Post by hawkeye on Sept 6, 2024 0:33:19 GMT
Having been robbed by Kylie Sanders at Red, White and Bruised, the pay-per-view whose name is a perfect representation for the almost Olympian, the Mightiest of Mites pushes onto the balls of her bare feet backstage, ready to rock.
Somehow, after ‘dismantling’ two giants, a little Platinum Pixie upended her momentum last month before it could truly be stoked. And now she’d been tricked into a return match against one of the destroyer-class dolts she used her athleticism to embarrass.
The Pac Rim beauty’s features turn sour as she waits for her cue. Giving that big oaf Newsome another chance is totally unfair, but with a trip to Mania on the line for the winner, she’d find a way…again.
Hearing Lady Gaga’s ‘Applause’ echo throughout the arena, Dominique pushes through the curtains and into the cascade of boos from the sellout Slaybor Day crowd.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pco91kroVgQ )
With the Olympiad in Paris and its gymnastic feats fresh in everyone’s minds, the arrogant aerialist and nasty nymph of FAWN’s lightweight division acrobatically tumbles to center stage as if she’s amidst a medal-winning floor routine.
The diminutive Domi sticks the landing, her muscular frame in a standing spreadeagle, demanding an ovation from her stance.
DOMINIQUE DALY
But the hate Domi’s accrued through a career where, for the most part, she’s shown the fans and her fellow roster members nothing but disdain, washes over her instead.
The Mighty Mite, accustomed to their jealousy, revels in the swarm’s negative emotions, knowing the fans’ animosity is fueled by the resentfulness of her unrivalled athletic excellence and wrestling brilliance.
Daly’s return to reclaim a spot atop the sub-125 division could only be bolstered by punching up and laying out FAWN’s biggest free agent acquisition in years.
The vertically challenged hardbody is decked out in a gleaming red and blue leotard dusted with tiny stars of white. Strategic rips reveal several swatches of Daly’s trim midriff, her chiseled tummy matching the perfectly sculpted shoulders, arms and thighs. The look is complete with matching white tape on her wrists and ankles, chalk powder on her palms and the soles of her bare feet.
Daly throws her head back, long, dark hair in a classic ponytail. She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts “HIT IT!”
The lights turn strobe, flickering on and off so fast even the most attentive fans can’t follow the effortlessly intricate series of tumbles, handsprings, flips and cartwheels that take the exotic brunette down the ramp. Tracking her is made all the more difficult by the thunderous trail of gold pyro accompanying her journey from one end of the ramp to the other.
When the lights regain their equilibrium, Daly is on the outside of the nearest top turnbuckle, mining the snapping of a twig, Casey soon to be broken.
Dominique throws her hands overhead in a ‘V’ and launches heavenward before spiraling into a descent that plants her in the center of the ring as the announcer makes her introduction.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall and has a 30-minute time limit. First. Hailing from Portland, Oregon. She stands five feet two inches tall and weighs one hundred and twelve pounds. She is the Mighty Mite…and the Ultimate Athlete…DOMINIQUE DALY!”
The crowd’s further chance to exhibit their disgust with Domi is cut short when Daly grabs the stick and shoos the announcer back.
“You think this lumbering dope can beat me?! I already laid her out when I had Pandora distracting me. Size might matter but slow and stupid trumps everything. So get that bytch out here!”
Dominique is buried under an avalanche of jeers.
Smirk firmly in place, Daly tosses the stick back to the announcer, moves to the far corner and begins her stretching routine to the pleasure of the nearby crowd, the barefoot and leotard-clad Domi not requiring Nick’s check from the lack of hiding places.
With the microphone back in her hand, the announcer immediately moves things along.
“And her opponent…”
The crowd roars in anticipation satisfied in a split second.
“Hailing from Atlantic City, New Jersey… She stands five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds…THE BOARDWALK BADASS…THE PRIMA BALLERINA…CASEY NEWSOME!!!!!”
As the Offspring’s “Defy You” pumps over the arena’s sound system, Newsome shoots through the curtain and moves to center stage.
CASEY NEWSOME
The woman who made her name household huge after leaving FAWN only to return, became its World Champion on her grand opening night performance only to have Kat Braddock take it back on her first defense, beams under the love of the spectators.
With Kat dethroned again, Casey’s path back to the top seems a bit longer, but retribution against the nasty nymph and a spot on the biggest card of the year provides plenty of motivation.
“LET’S GO!!!” the brunette shouts and the fans prove themselves ready to follow, responding with a thunderous ovation.
Apparently satisfied, the already ex-champ bounds in a crow hop toward the ring. She crisscrosses from the left side of the aisle to the right and back to slap hands with the adoring masses.
Casey wears a metallic blue two piece, a white sash serving as a belt around her waist, tied off just above her right hip. White pads and boots complete her ensemble, save for one glaring detail: a black protective brace, encasing her right knee, an unfortunate accompaniment for the former dancer since the start of her wrestling career. It was now more protective in nature but still a nasty calling card of a life-altering moment that happily led her to this very successful vocation.
Skipping up the ring steps, Newsome moonwalks cheerily to the middle of the apron.
Turning her back to the ring, Casey earns an “Ooooooooooooh!” from the FAWNatics when she drops into a set of splits—the long-ago injury to her knee having apparently done little to rob her of her flexibility. She rolls underneath the bottom rope, lower limbs remaining wide.
Back somersaulting into a handstand before a yawning Daly, Casey deftly drops to her boot soles and takes a smirking look at the bite-sized Ultimate Athlete. She lifts her arms high and wide to draw more applause than Dominique could ever dream of receiving.
