arena and Kylie can clearly feel each and every one as she's rocked with each impact, leaning further into the corner. After the first half dozen, the blonde is sent off her feet from the force, back leaning against the top buckle. But Bloodwind doesn't stop, turning Kylie's chest rosy as the crowd erupts, showering the champ with cheers. After the full dozen, Nyssa gives her hand a big lollypop lick and delivers a baker's number 13 to just above Kylie's cleavage with enough force that it knocks Sanders off her feet. The elfin blonde rests on her backside, legs extended, wincing in anguish and perhaps happy to be out of range of the blistering backhands.
Nyssa starts to reach down, looking for a handful of hair... but Krystal Erway wraps a brawny arm around her waist. "Hate to say it, Nyssa," the Tacoma Titan says, "but she's in the corner. You gotta give her some room."
"Oh, I'll give her some room," Bloodwind replies, not offering much in the way of a protest as Erway guides her back toward the center of the ring. But as soon as Krystal's arm falls away, the Nubile Navajo begins to charge back toward her opponent. "But not TOO MUCH room..." Judging it a little early in the fight to attempt a bronco buster, Nyssa still leaves her feet, looking to land a pair of soles to Kylie's juggs with a dropkick.
Kylie's hazel peepers go wide, but she doesn't have enough time to offer any other response and Bloodwind's boots THUMP into Sanders' chest. A pounded Kylie rolls to the side with the impact and ends up halfway over the bottom rope, facing out, tummy lying across the rubber-coated steel. Having been sent halfway out with the kick, the challenger decides all the way might be a good place to gather her thoughts and start this match over. She starts to climb to the outside and away from the Nubile Navajo.
Fortunately for Kylie, she gains a little time in making her escape as Nyssa climbs back to her feet. By the time Bloodwind has risen and turns to reacquire her prey, Sanders' boots are touching down with the cold concrete. The elfin blonde staggers away from the ring, one hand rubbing at her throbbing chest. Nyssa turns away from Kylie, instead opting to sprint into the far ropes. Rebounding off the cables, the Native American beauty races back in the Hawkeye's direction before dropping into a baseball slides, looking to sail under the bottom rope and land another dropkick--this one to Sanders' back.
Apparently not believing Nyssa would follow, Sanders seems just as interested in denigrating the former Corps' members in front of her than anything going on behind. She curses the fans up and down, particularly those delighted at Nyssa's fast start, then pays for it when Bloodwind NAILS Kylie in the shoulderblades with her kick. The Hawkeye lurches forward and CRASHES into the metal barricade. There's enough force behind the boots Sanders ends draped over the railing, a couple former Corps' members sarcastically patting her on the back for a job well done.
Gutted by the guardrail, this time Kylie is too preoccupied with the need to catch her breath to work on escaping as the Nubile Navajo rises. And when Nyssa spots Sanders folded across the steel, the elfin blonde's backside wiggling ever so slightly side to side with each kick of a foot, the invitation is FAAAR to great for Bloodwind to resist. Sauntering over to the hung-up Hawkeye, the Lightweight champ gives Kylie's rump a brief, possessive rub before raising her right hand, ready to put her palm to work again.
THWAP...
THWAP...
THWAP...
... come the slaps, Kylie yelping with embarrassment as much as pain from each and the crowd reveling in their former favorite's just desserts. Kylie reaches back to swat at Bloodwind's spanking palm, but it's a tough position to do anything but receive her punishment, Nyssa racking up a full ten before tugging Sanders off the metal pole. Pointing Sanders back at the ring, the champ heaves her in an Irish whip toward the apron, perhaps hoping Kylie will turn her back into a spine-cracking hit. But the blonde manages to control her momentum enough to leap and slide back in under the bottom rope. She rolls to her burning backside and butt scoots toward the opposite side as Nyssa reenters and closes the gap between them. Begging off, Kylie pleads for a little time.
"Just so you know," the Nubile Navajo hisses, stalking her cowering foe, "one of those was for Shea. One of them was for Krystal. The others were for EVERY SINGLE FAN whose face you spit in." Leaning forward, Nyssa reaches for Kylie's flaxen tresses, intending to yank the traitorous Hawkeye up to her feet. From there, she would send Sanders into the ropes with an Irish whip before unleashing one more dropkick--this one aimed at the elfin blonde's jaw.
Kylie yips as she's pulled to her feet by her follicles, Sanders howling "HAIR" at the official who, when Bloodwind quickly transitions to a wrist, pays Kylie's caterwauling no mind. Sanders sprints across the canvas and rebounds out of the ropes, Nyssa's Uggs already headed for the tip of the blonde's chin. This time, however, Sanders is able to sweep the boots away before they connect. Bloodwind hits the deck, but rather lightly. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she meets a turning Hawkeye and it's Kylie's toe kick that reaches tummy first. Stopped and stooped, Bloodwind invites retaliation and Sanders drops to one knee so she can nail the champ in the chin with an uppercut. The connection staggers Nyssa and Sanders takes a wrist to send Bloodwind on a trip. She heaves the Navajo, but Nyssa quickly reverses and again Kylie is racing to the ropes. With Bloodwind poised for what appears to be a clothesline, Kylie drops to her knees, hoping to slide by and nail Nyssa in her tawny midriff.
(SLIDING BODY BLOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEHvYvaEfgE )
With Bloodwind's arm elevated for a decapitating clothesline, the Nubile Navajo's belly is left wide open for the sliding Kylie's fist. "GYYYUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHH...." Nyssa gasps as Sanders' punch DRILLS her at the navel, the Lightweight champ's legs buckling from the blow. She manages to remain upright, but only just, hunched over and sucking air.
Instantly, Krystal barks at the kneeling challenger, "You and I both know that was a closed fist."
Kylie is too gassed to argue, though she does hold up an open hand in innocence. Pushing up, the Hawkeye moves to Bloodwind's side and captures her noggin in a side headlock, Nyssa's long raven locks spilling out the top of the grip. Wrenching the champ's neck, Kylie takes an extra breath or two. Raising a hand high, she signals to the crowd to get ready. They are and let her have it with a torrent of brokenhearted boos. Using that as her cue, Kylie races toward the corner with Nyssa in tow. Reaching the buckles, she starts to ascend the ropes on one side, hoping to leap into a u-turn and send Bloodwind's braincase back to the deck with a Running Ky-Dog.
Kylie's feet maneuver their way around the rubber coated steel strands with grace befitting her former mentor, and the woman she had defeated at Mania. From the top turnbuckle, Sanders' legs propel her backwards, the Pleasant Valley princess winging through the air and turning Nyssa Bloodwind along with her. The Hawkeye descends to the mat, serving up a wicked facial of canvas for the Nubile Navajo, the impact savage enough to send Nyssa flopping over to her back in a splayed heap. Sanders wastes no time in throwing herself across Bloodwind's chest, reaching to hook a leg. And in spite of recent history, Krystal shows no hesitation in dropping to the mat and slapping off the...
ONE...
TWO...
Nyssa bucks out from underneath the challenger.
Immediately, Kylie's eyes turn to her former partner. "Don't try and screw with me, Krystal." Ky rises and tries to chest Erway, though the result is almost comical in its FAIL. "I'm not above putting you back in the hospital where it seems you spend half your career."
Erway's eyes show a flicker of fire but when Kylie turns to collect Bloodwind, the ref controls herself. With the lightweight champ still grounded, having rolled to her chest, Kylie settles above her in a reverse standing straddle. Collecting both ankles, Sanders starts to scoot backwards with the legs in tow, hoping to reach a tight crouch somewhere above Nyssa's shoulders and make the brat wail and, more importantly, hand over her title courtesy an anguish-inducing Boston Crab.
An abbreviated groan escapes Nyssa's mouth as Kylie's derriere sinks toward the back of her noggin, the Nubile Navajo swiftly biting her bottom lip to keep that agonized cry at least partially under wraps. Meanwhile, the Tacoma Titan drops to one knee beside Sanders and Bloodwind. "What do you say, Nyssa?" she asks.
Nyssa grunts in anguish before responding, "I... gyyuuuuhhh... I say... did Kylie... skip... the weigh-in this afternoon? Cause if she's 115... then... then I'm SheeEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
Bloodwind turns her mouth toward the canvas, trying to enlist its aid in muffling her scream. But, thankfully, blonde and brunette remain close enough to the corner that Nyssa can reach out, her fingers coiling tightly around the bottom rope.
Krystal dutifully calls for the break. Not surprisingly Kylie holds on through four seconds, only allowing Bloodwind's legs to unfold after Erway's count. Sanders raises her hands. "I have four, ref. So cool your geysers." But even as she lifts her open palms high, she "mistakenly" sends an unobtrusive heel of a mule kick into the champ's crotch as she walks away. Bloodwind spasms in pain from the low blow and Krystal makes sure Kylie knows such activity won't be tolerated. Sanders shakes her head. "Yeah. Like it wasn't tolerated against me. FOR YEARS." Infuriated, Kylie spins back to the balled Bloodwind and captures the raven-haired beauty's ankles. Ky tugs Nyssa out of her ball and onto her back. She spreads Nyssa's quivering stems wide and lets a golden boot hover over the champ’s aching nethers. "Yes?" she asks the crowd, staring Krystal dead in the face with a smile.
Krystal doesn't share the expression. "Don't. You. Dare," the Tacoma Titan cautions her, fixing the elfin blonde with a stern glare. The FAWNatics aren't QUITE as measured, howling a plethora of angry objections in the challenger's direction. For her part, Nyssa attempts to kick her feet free of Kylie's grasps, but the lingering sting of Sanders' mewl kick has deprived her shapely legs of their usual power. Instead, the Nubile Navajo can only raise a pair of pleading hands...
