Post by SammieSinclair on Mar 8, 2015 19:24:48 GMT
After the last winner had strutted off and the last loser had been carted off, the erstwhile FAWN ringside crew went to work assembling a hulking array of chain-link and steel which quickly resolved itself into a fifteen foot high cage. As if that wasn’t clue enough, the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Steel Cage Match and it is for the FAWN Lightweight Championship! Introducing first, she is the challenger! Hailing from the cosmic gulfs beyond space and time, she stands at five feet two inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and ten pounds weightless pounds. She is the Crimson Comet, the Roseate Rocket, the Maroon Meteor. She is the Girl That Gravity Forgot, we call her CHERRY BOMB!”
COMEBACK KID:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U3ns3_KvSg
A whole lotta stargazers and plenty of other carbon-based lifeforms leapt up as the lights went out. From the center of that interstellar dark came a thumping drum and a matched set of snapping fingers, the two bits of percussion bouncing to and fro in a rat-a-tat riff. A keening guitar note joined the beat and a few seconds later the situation got brighter in no small part due to the tongue of flame that licked at the base of the ramp. As the note held steady, the fire set off on a beeline for the top of the ramp. The fuse ran down as the guitars kicked in alongside a huge BOOM of red pyro that almost swallowed the first verse of ’Comeback Kid’. From the center of this flash and flame a figure emerged, shooting up from the floor to land flawlessly before the capacity crowd.
CHERRY BOMB:
Vaulting forth from this fresh crater, Cherry Bomb greeted the crowd with a fist-pumping salute, then raced down the ramp in a blur of red, black and white. For her ery first attempt at FAWN gold, she wore snazzy bright red bottoms accented by two black 'claw slashes' on each hip, a pair of white 'fangs' on the front and a cross-bred cherry time-bomb emblazoned on the tush. Her top was a long-sleeved sports bra done in an identical scheme, solid red with black and white slashes along the shoulders, décolletage and biceps. Kneepads were matching red and also sported the 'cherry bomb' glyph while her boots were shiny and black. Her mask was full face save for a rounded arch that left her nostrils, lips and chin exposed, Cherry’s signature accessory was as red as her togs with black outlines around the eyes (which themselves were screened over white) and exposed arch. The laces up the back were white velvet and there was an aperture that allowed egress for a dark, lustrous ponytail that hung to just beneath her shoulders.
If anyone thought the Bomb might move a little slower with the cage waiting at for her at the end, they were proved sorely wrong when the Crimson Comet burst down the aisle in a streak of red, black and white. Denied her usual leap over the ropes, Cherry sprang from the floor, caught a double handful of chain-link and started climbing. Scaling it as easily the unfortunately earthbound took the stairs, Cherry claimed the top in no time and spun to face the crowd like it was six feet wide and not even six inches.
“TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT, PEOPLE!” the Bomb shouted out at that sea of faces. “TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT THAT POLLY LOCKWOOD FALLS DOWN AND GOES…” she raised her right hand, crooked her thumb and pressed down, which earned a roared ‘BOOOOOOOOM!” from several thousand throats. Nodding agreement, Cherry sank into a crouch and started down the inside. She made it about halfway, then pushed off and dropped to the canvas with a crisp little ‘thwhump’.
“Hey there, Craig,” she said to referee Craig Long, “here to check me for illegal ordinance?”
Long smiled and took her wrists when Cherry offered them. “I’m sure you’re clean, Bomb. This is just a precaution.”
“Not a very good one, though. All the inspections in the world aren’t gonna stop me from blowing up Polly’s mean little ass.”
With Cherry blowing up the arena from within the steel mesh of the cage, the house speakers interrupted the alien love-fest with the pounding of Metallica’s “Don’t Tread on Me”.
DON’T TREAD ON ME:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPl2sTo_8-o
A few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ rpse to their feet, saluting crisply. The other ninety-eight percent of the FAWNatics made themselves known in quite a different way.
The Ring Announcer barely broke through the jeers.
“And her opponent, hailing from Buffalo, New York; she stands at five feet one inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and eighteen scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome. Ladies and gentlemen, she is the FAWN Lightweight Champion and its one and only TRUE American... POLLY LOCKWOOD!”
The haters only got louder when the bite-sized blonde hardbody strode confidently to center stage, bringing a salute to her brow. When the hand, fashioned into a knife-edge, moved away from her forehead, Lockwood added her own little twist, a middle finger remaining straight while the others receded.
POLLY LOCKWOOD:
Lightweight gold gracing her taut and tawny midriff, Lockwood waved at The Bomb, showing no concern at the edifice enclosing her foe; the cage soon to hold her fate as well.
Polly’s wardrobe remained worthy of Old Glory. The tiny blonde sported her standard garb of boy-cut shorts and bikini top. Polly alternates her country’s colors between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in just the right spots, and shimmering red and white stripes below; with white pads and boots capping off the ensemble.
The True American also wore a familiar flag as a cape, the banner with a coiled rattlesnake and the appropriate chestnut ‘Don’t Tread On Me’. She lifted and spreaded her arms wide, showing off the dangerous serpent as she walked down the aisle. Lockwood growled at the moronic hordes, ignoring the insults and the jeers, each and every idiot no doubt having snuck into the country.
Reaching the ring, the patriot ascended the steel steps but halted at the door, giving Cherry Bomb a wary gaze. The masked marvel bid the champ in and she had little choice but to respond quickly or lose face.
Lockwood shrugged off her flag cum cape, handing it to a FAWN flunky, then traded her gilded belt for a microphone she put to her lips.
“Consider me the INS tonight, you…sneak,” Polly said through a sneer, “and this time you have nowhere to run from my All-American justice.”
The FAWNatics made their opinion obvious and loud.
Lockwood dropped the microphone and screamed at the Girl from Outer Space to give her some room and The Bomb obliged, moving to the opposite corner.
Cautiously, the two-time light titleholder opens and entered. Warily, she slid through the ropes, her eyes never leaving the conniving illegal.
“You never should have agreed to these terms,” Polly informed. “A fence is your types’ worst enemy and I’m going to make sure, for you, I’m number two.”
“Oh you’ll be number two, alright,” Cherry replied glibly.
Furious, Polly’s face flushed a patriotic red, fists clenching white. Apparently she would save the blue language for later.
“Let’s get this started,” she snarled.
When the bell CLANGED Polly stomped out to the center of the squared circle like she owned the joint. And why shouldn’t she? This patch of canvas was her own personal country within a country and she was president for life. No one was going to take that away from her. Not Olivia Barker. Not Nyssa Bloodwind. And certainly not this masked piece of crap that claimed to hail from beyond the stars. Hands on her hips, the Polarizing Patriot locked eyes with the challenger and demanded, “Straighten up and look alive, little girl. Madam President would have a word with you.”
Cherry resisted the urge to charge the hateful blonde bytch only because she knew Lockwood would love nothing more than to goad her into a mistake. So she breathed out the last of those title match jitters and started forward.
Pleased to see the illegal alien could follow basic commands, Polly gestured to the cage and said, “This is one wall you’re going to wish you hadn’t snuck over, bytch. But now that you’re here, it’s high time I gave you the red, white, black and bluesing you’ve needed for oh so loNNNGGGHH!”
The Bomb put a hand on Polly’s cheek and twisted her head to one side with a blatant pie-face. “I’m only gonna say this once,” Cherry barked over the roars of the FAWNatics, “shut your hateful mouth and FIGHT… Madam President.”
Lockwood wiped a hand across her stinging lips and glared murder at the challenger. I’m gonna run that mask up the goddamned flagpole.”
Cherry stepped back and beckoned her in, an invitation that Polly accepted at once. Far too angry to bother with something so civilized as grappling, the Lightweight Champion lashed out with a looping right hand that crashed off Cherry’s cheek. The Bomb grimaced, then responded in kind, tagging Polly’s chin with a Haymaker of her own.
The spark from that simple exchange ignited a roaring conflagration of pent-up anger and resentment manifested as a wild slugfest as blonde and brunette pounded away on one another. Though both were quite adept with their hands, technique played little part in the enthusiastic exchange of shots that saw one lass swing for the fences, then set her feet to brace for impact. Quick to pick up on the one to one exchange between champ and challenger, the crowd cheered YAAAAY!’ when Cherry rocked Polly and ‘BOOOO!’ when Lockwood returned the favor.
This mindless slugging went on for about ten seconds before the Crimson Comet raised a forearm to intercept her foe’s latest punch. So startled was she by this cowardly deflection that Polly didn’t muster a similar defense when Cherry reared back and decked her with the heaviest shot yet. Rocked up on her heels, Lockwood raised a guard that didn’t do much good because the Bomb snatched a handful of hair and simply unloaded on the top of her foe’s skull.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was effective. It was also against the rules, as Polly noted at the top of her lungs. “REF! SHE’S PULLING MY HAIR! AND THOSE ARE CLOSED FISTS SHE’S USING!”
Craig Long agreed, even if it pained him to do so. “She’s right Cherry. Let go of her hair and open that hand.” Cherry complied with the latter but not the former, at least not until she’d used the hair hold to open Lockwood’s cheek up for a brisk slap. “Is that how it’s going to be, Pol?” she cooed in a mocking tone. “You need to sic the Secret Service on me to wiNNNAAAGHH!”