Newsome stares a hole through Daly, Domi becoming noticeably uncomfortable under the gaze.
“You’re mine,” Newsome assures. “No distractions.”
Domi gulps hard as Casey spins and heads for the opposite buckles.
The bell brings Casey marching directly at Daly and Domi slips through the ropes, dropping to the floor before Newsome can reach her.
”Get her back,” Domi demands, waiving off the former, if briefly, World Champion.
Newsome isn’t waiting for any directions from Al Carpenter. She’s immediately out after the retreating Mite, soon chasing the bite-sized former gymnast around the squared circle.
The ponytailed brunette finally takes an on-ramp into the confines, diving beneath the bottom rope and springing to her feet. Dominique hustles to the far ropes and rebounds at light speed toward an entering and rising Casey. Daly leaps into a dropkick to the head of the folded Newsome and ejects the bigger brunette, Casey tumbling through the cables, but remaining atop the apron’s edge, seated but hanging on.
Kipping to her feet, the leotard-clad Domi turns and sprints toward the opposite cables to finish the job of putting the Prima Ballerina on the arena floor. But as Daly rockets through her u-turn, Casey rolls in and pops to her feet. As the diminutive Domi zooms toward her relocated target, now center stage, her dark, almond-shaped eyes widen.
Daly ties to leapfrog over a poised Casey, but Newsome’s not having it. She catches Domi mid-leap around the taut midriff of the Pac Rim beauty. Without a hint of effort, Casey launches Daly up and over with a belly-to-belly suplex, but the acrobatic Oregonian manages to land on her feet instead of her spine.
She surges to the next set of cables and before Casey can fully turn, the vicious little Mite throws a chop clock into the back of Newsome’s braced knee.
The crowd groans in sympathy, aware of the catastrophic injury the Lead Dancer suffered prior to her move to the wrestling world. The destroyer-class sized, dark-haired grappler is dropped to her back, Newsome howling from the wave of pain from her embattled joint, cradling the lower limb close.
Without a hint of remorse, the barefoot Daly passes on stomping on the braced knee but has no compunction about dropping the point of her own padded knee on the side ligaments of Casey’s, drawing a pained yelp from the considerably bigger brunette.
Daly grabs Casey by the ankle of her injured gam and pulls the limb long, then put tootsies to the pit of the battered joint, kicking where she can attack without fear of space age polymer protecting the Prima Ballerina and hurting her toes.
Daly hammers away on the grimacing Newsome, then, with the leg still in tow, Dominique front flips, forcing the limb through a nasty-looking leg snap, the stem jackknifing near Casey’s right ear before folding back open after Daly releases and rolls through. Domi hops to her feet and plants a dramatic landing with a wide smile, her initial concern with the size and strength of Casey alleviated by her early success and with the knowledge Newsome currently has one working wheel.
Determined to make certain she makes a point with Mania card spots up for grabs, Daly grabs Newsome’s right ankle and spins Casey like a top so the bigger grappler’s lower limbs are aimed at the nearby corner. The former gymnast pulls the Prima Ballerina along the canvas, then drops to the deck, slides out with her grasp still in place and pulls some more.
With the vulnerable limb bedside the steel ring post, Domi whips the inner portion of the right knee into the metal upright, drawing a THWACK from the contact and a loud shriek of anguish from Casey quickly behind.
The FAWNatics bury the vile little nymph under an avalanche of boos and the once-upon-a-time near-Olympian chuckles at their hate.
“Oh. You don’t like that?” she shouts, grabbing the ankle again and rattling the joint into the steel, Newsome sobbing in anguish from the follow-up attack.
Carpenter, already counting Daly out for being outside the ring, makes sure Domi’s aware another such attack will bring the match to an end with a disqualification for the woman who calls herself the Ultimate Athlete.
Dominique holds her hands aloft in innocence.
“All you had to do was ask nicely. I believe I’ve put this bully in her place.” Daly turns her focus from the ref to the fans. “Whaddya all think?”
Again, the sellout crowd lets Daly know their opinion at a loud volume.
Domi shrugs and rolls under the bottom rope with the count a couple seconds removed from her elimination. She hops to a handstand, tumbles over to her bare feet, then tells Al she’s willing to help Casey get out from the corner. Grabbing her adversary’s wrists, Domi drags Newsome out from beneath the buckles, stretches Newsome out of her protective ball, and lays her perpendicular to the corner, several feet out.
Daly effortlessly climbs the buckles and turns to face her foe, ready to stand the oddsmakers on their heads with a victory.
Dipping slightly, the miniscule but muscular Domi launches, gaining altitude few can muster. At the top of her flight, Dominique’s frame tightens into a tuck position before she spreads wide while descending, a ponytailed flying squirrel whose frog splash CRASHES across the open midriff of a woman who ended Kat Braddock’s initial reign in impressive fashion.
Casey jackknifes under the THUMPING landing of the Mighty Mite, Domi BLASTING Casey with her splash. The spandex-clad warrior settles across Newsome in a lateral press, hooking the long sinewy stem of the destroyer-class brunette for the…
ONE…
TWO…
A wincing Lead Dancer kicks loose while shoving a shoulder off the canvas, rolling to her side. Daly, pushed to all fours next to her opponent, glances up at Carpenter, her face turning sour when he holds up two fingers, but she quickly gets back to business after the confirmation of the near fall.
Daly uses Casey’s chest to push to her feet. The ponytailed brunette backpedals to the ropes behind her, grabs the top cable and steps to the bottom one blindly. A few feet removed from the splayed Newsome, Dominique launches from the springy, rubber-coated steel. Her lead left leg flies in front of her, the opposite stem out behind, the Mite landing across Casey’s throat in her unique splits version of a leg drop.