Kylie tosses the legs aside and steps on Bloodwind's abs to cross over the downed Native American grappler in order to get in Erway's grill. "Don't tell me what to do, Krystal. We both know how it went the last time you tried telling me what to do." Sanders puts her hands on Krystal's shoulders and gives the well-endowed zebra a shove. "Now get out and stay out of my way and let me get back to my title."
Erway staggers back, but the buxom brunette rights herself pretty quickly. More to the point, the Tacoma Titan surges back in Kylie's direction! Planting her hands on the elfin blonde's shoulders, Krystal answers her former partner's shove with one of her own, the Pleasant Valley princess sent into an awkward reverse--one only made more so when Kylie's heels meet Nyssa's flank. Tripped up by the sprawled Nubile Navajo, Sanders tumbles over her opponent and lands heavily on her backside. She glares up at Krystal in absolute fury, but as her mouth starts to open, Erway cuts her off. "That's getting off light," she says. "I could've disqualified your ass right then and there. Do it again, and see if I don't."
Containing her fury, Kylie bites her lower lip and pushes to her feet. She stares Krystal down for several long seconds, but with Bloodwind back up to one knee and rising, Sanders turns her attention back to the American who had relieved the True American Polly Lockwood of her belt at Mania. Helping Nyssa up the rest of the way with a grip on her wrist, the blonde in black dips, hoping to heave Bloodwind across her shoulders and into a fireman's carry. From there, it would be an early PV Driver, a 1-2-3, and Kylie could go about taking Krystal's other knee to finish off a full and wonderful day when Erway had no power of the striped shirt to wave over her head.
She GETS Nyssa Bloodwind up onto her shoulders--but KEEPING her there proves to be a challenge when the Nubile Navajo starts smashing elbow shots into the side of Sanders' skull. It takes nearly a half-dozen, but finally, the accumulation of shots loosens Kylie's grasp on her enough to allow Nyssa to slip out the back door. While Bloodwind's Uggs settle down on the mat, Kylie quickly shifts to Plan B, the Hawkeye wheeling around and slinging a looping right, hoping to land a knockout shot to the Native American's temple. Instead, Nyssa ducks the swing, and promptly straightens up, Sanders' arm remaining behind Nyssa's head. Reaching across the blonde's chest, Bloodwind begins to hop into the air, intending to sit out and connect with an inverted jawbreaker.
(INVERTED JAWBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKyfR5hxxfo )
With Kylie suddenly out of position and off balance, Nyssa heaves the Hawkeye high into the air before there can be any counter of the counter. As the blonde goes airborne in the tawny warrior's grip, Nyssa drops to her backside. Sanders' jaw, strapped tightly to Bloodwind's shoulder, gets absolutely JACKED and Ky is sent high for a second time from the force of the impact. The elfin blonde ends splayed in a spreadeagle, hazel eyes glassy, Ky shifting her mandible from side to side.
Nyssa springs back to her feet quickly--reassuringly so, at least in the judgment of the FAWNatics, who'd come so close to seeing Bloodwind's title reign truncated almost before it had begun. With Kylie assessing the condition of her jaw, the Nubile Navajo turns her attention considerably further south. Stepping between Sanders' thighs, Nyssa then starts to fold Kylie's other gam, attempting to get her foe's right foot pinned against Bloodwind's calf and secure her Indian deathlock.
(INDIAN DEATHLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKqOmTQiyx0 )
Only when Sanders gets fully knotted does the blonde understand the dire straits she's in. A risen Nyssa twists to apply more pressure on her creation and the effort draws a squeal of protest from Kylie. When the blonde reaches for the strands, Nyssa drags her adversary another couple feet from safety and lays out, sending waves of anguish through Sanders. Unabashedly, Kylie howls in agony, the screams only growing louder when Bloodwind bridges. But with Kylie's famous resolve not seeming to have lessened with her crooked ways, Nyssa decides there might be a better way to crack this egg.
It takes some doing to free the Pleasant Valley Princess from her concoction, but eventually, Nyssa manages to release the hold. Rolling to one knee, the Nubile Navajo glances up at the special guest referee. "Sure she didn't quit?" she asks. Krystal shakes her head. "She's always been stubborn. Even when her head wasn't up her own ass." Stifling a small laugh, Bloodwind pushes to her feet, Sanders gingerly beginning to sit up. Offering her foe a helping hand, Nyssa tugs Kylie the rest of the way to verticality, holding her stooped before reaching under her throat. A moment later, and if everything went to plan, Bloodwind would hit the blonde with her corkscrew neckbreaker.
(CORKSCREW NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=22k3PgqZ718 )
The FAWNatics roar as Nyssa tugs Sanders' noggin into a tight front facelock though the champion quickly shifts to the side so she can throw her body into the screw. As Bloodwind does, Kylie gets an arm up and around Nyssa's back to shove her way out of the predicament. But before the still aching blonde can manage, the Native American beauty flips through her neckbreaker buggywhipping Kylie to the canvas. A stupefied Hawkeye ends in a seated position after the impact, hazel eyes showing Ky is out to lunch. She slowly recedes to horizontal next to the glistening titleholder.
As Kylie crumples, just as Nyssa had given her a helping hand up, she now gives her a helping hand DOWN--grabbing Kylie by the shoulder and pushing her flat to the canvas. Draping herself across the Pleasant Valley Princess' chest, Bloodwind reaches to secure and hook both legs.
Dazed by Nyssa's warpath, Kylie doesn't react with even a twitch as Krystal drops next to the grapplers and slaps the mat for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOO!
Sanders sneaks a shoulder up and pushes onto her side, trying to shake some senses back into her addled mind.
The crowd groans when Krystal only holds up two fingers--but Nyssa doesn't protest. Instead, the Nubile Navajo rolls away from her opponent, under the bottom rope and out onto the apron. Climbing to her feet, Bloodwind makes her way to the near corner--and as Sanders finally manages to sit up, still shaking her head, Nyssa scales her way to the top turnbuckle. She reaches her destination an instant after the Hawkeye reaches her feet, Kylie's back to the corner. And as Sanders begins to turn, Bloodwind launches into the air, fashioning her right hand into a tomahawk that would surely split Kylie's coconut.
Nyssa soars toward the befuddled Hawkeye with her arm and knife-edge drawn. Sanders' hazel peepers go wide as she sees the lightweight champion plummeting toward her. Her arms start to move upward and her legs have time to brace for impact, flexing slightly. But there is no bracing form the tomahawk that splits her eyes, crunching her skull. The chop sends Kylie rocketing to the canvas, her back hitting the deck with a loud THUMP. The elfin blonde ends in a starfish, apparently knocked cold by Nyssa's lethal hatchet of a hand.
Nyssa quickly drops to her knees, covering the Hawkeye and collecting the...
ONE...
TWO...
... but NOT the THREE, Sanders throwing up her right shoulder with little more than a heartbeat to spare. The Nubile Navajo shows a little frustration, tossing away Kylie's gams before slapping the mat with both hands, but she's quickly back onto the attack. Hairhauling the elfin blonde to unsteady legs, Bloodwind launches her with a whip into the far corner. Following her in, Nyssa leaps and turns, catching Kylie in the bosom with a pointed elbow that sends Sanders' stems buckling. She starts to drop to a seat...
... but Nyssa grabs another handful of hair, shaking her head. "Wrong way, ya brat," Bloodwind grins, dipping her shoulder and shoving it into Kylie's stomach, muscling the Hawkeye to a seat on the top turnbuckle. The Nubile Navajo then starts to climb the ropes in front of her prey, Navajo Nation rising in anticipation of an extremely satisfying Navajo Cutter.
(NAVAJO CUTTER @2:56:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pplzbP2AlEk )
With Kylie situated in front of her, Bloodwind uses the ropes on either side to stairstep up to the top strands. The raven-haired beauty wraps an arm around Sanders' noggin and tugs the blonde to her feet. Kylie lands a couple soft fists to Nyssa's tummy but the hard abs of the Navajo swallow them up and Bloodwind shrugs them off. She leaps from the penthouse bringing Kylie with her and SPLATTERS the Hawkeye to the canvas, drawing a thrilled ovation from the crowd that only grows when Nyssa shovels over Kylie's ragdoll frame and spreads herself atop it for...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOO!
Sitting back on her haunches, Nyssa casts exasperated eyes up toward Krystal Erway. "Seriously?" the Nubile Navajo asks.
"You might be making a mistake, targeting the head," the Tacoma Titan replies with a smirk. "Always been hard, but I think it might actually be starting to calcify."
The barb helps to ease Bloodwind's spirits and lessen her frustration, the beautiful brunette smiling as she climbs back to her feet. "Just one more thing oughta do it," Nyssa says, backing a couple of feet away as Sanders starts to rise. As the Hawkeye starts to straighten, Nyssa sprints toward her, aiming to end the traitorous bytch's night with her Long Walk DDT.
(LONG WALK DDT@0:50:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoxyK344sfs&feature=player_embedded )
Bloodwind's sprint veers to Sanders' left and the Native American snatches Kylie's head as she zooms by. Stepping up the cables Bloodwind makes a u-turn out of the corner. But before she can throw her legs in front of her and lay out, dooming the challenger, Ky manages to shove Nyssa off. The champ lands on her feet toward the center of the ring. With her back to the elfin blonde, Nyssa spins toward her foe, dark eyes showing disbelief in her Walk cut short. And more surprise is registered when she sees Kylie racing at her, shoulder dipped. There isn't much speed gathered by the battered blonde, but Sanders plans to damn well spear Nyssa with whatever she has left.