Polly lunged forward with raised hands and raaaaaaaaked them down Cherry’s mask. The masked woman’s hands went to her face, so Lockwood snatched hold of her ponytail and gave it a nasty shake. “I don’t need him or anyone to whoop your NNNNNGGGHH!” Cherry swatted the champ’s hand from her hair and hooked an arm around the back of her neck in the same motion. In the next, she pulled Polly’s head down and THWHACKED her across the chin with a European Uppercut that sent the Star-Spangled Bytch staggering into the ropes.
With one hand twined around the links of the cage and the other rubbing her aching jaw, Polly glared satisfied hatred at her opposition. “A EUROPEAN Uppercut! I knew it! I knew you were filthy Eurotrash under that mask. Let me see your passport right now, Frenchie!”
Cherry only shook her head and smirked. “Just wondering, Pol. Has anyone ever told ya you hit like a hippie?”
Lockwood’s jaw dropped. “That’s it. I’m issuing an executive order for the immediate beating of your intergalactic ass.”
The challenger cocked a hip toward her blonde, then raised a hand to her lips and planted a smooch on her fingertips. “You want it, Tea Bag?” Cherry smacked her tush, the sound of it utterly lost in the cheers of the crowd. “Come and get it.”
Polly charged her with a snarl that got all the louder when Cherry ducked under the Clothesline she’d readied. Undeterred by the miss, Lockwood whirled around and was not at all surprised to see the freak rushing at her full speed ahead. Reacting on instinct she dipped down and lowered her arms, meaning to sweep the Bomb into all manner of Backbreaker or Sidewalk Slam inspired nastiness. Alas, neither came to pass as Cherry took to the skies and ‘smecked’ her legs around the champ’s head as soon as it was low enough. Latched on tight, the Crimson Comet swung around in a smooth arc, then broke the Scissors to land on one knee while Lockwood was flipped onto her back.
TILT-A-WHIRL HEADSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6hOiaBK5mo
Polly hit hard but scrambled to her feet quickly enough. More eager to fight than ever, she looked in the direction she’d last seen the freak and let out a little ‘eep’ because the Bomb was flying straight into her airspace. Legs splayed in a slight ‘V’, Cherry snapped her gammy trap shut around Polly’s neck, then swung down like the world’s craziest pendulum to send the champ rolling across the canvas.
RUNNING FRANKENSTEINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xG6AUl2StM
Senses scrambled by the challenger’s frenetic attacks, Lockwood clambered to boot-leather and held out a hand in hopes of keeping the other woman back. “Keep your distance, that’s an ordWHOOFFFHHH!”
Never one to heed the commands of those in authority, Cherry brushed Polly’s arm out of the way and put both hands on her shoulders. Immediately thereafter she launched into a vertical leap and threaded her legs around the blonde’s head for the third time in less than a minute. Mounted atop her rival’s shoulders, Cherry pumped a fist for the FAWNatics, then clamped down and whipped herself backward to flip Polly over onto her back with the challenger landing flush atop her chest. Pinned flat by the Hurricanrana, Polly stuffed her hands against Cherry’s tush only to curse something unprintable when the brunette grabbed her wrists and pulled them away. Denied one escape hatch, she wriggled and twisted while the ref counted…
HURRICANRANA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PlxyvT0kbA
ONE…
TWO…
Fox News’s Wrestler of the Year for 2014 put her feet against the mat and bridged up, sending Cherry slopping to all fours with a full second to spare. Scrambling to her feet, Polly waved her hands at Cherry in a ‘screw this’ sort of gesture, then turned around like she meant to bail. “DAMMIT!” Polly growled when she remembered the cage.
Behind her, Cherry chided, “What’s the matter, Madam President? Starting to feel like a lame duck?”
The blonde rounded on her and sneered, “Mexico. Japan. Any of those fancy flips in your arsenal actually come from this great nation?”
“Plenty. You might even get to see some if you stop running from--”
She would’ve said ‘me’ if Polly hadn’t rushed forward with every intention of taking the challenger’s head off with a Lariat. Cherry ducked with an instant to spare and spun on the ball of her foot to make sure she was in place when Lockwood made her return pass. Imagine her surprise then when the champion continued straight on to the edge of the ring and leapt from the canvas to the top rope as neat as you please. This was no springboard offensive however, Polly grabbed hold of the cage and started up, much to the displeasure of those assembled. “Oh, I don’t THINK SO!” Cherry sprinted after her and replicated Polly’s leap perfectly. Landing beside the retreating patriot, the Bomb grabbed hold of her waistband and tugged down.
Polly yelped and dropped back to the rather precarious perch on the top rope if only to make sure the dirty cheat didn’t show her proud American bum to the undeserving international markets. “You sneaky skank, you’re going to pay for WHOOANNNGGH!”
The Maroon Meteor hooked her right arm over Polly’s shoulders like they were old friends before dropping backward to THWHAM her blonde to the mat with a Springboard Russian Leg Sweep.
SPRINGBOARD RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmhFmo3A__E
Blonde and brunette came flying off the top rope per the Roseate Rocket’s bidding and while Cherry took a hard landing herself, it’s the champ who THUMPED into the thinly-sheathed plywood with resounding force. It’s enough that Polly somersaulted over onto her chest. Facedown, Lockwood cradled the back of her head with both hands and kicked at the canvas.
Cherry, on the other hand, nimbly popped to a handstand, made a quarter turn and tucked when she fell, driving both knees into the spine of the Star Spangled Bytch. Polly’s backbone arched in anguish, the blonde’s flawless features twisted in a pained snarl. But the masked marvel wasn’t done. Turning, she faced forward up Lockwood’s frame, the dark-haired alien still on her knees and those knees still on Lockwood. Cherry slip[ed her arms in front of Polly’s mug from either side and laced her fingers. With gusto, Cherry yanked on the Crossface grip, drawing pained, muffled yelps from the traitorous lightweight titleholder.
Polly twisted, her arms flailing back over her head but unable to find purchase with anything useful on the brunette’s body. With Lockwood grunting a ‘no’ to the inquiring official, Cherry changed her grip to a double scoop of Polly’s chin, quickly audibling to a kneeling clutch. The Bomb leeeeeeaaaaaned back, curling Polly’s vertebrae to an extent for which they were never made. The crowd could tell the distress from the teary glaze growing on Polly’s baby blues and they started a chant of ‘TAP…TAP…TAP’, but Lockwood shook her head, as much as she could anyway. Deciding Polly will need to be dealt with in another manner, Cherry released her grip and let a loudly sighing Lockwood fall flat to the canvas, unmoving.
“I can beat you on the mat, which I just proved,” Cherry informed, “but these people came to see me not only beat you, but do it the ‘Cherry Way’.” The Bomb stepped harshly on the base of Lockwood’s spine as she moved to the nearest corner and popped to the top without a hint of effort. Looking out on the FAWNatics through the steel mesh, Cherry considered climbing over and out, as many in the front row screamed for her to do, but after taking a peek and seeing Polly was already on her way up, she returned to her initial plan, give the champ a taste of the Cherry Twist.
The spinning back=flip would have been an impressive sight if the Maroon Missile had ever reached launch. Instead, the newly self-appointed Madame President of FAWN leapt for the ropes at Cherry’s side, throwing her battered body into the cables. The effort was enough to relieve Cherry of her footing and she dropped straight down, her crotch blasted by the wire holding buckles to post. Even if the crowd couldn’t see Cherry’s expression, they felt her pain, many a set of butt cheeks puckering. And bad went to worse for the masked one when Polly tied up her legs in the ropes and delivered a backhand chop that not only lights up Cherry’s spine, but also placed the Girl from Outer Space in a very earthbound Tree of Woe.
A still wincing Lockwood took out some of her frustration with a couple Soccer Kicks to Cherry’s pert bosom, but she’s got something more memorable in mind. Climbing around the overturned Bomb, Polly ended up on the top strands above the brunette and suddenly dropped from her perch, sending a Headbutt down into the juncture of her foe’s spread thighs, blasting Cherry’s undercarriage. The Bomb couldn’t contain a howl of anguish, her hands racing below, or in this case, above.
The only silver lining for the Roseate Rocket was that she’s jarred loose from her ‘Tree’ to puddle at the feet of the True American who gave her own braincase a rattle, Polly blinking her eyes wide to regain her bearings after the butt.
Seeing Cherry at her feet, Polly leaned down and delivered some words of wisdom. “These colors don’t run, space slut, but they do walk out the door and make you a loser.”
Polly got one step toward the door before The Bomb’s arm lashed out and her palm wrapped around Lockwood’s ankle. With a surprisingly strong tug from the brunette, the Star Spangled Bytch tumbled to the mat next to her challenger, but Cherry was in no condition to take further advantage. Instead, a furious Lockwood sent a Mule Kick to Cherry’s chest and scrambled to her feet.