Domi’s crotch lands under the chin of her fellow brunette, crashing down with more of her weight than a leg would allow across the Lead Dancer’s throat.
As Newsome chokes for air, her windpipe bruised, the rampaging Daly reaches forward and snags both raised lower limbs of the Boardwalk Badass. Leaning back, the diminutive former gymnast folds Casey’s frame, Newsome’s own legs bracketing her head as Domi reclines on her foe’s bosom for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Prima Ballerina shows the strength that makes her a threat against any woman in the organization, shoving the Pac Rim beauty up to her haunches.
Domi takes a quick glance at Al and sees another two fingers raised.
Daly’s dominating, her athleticism WAY too much for Newsome, but she can’t seem to seal the deal. The women outside her lightweight division always needed an extra ‘ooomph’ to keep them down for the three-count, and though it might be a bit early to push the envelope, opportunity is staring her dead in the face.
Domi slips through the ropes, turns, and grabs the uppermost cable with both hands. The near Olympian waits as patiently as someone of her temperament can manage. When a faltering Newsome wearily pushes to verticality and staggers in Daly’s direction, Dominique’s renowned aerial assault is brought into play.
Leaping to the top rope, the acrobatic Mite uses the strand as a springboard, bounding forward and catching Casey’s around the noggin as she flies over a shoulder of her adversary.
Size doesn’t matter in this instance as Domi’s momentum is undeniable. Casey’s boot soles are ripped off the mat, the back of her skull SPIKED into the canvas with the Mighty Mite’s devastating Daly Double.
Daly Double ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aGoxWk4MS0 )
Pin pre-made with a jackknifed Newsome, Dominique takes a seat on the back of Casey’s upturned knees, her palms tight to the Jersey girl’s wrists, forcing shoulders to canvas, Newsome’s arms pinned above her head.
In disbelief at the Domi-nation from Daly, the FAWNatics are silenced from a display not even the biggest Daly-hater could deny is worth a spot on the biggest card of the year when Carpenter slaps the deck for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The powerful body of the Prima Ballerina uncoils, sending Domi sprawling, Newsome saving herself with Al’s palm a few inches from the end of her night.
A distressed Daly can’t even make herself look at Al, the crowd letting her know the impossible has happened from their ongoing roar. The noise turns into a rhythmic clap, as the fans urge Casey to dig out of the hole the nasty nymph’s placed her in, and the sturdy, stubborn Boardwalk Badass responds to their efforts.
Casey works her way to one knee when a sweeping kick from a glistening Domi SMACKS into her left temple, Daly’s bare foot making a hell of an impression on the subjugated Newsome. The bigger brunette sprawls into a speadeagle in front of the nearest set of buckles, the crowd groaning when Dominique instantly heads for the top on her way to Stick the Dismount and give this underdog story an unhappy ending for those wanting Goliath to slay a diminutive, unpopular David.
Atop her perch, a smirking Domi looks out on the assembled, peeks toward her landing pad, then takes to the skies for a maneuver even this ‘Jersey tough’ bytch wouldn’t survive.
Sticking the Dismount ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjHznQji_JM )
But as Daly soars in a backflip toward Casey’s appointed ending, Newsome lifts her left (good) leg high. Whether by luck or incredible skill, the raised boot splits the wickets of the descending Domi and Dismount turns to Disaster for Daly.
Even the Domi haters groan in sympathy at the disturbing site of the Mite’s crotch being skewered. The pupils of Daly’s almond-shaped eyes roll back in her head as she remains elevated atop the boot for a long second, Domi’s jaw falling open. Slowly, the Mite lists backwards and crashes to the canvas before slowly curdling into a mewling, whimpering ball.
There are a few cheers from the FAWNatics but that type of landing has most of the multitude silent in recognition of the size of Domi’s catastrophe.
A few feet away, given a second life, Casey recovers, taking a glance at Daly, the former gymnast’s hands buried between her thighs, short, muscular legs trembling.
Newsome reaches hands and knees and shakes out her still throbbing right leg, the brace bent and clacking uncomfortably. But it seems to have done its job when Newsome pushes to her feet and doesn’t collapse under her own weight.
“You should be more careful, Icarus,” a stooped Newsome groans, her voice not much above a whisper. “Because now I’m going to pull your wings off, feral, little butterfly.”
Newsome draws a moaning Mite to her bare feet; grasps the head of the diminutive dynamo in a front facelock and drops a limp arm of the Oregonian over her shoulders. Grabbing a handful of Domi’s red-white-and-blue leotard on her foe’s hip, Casey effortlessly launches Daly heels overhead, her naked soles pointing to the rafters.
Newsome turns her bite-sized adversary 90 degrees while airborne and drops Domi’s shins across the top rope, using the spring from the cable to bounce the former gymnast up and over, Dominique unable to control this landing, her body THUMPING flush on her spinal column courtesy a sweet Slingshot Suplex.
Slingshot Suplex ( youtu.be/Gj6mq4VC5FU?t=3 )
Still suffering from her fateful Dismount, Domi’s back now joins the pain parade, one hand of Daly burying between her legs while another reaches to her lower vertebrae, seemingly unsuccessful in soothing either area.
Her right leg remaining a little creaky, not only because of a slightly bent brace, Casey forgoes any dramatic rise to verticality, instead carefully pushing there as Daly fidgets on the receiving end for the first time.
The Boardwalk Badass passes on a pin attempt, instead hovering over the splayed Daly.