And whatever Sanders' spear might like in the speed department is MORE than made up for it by its suddenness, the Nubile Navajo having neither the time to attempt to evade nor brace for it. "GYYYNNNNUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" Bloodwind cries out, more a bellow than a gasp as she's impaled by Kylie's shoulder. Her feet flying out from under her, Nyssa folds across her attacker--and, almost instinctually, Kylie responds with better form than most Hawkeye linebackers as she wraps up Bloodwind's waist.
It's another stride and a half with the Lightweight champion little more than Kylie's cargo, before the Pleasant Valley princess DRIVES her to the canvas, 115lbs impacting the Nubile Navajo with FAR more force than they had any right to. When Kylie rolls to her back, both blonde and brunette are left sprawled, chests heaving as each woman tries to catch her breath, the first to recover anybody's guess.
Both women had been through countless FAWN wars, Sanders more, well, countless. And both are known for absorbing ungodly amounts of punishment before prevailing...or not. So it's little surprise when Kylie and Nyssa struggle almost simultaneously toward vertical. Nyssa is a bit quicker, perhaps Kylie's age showing. Bloodwind pivots and sends an ever-reliable chop toward Ky's chest, but the blonde is able to duck beneath and explode with a thumb to Nyssa's throat. The raven-haired grappler stumbles away bug-eyed, gasping as she chokes down pained breaths. Unfortunately, the arc Bloodwind leaves her on, brings her back toward a panting Sanders. Kylie draws her in and adds a rake of the eyes. Nyssa shrieks in pain, covering her dark peepers.
Kylie turns to the Tacoma Titan, raising her hands high and wide. "Yeah. So how about it, fat ass."
A rasping, blinding Bloodwind crumples to her knees, her left hand massaging her throat while her right tries to rub some vision back into her eyes. Meanwhile, Krystal wags a reproachful finger in Kylie's direction. "The ONLY thing stopping my from disqualifying your sorry ass right now is just how much I honestly WANT to make that three count after Nyssa's served you some humble pie. After that, then you can just KISS this 'fat ass'..."
Turning away from her former tag team partner, Erway strides over to the fallen champion, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You gonna beeEEEEEEUUUUUNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH... !!!!!!"
Her vision still anything but reliable, the Nubile Navajo reflexively responds to the first of her other senses to be triggered: touch. And her response takes the form of a balled fist, slung in the direction of where Nyssa hopes Kylie's navel might be. Alas, for Krystal, the punch connects a good distance south of her belly button, and sends the suddenly slack-jawed bombshell collapsing to HER knees as well.
The blind attack on the zebra nearly knocks Kylie down as well as she is bent over with belly laughs. Waltzing around the penitent duo, Kylie has a hard time containing her mirth. "The...best...punch...ever," Sanders chuckles. But, as Krystal's forehead drops to the canvas, her hands deep between her thighs, the bulb lights up over Kylie's noggin. Scooting to the outside, Kylie drops to the floor and lifts the apron, re-emerging in no more than a couple seconds with a steel folding chair. With Nyssa, her peepers still flooded, feeling about, Bloodwind blinking her sight back to shapes and shadows, Kylie reenters the squared circle with her weapon. The Hawkeye whistles, Nyssa reflexively turning toward the sound. Kylie seeks to reward the champ for her outstanding ears by gutting Nyssa's tummy with the top edge of the seat back, knowing dark-haired cow on the canvas would be none the wiser.
The FAWNatics do their best to alert the Nubile Navajo to the presence of Kylie's weapon, but to no avail. The steel rim SLAMS into Bloodwind's yielding belly, doubling Nyssa over, her left arm wrapping around her traumatized tummy as her exquisite legs strain to carry her staggering past the Pleasant Valley Princess. But after three steps, the Lightweight champion sinks back to her knees before pitching forward the rest of the way. Only the ropes keep the Nubile Navajo from taking a header, Nyssa left sagging against the cables.
Lifting the chair high for all to see, except those women in the ring with her, Kylie pirouettes with her metallic dance partner before twirling toward her title-holding foe. Moving to Nyssa's left, the elfin blonde grabs both sets of legs and lines up Bloodwind's spine for a baseball bat-like swing. Taking a quick glance to see that a still groaning Krystal would miss it all, Kylie lets loose with a full swing of the steel furniture toward the champ's spinal column, ready to break Bloodwind's vertebrae into bits, more than once if the feeling overtook her.
"NYYYYYGGGGGGGUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."
Nyssa's moan manages to overcome the drowning force of the FAWNatics boos and jeers--but the crowd's vociferous displeasure actually does Kylie a solid, doing an admirable job of masking the metallic clank of chair against spine that had preceeded it--at least enough to keep the sound from registering in a still mewling Krystal's ears, the Tacoma Titan still pawing between her thighs as she writhes on the mat. Bloodwind, meanwhile, crumples the rest of the way to the mat, left face down along the ropes. The Nubile Navajo's knees scoot a little underneath her, pushing Nyssa's rump into the air, one hand reaching to rub the base of her spine while her Uggs drum the mat.
A knowing grin emerges on Kylie's cupid's-arrow lips. She draws the chair back as far as she can and nods at the jeering throng. And whhhAMM. Sanders nails Nyssa in the tailbone with the metal weapon. The CLANG echoes, Nyssa sent lurching forward and nearly through the ropes. Kylie lets loose one chair leg so she can grab one of Bloodwind's and draw her away from the cables. Moving quickly, knowing Erway's crotch shot has a limited shelf life, Ky lays the chair aside and grabs both ankles of her foe. The blonde drags Nyssa in front of the nearest corner and flips the Native American beauty to her back. She stomps the champ in the temple to keep her compliant, then plucks the steel chair off the canvas, placing it on top of Nubile Navajo. Skipping to the buckles, Kylie climbs to the top and turns. She measures Nyssa and leaps, legs extending to provide the most sensational leg drop FAWN had ever seen and Nyssa would ever feel.
Somewhere--maybe even backstage--no doubt Kylie's previous opponent is watching the Pleasant Valley Princess' latest thumbing of her nose in the Sensational One's direction. Navajo Nation indisputably have their eyes glued to the spectacle, all the way to its sickening conclusion, when Kylie's thigh crashes down across the back of the chair, mercilessly SLAMMING the steel down into Nyssa Bloodwind's defenseless mug. The elfin blonde is sent bouncing away from the impact, smarting herself, one hand reaching for the back of her devastating thigh and the other to her opposite buttcheek. But the Nubile Navajo gets the worst of the exchange, BY FAR. A brief but violent spasm racks the Lightweight champs body, running from her shoulders all the way to her Uggs. But nearly as soon as the tremor begins, all movement from the Nubile Navajo eases into nothing along with that one, fleeting convulsion. And with Krystal Erway just now starting to use the ropes to pull herself up, the Tacoma Titan's back to both Kylie and Nyssa, Bloodwind's Lightweight title reign has apparently been snuffed out before it had truly been given a chance to begin.
But instead of Kylie tossing the evidence aside, she chooses to make use of it further. Seeming as though she'll continue to wield it against the downed Bloodwind, Sanders instead wheels and NAILS Krystal in the back of her braincase. Only Erway's height stops the blow from being flush, but there's still plenty of CLANG in the collision and the Titan drops to her knees before flopping to her face. Sanders looks toward one fallen woman and then the next. With a war whoop, she revels in the luxury of kicking every ass within her vicinity.
Placing the chair down at her side, the former Pleasant Valley Princess plucks Nyssa's wrists off the canvas and draaags her, chest scraping over the canvas, to a familiar location in front of the corner. Letting Nyssa puddle face-down, her body the consistency of a wet noodle, Ky snatches her weapon of choice. Opening the head from the seat-pan, Kylie places the opening over the neck of the wounded warrior, seemingly ready to end Nyssa's career for good. Kylie waltzes to the buckles and carefully climbs to the top, spinning to view her target. "You've heard of the headless horseman," Kylie shouts, "how about the headless horseshyt?"
No doubt unconscious since the bytchiest Sensational Leg Drop ever delivered, Nyssa Bloodwind is blissfully ignorant of the terrible fate awaiting her. Navajo Nation is anything but, and they join the former members of the Corps, begging and pleading with Kylie Sanders... beseeching their elfin blonde former sweetheart... imploring her, if there remains ANY sense of compassion in her heart after 10 years of embarrassments and degredations (and triumphs and, to be sure), not to do what she's about to do. Remaining perched high above the ring, Sanders ponders their cries...
... for all of two seconds.
After that, the Hawkeye leaps off the top turnbuckle. This time, her assault is brutally simple--no acrobatics, Sanders simply letting gravity pull her down, until both her feet land against the hindside of the seatback. Some FAWNatics gasp, others shriek... more than one even faints as Kylie springs off the steel, not quite sticking the landing when her feet touch down on the mat, but gathering her balance after a step. Only, as her second foot meets the canvas, a sound momentarily overwhelms the frenzy of the FAWNatics.
DING! DING! DING!
The Hawkeye glances over her shoulder, to see Krystal Erway still sprawled alongside the ropes--but the Tacoma Titan's gaze, and her right arm, are both extended toward the timekeeper's table. "Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer declares, even his voice trembling from what he has just witness, "Krystal Erway has called for the bell. Your winner, via disqualification... and STILL Lightweight champion... Nyssa... Bloodwind..."