Grabbing The Bomb by the ponytail, she yanked Cherry to her feet and added a grip on a shoulder of the Maroon Meteor. She bum rushed Cherry toward the opposite side of the ring and sent her flying over, Cherry’s face CLANGING into the chain link of the cage. The Bomb bounced off in a stupor, staggering drunkenly back toward Polly who draped an arm across Cherry’s chest and opposite shoulder. Showing strength she might only be able to manage against a fellow flyweight, Lockwood lifted the masked marvel off the deck and DROVE Cherry into the deck with a forceful display of Constitutional Powers.
CONSTITUTIONAL POWERS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PEQ9ERHMLA
The Bomb was blown up on impact, bouncing an inch or so off the canvas from the force the True American exerted on the most illegal alien in the history of the INS. Kneeling next to the splayed Cherry, Polly lifted one knee and placeed it on the chest of her challenger for an imperial…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Cherry threw a shoulder up, hard and strong, if nearly late. Lockwood didn’t turn toward the official, instead letting her head droop and offering a shake.
“Keep pushing your luck,” the blonde whispered. But rather than go for the chain link or for the door, Polly moved to a squatting straddle of Cherry’s chest and slipped a set of fingers under the right cheek of the brunette’s mask.
“Madame President requires knowing what loathsome creature she’s facing; requires knowing where to send you postage due after the match.”
Lockwood started to peel the red off The Bomb. The skintight material wasn’t easy to budge, forcing her to take turns working it loose from each direction.
“Are we ready to have your mystique ended, sweetheart? Are we ready for me to pop your Cherry?”
“Better than you have tried and failed, elephant face.” the Bomb growled from beneath her rival. She made a point of twisting her head this way and that to stymie the blonde’s progress, but she was more focused on getting both hands under Lockwood’s chin and pushing back, all the better to strengthen the kink started by the Clutch. The reason for this seeming non-concern was simple. Shortly after her arrival in FAWN she’d paid Cassandra Vale a considerable sum to try and remove her mask from every conceivable angle. The best time the merc managed was forty five seconds and she’d been in possession of a mount much stronger than Polly’s. Considering the Tea Partier had been at it for less than fifteen seconds, Cherry knew she had more than enough time to --
”NNNGGGHHH!” Sick of the brunette’s intruding fingers, Lockwood curled her free hand into a claw and applied it to the Bomb’s left breast with white-knuckle intensity. “Get your filthy foreign hands outta my face.” she growled. “Otherwise I’ll peel off what I find under the masKUUUUGGHHHHH!”
Cherry slipped her right hand up over the champ’s chin and forced her middle and ring fingers into Polly’s ever yammering trap. Her thumb sought the soft flesh behind the blonde’s chin and pushed up while the digits under her tongue clamped down. Gurgling around the surprise Mandible Claw, Lockwood abandoned her quest for the mask to double down on the jugg mugging and when that didn’t work she grabbed the Bomb’s wrist and squeezed as hard as she could. “Luuuhh… mmmhhheee… ghhhuuuooo…” Polly burbled around the wicked intrusion.
Cherry’s wrist was starting to go numb from her foe’s pressure, but she couldn’t let the mean tramp go without a little taste of her own medicine. So she fashioned her left hand into a talon and sank it into the modest swell of Lockwood’s bosom.
Galled at the thought of some peon groping her All American bounty in such a way, Polly let loose of Cherry’s wrist and palmed her head instead. This she yanked off the mat and bounced as hard as she could, the back of the Bomb’s skull making a low, distressing BWUNK as it met the thinly-sheathed plywood. A trio of such tactics was more than enough to free Lockwood from the Mandible Claw, yet she went right on banging the brunette’s noggin until Cherry was covering up and the ref was at ‘FOUR!’ on his count. Releasing with a flourish, Polly stood up and planted a foot flush between the other woman’s breasts. Then she put a hand over her heart and joined the crowd in an enthusiastic recitation of the Pledge of…
ONE…
TWO…
Cherry swatted the boot aside and turned onto one side, though she did so with none of her usual kinetic enthusiasm. “Go ahead and wriggle all you want.” Lockwood taunted. “But we both know you’re nothing more than a little bit of cosmic crap waiting to be crushed under my red, white and blue heels.” As proof of this statement she nudged Cherry onto her back, then hopped up and swiftly delivered both soles to opposing chest with a vindictive Mushroom Stomp. Polly skipped off immediately thereafter and would’ve gone for the masked woman’s hair if Cherry hadn’t abruptly rolled to all fours.
Noting the opportunity for more patriotic punishment, Lockwood sidled in off the Bomb’s left hip, bent down and wrapped both arms around her waist. Hands locked, she hoisted Cherry off the mat in Gutwrench that had the Interstellar Angel gagging for breath in very short order. “You see this?” she called to the hard camera. “This ring is MY country and ALL threats, be they foreign, domestic or in this case, pathetic,” she gave Cherry a hard shake, much to the crowd’s displeasure, “will be expelled quickly and violently!”
The threat was still on Lockwood’s lips when she charged to the edge of the ring and BWAAANGED Cherry’s head and right shoulder off the links of the cage. The Bomb shuddered forcefully but Polly didn’t let loose, so she shielded her head in both arms and suffered through two-more teeth-gnashing collisions with the merciless steel. Polly would’ve happily smashed Cherry against the cage until she was sobbing or unconscious (preferably the former, just before the latter) but her shoulders were starting to burn with the bulk of this celestial commie so she tromped out to the middle of the squared circle and sank into a deep crouch. “You may be a rocket,” Lockwood cooed to her flagging rival, “but sweetheart, I am the goddamned revolution itself!”
With that she swung Cherry up, around and then down, Madam President just THWHAMMING the Bomb flat on the back of her head and shoulders with a Floatover Gutwrench Powerbomb. Polly somersaulted over the prone brunette the instant she touched down, adding a flawless Jackknife Cradle to the count that’d end Cherry’s golden dreams in…
FLOATOVER GUTWRENCH POWERBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwFpqAlxvSE
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Girl That Gravity forgot defied rationality by slipping loose of the predicament with half a tick to spare. “WHAT WAS THAT, REF?” Polly shouted at Craig Long. “OR SHOULD I CALL YOU COMRADE? IS THAT YOUR GAME, PINKO?”
The ref raised his hands, but didn’t back off. “It was just a near fall, Polly. Get down off your soap box and wrestle.”
Polly fixed him with a long, measured look. After a moment, she muttered, “I’m gonna have your shady ass in front of a Senate Sub-Committee Hearing, just watch me.” Returning her attention to the mysterious moron, Lockwood was disgusted to see Cherry leaned back on her knees. Yet disgust gave way to delight the instant an idea crossed her mind. “GET YOUR CAMERAS READY, PEOPLE!” she told the crowd while sauntering away from the penitent challenger. “I’M ABOUT TO PUT THIS FREAK’S LIGHTS OUT FOR GOOD!”
On ‘good’ she whirled around and raced back the way she’d came, a star-spangled comet aimed straight for the planet of Cherry’s skull. Striking at the point of no return, Lockwood pushed off with her left foot to add that much more force to the knee she fired as the Bomb’s--
Cherry arched backward into the lowest of low bridges, leaving Polly to stumble awkwardly in the absence of a real target. Barely catching her balance before she went down flat on her face, Polly spun to face the eerily nimble brunette. “I don’t think so, bytch. Madam President is in no mood to issue pardons.” As such Lockwood charged again, this time extending her right arm for a Lariat that would sail over its target when Cherry dipped beneath it. Spinning even as she ducked, the Crimson Comet lunged forward and cinched her arms around Polly’s waist. The blonde’s eyes had just enough time to go wide before the Bomb tossed her head over heels with a Release German Suplex that dropped Lockwood into a Matchbook.
RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_SkcDPfZd8
A whole arena full o’ people pleaded with Cherry to try for a cover, but she was too busy trying to recuperate from the ass kicking she’d so recently endured. Polly’d already slumped onto one side by the time her attacker started moving again, so Cherry helped herself to a double handful of hair and got the tiniest bit of vengeance by scrubbing the Tea Partier’s forehead back n’ forth against the canvas. Polly squealed, then slapped at her hands, so the Maroon Meteor switched over to a Wristlock and hauled the both of ‘em to boot leather.
From there an Irish Whip sent Polly racing to the strands, not that she could do much other than bounce off and shamble back in her current Suplex-addled state. Leaned slightly to the right when Lockwood closed in, Cherry caught her blonde around the waist and spun her up and over with a retaliatory Gutwrench. But where Polly had turned it into a slam, the Bomb used hers to deposit the woozy blonde across her shoulders with the small of Polly’s back nuzzled against the back of her head. In the next instant Cherry cupped one hand over Lockwood’s chin while the other crossed her ankles in a stubby ‘X’. Pulling tight on both ends, Cherry took to hopping, jouncing and otherwise wrenching her foe’s spine in an agonizing hold known as La Atlantida.
LA ATLANTIDA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdDwzCOvMoc&feature=plcp
“WANNA GUESS WHICH DARK, MYSTERIOUS CORNER OF THE UNIVERSE I LEARNED THIS IN, POL?” Cherry taunted. “THAT’S RIGHT BABY, MEXICO!”