Using her own unique version of a leg drop, the increasingly comfortable Casey, leaps into the air, twirling through an airborne pirouette, then dropping an extended left lower limb across the spandex-sheathed chest of the ponytailed brunette.
Domi spasms and falls still under the muscular leg, the Lead Dancer allowing the limb to drape across a flattened Daly for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Dominique shoves the stem off her bosom, throwing a shoulder up as well to make certain.
Seemingly unconcerned with Daly’s nearfall escape, Casey wraps her hands around Domi’s noggin and pulls up the grappler over six inches shorter as she rises. The size difference is never more evident when Newsome wraps a palm around the throat of the former gymnast and lifts a bug-eyed Domi with one arm to a seat on the top buckle.
Nimble and acrobatic for her size, the Prima Ballerina climbs the buckles and pulls the slumping, rosy-faced Daly to her feet, both women standing on the uppermost perch, the Jersey girl with boot leather on either side of the buckles, Daly’s bare feet on rubber-coated steel to the right.
Wrapping her arm around the braincase of the nasty nymph, Casey leaps toward center stage, drawing the dazed Daly with her and PLANTING Dominique’s skull into the canvas with a One-Handed Bulldog off the top.
One-Handed Bulldog ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=su48uQV97dc )
The Pac Rim beauty flops absently to her back, the bombs thrown by the bigger woman leaving her increasingly disconnected from her senses.
Newsome scrambles to the splayed Daly, pressing tight in a crossbody while hooking her foe’s abbreviated far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Again…the former gymnast shows she has more than athleticism, a healthy heaping of toughness built into her fun-sized frame, Domi ending on a shoulder and hip, vacant stare from her glazed green eyes, but still alive.
Her throbbing right leg apparently quieting from Daly’s early attacks, there’s more spring in the Jersey girl’s step as she uses Domi’s ponytail for a handle and energetically drags the listless Mite up with her.
Trading her grip to a double-hand grasp of the former gymnast’s right wrist, Newsome heaves the diminutive Domi to the far buckles. Daly flies across the canvas, her bare feet pattering against the mat at warp speed. Dominique barely has time to turn into the corner and viciously THUMPS into the buckles back-first. The impact rocks Domi, but she remains upright, staggering out from the corner.
Casey dips as the teetering Daly approaches. The bigger brunette ‘hups’ Daly across her shoulders like she’s lifting a feather. Almost instantly, Newsome just as easily launches Domi off from the fireman’s carry, SLAMMING the Ultimate Athlete to the thinly sheathed floorboards with a ring-rattling Facebuster.
Fireman’s Carry Sitout Facebuster ( youtu.be/7WcfIXQQnnA?t=4 )
The crowd groans in reflexive sympathy from the force of the collision, a befuddled Daly bouncing up to her haunches, settling there in a stupor.
Not satisfied with her onslaught on the nasty nymph, the Boardwalk Badass snatches a wrist and tugs the punch-drunken Domi to her feet, leaving her wobbling as the Lead Dancer races to the ropes in front of Daly.
Casey rebounds at nearly the velocity of the Ultimate Athlete, trying to remove Domi’s head from her shoulders with a bicycle kick that brutally connects, again drawing a concerned grunt from the crowd. The back of Domi’s braincase takes as big a shot as her chin when the former gymnast is sent rocketing to the deck.
Bicycle Kick ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySnLmICxhDA )
Dominique ends in a semiconscious seat, arms heavy at her sides, the victim of a mounting massacre. Newsome pushes Daly flat to the canvas and presses tight to her foe’s chest, hooking the limp far leg for the pin and the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Domi pushes out, drawing a look of surprise from Newsome.
“You make a better zombie than a wrestler,” Newsome growls, upset at Daly’s continued survival. “But I can end your little fantasy of playing heavy with the big girls.”
Reaching all fours as the Prima Ballerina lays down the verbal law, Domi has little fight remaining as she’s pulled up, nearly deadweight in Casey’s control. Newsome draws Daly side by side, pointed in opposite directions. Her right arm reaches around Daly’s shoulders and the bigger brunette buggywhips the spandex-clad Mite to the canvas in a 180, annihilating what’s left of Daly with a Swinging Flatliner.
Swinging Flatliner ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySnLmICxhDA )
The momentum of the impact sends Domi rolling to her back, out cold in a starfish position. But Newsome isn’t ready to finish the demolished Dominique.
Showing more than a little mean-spirited retaliation, Casey scrapes up the wreckage remaining and sends ‘dead woman walking’ to the ropes. Out of muscle memory and nothing more, Daly rebounds toward the waiting Newsome. Casey dips, scooping her arms between the Mite’s legs, and vaults Domi high onto her shoulders.
The rest of the lethal ride is just for show, the Boardwalk Badass nearly putting Dominique THROUGH the canvas with her Bravura powerbomb. Thankfully for the growingly squeamish, Casey dops to her hands and knees, folding Daly beneath in a Gator Clutch.
Bravura to Gator Clutch ( youtu.be/Uc1CzcZvhDA?t=2 )
The former gymnast doesn’t so much as twitch through the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
The FAWnatics roar to their feet as Newsome slides off, letting the comatose Daly unfold into a motionless mess, the Ultimate Athlete shown who’s boss, Casey womanhandling Domi once she gained control.
Carpenter lifts an arm of the Lead Dancer as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner, by pinfall, Casey Newsome!”
Having displayed to Daly and, more importantly the boss, her expedited trip to the top is no one-time affair, at least as far as she’s concerned, Newsome appears matter of fact in the aftermath.