Kylie leaps into the air stomping her feet on the canvas in frustration. "What did you see?" she shouts at Erway. "What did you THINK you saw?" Kylie amends.
"I think I saw one of the most heinous attacks I..."
Krystal is interrupted by a vicious boot to the temple that lays her out, stiff as a curvy board. Sanders returns to the unconscious Bloodwind and slips the chair from around Nyssa's battered braincase. Wielding the steel, Kylie walks to Erway and points at the battered Titan. "If I can't have the gold. I'll have you."
Kylie measures the top of the chair toward the knee of Krystal's braced stem and BASHES it into the joint. Erway howls in pain, but Kylie seems dissatisfied with the result. The Hawkeye starts to work at Krystal's brace, trying to rip it free of its moorings.
Krystal tries to reach up and strike at her attacker, but Kylie is proving relentless, turning her attention from Erway's knee brace long enough to drive the juggy brunette back to her back with a savage onslaught of forearms. With the Tacoma Titan's rebellion quelled, Sanders turns her focus back to the brace--and, after a few tugs, manages to toss the protective garment aside. The Pleasant Valley princess then returns to her ever-so-trusty friend, the now battered and dented but still VERY effective steel chair. Opening it up, Kylie stuffs Krystal's boot through the gap, sliding the chair up as far as her knee...
... but, as she does so, the FAWNatics begin to roar. The reason being, a certain Tempe Temptress is RACING down the aisle, faster than many could recall ever seeing even Domi Daly run.
Juliet Bloodwind...
The sound of the crowd's roar, an old friend to Kylie, is now a warning siren. The elfin blonde turns toward the aisle and, seeing the fast approach of Nyssa's sister, settles into a crouch, ready to attack as soon as Juliet Bloodwind enters. When Bloodwind Senior slides in, she's buried under a barrage of boots. But the adrenaline pushes Jules through the hailstorm. With the intruder reaching her feet, Kylie transitions to fists. But every thrown right hand seems to get picked off by a blocking forearm of Juliet while each return volley by Bloodwind finds jaw; Kylie rocked, three, four, five times in a row until the blonde can no longer even attempt to return fire.
Another quartet of unanswered forearms eventually send Kylie back into the ropes, the blonde Hawkeye's arms spilling over the strands as Juliet surges in after her. But the Tempe Temptress doesn't continue to pound away at Sanders with forearms, no even her legendary chops. No. The elder Bloodwind's eyes might be welling, but no amount of tears are enough to dampen the burning hatred that shines through them as Juliet's hands slip around Kylie's throat! The elfin blonde's eyes begin to bulge almost as soon as the reigning Intercontinental champion's fingers begin to squeeze...
... and as a flood of striped shirts charge toward the ring, it's clear that FAWN administrators aren't about to give Juliet the slack they would ordinarily afford a competitor to settle any perceived score. Not after what she had just witnessed.
Kylie's arms flail wildly, first to try and break free from Juliet, but when Ky's unable, they continue to fly as a silent desperate plea for help. Luckily for the blonde, the FAWN flunkies storm the squared circle and work at pulling the elder Bloodwind off. It takes three to pry Juliet's hands free from around the reddened throat of the Hawkeye, Kylie immediately wilting to the deck in a gasping, choking heap. As Juliet fights for her freedom and another piece of Kylie, Sanders rolls out under the bottom rope and scurries like a scalded dog around the ring, losing her balance every few steps, using the apron to catch herself. Her hazel eyes as big as saucers, Kylie's frightened gaze remains on the raging Juliet.
"KEEP RUNNING, BYTCH!" Bloodwind howls, no less than five referee's fighting valiantly to keep her restrained--one each clutching at a bicep, a thigh and her waist. And each one only just barely managing to hang on. "NEXT TIME I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I WILL KILL YOU! YOU SICK, F*CKING C*NT!!!!"
But, just as she's about to break free, ten words from behind her redirect the Tempe Temptress' attention: "Look, we have to get her to the back. NOW!"
The elder Bloodwind RIPS clear of the officials' clutches... but they offer a collective sigh when, instead of going after Kylie, she turns and drops to her knees beside her motionless sister. "Sorry," Juliet whimpers, almost too softly for anyone to hear. "I'm SO Sorry, Nys..."
With Juliet turning her attention to her sister, Kylie finds the will to return to the apron's edge nearest the ramp. "I'm already the uncrowned lightweight champion," Kylie shouts. "Just ask your sister. You want to make me the IC champ too, just say the word!" With Bloodwind ignoring her and trash pelting down in her direction, Kylie gives a farewell salute to everyone remaining in the ring and heads for the proverbial hills, another huge statement and set of enemies made.
Kylie Sanders...
Having treated Shea like the rubbish she is at the biggest show of the FAWN year, there i plenty to feel good about, but as Kylie Sanders ruffles through the latest edition of Gladiatrix, her elfin features grow more red by the second.
“60 seconds…Kylie,” a man shouts from the gorilla position and Sanders responds with a growly ‘HUMMMPH’.
Closing the periodical and looking at the cover, full of Bloodwinds and, most definitely not her, doesn’t help the Hawkeye’s disposition.
“I destroy a FAWN legend. THE FAWN legend. And barely a mention,” the blonde says, turning to the flunky. “And London’s little injun helpmates get the whole damn cover to themselves?”
Kylie holds up the magazine as evidence and the man shrugs.
“They did win belts, both of them, at Mania. Pretty remarkable if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” comes the surly response. Sanders tosses the reading material at the man as she moves into the launch position.
“Well, I’m damn well putting Nyssa on the cover of ‘This Week in the ICU’ after this match and take her gold in the process.”
Sanders fluffs her flaxen locks.
“If she can be a two-time lightweight champ, I sure as hell will be.”
The sound of The Clash starts to fill the arena, namely a song from a certain album by the name of ‘London Calling’. Clearly, every person in tonight’s crowd had seen Mania and a deafening set of jeers fill the bowl.
“Guess that’s my new cue,” Kylie says with a smirk. “Morons.”
From stage right, the Hawkeye appears, hopping and rolling her shoulders, her colors turned from gold to black, though she retains her trademark Tigerhawk emblem, it going gold, her standard hues reversed, pads and boots getting the gilded treatment as well and very noticeably, fists wrapped in black tape.
Reaching center stage, Kylie settles and shakes her head at the masses as The Clash continues…
“So alone I keep the wolves at bay…
And there’s only one thing I can say..ayy…ayy…
You didn’t stand by me…
No not at all…
You didn’t stand by me…
No way”
(“TRAIN IN VAIN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYkQK8QsQ2w&index=3&list=LLU6MWpP-rt2kWv-tOm824HA )
Seemingly energized by the words and the hate, Kylie jogs down the ramp and aisle, ignoring most reaching hands before taking a couple mock swings with her taped fists. Reaching the ring and rising up the steps, Kylie turns and takes a view of the packed bowl, seemingly every seat occupied by Shea’s vapid fans and those jumping off the bandwagon, leaving the Corps a ragged few. Ky walks down the length of the apron and accepts a microphone from a flunky. While she does, the PA officially announces her arrival as The Clash fades.
“Tonight’s next match is for the FAWN Lightweight championship. First…the challenger…standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in at 115 pounds, from Pleasant Valley, Iowa…KYLIE SANDERS!”
The crowd only doubles its enmity and volume. Sanders slips through the ropes and claims the center of the ring.
“Shut your mouths,” Kylie shouts into the stick. “SHUT THEM!”
Sanders strolls until the sound of the assembled falls to a dull roar.
“Shea got what she deserved and you all know it. Just like Krystal. Just like a whole hell of a lot of people will around here. Just like you will when you return to your pitiful lives. And foremost on the list are those bytches that stuck their noses in my business. The Bloodwinds.”
The crowd turns on a dime, roaring with approval for the newly crowned champions. The sound does not sit well with Sanders. She grimaces and cover her ears until the ovation abates.
“Luck. That’s what put gold around their waists. Nothing more. But there ain’t no luck that’s going to account for what I’m doing to that little squaw. Tonight, I’m leaving with gold. But don’t bothering getting back in the Corps. I’ve wised up. You scum are no longer allowed.”
As much as the crowd had once LOVED the Pleasant Valley Princess, they now seem every bit as soured on Kylie as she is on them. The FAWNatics answer Sanders’ parting insult with a new round of jeers, while the ring announcer steps back to the center of the ring.
“And now, the CHAMPION..." he resumes, spawning a ROAR of deafening cheers. “Hailing from Tempe, Arizona… She stands five feet three inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty-two pounds… Ladies and gentlemen, she is the Nubile Navajo… NYYYYYSSSSSSSSA BLLLOOOOOOODDDDWWWWIIIIINNNNNNNDDD!”
The murmur of the crowd is interrupted by the first note of Rage Against the Machine. But instead of the elder Bloodwind's ‘Killing in the Name‘, the speakers blare the defiant chords of ‘Testify‘. An instant later and Nyssa pushes the curtains aside, bursting out onto the aisle, the fans bursting into warm cheers for the talented lightweight. The pedigree is no doubt responsible for part of her reception, but there is little denying that the tyro’s choice of ring gear also wins her a fair few whistles. The raven haired beauty stands clad in a faux deerskin halter, the shoulder straps eventually becoming two thin strings that crisscross her otherwise bare back. She also wears matching bikini bottoms, augmented by for lack of a better term a "half loin cloth" that descends to mid-thigh in the front, and that fails to obscure the view of her exquisite derriere in the back. Ugg boots molded to resemble moccasins complete the ensemble.