The Bomb showed she’s got a little power packed into her petite package, drawing Polly’s head toward her own boots with each thrust of La Atlantida, the spine of the True American truly tested. But Cherry wasn’t done. When the ride showed its strain on the masked marvel, she scurried into a quick backpedal and DROVE Lockwood’s chest and face over the ropes and into the chain link, the cage clanging with the force of the impact. Bouncing away from the collision, Cherry carries the Star Spangled Bytch to mid-ring and drops her courtesy of Samoa, straight on her face and chest again.
INTERSTELLAR SAMOAN DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oD7FjAtJ29Q
The brutal ride ended with a mat-thumping finish, the former Young American rolling to her back and ending in a dazed spreadeagle, eyes glazed, seemingly uncomprehending when The Bomb turned and stared down into her peepers.
“I’d go and get the flag to drape you in it to honor the passing of your lightweight reign, but the match would be over once I went out the door,” Cherry informed. “So I guess this will have to do.”
The Girl From Outer Space lined up with the tawny midriff of the blonde and leapt high and soared back to THWAP! The sound of tummy on tummy echoes, Cherry slamming down across Lockwood in an acrobatic Splash. Polly jackknifed around the impact, her cheeks puffing out a huge exhale as her abs gave way to those of The Bomb. The blonde settled to the deck and the masked brunette scooped up both limp legs in a Cradle, folding Polly’s lower half atop her upper for...
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
A seizure from Lockwood saved her from defeat if only for the moment. And though Cherry’s mask hid some of her emotion, if anything could be divined, it appeared she’s somewhat surprised by Polly’s pluck.
Still, it didn’t stop the intergalactic ordinance from rising and dragging a flaccid Polly up with her. Showing she had a little left in the tank, Lockwood balled a right fist and threw it hard, but The Bomb proved quicker on the draw with a Toe Kick to Polly’s already weakened belly and the True American was gutted before her balled digits could reach their target.
Lockwood doubled over and Cherry tugged the blonde’s lowered head between her thighs. Clamping on a Standing Headscissors, the masked marvel wrapped her arms around the tanned midriff of the champ and powered Polly HIGH into the air in a powerbomb-like lift that culminated with Cherry capturing Lockwood under her foe’s arms. A frantic Polly shook her head wildly, pleading for mercy from the alien, alas it wasn’t forthcoming. But instead of planting Polly to the deck with her signature Splash Mountain, Cherry used the tool at hand. She raced toward the cage and threw Polly off her shoulders when she reached the metal fencing.
Lockwood’s back and the back of her head CLANGED into the steel mesh and she bounced off into a Bear Hug from the challenger. Cherry slipped her head under an arm of the blonde and lifted the increasingly ragdolled Polly up ’n over with a Northern Lights Suplex, Cherry bridging for the pin and the win, getting the...
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UiG-0a_6hSM
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOO!
Again, the True American broke free, this time the effort made a little easier with Cherry’s precarious bridging pin. Lockwood rolled to her side and weakly grabbed onto an ankle of The Bomb, hoping to stop her foe in case Cherry decided to depart the cage.
The Bomb showed a brief inclination to shake off the champ and do just that, but instead she turned back to Polly and landed a knee to the jaw that spread her foe out for one final high impact.
Climbing off the demolished champion, Cherry signaled for the end of Lockwood’s second reign and she hop-skipped to the nearest corner. Easily vaulting to the top buckle, The Bomb continued to climb an extra foot or two via the fencing, managing to turn to face the splayed Polly, holding on to the chain link like a masked spider monkey.
Using the extra height for even more impact from her finalizing Cherry Warhead, The Bomb leapt from her perch, flipping and spinning through incredible acrobatics only a freak from outer space might be able to perform.
Unfortunately for the Bombardiers in the audience, a flagging Polly demonstrated her American survival instinct, pulling her knees into a tuck and gutting Cherry on her landing. The mask on the Roseate Rocket couldn’t hide the pain from the bony ending. Cherry rolled away from the horrible mistake, hugging her tummy as if she’s trying to keep vital organs in place. Meanwhile, the still battered blonde butt scooted to the ropes and leaned against them, viewing the damage as the official had no choice but to start counting both women out.
Lockwood took her time, remaining in recovery mode for an eight count before using the ropes to pull her way up. With the gored Crimson Crack Whore still on the canvas, Polly considered her options and headed for the masked challenger. She grabbed a wrist and tugged Cherry to wobbly feet. Pivoting, she sent The Bomb off for the ride, the challenger turning just in time to take the impact of the buckles against her spinal column.
The force was enough to ‘turn off’ the stems of the brunette, Cherry plopping to a seat on the canvas in front of the buckles, her legs extended in front of her, and that’s the cue the Star Spangled Bytch was waiting for. She took off like Paul Revere on his ride, sprinting across the canvas and leaping as she drew near. On this ride, however, the bronco was only mounted at the end and Polly DROVE her backside into the waiting chest of The Bomb. Grabbing the middle ropes on either side, the champ let Cherry have it, thrusting her undercarriage into the chest and chin of the bouncing Bomb, getting in ten full strokes to leave her challenger a limp lethargic mess.
Grabbing the ankles of the defused Bomb, Polly tugged the Girl from Outer Space a step or two, then released and moved up Cherry’s frame to slip her fingers under the rim of her foe’s mask. The True American used that grip to tug Cherry the rest of the way to center stage. Frustrated she’d barely dislodged the covering when she reached her destination, Polly tossed the brunette’s noggin to the deck, the back of The Bomb’s head bouncing off the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Polly rolled the insensate Cherry to her chest and moves to the nearest corner. Scaling to the top of the corner, perhaps not as quickly as her rival, Lockwood turned instead of continuing up the cage.
“I’m already in my home country, bytch,” Lockwood shouted to her barely stirring target. “There isn’t one reason why I need to scurry over the fence like an illegal. That’s your way out, not mine.”
Her point verbalized if not necessarily made, Polly flew off the top buckle. At her zenith, she folded into a tuck and then got froggie on the way down, spreading her limbs wide and WHAM! The champ planted her Lockwood Leap perfectly, crushing Cherry beneath her.
The demolished Bomb spasmed under the blonde. Lockwood climbed off and shoveled Cherry over like a pancake on the griddle, climbed aboard in a domineering full body pin and waited for the...
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOO!
Cherry kicked her way free from what to Polly was a foregone conclusion. The True American was unable to believe this pathetic foreigner, whatever country or planet this bytch came from, could have saved herself from defeat.
As Cherry shuddered up to all fours, Polly sat by her foe’s side, not a little panic showing in her eyes.
“Where the hell ARE you from?” she whispered to herself.
A brief deliberation told Madam President it damned well didn’t matter. Wherever the wretch hailed from, she was a threat to the safety of Lockwood’s four-sided nation and the Lightweight Champion meant to put an end to her this very second. Taking the vulnerable battler’s head in both hands, Polly stood up and wedged the Bomb’s noggin between her thighs. She added a Waistlock to the mix shortly thereafter and in Cherry’s groggy state it proved more than adequate for lifting the challenger onto her shoulders.
Only mildly rankled by the proximity of interstellar crotch to her proud American nose, Lockwood muttered, “The rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night… that my flag is planted straight through your heart!” Lockwood slung the Bomb forward and laid out on her back while simultaneously raising her knees to chest level, thus THWHUMPING Cherry’s already tenderized lower back atop the bony joints with a brutal fusion of Powerbomb and Lungblower she called Plant the Flag. The Crimson Comet jolted once, then slid off Polly’s upturned knees with a slippery bonelessness the FAWNatics didn’t like at all.
PLANT THE FLAG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDo0fR5N8cc
Lockwood on the other hand was quite delighted and she knee-walked into place above Cherry’s head and pressed both hands to the invader’s chest in absolutely domineering fashion. Beaming for the cameras, Polly joined the ref in counting…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Cherry lifted a shoulder and turned onto her side, escaping defeat with a whisper to spare. Wide eyed with fury and incredulity, Lockwood shoved the Bomb onto her belly, and just POUNDED Forearm Smashes into her brutalized back. “STAY DOWN!” she bellowed to the suffering challenger. “THE TITLE IS MINE! IT’S MINE AND I WON’T LET YOU TAKE IT FROM ME!”
Halting the mugging only when her shoulder started to get sore, Polly clambered to her feet and took a long look at the door before trudging to the side of the cage. She’d barely put her hands on the links when some smart ass commie lover in the front row yelled, “Why ya goin’ over the wall, Polly? Don’tcha have your papers?”
“I am NOT going over the wall!” Polly shouted at the cretin as she started climbing the cage. “I am going to the TOP, where I will turn around and CRUSH that little snot once and for all with another Lockwood Le--”
The crowd let out a thunderous roar and Polly smiled at the show of patriotism before she felt the cage shivering. “NO!” she shrieked in apoplectic disbelief. “I BROKE YOU!” Cherry Bomb didn’t answer, she just kept cutting the distance between herself and the champion. Driven by equal parts determination and desperation, the Tea Partier resumed her climb up the links like Hillary Clinton was on her tail. Reaching the top was like reaching the gates of Heaven and Polly didn’t think twice about swinging a leg onto the other side. She was about to repeat the process when that alien freak grabbed her ankle.