She plants a boot on Daly’s chest and raises both arms in biceps curls.
Casey stares the hard cam dead in the lens.
“Anyone. Anytime.”
Somehow, after ‘dismantling’ two giants, a little Platinum Pixie upended her momentum last month before it could truly be stoked. And now she’d been tricked into a return match against one of the destroyer-class dolts she used her athleticism to embarrass.
The Pac Rim beauty’s features turn sour as she waits for her cue. Giving that big oaf Newsome another chance is totally unfair, but with a trip to Mania on the line for the winner, she’d find a way…again.
Hearing Lady Gaga’s ‘Applause’ echo throughout the arena, Dominique pushes through the curtains and into the cascade of boos from the sellout Slaybor Day crowd.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pco91kroVgQ )
With the Olympiad in Paris and its gymnastic feats fresh in everyone’s minds, the arrogant aerialist and nasty nymph of FAWN’s lightweight division acrobatically tumbles to center stage as if she’s amidst a medal-winning floor routine.
The diminutive Domi sticks the landing, her muscular frame in a standing spreadeagle, demanding an ovation from her stance.
DOMINIQUE DALY
But the hate Domi’s accrued through a career where, for the most part, she’s shown the fans and her fellow roster members nothing but disdain, washes over her instead.
The Mighty Mite, accustomed to their jealousy, revels in the swarm’s negative emotions, knowing the fans’ animosity is fueled by the resentfulness of her unrivalled athletic excellence and wrestling brilliance.
Daly’s return to reclaim a spot atop the sub-125 division could only be bolstered by punching up and laying out FAWN’s biggest free agent acquisition in years.
The vertically challenged hardbody is decked out in a gleaming red and blue leotard dusted with tiny stars of white. Strategic rips reveal several swatches of Daly’s trim midriff, her chiseled tummy matching the perfectly sculpted shoulders, arms and thighs. The look is complete with matching white tape on her wrists and ankles, chalk powder on her palms and the soles of her bare feet.
Daly throws her head back, long, dark hair in a classic ponytail. She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts “HIT IT!”
The lights turn strobe, flickering on and off so fast even the most attentive fans can’t follow the effortlessly intricate series of tumbles, handsprings, flips and cartwheels that take the exotic brunette down the ramp. Tracking her is made all the more difficult by the thunderous trail of gold pyro accompanying her journey from one end of the ramp to the other.
When the lights regain their equilibrium, Daly is on the outside of the nearest top turnbuckle, mining the snapping of a twig, Casey soon to be broken.
Dominique throws her hands overhead in a ‘V’ and launches heavenward before spiraling into a descent that plants her in the center of the ring as the announcer makes her introduction.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall and has a 30-minute time limit. First. Hailing from Portland, Oregon. She stands five feet two inches tall and weighs one hundred and twelve pounds. She is the Mighty Mite…and the Ultimate Athlete…DOMINIQUE DALY!”
The crowd’s further chance to exhibit their disgust with Domi is cut short when Daly grabs the stick and shoos the announcer back.
“You think this lumbering dope can beat me?! I already laid her out when I had Pandora distracting me. Size might matter but slow and stupid trumps everything. So get that bytch out here!”
Dominique is buried under an avalanche of jeers.
Smirk firmly in place, Daly tosses the stick back to the announcer, moves to the far corner and begins her stretching routine to the pleasure of the nearby crowd, the barefoot and leotard-clad Domi not requiring Nick’s check from the lack of hiding places.
With the microphone back in her hand, the announcer immediately moves things along.
“And her opponent…”
The crowd roars in anticipation satisfied in a split second.
“Hailing from Atlantic City, New Jersey… She stands five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-three pounds…THE BOARDWALK BADASS…THE PRIMA BALLERINA…CASEY NEWSOME!!!!!”
As the Offspring’s “Defy You” pumps over the arena’s sound system, Newsome shoots through the curtain and moves to center stage.
CASEY NEWSOME
The woman who made her name household huge after leaving FAWN only to return, became its World Champion on her grand opening night performance only to have Kat Braddock take it back on her first defense, beams under the love of the spectators.
With Kat dethroned again, Casey’s path back to the top seems a bit longer, but retribution against the nasty nymph and a spot on the biggest card of the year provides plenty of motivation.
“LET’S GO!!!” the brunette shouts and the fans prove themselves ready to follow, responding with a thunderous ovation.
Apparently satisfied, the already ex-champ bounds in a crow hop toward the ring. She crisscrosses from the left side of the aisle to the right and back to slap hands with the adoring masses.
Casey wears a metallic blue two piece, a white sash serving as a belt around her waist, tied off just above her right hip. White pads and boots complete her ensemble, save for one glaring detail: a black protective brace, encasing her right knee, an unfortunate accompaniment for the former dancer since the start of her wrestling career. It was now more protective in nature but still a nasty calling card of a life-altering moment that happily led her to this very successful vocation.
Skipping up the ring steps, Newsome moonwalks cheerily to the middle of the apron.
Turning her back to the ring, Casey earns an “Ooooooooooooh!” from the FAWNatics when she drops into a set of splits—the long-ago injury to her knee having apparently done little to rob her of her flexibility. She rolls underneath the bottom rope, lower limbs remaining wide.
Back somersaulting into a handstand before a yawning Daly, Casey deftly drops to her boot soles and takes a smirking look at the bite-sized Ultimate Athlete. She lifts her arms high and wide to draw more applause than Dominique could ever dream of receiving.
Newsome stares a hole through Daly, Domi becoming noticeably uncomfortable under the gaze.
“You’re mine,” Newsome assures. “No distractions.”