But of course, the crowning touch of the ensemble was the ultimate accessory: the championship belt of the Lightweight division, gracing her midsection.
Buoyed by the support of the FAWNatics and the an unquenchable thirst to follow up on the lesson she had taught one FAWN turncoat by enlightening another, a beaming Nyssa makes her way down the aisle, slapping hands along the guardrail, and doing her absolute best not to miss a single palm. Finally reaching the ring steps, Bloodwind takes them nearly two at a time, eager to get in the ring. Stopping just long enough to wipe her boots on the apron, the Nubile Navajo slips through the ropes and makes a beeline for the nearest corner. Nyssa bounds onto the middle rope, pumping a fist in the air, drawing another loud roar of support from the crowd in response.
Ordinarily, this would be the referee’s cue to gather the combatants, inspect them for foreign objects and impart the opening instructions--only there’s no referee in the ring, just Kylie, Nyssa and the announcer, who again addresses the crowd.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “announcing tonight’s Special Guest Referee...”
As his voice trails off, there’s a brief, lingering silence... which is promptly broken by the opening of Marcy Playground’s “Coming Up from Behind”. It’s anybody’s guess who loses their sh!t first and more completely, the FAWNatics or the Pleasant Valley princess. But there’s NO denying that it’s deafening in the FAWN Arena when none other than the Tacoma Titan, Krystal Erway, steps through the curtains and onto the ramp.
Krystal takes a moment to wave to the raucous FAWNatics, delighted to be back in the FAWN Arena--even if the number Kylie had done on her a couple of months ago had forced another brace onto her knee. It might still be a little time before Erway could slip through the ropes and kick some ass as a competitor again, but she could certainly enforce law and order. The brunette fills out her zebra stripes decidedly more pleasingly than Al Carpenter, it has to be said, her referee’s shirt tied off just below her bust. Below that are her usual wrestling lavender hipster briefs and white boots.
Krystal heads down the aisle to the ring, quickly climbing the steps and slipping through the ropes. Her eyes locking on her one-time tag team partner’s, Erway can’t keep herself from offering a small, smug smirk. “Surprise, bytch,” the brunette mutters. “Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me...”
Kylie raises her microphone to her lips but Krystal slaps it away, the 'stick' falling to the canvas with a 'KLUNK'.
"No one wants to hear anymore out of you," Erway informs.
Sanders' now empty hands move to her shoulder-length golden locks and pull at the follicles in frustration and amazement. "This is not right," she screams to anyone who cares, which seems precious few. "This is not fair."
Kylie stomps around the ring protesting to the boos of the fans and a shrug from Krystal. "Deal with it Little K," Erway informs, pointing Kylie toward her corner. Krystal follows Sanders there and demands to review her pads and boots then checks her hands.
"Sorry. Not happening."
Grabbing a scissors out of her shirt pocket, she cuts the tape off one fist then the other, Sanders flabbergasted. Her work done with Ky, Krystal tosses the utensil to a FAWN flunky and turns toward the champ. "Hope you have another brace at the ready," Kylie calls out over Krystal's shoulder. "Just sayin'."
Erway's examination of the Nubile Navajo goes much more smoothly, and much more quickly--TOO quickly ,to hear Kylie tell it. "No pressure," Krystal says softly with a sly grin, "but please don't let me have to raise that bytch's hand."
Nyssa shakes her head. "Don't worry. I just got this back."
Bloodwind passes Erway the Lightweight title.
"I'm not about to let it go anytime soon."
Nodding, Krystal steps back to the center of the ring and holds the strap aloft--the gold earning one more round of cheers from the crowd. Finally, passing the belt to a ringside staffer, Krystal calls for the bell--and Nyssa Bloodwind moves out of her corner, watching the challenger with a weary eye.
Kylie strides toward Bloodwind, left hand raised and extended, palm flattened in a 'stop' sign. "Let's get something straight," Sanders says as she approaches, "this is going to be a fair fight. I don't want to see any favoritism." But while her right says 'stop', her left hand says 'go' when Ky gets in range, delivering a backhand chop to Nyssa's chest. A pleased Kylie now raises both hands to the crowd. "Is it possible? Even more stupid than Shea?"
Sanders' blow forces a wincing Nyssa a half step back, both hands flying toward her bosom. Krystal raises an admonishing finger to her former partner--by Kylie holds up both hands in innocence. "Open hand," the elfin blonde remarks. "Totally legal. You don't have a leg to stand on here..." The soft chuckle the Hawkeye offers as she steps past the ref is more than enough to tell Erway that was no accidental choice of words. Moving toward the reigning champ, Kylie reaches out to grab a shoulder... but the Nubile Navajo abruptly spins back toward her foe, BLASTING Sanders' chest with a forearm shot, followed by another, and another. A good quartet back Sanders into the ropes, Bloodwind pivoting as she draws back her open right hand. "Wanna know what's stupid?" the Nubile Navajo asks. "Challenging a Bloodwind to a choppin' contest."
And Nyssa lets loose with a flurry of knife-edges almost too fast to see, though the crowd can certainly hear them echo through the arena and Kylie can clearly feel each and every one as she's rocked with each impact, leaning further into the corner. After the first half dozen, the blonde is sent off her feet from the force, back leaning against the top buckle. But Bloodwind doesn't stop, turning Kylie's chest rosy as the crowd erupts, showering the champ with cheers. After the full dozen, Nyssa gives her hand a big lollypop lick and delivers a baker's number 13 to just above Kylie's cleavage with enough force that it knocks Sanders off her feet. The elfin blonde rests on her backside, legs extended, wincing in anguish and perhaps happy to be out of range of the blistering backhands.
Nyssa starts to reach down, looking for a handful of hair... but Krystal Erway wraps a brawny arm around her waist. "Hate to say it, Nyssa," the Tacoma Titan says, "but she's in the corner. You gotta give her some room."
"Oh, I'll give her some room," Bloodwind replies, not offering much in the way of a protest as Erway guides her back toward the center of the ring. But as soon as Krystal's arm falls away, the Nubile Navajo begins to charge back toward her opponent. "But not TOO MUCH room..." Judging it a little early in the fight to attempt a bronco buster, Nyssa still leaves her feet, looking to land a pair of soles to Kylie's juggs with a dropkick.
Kylie's hazel peepers go wide, but she doesn't have enough time to offer any other response and Bloodwind's boots THUMP into Sanders' chest. A pounded Kylie rolls to the side with the impact and ends up halfway over the bottom rope, facing out, tummy lying across the rubber-coated steel. Having been sent halfway out with the kick, the challenger decides all the way might be a good place to gather her thoughts and start this match over. She starts to climb to the outside and away from the Nubile Navajo.
Fortunately for Kylie, she gains a little time in making her escape as Nyssa climbs back to her feet. By the time Bloodwind has risen and turns to reacquire her prey, Sanders' boots are touching down with the cold concrete. The elfin blonde staggers away from the ring, one hand rubbing at her throbbing chest. Nyssa turns away from Kylie, instead opting to sprint into the far ropes. Rebounding off the cables, the Native American beauty races back in the Hawkeye's direction before dropping into a baseball slides, looking to sail under the bottom rope and land another dropkick--this one to Sanders' back.
Apparently not believing Nyssa would follow, Sanders seems just as interested in denigrating the former Corps' members in front of her than anything going on behind. She curses the fans up and down, particularly those delighted at Nyssa's fast start, then pays for it when Bloodwind NAILS Kylie in the shoulderblades with her kick. The Hawkeye lurches forward and CRASHES into the metal barricade. There's enough force behind the boots Sanders ends draped over the railing, a couple former Corps' members sarcastically patting her on the back for a job well done.
Gutted by the guardrail, this time Kylie is too preoccupied with the need to catch her breath to work on escaping as the Nubile Navajo rises. And when Nyssa spots Sanders folded across the steel, the elfin blonde's backside wiggling ever so slightly side to side with each kick of a foot, the invitation is FAAAR to great for Bloodwind to resist. Sauntering over to the hung-up Hawkeye, the Lightweight champ gives Kylie's rump a brief, possessive rub before raising her right hand, ready to put her palm to work again.
THWAP...
THWAP...
THWAP...
... come the slaps, Kylie yelping with embarrassment as much as pain from each and the crowd reveling in their former favorite's just desserts. Kylie reaches back to swat at Bloodwind's spanking palm, but it's a tough position to do anything but receive her punishment, Nyssa racking up a full ten before tugging Sanders off the metal pole. Pointing Sanders back at the ring, the champ heaves her in an Irish whip toward the apron, perhaps hoping Kylie will turn her back into a spine-cracking hit. But the blonde manages to control her momentum enough to leap and slide back in under the bottom rope. She rolls to her burning backside and butt scoots toward the opposite side as Nyssa reenters and closes the gap between them. Begging off, Kylie pleads for a little time.
"Just so you know," the Nubile Navajo hisses, stalking her cowering foe, "one of those was for Shea. One of them was for Krystal. The others were for EVERY SINGLE FAN whose face you spit in." Leaning forward, Nyssa reaches for Kylie's flaxen tresses, intending to yank the traitorous Hawkeye up to her feet. From there, she would send Sanders into the ropes with an Irish whip before unleashing one more dropkick--this one aimed at the elfin blonde's jaw.