“LET GO! I SAID GET YOUR FILTHY FOREIGN HANDS OFFA MEEERRGGGHH!”
The Bomb yanked Polly’s leg away from the side of the cage, then slammed it against the links. Lockwood grimaced and reached down to massage the aching limb, which gave Cherry enough time to climb up and sling a leg over the swaying steel. Straddling the cage with a very long fall on each side, Polly Lockwood and Cherry Bomb leaned into each other for support and ease of trash talk delivery.
“I knew you’d run,” Cherry huffed. “You’re not a great American. You’re just a mean little punk who feeds on making everyone else as miserable as NNNNGGHH!”
Lockwood decked her with a Haymaker, grabbed a handful of ponytail and pulled her in close to snarl, “I am great. I am an American. Therefore, I am a great American. You are deluded. You are trash. Therefore, you are deluded traGHHUUUFFFHH!”
Cherry punched the champ in the pit of her stomach and just like that the slug fest was on, blonde and brunette teeing off on one another from the most dangerous perch in the house. Falling into a mindless mouth and shoulder clench, Polly kept pounding at her opponent’s ribs until the tang of Cherry’s sweat grew intolerable and she sank her teeth into the meat of the challenger’s shoulder. Cherry shrieked and buried her hands in Lockwood’s hair, so Madam President wormed a hand between them and punched opposing crotch as hard as she could.
Another yowl of pain and the Bomb doubled up along the narrow metal rail, too concerned with her own aches to worry about the other woman. Polly gave the brunette a few rough shoves, trying to send her to the canvas, but the Bomb was hooked on too tight. Snorting with disgust, Lockwood spat, Fine, sit there and cry. I’ve got a title to retain.”
She slid a little ways back, shifted her butt and-- Cherry straightened up, swung her other leg over and then pushed herself from tush to toes in the blink of an eye. So astounded by this display of balance that thoughts of defense momentarily left her mind, Polly muttered, “Who the fahk are NNNNNGGGGHH!”
The Girl That Gravity Forgot earned her nickname a hundred times over when she flicked out a short, crisp kick that clipped Polly’s jaw. Madam President’s head snapped to the side, then lolled forward as her arms dropped to her sides. The rest of her followed quickly, the once fearsome tyrant doing an amazing impression of a red, white and blue rocket before she THAWHAMMED into the canvas seemingly a few miles below.
THE SUPER KICK THAT GRAVITY FORGOT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6g1U_2rxA8
So entranced by Polly’s fall were the FAWNatics that most didn’t see Cherry drop off the other side and barely catch hold to avoid a fall of her own. When they did notice, the chant of ‘DROP!’ went up right away, as they all knew the Lightweight Championship was hers for the taking. Cherry knew it too and she desperately wanted to feel that leather around her waist, but titles were few and far between in FAWN and she’d only win her first one once. So in direct defiance of those assembled she hauled herself up and crouched atop the cage.
Breathing deep, she steadied her balance and slowly, slooooooooooooowly stood up while the crowd lost its collective shyt. Lips curled into a weary smile, Cherry raised a hand and put her thumb to an invisible detonator. “Escaping the cage is for pussies.”
Then she jammed the button and leapt off into the void.
The whole arena held its breath as the Bomb twirled through a flawless corkscrew and a headlong shooting star all in the heartbeats before she stretched out full length and THWHAMMED down atop Lockwood’s defenseless midsection. Polly sat up, sobbed and went right back down when Cherry shoved her to the canvas. On her knees, she slung a leg over, slid back and planted her butt firmly on Polly’s chest. In the next instant she hooked a leg and pulled it back in a Half Matchbook, hoping against hope that it’d finally be enough to put Lockwood down for the…
CHERRY WARHEAD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT9Q9gkx7tQ
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Madness erupted along with the bell, so loud in fact that the Announcer had to wait a good ten seconds to confirm, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the NEW FAWN LIGHTWEIGHT CHAM--”
“STOP!” Cherry clambered to verticality and shambled toward the Announcer, gesturing for him to pipe down for a second.
Expecting any reaction but this, Craig Long hurried over to her and asked, “What’s wrong Cherry, are you hurt?”
“Yeah, but not injured.” she panted. “I just… I need… can I have a mic, Craig?”
“Sure thing.” He made a beeline for the cage and motioned for a tech to hand through a microphone. Once it was procured, he returned to Cherry, who took his offering with a nod of thanks.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to let the Announcer finish soon enough,” she explained to the buzzing FAWNatics, “but when he does, I want him to use the right name.” She paused to let that sink in. “As most of you have probably guessed, ‘Cherry Bomb’ isn’t printed on my birth certificate and despite the phenomenal production values in my entrance and my own gravity defying awesomeness, I am not in fact, from outer space. Cherry was a name, no, an identity, I forged for myself after everyone I cared about laughed in my face when I told them I wanted to be a professional wrestler. You’re too small they said! You’re too nice they said! You’ll get hurt they said! Know what? They were right about that last one. I did get hurt. Very badly in fact. It was so bad that my doctors told everyone I’d never be able to wrestle at anything near a professional level.”
Cherry looked up and smiled widely.
“Well, that’s what I TOLD them to tell everyone. See, even then I understood with my… background, no one would believe in me, no matter how good I was. Enter Cherry Bomb. If they weren’t going to believe in me, they’d believe in her. Judging from the way you’re all on your feet, is it safe to say I succeeded?”
‘WE BELIEVE! WE BELIEVE!’ was thrown at her at near deafening levels.
The Bomb nodded solemnly. “Good. I hope you all liked this match, because it’s the last time you’re going to see Cherry Bomb in a FAWN ring. Oh, I’m not going anywhere, but this thing…” she reached up and tapped her mask, “that’s going under glass in my trophy case.”
With that she tucked the microphone into her waistband and went to work on the velvet laces that held the mask to her head. Practiced fingers made quick work of the task and she was about to pull it clear when a noise caught her attention. Polly Lockwood was starting to come out of her stupor and had apparently not realized she was no longer a champion. Stomping over to the defeated wrestler, Cherry straddled her waist, grabbed hold of Polly’s wrists and pulled them down to her sides to make sure couldn’t bring her claws to bear.
Pretty face framed by Cherry’s thighs and crotch, Polly squirmed fitfully, but couldn’t dislodge the brunette. “Guuuhhhh… get off me…. you commie.” she rasped.
“Jeeze Polly, you missed my big speech. Don’t worry, I can recap it real quick.”
Slipping the mic loose, Cherry raised it to her lips while her other hand went behind her head. “The Girl That Gravity Forgot is now the Girl with Lightweight Gold. And the girl with the gold just so happens to be your girl on the street.” she pulled the mask away and dropped it beside Lockwood’s head.
Polly saw, blinked, shook her head ‘no’. “No.” she whispered. “YOU’RE NOT EVEN A WRESTLER!”
The brunette up top smiled, cocked her head and cupped a hand to one ear. “Sure about that, Polly? Lets hear what the Announcer has to say.”
As stunned as everyone else, the man gathered his wits quickly enough and shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the NEEEEEEEEEW FAWN LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION… LILY BURLINGAME!”
YOUR NEW LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMP:
Polly started to scream and that’s when Lily scooted forward and cut her off with a faceful of gams and tush. It wasn’t a full smother, she didn’t have the energy for that, she just didn’t want to listen to Lockwood’s caterwauling during her celebration. Once the worst of it died down she got to her feet and strolled over to Craig Long, who’d retrieved the Lightweight Title during all the commotion.
“I know it’s lost almost all meaning these days.” he said as he laid the leather and gold across her right shoulder. “But holy shit. Holy shit, Che- I mean, Lily. Sorry, this’ll take some getting used to.”
With the undercover life finally behind her, the youngest Burlingame sister gave the zebra the first of several dozen hugs she’d dole out around the locker room tonight. “All’s forgiven if you raise my hand, Craig.”
He did and the crowd went nuts, all of them astounded in the most pleasing of ways. With the sound of her name threatening to crack the walls, Lily made a circuit of the ring, then went over to Polly, who’d pushed onto her knees. Regarding the new champion with wide, hateful eyes, the blonde whispered, “I’m going to drive you out of this business. I swear to God I will. There’s no place for you here, bytch.”
Lily sank down on her haunches and held the belt beside Polly’s face. “See this, Pol? This sez otherwise. It says this land is MY land. Get used to it, baby.”
Done with the dangerous demagogue for tonight, Burlingame stood up, turned away and barely resisted the urge to kick invisible dirt in Polly’s direction. Instead she strutted out of the cage, went down the steel steps and proceeded make a lap around the ring so she could finally greet all her fans face to face.
COMEBACK KID:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U3ns3_KvSg
A whole lotta stargazers and plenty of other carbon-based lifeforms leapt up as the lights went out. From the center of that interstellar dark came a thumping drum and a matched set of snapping fingers, the two bits of percussion bouncing to and fro in a rat-a-tat riff. A keening guitar note joined the beat and a few seconds later the situation got brighter in no small part due to the tongue of flame that licked at the base of the ramp. As the note held steady, the fire set off on a beeline for the top of the ramp. The fuse ran down as the guitars kicked in alongside a huge BOOM of red pyro that almost swallowed the first verse of ’Comeback Kid’. From the center of this flash and flame a figure emerged, shooting up from the floor to land flawlessly before the capacity crowd.