Domi gulps hard as Casey spins and heads for the opposite buckles.
The bell brings Casey marching directly at Daly and Domi slips through the ropes, dropping to the floor before Newsome can reach her.
”Get her back,” Domi demands, waiving off the former, if briefly, World Champion.
Newsome isn’t waiting for any directions from Al Carpenter. She’s immediately out after the retreating Mite, soon chasing the bite-sized former gymnast around the squared circle.
The ponytailed brunette finally takes an on-ramp into the confines, diving beneath the bottom rope and springing to her feet. Dominique hustles to the far ropes and rebounds at light speed toward an entering and rising Casey. Daly leaps into a dropkick to the head of the folded Newsome and ejects the bigger brunette, Casey tumbling through the cables, but remaining atop the apron’s edge, seated but hanging on.
Kipping to her feet, the leotard-clad Domi turns and sprints toward the opposite cables to finish the job of putting the Prima Ballerina on the arena floor. But as Daly rockets through her u-turn, Casey rolls in and pops to her feet. As the diminutive Domi zooms toward her relocated target, now center stage, her dark, almond-shaped eyes widen.
Daly ties to leapfrog over a poised Casey, but Newsome’s not having it. She catches Domi mid-leap around the taut midriff of the Pac Rim beauty. Without a hint of effort, Casey launches Daly up and over with a belly-to-belly suplex, but the acrobatic Oregonian manages to land on her feet instead of her spine.
She surges to the next set of cables and before Casey can fully turn, the vicious little Mite throws a chop clock into the back of Newsome’s braced knee.
The crowd groans in sympathy, aware of the catastrophic injury the Lead Dancer suffered prior to her move to the wrestling world. The destroyer-class sized, dark-haired grappler is dropped to her back, Newsome howling from the wave of pain from her embattled joint, cradling the lower limb close.
Without a hint of remorse, the barefoot Daly passes on stomping on the braced knee but has no compunction about dropping the point of her own padded knee on the side ligaments of Casey’s, drawing a pained yelp from the considerably bigger brunette.
Daly grabs Casey by the ankle of her injured gam and pulls the limb long, then put tootsies to the pit of the battered joint, kicking where she can attack without fear of space age polymer protecting the Prima Ballerina and hurting her toes.
Daly hammers away on the grimacing Newsome, then, with the leg still in tow, Dominique front flips, forcing the limb through a nasty-looking leg snap, the stem jackknifing near Casey’s right ear before folding back open after Daly releases and rolls through. Domi hops to her feet and plants a dramatic landing with a wide smile, her initial concern with the size and strength of Casey alleviated by her early success and with the knowledge Newsome currently has one working wheel.
Determined to make certain she makes a point with Mania card spots up for grabs, Daly grabs Newsome’s right ankle and spins Casey like a top so the bigger grappler’s lower limbs are aimed at the nearby corner. The former gymnast pulls the Prima Ballerina along the canvas, then drops to the deck, slides out with her grasp still in place and pulls some more.
With the vulnerable limb bedside the steel ring post, Domi whips the inner portion of the right knee into the metal upright, drawing a THWACK from the contact and a loud shriek of anguish from Casey quickly behind.
The FAWNatics bury the vile little nymph under an avalanche of boos and the once-upon-a-time near-Olympian chuckles at their hate.
“Oh. You don’t like that?” she shouts, grabbing the ankle again and rattling the joint into the steel, Newsome sobbing in anguish from the follow-up attack.
Carpenter, already counting Daly out for being outside the ring, makes sure Domi’s aware another such attack will bring the match to an end with a disqualification for the woman who calls herself the Ultimate Athlete.
Dominique holds her hands aloft in innocence.
“All you had to do was ask nicely. I believe I’ve put this bully in her place.” Daly turns her focus from the ref to the fans. “Whaddya all think?”
Again, the sellout crowd lets Daly know their opinion at a loud volume.
Domi shrugs and rolls under the bottom rope with the count a couple seconds removed from her elimination. She hops to a handstand, tumbles over to her bare feet, then tells Al she’s willing to help Casey get out from the corner. Grabbing her adversary’s wrists, Domi drags Newsome out from beneath the buckles, stretches Newsome out of her protective ball, and lays her perpendicular to the corner, several feet out.
Daly effortlessly climbs the buckles and turns to face her foe, ready to stand the oddsmakers on their heads with a victory.
Dipping slightly, the miniscule but muscular Domi launches, gaining altitude few can muster. At the top of her flight, Dominique’s frame tightens into a tuck position before she spreads wide while descending, a ponytailed flying squirrel whose frog splash CRASHES across the open midriff of a woman who ended Kat Braddock’s initial reign in impressive fashion.
Casey jackknifes under the THUMPING landing of the Mighty Mite, Domi BLASTING Casey with her splash. The spandex-clad warrior settles across Newsome in a lateral press, hooking the long sinewy stem of the destroyer-class brunette for the…
ONE…
TWO…
A wincing Lead Dancer kicks loose while shoving a shoulder off the canvas, rolling to her side. Daly, pushed to all fours next to her opponent, glances up at Carpenter, her face turning sour when he holds up two fingers, but she quickly gets back to business after the confirmation of the near fall.
Daly uses Casey’s chest to push to her feet. The ponytailed brunette backpedals to the ropes behind her, grabs the top cable and steps to the bottom one blindly. A few feet removed from the splayed Newsome, Dominique launches from the springy, rubber-coated steel. Her lead left leg flies in front of her, the opposite stem out behind, the Mite landing across Casey’s throat in her unique splits version of a leg drop.