Kylie yips as she's pulled to her feet by her follicles, Sanders howling "HAIR" at the official who, when Bloodwind quickly transitions to a wrist, pays Kylie's caterwauling no mind. Sanders sprints across the canvas and rebounds out of the ropes, Nyssa's Uggs already headed for the tip of the blonde's chin. This time, however, Sanders is able to sweep the boots away before they connect. Bloodwind hits the deck, but rather lightly. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she meets a turning Hawkeye and it's Kylie's toe kick that reaches tummy first. Stopped and stooped, Bloodwind invites retaliation and Sanders drops to one knee so she can nail the champ in the chin with an uppercut. The connection staggers Nyssa and Sanders takes a wrist to send Bloodwind on a trip. She heaves the Navajo, but Nyssa quickly reverses and again Kylie is racing to the ropes. With Bloodwind poised for what appears to be a clothesline, Kylie drops to her knees, hoping to slide by and nail Nyssa in her tawny midriff.
(SLIDING BODY BLOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEHvYvaEfgE )
With Bloodwind's arm elevated for a decapitating clothesline, the Nubile Navajo's belly is left wide open for the sliding Kylie's fist. "GYYYUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHH...." Nyssa gasps as Sanders' punch DRILLS her at the navel, the Lightweight champ's legs buckling from the blow. She manages to remain upright, but only just, hunched over and sucking air.
Instantly, Krystal barks at the kneeling challenger, "You and I both know that was a closed fist."
Kylie is too gassed to argue, though she does hold up an open hand in innocence. Pushing up, the Hawkeye moves to Bloodwind's side and captures her noggin in a side headlock, Nyssa's long raven locks spilling out the top of the grip. Wrenching the champ's neck, Kylie takes an extra breath or two. Raising a hand high, she signals to the crowd to get ready. They are and let her have it with a torrent of brokenhearted boos. Using that as her cue, Kylie races toward the corner with Nyssa in tow. Reaching the buckles, she starts to ascend the ropes on one side, hoping to leap into a u-turn and send Bloodwind's braincase back to the deck with a Running Ky-Dog.
Kylie's feet maneuver their way around the rubber coated steel strands with grace befitting her former mentor, and the woman she had defeated at Mania. From the top turnbuckle, Sanders' legs propel her backwards, the Pleasant Valley princess winging through the air and turning Nyssa Bloodwind along with her. The Hawkeye descends to the mat, serving up a wicked facial of canvas for the Nubile Navajo, the impact savage enough to send Nyssa flopping over to her back in a splayed heap. Sanders wastes no time in throwing herself across Bloodwind's chest, reaching to hook a leg. And in spite of recent history, Krystal shows no hesitation in dropping to the mat and slapping off the...
ONE...
TWO...
Nyssa bucks out from underneath the challenger.
Immediately, Kylie's eyes turn to her former partner. "Don't try and screw with me, Krystal." Ky rises and tries to chest Erway, though the result is almost comical in its FAIL. "I'm not above putting you back in the hospital where it seems you spend half your career."
Erway's eyes show a flicker of fire but when Kylie turns to collect Bloodwind, the ref controls herself. With the lightweight champ still grounded, having rolled to her chest, Kylie settles above her in a reverse standing straddle. Collecting both ankles, Sanders starts to scoot backwards with the legs in tow, hoping to reach a tight crouch somewhere above Nyssa's shoulders and make the brat wail and, more importantly, hand over her title courtesy an anguish-inducing Boston Crab.
An abbreviated groan escapes Nyssa's mouth as Kylie's derriere sinks toward the back of her noggin, the Nubile Navajo swiftly biting her bottom lip to keep that agonized cry at least partially under wraps. Meanwhile, the Tacoma Titan drops to one knee beside Sanders and Bloodwind. "What do you say, Nyssa?" she asks.
Nyssa grunts in anguish before responding, "I... gyyuuuuhhh... I say... did Kylie... skip... the weigh-in this afternoon? Cause if she's 115... then... then I'm SheeEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
Bloodwind turns her mouth toward the canvas, trying to enlist its aid in muffling her scream. But, thankfully, blonde and brunette remain close enough to the corner that Nyssa can reach out, her fingers coiling tightly around the bottom rope.
Krystal dutifully calls for the break. Not surprisingly Kylie holds on through four seconds, only allowing Bloodwind's legs to unfold after Erway's count. Sanders raises her hands. "I have four, ref. So cool your geysers." But even as she lifts her open palms high, she "mistakenly" sends an unobtrusive heel of a mule kick into the champ's crotch as she walks away. Bloodwind spasms in pain from the low blow and Krystal makes sure Kylie knows such activity won't be tolerated. Sanders shakes her head. "Yeah. Like it wasn't tolerated against me. FOR YEARS." Infuriated, Kylie spins back to the balled Bloodwind and captures the raven-haired beauty's ankles. Ky tugs Nyssa out of her ball and onto her back. She spreads Nyssa's quivering stems wide and lets a golden boot hover over the champ’s aching nethers. "Yes?" she asks the crowd, staring Krystal dead in the face with a smile.
Krystal doesn't share the expression. "Don't. You. Dare," the Tacoma Titan cautions her, fixing the elfin blonde with a stern glare. The FAWNatics aren't QUITE as measured, howling a plethora of angry objections in the challenger's direction. For her part, Nyssa attempts to kick her feet free of Kylie's grasps, but the lingering sting of Sanders' mewl kick has deprived her shapely legs of their usual power. Instead, the Nubile Navajo can only raise a pair of pleading hands...
Kylie tosses the legs aside and steps on Bloodwind's abs to cross over the downed Native American grappler in order to get in Erway's grill. "Don't tell me what to do, Krystal. We both know how it went the last time you tried telling me what to do." Sanders puts her hands on Krystal's shoulders and gives the well-endowed zebra a shove. "Now get out and stay out of my way and let me get back to my title."
Erway staggers back, but the buxom brunette rights herself pretty quickly. More to the point, the Tacoma Titan surges back in Kylie's direction! Planting her hands on the elfin blonde's shoulders, Krystal answers her former partner's shove with one of her own, the Pleasant Valley princess sent into an awkward reverse--one only made more so when Kylie's heels meet Nyssa's flank. Tripped up by the sprawled Nubile Navajo, Sanders tumbles over her opponent and lands heavily on her backside. She glares up at Krystal in absolute fury, but as her mouth starts to open, Erway cuts her off. "That's getting off light," she says. "I could've disqualified your ass right then and there. Do it again, and see if I don't."
Containing her fury, Kylie bites her lower lip and pushes to her feet. She stares Krystal down for several long seconds, but with Bloodwind back up to one knee and rising, Sanders turns her attention back to the American who had relieved the True American Polly Lockwood of her belt at Mania. Helping Nyssa up the rest of the way with a grip on her wrist, the blonde in black dips, hoping to heave Bloodwind across her shoulders and into a fireman's carry. From there, it would be an early PV Driver, a 1-2-3, and Kylie could go about taking Krystal's other knee to finish off a full and wonderful day when Erway had no power of the striped shirt to wave over her head.
She GETS Nyssa Bloodwind up onto her shoulders--but KEEPING her there proves to be a challenge when the Nubile Navajo starts smashing elbow shots into the side of Sanders' skull. It takes nearly a half-dozen, but finally, the accumulation of shots loosens Kylie's grasp on her enough to allow Nyssa to slip out the back door. While Bloodwind's Uggs settle down on the mat, Kylie quickly shifts to Plan B, the Hawkeye wheeling around and slinging a looping right, hoping to land a knockout shot to the Native American's temple. Instead, Nyssa ducks the swing, and promptly straightens up, Sanders' arm remaining behind Nyssa's head. Reaching across the blonde's chest, Bloodwind begins to hop into the air, intending to sit out and connect with an inverted jawbreaker.
(INVERTED JAWBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKyfR5hxxfo )
With Kylie suddenly out of position and off balance, Nyssa heaves the Hawkeye high into the air before there can be any counter of the counter. As the blonde goes airborne in the tawny warrior's grip, Nyssa drops to her backside. Sanders' jaw, strapped tightly to Bloodwind's shoulder, gets absolutely JACKED and Ky is sent high for a second time from the force of the impact. The elfin blonde ends splayed in a spreadeagle, hazel eyes glassy, Ky shifting her mandible from side to side.
Nyssa springs back to her feet quickly--reassuringly so, at least in the judgment of the FAWNatics, who'd come so close to seeing Bloodwind's title reign truncated almost before it had begun. With Kylie assessing the condition of her jaw, the Nubile Navajo turns her attention considerably further south. Stepping between Sanders' thighs, Nyssa then starts to fold Kylie's other gam, attempting to get her foe's right foot pinned against Bloodwind's calf and secure her Indian deathlock.
(INDIAN DEATHLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKqOmTQiyx0 )
Only when Sanders gets fully knotted does the blonde understand the dire straits she's in. A risen Nyssa twists to apply more pressure on her creation and the effort draws a squeal of protest from Kylie. When the blonde reaches for the strands, Nyssa drags her adversary another couple feet from safety and lays out, sending waves of anguish through Sanders. Unabashedly, Kylie howls in agony, the screams only growing louder when Bloodwind bridges. But with Kylie's famous resolve not seeming to have lessened with her crooked ways, Nyssa decides there might be a better way to crack this egg.
It takes some doing to free the Pleasant Valley Princess from her concoction, but eventually, Nyssa manages to release the hold. Rolling to one knee, the Nubile Navajo glances up at the special guest referee. "Sure she didn't quit?" she asks. Krystal shakes her head. "She's always been stubborn. Even when her head wasn't up her own ass." Stifling a small laugh, Bloodwind pushes to her feet, Sanders gingerly beginning to sit up. Offering her foe a helping hand, Nyssa tugs Kylie the rest of the way to verticality, holding her stooped before reaching under her throat. A moment later, and if everything went to plan, Bloodwind would hit the blonde with her corkscrew neckbreaker.