CHERRY BOMB:
Vaulting forth from this fresh crater, Cherry Bomb greeted the crowd with a fist-pumping salute, then raced down the ramp in a blur of red, black and white. For her ery first attempt at FAWN gold, she wore snazzy bright red bottoms accented by two black 'claw slashes' on each hip, a pair of white 'fangs' on the front and a cross-bred cherry time-bomb emblazoned on the tush. Her top was a long-sleeved sports bra done in an identical scheme, solid red with black and white slashes along the shoulders, décolletage and biceps. Kneepads were matching red and also sported the 'cherry bomb' glyph while her boots were shiny and black. Her mask was full face save for a rounded arch that left her nostrils, lips and chin exposed, Cherry’s signature accessory was as red as her togs with black outlines around the eyes (which themselves were screened over white) and exposed arch. The laces up the back were white velvet and there was an aperture that allowed egress for a dark, lustrous ponytail that hung to just beneath her shoulders.
If anyone thought the Bomb might move a little slower with the cage waiting at for her at the end, they were proved sorely wrong when the Crimson Comet burst down the aisle in a streak of red, black and white. Denied her usual leap over the ropes, Cherry sprang from the floor, caught a double handful of chain-link and started climbing. Scaling it as easily the unfortunately earthbound took the stairs, Cherry claimed the top in no time and spun to face the crowd like it was six feet wide and not even six inches.
“TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT, PEOPLE!” the Bomb shouted out at that sea of faces. “TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT THAT POLLY LOCKWOOD FALLS DOWN AND GOES…” she raised her right hand, crooked her thumb and pressed down, which earned a roared ‘BOOOOOOOOM!” from several thousand throats. Nodding agreement, Cherry sank into a crouch and started down the inside. She made it about halfway, then pushed off and dropped to the canvas with a crisp little ‘thwhump’.
“Hey there, Craig,” she said to referee Craig Long, “here to check me for illegal ordinance?”
Long smiled and took her wrists when Cherry offered them. “I’m sure you’re clean, Bomb. This is just a precaution.”
“Not a very good one, though. All the inspections in the world aren’t gonna stop me from blowing up Polly’s mean little ass.”
With Cherry blowing up the arena from within the steel mesh of the cage, the house speakers interrupted the alien love-fest with the pounding of Metallica’s “Don’t Tread on Me”.
DON’T TREAD ON ME:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPl2sTo_8-o
A few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ rpse to their feet, saluting crisply. The other ninety-eight percent of the FAWNatics made themselves known in quite a different way.
The Ring Announcer barely broke through the jeers.
“And her opponent, hailing from Buffalo, New York; she stands at five feet one inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and eighteen scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome. Ladies and gentlemen, she is the FAWN Lightweight Champion and its one and only TRUE American... POLLY LOCKWOOD!”
The haters only got louder when the bite-sized blonde hardbody strode confidently to center stage, bringing a salute to her brow. When the hand, fashioned into a knife-edge, moved away from her forehead, Lockwood added her own little twist, a middle finger remaining straight while the others receded.
POLLY LOCKWOOD:
Lightweight gold gracing her taut and tawny midriff, Lockwood waved at The Bomb, showing no concern at the edifice enclosing her foe; the cage soon to hold her fate as well.
Polly’s wardrobe remained worthy of Old Glory. The tiny blonde sported her standard garb of boy-cut shorts and bikini top. Polly alternates her country’s colors between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in just the right spots, and shimmering red and white stripes below; with white pads and boots capping off the ensemble.
The True American also wore a familiar flag as a cape, the banner with a coiled rattlesnake and the appropriate chestnut ‘Don’t Tread On Me’. She lifted and spreaded her arms wide, showing off the dangerous serpent as she walked down the aisle. Lockwood growled at the moronic hordes, ignoring the insults and the jeers, each and every idiot no doubt having snuck into the country.
Reaching the ring, the patriot ascended the steel steps but halted at the door, giving Cherry Bomb a wary gaze. The masked marvel bid the champ in and she had little choice but to respond quickly or lose face.
Lockwood shrugged off her flag cum cape, handing it to a FAWN flunky, then traded her gilded belt for a microphone she put to her lips.
“Consider me the INS tonight, you…sneak,” Polly said through a sneer, “and this time you have nowhere to run from my All-American justice.”
The FAWNatics made their opinion obvious and loud.
Lockwood dropped the microphone and screamed at the Girl from Outer Space to give her some room and The Bomb obliged, moving to the opposite corner.
Cautiously, the two-time light titleholder opens and entered. Warily, she slid through the ropes, her eyes never leaving the conniving illegal.
“You never should have agreed to these terms,” Polly informed. “A fence is your types’ worst enemy and I’m going to make sure, for you, I’m number two.”
“Oh you’ll be number two, alright,” Cherry replied glibly.
Furious, Polly’s face flushed a patriotic red, fists clenching white. Apparently she would save the blue language for later.
“Let’s get this started,” she snarled.
When the bell CLANGED Polly stomped out to the center of the squared circle like she owned the joint. And why shouldn’t she? This patch of canvas was her own personal country within a country and she was president for life. No one was going to take that away from her. Not Olivia Barker. Not Nyssa Bloodwind. And certainly not this masked piece of crap that claimed to hail from beyond the stars. Hands on her hips, the Polarizing Patriot locked eyes with the challenger and demanded, “Straighten up and look alive, little girl. Madam President would have a word with you.”
Cherry resisted the urge to charge the hateful blonde bytch only because she knew Lockwood would love nothing more than to goad her into a mistake. So she breathed out the last of those title match jitters and started forward.
Pleased to see the illegal alien could follow basic commands, Polly gestured to the cage and said, “This is one wall you’re going to wish you hadn’t snuck over, bytch. But now that you’re here, it’s high time I gave you the red, white, black and bluesing you’ve needed for oh so loNNNGGGHH!”
The Bomb put a hand on Polly’s cheek and twisted her head to one side with a blatant pie-face. “I’m only gonna say this once,” Cherry barked over the roars of the FAWNatics, “shut your hateful mouth and FIGHT… Madam President.”
Lockwood wiped a hand across her stinging lips and glared murder at the challenger. I’m gonna run that mask up the goddamned flagpole.”
Cherry stepped back and beckoned her in, an invitation that Polly accepted at once. Far too angry to bother with something so civilized as grappling, the Lightweight Champion lashed out with a looping right hand that crashed off Cherry’s cheek. The Bomb grimaced, then responded in kind, tagging Polly’s chin with a Haymaker of her own.
The spark from that simple exchange ignited a roaring conflagration of pent-up anger and resentment manifested as a wild slugfest as blonde and brunette pounded away on one another. Though both were quite adept with their hands, technique played little part in the enthusiastic exchange of shots that saw one lass swing for the fences, then set her feet to brace for impact. Quick to pick up on the one to one exchange between champ and challenger, the crowd cheered YAAAAY!’ when Cherry rocked Polly and ‘BOOOO!’ when Lockwood returned the favor.
This mindless slugging went on for about ten seconds before the Crimson Comet raised a forearm to intercept her foe’s latest punch. So startled was she by this cowardly deflection that Polly didn’t muster a similar defense when Cherry reared back and decked her with the heaviest shot yet. Rocked up on her heels, Lockwood raised a guard that didn’t do much good because the Bomb snatched a handful of hair and simply unloaded on the top of her foe’s skull.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was effective. It was also against the rules, as Polly noted at the top of her lungs. “REF! SHE’S PULLING MY HAIR! AND THOSE ARE CLOSED FISTS SHE’S USING!”
Craig Long agreed, even if it pained him to do so. “She’s right Cherry. Let go of her hair and open that hand.” Cherry complied with the latter but not the former, at least not until she’d used the hair hold to open Lockwood’s cheek up for a brisk slap. “Is that how it’s going to be, Pol?” she cooed in a mocking tone. “You need to sic the Secret Service on me to wiNNNAAAGHH!”
Polly lunged forward with raised hands and raaaaaaaaked them down Cherry’s mask. The masked woman’s hands went to her face, so Lockwood snatched hold of her ponytail and gave it a nasty shake. “I don’t need him or anyone to whoop your NNNNNGGGHH!” Cherry swatted the champ’s hand from her hair and hooked an arm around the back of her neck in the same motion. In the next, she pulled Polly’s head down and THWHACKED her across the chin with a European Uppercut that sent the Star-Spangled Bytch staggering into the ropes.
With one hand twined around the links of the cage and the other rubbing her aching jaw, Polly glared satisfied hatred at her opposition. “A EUROPEAN Uppercut! I knew it! I knew you were filthy Eurotrash under that mask. Let me see your passport right now, Frenchie!”
Cherry only shook her head and smirked. “Just wondering, Pol. Has anyone ever told ya you hit like a hippie?”
Lockwood’s jaw dropped. “That’s it. I’m issuing an executive order for the immediate beating of your intergalactic ass.”