Domi’s crotch lands under the chin of her fellow brunette, crashing down with more of her weight than a leg would allow across the Lead Dancer’s throat.
As Newsome chokes for air, her windpipe bruised, the rampaging Daly reaches forward and snags both raised lower limbs of the Boardwalk Badass. Leaning back, the diminutive former gymnast folds Casey’s frame, Newsome’s own legs bracketing her head as Domi reclines on her foe’s bosom for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The Prima Ballerina shows the strength that makes her a threat against any woman in the organization, shoving the Pac Rim beauty up to her haunches.
Domi takes a quick glance at Al and sees another two fingers raised.
Daly’s dominating, her athleticism WAY too much for Newsome, but she can’t seem to seal the deal. The women outside her lightweight division always needed an extra ‘ooomph’ to keep them down for the three-count, and though it might be a bit early to push the envelope, opportunity is staring her dead in the face.
Domi slips through the ropes, turns, and grabs the uppermost cable with both hands. The near Olympian waits as patiently as someone of her temperament can manage. When a faltering Newsome wearily pushes to verticality and staggers in Daly’s direction, Dominique’s renowned aerial assault is brought into play.
Leaping to the top rope, the acrobatic Mite uses the strand as a springboard, bounding forward and catching Casey’s around the noggin as she flies over a shoulder of her adversary.
Size doesn’t matter in this instance as Domi’s momentum is undeniable. Casey’s boot soles are ripped off the mat, the back of her skull SPIKED into the canvas with the Mighty Mite’s devastating Daly Double.
Daly Double ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aGoxWk4MS0 )
Pin pre-made with a jackknifed Newsome, Dominique takes a seat on the back of Casey’s upturned knees, her palms tight to the Jersey girl’s wrists, forcing shoulders to canvas, Newsome’s arms pinned above her head.
In disbelief at the Domi-nation from Daly, the FAWNatics are silenced from a display not even the biggest Daly-hater could deny is worth a spot on the biggest card of the year when Carpenter slaps the deck for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The powerful body of the Prima Ballerina uncoils, sending Domi sprawling, Newsome saving herself with Al’s palm a few inches from the end of her night.
A distressed Daly can’t even make herself look at Al, the crowd letting her know the impossible has happened from their ongoing roar. The noise turns into a rhythmic clap, as the fans urge Casey to dig out of the hole the nasty nymph’s placed her in, and the sturdy, stubborn Boardwalk Badass responds to their efforts.
Casey works her way to one knee when a sweeping kick from a glistening Domi SMACKS into her left temple, Daly’s bare foot making a hell of an impression on the subjugated Newsome. The bigger brunette sprawls into a speadeagle in front of the nearest set of buckles, the crowd groaning when Dominique instantly heads for the top on her way to Stick the Dismount and give this underdog story an unhappy ending for those wanting Goliath to slay a diminutive, unpopular David.
Atop her perch, a smirking Domi looks out on the assembled, peeks toward her landing pad, then takes to the skies for a maneuver even this ‘Jersey tough’ bytch wouldn’t survive.
Sticking the Dismount ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjHznQji_JM )
But as Daly soars in a backflip toward Casey’s appointed ending, Newsome lifts her left (good) leg high. Whether by luck or incredible skill, the raised boot splits the wickets of the descending Domi and Dismount turns to Disaster for Daly.
Even the Domi haters groan in sympathy at the disturbing site of the Mite’s crotch being skewered. The pupils of Daly’s almond-shaped eyes roll back in her head as she remains elevated atop the boot for a long second, Domi’s jaw falling open. Slowly, the Mite lists backwards and crashes to the canvas before slowly curdling into a mewling, whimpering ball.
There are a few cheers from the FAWNatics but that type of landing has most of the multitude silent in recognition of the size of Domi’s catastrophe.
A few feet away, given a second life, Casey recovers, taking a glance at Daly, the former gymnast’s hands buried between her thighs, short, muscular legs trembling.
Newsome reaches hands and knees and shakes out her still throbbing right leg, the brace bent and clacking uncomfortably. But it seems to have done its job when Newsome pushes to her feet and doesn’t collapse under her own weight.
“You should be more careful, Icarus,” a stooped Newsome groans, her voice not much above a whisper. “Because now I’m going to pull your wings off, feral, little butterfly.”
Newsome draws a moaning Mite to her bare feet; grasps the head of the diminutive dynamo in a front facelock and drops a limp arm of the Oregonian over her shoulders. Grabbing a handful of Domi’s red-white-and-blue leotard on her foe’s hip, Casey effortlessly launches Daly heels overhead, her naked soles pointing to the rafters.
Newsome turns her bite-sized adversary 90 degrees while airborne and drops Domi’s shins across the top rope, using the spring from the cable to bounce the former gymnast up and over, Dominique unable to control this landing, her body THUMPING flush on her spinal column courtesy a sweet Slingshot Suplex.
Slingshot Suplex ( youtu.be/Gj6mq4VC5FU?t=3 )
Still suffering from her fateful Dismount, Domi’s back now joins the pain parade, one hand of Daly burying between her legs while another reaches to her lower vertebrae, seemingly unsuccessful in soothing either area.
Her right leg remaining a little creaky, not only because of a slightly bent brace, Casey forgoes any dramatic rise to verticality, instead carefully pushing there as Daly fidgets on the receiving end for the first time.
The Boardwalk Badass passes on a pin attempt, instead hovering over the splayed Daly.
Using her own unique version of a leg drop, the increasingly comfortable Casey, leaps into the air, twirling through an airborne pirouette, then dropping an extended left lower limb across the spandex-sheathed chest of the ponytailed brunette.