(CORKSCREW NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=22k3PgqZ718 )
The FAWNatics roar as Nyssa tugs Sanders' noggin into a tight front facelock though the champion quickly shifts to the side so she can throw her body into the screw. As Bloodwind does, Kylie gets an arm up and around Nyssa's back to shove her way out of the predicament. But before the still aching blonde can manage, the Native American beauty flips through her neckbreaker buggywhipping Kylie to the canvas. A stupefied Hawkeye ends in a seated position after the impact, hazel eyes showing Ky is out to lunch. She slowly recedes to horizontal next to the glistening titleholder.
As Kylie crumples, just as Nyssa had given her a helping hand up, she now gives her a helping hand DOWN--grabbing Kylie by the shoulder and pushing her flat to the canvas. Draping herself across the Pleasant Valley Princess' chest, Bloodwind reaches to secure and hook both legs.
Dazed by Nyssa's warpath, Kylie doesn't react with even a twitch as Krystal drops next to the grapplers and slaps the mat for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOO!
Sanders sneaks a shoulder up and pushes onto her side, trying to shake some senses back into her addled mind.
The crowd groans when Krystal only holds up two fingers--but Nyssa doesn't protest. Instead, the Nubile Navajo rolls away from her opponent, under the bottom rope and out onto the apron. Climbing to her feet, Bloodwind makes her way to the near corner--and as Sanders finally manages to sit up, still shaking her head, Nyssa scales her way to the top turnbuckle. She reaches her destination an instant after the Hawkeye reaches her feet, Kylie's back to the corner. And as Sanders begins to turn, Bloodwind launches into the air, fashioning her right hand into a tomahawk that would surely split Kylie's coconut.
Nyssa soars toward the befuddled Hawkeye with her arm and knife-edge drawn. Sanders' hazel peepers go wide as she sees the lightweight champion plummeting toward her. Her arms start to move upward and her legs have time to brace for impact, flexing slightly. But there is no bracing form the tomahawk that splits her eyes, crunching her skull. The chop sends Kylie rocketing to the canvas, her back hitting the deck with a loud THUMP. The elfin blonde ends in a starfish, apparently knocked cold by Nyssa's lethal hatchet of a hand.
Nyssa quickly drops to her knees, covering the Hawkeye and collecting the...
ONE...
TWO...
... but NOT the THREE, Sanders throwing up her right shoulder with little more than a heartbeat to spare. The Nubile Navajo shows a little frustration, tossing away Kylie's gams before slapping the mat with both hands, but she's quickly back onto the attack. Hairhauling the elfin blonde to unsteady legs, Bloodwind launches her with a whip into the far corner. Following her in, Nyssa leaps and turns, catching Kylie in the bosom with a pointed elbow that sends Sanders' stems buckling. She starts to drop to a seat...
... but Nyssa grabs another handful of hair, shaking her head. "Wrong way, ya brat," Bloodwind grins, dipping her shoulder and shoving it into Kylie's stomach, muscling the Hawkeye to a seat on the top turnbuckle. The Nubile Navajo then starts to climb the ropes in front of her prey, Navajo Nation rising in anticipation of an extremely satisfying Navajo Cutter.
(NAVAJO CUTTER @2:56:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pplzbP2AlEk )
With Kylie situated in front of her, Bloodwind uses the ropes on either side to stairstep up to the top strands. The raven-haired beauty wraps an arm around Sanders' noggin and tugs the blonde to her feet. Kylie lands a couple soft fists to Nyssa's tummy but the hard abs of the Navajo swallow them up and Bloodwind shrugs them off. She leaps from the penthouse bringing Kylie with her and SPLATTERS the Hawkeye to the canvas, drawing a thrilled ovation from the crowd that only grows when Nyssa shovels over Kylie's ragdoll frame and spreads herself atop it for...
ONE...
TWO...
THREENOO!
Sitting back on her haunches, Nyssa casts exasperated eyes up toward Krystal Erway. "Seriously?" the Nubile Navajo asks.
"You might be making a mistake, targeting the head," the Tacoma Titan replies with a smirk. "Always been hard, but I think it might actually be starting to calcify."
The barb helps to ease Bloodwind's spirits and lessen her frustration, the beautiful brunette smiling as she climbs back to her feet. "Just one more thing oughta do it," Nyssa says, backing a couple of feet away as Sanders starts to rise. As the Hawkeye starts to straighten, Nyssa sprints toward her, aiming to end the traitorous bytch's night with her Long Walk DDT.
(LONG WALK DDT@0:50:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoxyK344sfs&feature=player_embedded )
Bloodwind's sprint veers to Sanders' left and the Native American snatches Kylie's head as she zooms by. Stepping up the cables Bloodwind makes a u-turn out of the corner. But before she can throw her legs in front of her and lay out, dooming the challenger, Ky manages to shove Nyssa off. The champ lands on her feet toward the center of the ring. With her back to the elfin blonde, Nyssa spins toward her foe, dark eyes showing disbelief in her Walk cut short. And more surprise is registered when she sees Kylie racing at her, shoulder dipped. There isn't much speed gathered by the battered blonde, but Sanders plans to damn well spear Nyssa with whatever she has left.
And whatever Sanders' spear might like in the speed department is MORE than made up for it by its suddenness, the Nubile Navajo having neither the time to attempt to evade nor brace for it. "GYYYNNNNUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" Bloodwind cries out, more a bellow than a gasp as she's impaled by Kylie's shoulder. Her feet flying out from under her, Nyssa folds across her attacker--and, almost instinctually, Kylie responds with better form than most Hawkeye linebackers as she wraps up Bloodwind's waist.
It's another stride and a half with the Lightweight champion little more than Kylie's cargo, before the Pleasant Valley princess DRIVES her to the canvas, 115lbs impacting the Nubile Navajo with FAR more force than they had any right to. When Kylie rolls to her back, both blonde and brunette are left sprawled, chests heaving as each woman tries to catch her breath, the first to recover anybody's guess.
Both women had been through countless FAWN wars, Sanders more, well, countless. And both are known for absorbing ungodly amounts of punishment before prevailing...or not. So it's little surprise when Kylie and Nyssa struggle almost simultaneously toward vertical. Nyssa is a bit quicker, perhaps Kylie's age showing. Bloodwind pivots and sends an ever-reliable chop toward Ky's chest, but the blonde is able to duck beneath and explode with a thumb to Nyssa's throat. The raven-haired grappler stumbles away bug-eyed, gasping as she chokes down pained breaths. Unfortunately, the arc Bloodwind leaves her on, brings her back toward a panting Sanders. Kylie draws her in and adds a rake of the eyes. Nyssa shrieks in pain, covering her dark peepers.
Kylie turns to the Tacoma Titan, raising her hands high and wide. "Yeah. So how about it, fat ass."
A rasping, blinding Bloodwind crumples to her knees, her left hand massaging her throat while her right tries to rub some vision back into her eyes. Meanwhile, Krystal wags a reproachful finger in Kylie's direction. "The ONLY thing stopping my from disqualifying your sorry ass right now is just how much I honestly WANT to make that three count after Nyssa's served you some humble pie. After that, then you can just KISS this 'fat ass'..."
Turning away from her former tag team partner, Erway strides over to the fallen champion, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You gonna beeEEEEEEUUUUUNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH... !!!!!!"
Her vision still anything but reliable, the Nubile Navajo reflexively responds to the first of her other senses to be triggered: touch. And her response takes the form of a balled fist, slung in the direction of where Nyssa hopes Kylie's navel might be. Alas, for Krystal, the punch connects a good distance south of her belly button, and sends the suddenly slack-jawed bombshell collapsing to HER knees as well.
The blind attack on the zebra nearly knocks Kylie down as well as she is bent over with belly laughs. Waltzing around the penitent duo, Kylie has a hard time containing her mirth. "The...best...punch...ever," Sanders chuckles. But, as Krystal's forehead drops to the canvas, her hands deep between her thighs, the bulb lights up over Kylie's noggin. Scooting to the outside, Kylie drops to the floor and lifts the apron, re-emerging in no more than a couple seconds with a steel folding chair. With Nyssa, her peepers still flooded, feeling about, Bloodwind blinking her sight back to shapes and shadows, Kylie reenters the squared circle with her weapon. The Hawkeye whistles, Nyssa reflexively turning toward the sound. Kylie seeks to reward the champ for her outstanding ears by gutting Nyssa's tummy with the top edge of the seat back, knowing dark-haired cow on the canvas would be none the wiser.
The FAWNatics do their best to alert the Nubile Navajo to the presence of Kylie's weapon, but to no avail. The steel rim SLAMS into Bloodwind's yielding belly, doubling Nyssa over, her left arm wrapping around her traumatized tummy as her exquisite legs strain to carry her staggering past the Pleasant Valley Princess. But after three steps, the Lightweight champion sinks back to her knees before pitching forward the rest of the way. Only the ropes keep the Nubile Navajo from taking a header, Nyssa left sagging against the cables.
Lifting the chair high for all to see, except those women in the ring with her, Kylie pirouettes with her metallic dance partner before twirling toward her title-holding foe. Moving to Nyssa's left, the elfin blonde grabs both sets of legs and lines up Bloodwind's spine for a baseball bat-like swing. Taking a quick glance to see that a still groaning Krystal would miss it all, Kylie lets loose with a full swing of the steel furniture toward the champ's spinal column, ready to break Bloodwind's vertebrae into bits, more than once if the feeling overtook her.
"NYYYYYGGGGGGGUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."