The challenger cocked a hip toward her blonde, then raised a hand to her lips and planted a smooch on her fingertips. “You want it, Tea Bag?” Cherry smacked her tush, the sound of it utterly lost in the cheers of the crowd. “Come and get it.”
Polly charged her with a snarl that got all the louder when Cherry ducked under the Clothesline she’d readied. Undeterred by the miss, Lockwood whirled around and was not at all surprised to see the freak rushing at her full speed ahead. Reacting on instinct she dipped down and lowered her arms, meaning to sweep the Bomb into all manner of Backbreaker or Sidewalk Slam inspired nastiness. Alas, neither came to pass as Cherry took to the skies and ‘smecked’ her legs around the champ’s head as soon as it was low enough. Latched on tight, the Crimson Comet swung around in a smooth arc, then broke the Scissors to land on one knee while Lockwood was flipped onto her back.
TILT-A-WHIRL HEADSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6hOiaBK5mo
Polly hit hard but scrambled to her feet quickly enough. More eager to fight than ever, she looked in the direction she’d last seen the freak and let out a little ‘eep’ because the Bomb was flying straight into her airspace. Legs splayed in a slight ‘V’, Cherry snapped her gammy trap shut around Polly’s neck, then swung down like the world’s craziest pendulum to send the champ rolling across the canvas.
RUNNING FRANKENSTEINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xG6AUl2StM
Senses scrambled by the challenger’s frenetic attacks, Lockwood clambered to boot-leather and held out a hand in hopes of keeping the other woman back. “Keep your distance, that’s an ordWHOOFFFHHH!”
Never one to heed the commands of those in authority, Cherry brushed Polly’s arm out of the way and put both hands on her shoulders. Immediately thereafter she launched into a vertical leap and threaded her legs around the blonde’s head for the third time in less than a minute. Mounted atop her rival’s shoulders, Cherry pumped a fist for the FAWNatics, then clamped down and whipped herself backward to flip Polly over onto her back with the challenger landing flush atop her chest. Pinned flat by the Hurricanrana, Polly stuffed her hands against Cherry’s tush only to curse something unprintable when the brunette grabbed her wrists and pulled them away. Denied one escape hatch, she wriggled and twisted while the ref counted…
HURRICANRANA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PlxyvT0kbA
ONE…
TWO…
Fox News’s Wrestler of the Year for 2014 put her feet against the mat and bridged up, sending Cherry slopping to all fours with a full second to spare. Scrambling to her feet, Polly waved her hands at Cherry in a ‘screw this’ sort of gesture, then turned around like she meant to bail. “DAMMIT!” Polly growled when she remembered the cage.
Behind her, Cherry chided, “What’s the matter, Madam President? Starting to feel like a lame duck?”
The blonde rounded on her and sneered, “Mexico. Japan. Any of those fancy flips in your arsenal actually come from this great nation?”
“Plenty. You might even get to see some if you stop running from--”
She would’ve said ‘me’ if Polly hadn’t rushed forward with every intention of taking the challenger’s head off with a Lariat. Cherry ducked with an instant to spare and spun on the ball of her foot to make sure she was in place when Lockwood made her return pass. Imagine her surprise then when the champion continued straight on to the edge of the ring and leapt from the canvas to the top rope as neat as you please. This was no springboard offensive however, Polly grabbed hold of the cage and started up, much to the displeasure of those assembled. “Oh, I don’t THINK SO!” Cherry sprinted after her and replicated Polly’s leap perfectly. Landing beside the retreating patriot, the Bomb grabbed hold of her waistband and tugged down.
Polly yelped and dropped back to the rather precarious perch on the top rope if only to make sure the dirty cheat didn’t show her proud American bum to the undeserving international markets. “You sneaky skank, you’re going to pay for WHOOANNNGGH!”
The Maroon Meteor hooked her right arm over Polly’s shoulders like they were old friends before dropping backward to THWHAM her blonde to the mat with a Springboard Russian Leg Sweep.
SPRINGBOARD RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmhFmo3A__E
Blonde and brunette came flying off the top rope per the Roseate Rocket’s bidding and while Cherry took a hard landing herself, it’s the champ who THUMPED into the thinly-sheathed plywood with resounding force. It’s enough that Polly somersaulted over onto her chest. Facedown, Lockwood cradled the back of her head with both hands and kicked at the canvas.
Cherry, on the other hand, nimbly popped to a handstand, made a quarter turn and tucked when she fell, driving both knees into the spine of the Star Spangled Bytch. Polly’s backbone arched in anguish, the blonde’s flawless features twisted in a pained snarl. But the masked marvel wasn’t done. Turning, she faced forward up Lockwood’s frame, the dark-haired alien still on her knees and those knees still on Lockwood. Cherry slip[ed her arms in front of Polly’s mug from either side and laced her fingers. With gusto, Cherry yanked on the Crossface grip, drawing pained, muffled yelps from the traitorous lightweight titleholder.
Polly twisted, her arms flailing back over her head but unable to find purchase with anything useful on the brunette’s body. With Lockwood grunting a ‘no’ to the inquiring official, Cherry changed her grip to a double scoop of Polly’s chin, quickly audibling to a kneeling clutch. The Bomb leeeeeeaaaaaned back, curling Polly’s vertebrae to an extent for which they were never made. The crowd could tell the distress from the teary glaze growing on Polly’s baby blues and they started a chant of ‘TAP…TAP…TAP’, but Lockwood shook her head, as much as she could anyway. Deciding Polly will need to be dealt with in another manner, Cherry released her grip and let a loudly sighing Lockwood fall flat to the canvas, unmoving.
“I can beat you on the mat, which I just proved,” Cherry informed, “but these people came to see me not only beat you, but do it the ‘Cherry Way’.” The Bomb stepped harshly on the base of Lockwood’s spine as she moved to the nearest corner and popped to the top without a hint of effort. Looking out on the FAWNatics through the steel mesh, Cherry considered climbing over and out, as many in the front row screamed for her to do, but after taking a peek and seeing Polly was already on her way up, she returned to her initial plan, give the champ a taste of the Cherry Twist.
The spinning back=flip would have been an impressive sight if the Maroon Missile had ever reached launch. Instead, the newly self-appointed Madame President of FAWN leapt for the ropes at Cherry’s side, throwing her battered body into the cables. The effort was enough to relieve Cherry of her footing and she dropped straight down, her crotch blasted by the wire holding buckles to post. Even if the crowd couldn’t see Cherry’s expression, they felt her pain, many a set of butt cheeks puckering. And bad went to worse for the masked one when Polly tied up her legs in the ropes and delivered a backhand chop that not only lights up Cherry’s spine, but also placed the Girl from Outer Space in a very earthbound Tree of Woe.
A still wincing Lockwood took out some of her frustration with a couple Soccer Kicks to Cherry’s pert bosom, but she’s got something more memorable in mind. Climbing around the overturned Bomb, Polly ended up on the top strands above the brunette and suddenly dropped from her perch, sending a Headbutt down into the juncture of her foe’s spread thighs, blasting Cherry’s undercarriage. The Bomb couldn’t contain a howl of anguish, her hands racing below, or in this case, above.
The only silver lining for the Roseate Rocket was that she’s jarred loose from her ‘Tree’ to puddle at the feet of the True American who gave her own braincase a rattle, Polly blinking her eyes wide to regain her bearings after the butt.
Seeing Cherry at her feet, Polly leaned down and delivered some words of wisdom. “These colors don’t run, space slut, but they do walk out the door and make you a loser.”
Polly got one step toward the door before The Bomb’s arm lashed out and her palm wrapped around Lockwood’s ankle. With a surprisingly strong tug from the brunette, the Star Spangled Bytch tumbled to the mat next to her challenger, but Cherry was in no condition to take further advantage. Instead, a furious Lockwood sent a Mule Kick to Cherry’s chest and scrambled to her feet.
Grabbing The Bomb by the ponytail, she yanked Cherry to her feet and added a grip on a shoulder of the Maroon Meteor. She bum rushed Cherry toward the opposite side of the ring and sent her flying over, Cherry’s face CLANGING into the chain link of the cage. The Bomb bounced off in a stupor, staggering drunkenly back toward Polly who draped an arm across Cherry’s chest and opposite shoulder. Showing strength she might only be able to manage against a fellow flyweight, Lockwood lifted the masked marvel off the deck and DROVE Cherry into the deck with a forceful display of Constitutional Powers.
CONSTITUTIONAL POWERS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PEQ9ERHMLA
The Bomb was blown up on impact, bouncing an inch or so off the canvas from the force the True American exerted on the most illegal alien in the history of the INS. Kneeling next to the splayed Cherry, Polly lifted one knee and placeed it on the chest of her challenger for an imperial…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Cherry threw a shoulder up, hard and strong, if nearly late. Lockwood didn’t turn toward the official, instead letting her head droop and offering a shake.
“Keep pushing your luck,” the blonde whispered. But rather than go for the chain link or for the door, Polly moved to a squatting straddle of Cherry’s chest and slipped a set of fingers under the right cheek of the brunette’s mask.
“Madame President requires knowing what loathsome creature she’s facing; requires knowing where to send you postage due after the match.”
Lockwood started to peel the red off The Bomb. The skintight material wasn’t easy to budge, forcing her to take turns working it loose from each direction.