Domi spasms and falls still under the muscular leg, the Lead Dancer allowing the limb to drape across a flattened Daly for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Dominique shoves the stem off her bosom, throwing a shoulder up as well to make certain.
Seemingly unconcerned with Daly’s nearfall escape, Casey wraps her hands around Domi’s noggin and pulls up the grappler over six inches shorter as she rises. The size difference is never more evident when Newsome wraps a palm around the throat of the former gymnast and lifts a bug-eyed Domi with one arm to a seat on the top buckle.
Nimble and acrobatic for her size, the Prima Ballerina climbs the buckles and pulls the slumping, rosy-faced Daly to her feet, both women standing on the uppermost perch, the Jersey girl with boot leather on either side of the buckles, Daly’s bare feet on rubber-coated steel to the right.
Wrapping her arm around the braincase of the nasty nymph, Casey leaps toward center stage, drawing the dazed Daly with her and PLANTING Dominique’s skull into the canvas with a One-Handed Bulldog off the top.
One-Handed Bulldog ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=su48uQV97dc )
The Pac Rim beauty flops absently to her back, the bombs thrown by the bigger woman leaving her increasingly disconnected from her senses.
Newsome scrambles to the splayed Daly, pressing tight in a crossbody while hooking her foe’s abbreviated far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Again…the former gymnast shows she has more than athleticism, a healthy heaping of toughness built into her fun-sized frame, Domi ending on a shoulder and hip, vacant stare from her glazed green eyes, but still alive.
Her throbbing right leg apparently quieting from Daly’s early attacks, there’s more spring in the Jersey girl’s step as she uses Domi’s ponytail for a handle and energetically drags the listless Mite up with her.
Trading her grip to a double-hand grasp of the former gymnast’s right wrist, Newsome heaves the diminutive Domi to the far buckles. Daly flies across the canvas, her bare feet pattering against the mat at warp speed. Dominique barely has time to turn into the corner and viciously THUMPS into the buckles back-first. The impact rocks Domi, but she remains upright, staggering out from the corner.
Casey dips as the teetering Daly approaches. The bigger brunette ‘hups’ Daly across her shoulders like she’s lifting a feather. Almost instantly, Newsome just as easily launches Domi off from the fireman’s carry, SLAMMING the Ultimate Athlete to the thinly sheathed floorboards with a ring-rattling Facebuster.
Fireman’s Carry Sitout Facebuster ( youtu.be/7WcfIXQQnnA?t=4 )
The crowd groans in reflexive sympathy from the force of the collision, a befuddled Daly bouncing up to her haunches, settling there in a stupor.
Not satisfied with her onslaught on the nasty nymph, the Boardwalk Badass snatches a wrist and tugs the punch-drunken Domi to her feet, leaving her wobbling as the Lead Dancer races to the ropes in front of Daly.
Casey rebounds at nearly the velocity of the Ultimate Athlete, trying to remove Domi’s head from her shoulders with a bicycle kick that brutally connects, again drawing a concerned grunt from the crowd. The back of Domi’s braincase takes as big a shot as her chin when the former gymnast is sent rocketing to the deck.
Bicycle Kick ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySnLmICxhDA )
Dominique ends in a semiconscious seat, arms heavy at her sides, the victim of a mounting massacre. Newsome pushes Daly flat to the canvas and presses tight to her foe’s chest, hooking the limp far leg for the pin and the win at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Domi pushes out, drawing a look of surprise from Newsome.
“You make a better zombie than a wrestler,” Newsome growls, upset at Daly’s continued survival. “But I can end your little fantasy of playing heavy with the big girls.”
Reaching all fours as the Prima Ballerina lays down the verbal law, Domi has little fight remaining as she’s pulled up, nearly deadweight in Casey’s control. Newsome draws Daly side by side, pointed in opposite directions. Her right arm reaches around Daly’s shoulders and the bigger brunette buggywhips the spandex-clad Mite to the canvas in a 180, annihilating what’s left of Daly with a Swinging Flatliner.
Swinging Flatliner ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySnLmICxhDA )
The momentum of the impact sends Domi rolling to her back, out cold in a starfish position. But Newsome isn’t ready to finish the demolished Dominique.
Showing more than a little mean-spirited retaliation, Casey scrapes up the wreckage remaining and sends ‘dead woman walking’ to the ropes. Out of muscle memory and nothing more, Daly rebounds toward the waiting Newsome. Casey dips, scooping her arms between the Mite’s legs, and vaults Domi high onto her shoulders.
The rest of the lethal ride is just for show, the Boardwalk Badass nearly putting Dominique THROUGH the canvas with her Bravura powerbomb. Thankfully for the growingly squeamish, Casey dops to her hands and knees, folding Daly beneath in a Gator Clutch.
Bravura to Gator Clutch ( youtu.be/Uc1CzcZvhDA?t=2 )
The former gymnast doesn’t so much as twitch through the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
The FAWnatics roar to their feet as Newsome slides off, letting the comatose Daly unfold into a motionless mess, the Ultimate Athlete shown who’s boss, Casey womanhandling Domi once she gained control.
Carpenter lifts an arm of the Lead Dancer as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner, by pinfall, Casey Newsome!”
Having displayed to Daly and, more importantly the boss, her expedited trip to the top is no one-time affair, at least as far as she’s concerned, Newsome appears matter of fact in the aftermath.
She plants a boot on Daly’s chest and raises both arms in biceps curls.
Casey stares the hard cam dead in the lens.
“Anyone. Anytime.”