Nyssa's moan manages to overcome the drowning force of the FAWNatics boos and jeers--but the crowd's vociferous displeasure actually does Kylie a solid, doing an admirable job of masking the metallic clank of chair against spine that had preceeded it--at least enough to keep the sound from registering in a still mewling Krystal's ears, the Tacoma Titan still pawing between her thighs as she writhes on the mat. Bloodwind, meanwhile, crumples the rest of the way to the mat, left face down along the ropes. The Nubile Navajo's knees scoot a little underneath her, pushing Nyssa's rump into the air, one hand reaching to rub the base of her spine while her Uggs drum the mat.
A knowing grin emerges on Kylie's cupid's-arrow lips. She draws the chair back as far as she can and nods at the jeering throng. And whhhAMM. Sanders nails Nyssa in the tailbone with the metal weapon. The CLANG echoes, Nyssa sent lurching forward and nearly through the ropes. Kylie lets loose one chair leg so she can grab one of Bloodwind's and draw her away from the cables. Moving quickly, knowing Erway's crotch shot has a limited shelf life, Ky lays the chair aside and grabs both ankles of her foe. The blonde drags Nyssa in front of the nearest corner and flips the Native American beauty to her back. She stomps the champ in the temple to keep her compliant, then plucks the steel chair off the canvas, placing it on top of Nubile Navajo. Skipping to the buckles, Kylie climbs to the top and turns. She measures Nyssa and leaps, legs extending to provide the most sensational leg drop FAWN had ever seen and Nyssa would ever feel.
Somewhere--maybe even backstage--no doubt Kylie's previous opponent is watching the Pleasant Valley Princess' latest thumbing of her nose in the Sensational One's direction. Navajo Nation indisputably have their eyes glued to the spectacle, all the way to its sickening conclusion, when Kylie's thigh crashes down across the back of the chair, mercilessly SLAMMING the steel down into Nyssa Bloodwind's defenseless mug. The elfin blonde is sent bouncing away from the impact, smarting herself, one hand reaching for the back of her devastating thigh and the other to her opposite buttcheek. But the Nubile Navajo gets the worst of the exchange, BY FAR. A brief but violent spasm racks the Lightweight champs body, running from her shoulders all the way to her Uggs. But nearly as soon as the tremor begins, all movement from the Nubile Navajo eases into nothing along with that one, fleeting convulsion. And with Krystal Erway just now starting to use the ropes to pull herself up, the Tacoma Titan's back to both Kylie and Nyssa, Bloodwind's Lightweight title reign has apparently been snuffed out before it had truly been given a chance to begin.
But instead of Kylie tossing the evidence aside, she chooses to make use of it further. Seeming as though she'll continue to wield it against the downed Bloodwind, Sanders instead wheels and NAILS Krystal in the back of her braincase. Only Erway's height stops the blow from being flush, but there's still plenty of CLANG in the collision and the Titan drops to her knees before flopping to her face. Sanders looks toward one fallen woman and then the next. With a war whoop, she revels in the luxury of kicking every ass within her vicinity.
Placing the chair down at her side, the former Pleasant Valley Princess plucks Nyssa's wrists off the canvas and draaags her, chest scraping over the canvas, to a familiar location in front of the corner. Letting Nyssa puddle face-down, her body the consistency of a wet noodle, Ky snatches her weapon of choice. Opening the head from the seat-pan, Kylie places the opening over the neck of the wounded warrior, seemingly ready to end Nyssa's career for good. Kylie waltzes to the buckles and carefully climbs to the top, spinning to view her target. "You've heard of the headless horseman," Kylie shouts, "how about the headless horseshyt?"
No doubt unconscious since the bytchiest Sensational Leg Drop ever delivered, Nyssa Bloodwind is blissfully ignorant of the terrible fate awaiting her. Navajo Nation is anything but, and they join the former members of the Corps, begging and pleading with Kylie Sanders... beseeching their elfin blonde former sweetheart... imploring her, if there remains ANY sense of compassion in her heart after 10 years of embarrassments and degredations (and triumphs and, to be sure), not to do what she's about to do. Remaining perched high above the ring, Sanders ponders their cries...
... for all of two seconds.
After that, the Hawkeye leaps off the top turnbuckle. This time, her assault is brutally simple--no acrobatics, Sanders simply letting gravity pull her down, until both her feet land against the hindside of the seatback. Some FAWNatics gasp, others shriek... more than one even faints as Kylie springs off the steel, not quite sticking the landing when her feet touch down on the mat, but gathering her balance after a step. Only, as her second foot meets the canvas, a sound momentarily overwhelms the frenzy of the FAWNatics.
DING! DING! DING!
The Hawkeye glances over her shoulder, to see Krystal Erway still sprawled alongside the ropes--but the Tacoma Titan's gaze, and her right arm, are both extended toward the timekeeper's table. "Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer declares, even his voice trembling from what he has just witness, "Krystal Erway has called for the bell. Your winner, via disqualification... and STILL Lightweight champion... Nyssa... Bloodwind..."
Kylie leaps into the air stomping her feet on the canvas in frustration. "What did you see?" she shouts at Erway. "What did you THINK you saw?" Kylie amends.
"I think I saw one of the most heinous attacks I..."
Krystal is interrupted by a vicious boot to the temple that lays her out, stiff as a curvy board. Sanders returns to the unconscious Bloodwind and slips the chair from around Nyssa's battered braincase. Wielding the steel, Kylie walks to Erway and points at the battered Titan. "If I can't have the gold. I'll have you."
Kylie measures the top of the chair toward the knee of Krystal's braced stem and BASHES it into the joint. Erway howls in pain, but Kylie seems dissatisfied with the result. The Hawkeye starts to work at Krystal's brace, trying to rip it free of its moorings.
Krystal tries to reach up and strike at her attacker, but Kylie is proving relentless, turning her attention from Erway's knee brace long enough to drive the juggy brunette back to her back with a savage onslaught of forearms. With the Tacoma Titan's rebellion quelled, Sanders turns her focus back to the brace--and, after a few tugs, manages to toss the protective garment aside. The Pleasant Valley princess then returns to her ever-so-trusty friend, the now battered and dented but still VERY effective steel chair. Opening it up, Kylie stuffs Krystal's boot through the gap, sliding the chair up as far as her knee...
... but, as she does so, the FAWNatics begin to roar. The reason being, a certain Tempe Temptress is RACING down the aisle, faster than many could recall ever seeing even Domi Daly run.
Juliet Bloodwind...
The sound of the crowd's roar, an old friend to Kylie, is now a warning siren. The elfin blonde turns toward the aisle and, seeing the fast approach of Nyssa's sister, settles into a crouch, ready to attack as soon as Juliet Bloodwind enters. When Bloodwind Senior slides in, she's buried under a barrage of boots. But the adrenaline pushes Jules through the hailstorm. With the intruder reaching her feet, Kylie transitions to fists. But every thrown right hand seems to get picked off by a blocking forearm of Juliet while each return volley by Bloodwind finds jaw; Kylie rocked, three, four, five times in a row until the blonde can no longer even attempt to return fire.
Another quartet of unanswered forearms eventually send Kylie back into the ropes, the blonde Hawkeye's arms spilling over the strands as Juliet surges in after her. But the Tempe Temptress doesn't continue to pound away at Sanders with forearms, no even her legendary chops. No. The elder Bloodwind's eyes might be welling, but no amount of tears are enough to dampen the burning hatred that shines through them as Juliet's hands slip around Kylie's throat! The elfin blonde's eyes begin to bulge almost as soon as the reigning Intercontinental champion's fingers begin to squeeze...
... and as a flood of striped shirts charge toward the ring, it's clear that FAWN administrators aren't about to give Juliet the slack they would ordinarily afford a competitor to settle any perceived score. Not after what she had just witnessed.
Kylie's arms flail wildly, first to try and break free from Juliet, but when Ky's unable, they continue to fly as a silent desperate plea for help. Luckily for the blonde, the FAWN flunkies storm the squared circle and work at pulling the elder Bloodwind off. It takes three to pry Juliet's hands free from around the reddened throat of the Hawkeye, Kylie immediately wilting to the deck in a gasping, choking heap. As Juliet fights for her freedom and another piece of Kylie, Sanders rolls out under the bottom rope and scurries like a scalded dog around the ring, losing her balance every few steps, using the apron to catch herself. Her hazel eyes as big as saucers, Kylie's frightened gaze remains on the raging Juliet.
"KEEP RUNNING, BYTCH!" Bloodwind howls, no less than five referee's fighting valiantly to keep her restrained--one each clutching at a bicep, a thigh and her waist. And each one only just barely managing to hang on. "NEXT TIME I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I WILL KILL YOU! YOU SICK, F*CKING C*NT!!!!"
But, just as she's about to break free, ten words from behind her redirect the Tempe Temptress' attention: "Look, we have to get her to the back. NOW!"
The elder Bloodwind RIPS clear of the officials' clutches... but they offer a collective sigh when, instead of going after Kylie, she turns and drops to her knees beside her motionless sister. "Sorry," Juliet whimpers, almost too softly for anyone to hear. "I'm SO Sorry, Nys..."
With Juliet turning her attention to her sister, Kylie finds the will to return to the apron's edge nearest the ramp. "I'm already the uncrowned lightweight champion," Kylie shouts. "Just ask your sister. You want to make me the IC champ too, just say the word!" With Bloodwind ignoring her and trash pelting down in her direction, Kylie gives a farewell salute to everyone remaining in the ring and heads for the proverbial hills, another huge statement and set of enemies made.