“Are we ready to have your mystique ended, sweetheart? Are we ready for me to pop your Cherry?”
“Better than you have tried and failed, elephant face.” the Bomb growled from beneath her rival. She made a point of twisting her head this way and that to stymie the blonde’s progress, but she was more focused on getting both hands under Lockwood’s chin and pushing back, all the better to strengthen the kink started by the Clutch. The reason for this seeming non-concern was simple. Shortly after her arrival in FAWN she’d paid Cassandra Vale a considerable sum to try and remove her mask from every conceivable angle. The best time the merc managed was forty five seconds and she’d been in possession of a mount much stronger than Polly’s. Considering the Tea Partier had been at it for less than fifteen seconds, Cherry knew she had more than enough time to --
”NNNGGGHHH!” Sick of the brunette’s intruding fingers, Lockwood curled her free hand into a claw and applied it to the Bomb’s left breast with white-knuckle intensity. “Get your filthy foreign hands outta my face.” she growled. “Otherwise I’ll peel off what I find under the masKUUUUGGHHHHH!”
Cherry slipped her right hand up over the champ’s chin and forced her middle and ring fingers into Polly’s ever yammering trap. Her thumb sought the soft flesh behind the blonde’s chin and pushed up while the digits under her tongue clamped down. Gurgling around the surprise Mandible Claw, Lockwood abandoned her quest for the mask to double down on the jugg mugging and when that didn’t work she grabbed the Bomb’s wrist and squeezed as hard as she could. “Luuuhh… mmmhhheee… ghhhuuuooo…” Polly burbled around the wicked intrusion.
Cherry’s wrist was starting to go numb from her foe’s pressure, but she couldn’t let the mean tramp go without a little taste of her own medicine. So she fashioned her left hand into a talon and sank it into the modest swell of Lockwood’s bosom.
Galled at the thought of some peon groping her All American bounty in such a way, Polly let loose of Cherry’s wrist and palmed her head instead. This she yanked off the mat and bounced as hard as she could, the back of the Bomb’s skull making a low, distressing BWUNK as it met the thinly-sheathed plywood. A trio of such tactics was more than enough to free Lockwood from the Mandible Claw, yet she went right on banging the brunette’s noggin until Cherry was covering up and the ref was at ‘FOUR!’ on his count. Releasing with a flourish, Polly stood up and planted a foot flush between the other woman’s breasts. Then she put a hand over her heart and joined the crowd in an enthusiastic recitation of the Pledge of…
ONE…
TWO…
Cherry swatted the boot aside and turned onto one side, though she did so with none of her usual kinetic enthusiasm. “Go ahead and wriggle all you want.” Lockwood taunted. “But we both know you’re nothing more than a little bit of cosmic crap waiting to be crushed under my red, white and blue heels.” As proof of this statement she nudged Cherry onto her back, then hopped up and swiftly delivered both soles to opposing chest with a vindictive Mushroom Stomp. Polly skipped off immediately thereafter and would’ve gone for the masked woman’s hair if Cherry hadn’t abruptly rolled to all fours.
Noting the opportunity for more patriotic punishment, Lockwood sidled in off the Bomb’s left hip, bent down and wrapped both arms around her waist. Hands locked, she hoisted Cherry off the mat in Gutwrench that had the Interstellar Angel gagging for breath in very short order. “You see this?” she called to the hard camera. “This ring is MY country and ALL threats, be they foreign, domestic or in this case, pathetic,” she gave Cherry a hard shake, much to the crowd’s displeasure, “will be expelled quickly and violently!”
The threat was still on Lockwood’s lips when she charged to the edge of the ring and BWAAANGED Cherry’s head and right shoulder off the links of the cage. The Bomb shuddered forcefully but Polly didn’t let loose, so she shielded her head in both arms and suffered through two-more teeth-gnashing collisions with the merciless steel. Polly would’ve happily smashed Cherry against the cage until she was sobbing or unconscious (preferably the former, just before the latter) but her shoulders were starting to burn with the bulk of this celestial commie so she tromped out to the middle of the squared circle and sank into a deep crouch. “You may be a rocket,” Lockwood cooed to her flagging rival, “but sweetheart, I am the goddamned revolution itself!”
With that she swung Cherry up, around and then down, Madam President just THWHAMMING the Bomb flat on the back of her head and shoulders with a Floatover Gutwrench Powerbomb. Polly somersaulted over the prone brunette the instant she touched down, adding a flawless Jackknife Cradle to the count that’d end Cherry’s golden dreams in…
FLOATOVER GUTWRENCH POWERBOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwFpqAlxvSE
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Girl That Gravity forgot defied rationality by slipping loose of the predicament with half a tick to spare. “WHAT WAS THAT, REF?” Polly shouted at Craig Long. “OR SHOULD I CALL YOU COMRADE? IS THAT YOUR GAME, PINKO?”
The ref raised his hands, but didn’t back off. “It was just a near fall, Polly. Get down off your soap box and wrestle.”
Polly fixed him with a long, measured look. After a moment, she muttered, “I’m gonna have your shady ass in front of a Senate Sub-Committee Hearing, just watch me.” Returning her attention to the mysterious moron, Lockwood was disgusted to see Cherry leaned back on her knees. Yet disgust gave way to delight the instant an idea crossed her mind. “GET YOUR CAMERAS READY, PEOPLE!” she told the crowd while sauntering away from the penitent challenger. “I’M ABOUT TO PUT THIS FREAK’S LIGHTS OUT FOR GOOD!”
On ‘good’ she whirled around and raced back the way she’d came, a star-spangled comet aimed straight for the planet of Cherry’s skull. Striking at the point of no return, Lockwood pushed off with her left foot to add that much more force to the knee she fired as the Bomb’s--
Cherry arched backward into the lowest of low bridges, leaving Polly to stumble awkwardly in the absence of a real target. Barely catching her balance before she went down flat on her face, Polly spun to face the eerily nimble brunette. “I don’t think so, bytch. Madam President is in no mood to issue pardons.” As such Lockwood charged again, this time extending her right arm for a Lariat that would sail over its target when Cherry dipped beneath it. Spinning even as she ducked, the Crimson Comet lunged forward and cinched her arms around Polly’s waist. The blonde’s eyes had just enough time to go wide before the Bomb tossed her head over heels with a Release German Suplex that dropped Lockwood into a Matchbook.
RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_SkcDPfZd8
A whole arena full o’ people pleaded with Cherry to try for a cover, but she was too busy trying to recuperate from the ass kicking she’d so recently endured. Polly’d already slumped onto one side by the time her attacker started moving again, so Cherry helped herself to a double handful of hair and got the tiniest bit of vengeance by scrubbing the Tea Partier’s forehead back n’ forth against the canvas. Polly squealed, then slapped at her hands, so the Maroon Meteor switched over to a Wristlock and hauled the both of ‘em to boot leather.
From there an Irish Whip sent Polly racing to the strands, not that she could do much other than bounce off and shamble back in her current Suplex-addled state. Leaned slightly to the right when Lockwood closed in, Cherry caught her blonde around the waist and spun her up and over with a retaliatory Gutwrench. But where Polly had turned it into a slam, the Bomb used hers to deposit the woozy blonde across her shoulders with the small of Polly’s back nuzzled against the back of her head. In the next instant Cherry cupped one hand over Lockwood’s chin while the other crossed her ankles in a stubby ‘X’. Pulling tight on both ends, Cherry took to hopping, jouncing and otherwise wrenching her foe’s spine in an agonizing hold known as La Atlantida.
LA ATLANTIDA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdDwzCOvMoc&feature=plcp
“WANNA GUESS WHICH DARK, MYSTERIOUS CORNER OF THE UNIVERSE I LEARNED THIS IN, POL?” Cherry taunted. “THAT’S RIGHT BABY, MEXICO!”
The Bomb showed she’s got a little power packed into her petite package, drawing Polly’s head toward her own boots with each thrust of La Atlantida, the spine of the True American truly tested. But Cherry wasn’t done. When the ride showed its strain on the masked marvel, she scurried into a quick backpedal and DROVE Lockwood’s chest and face over the ropes and into the chain link, the cage clanging with the force of the impact. Bouncing away from the collision, Cherry carries the Star Spangled Bytch to mid-ring and drops her courtesy of Samoa, straight on her face and chest again.
INTERSTELLAR SAMOAN DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oD7FjAtJ29Q
The brutal ride ended with a mat-thumping finish, the former Young American rolling to her back and ending in a dazed spreadeagle, eyes glazed, seemingly uncomprehending when The Bomb turned and stared down into her peepers.
“I’d go and get the flag to drape you in it to honor the passing of your lightweight reign, but the match would be over once I went out the door,” Cherry informed. “So I guess this will have to do.”
The Girl From Outer Space lined up with the tawny midriff of the blonde and leapt high and soared back to THWAP! The sound of tummy on tummy echoes, Cherry slamming down across Lockwood in an acrobatic Splash. Polly jackknifed around the impact, her cheeks puffing out a huge exhale as her abs gave way to those of The Bomb. The blonde settled to the deck and the masked brunette scooped up both limp legs in a Cradle, folding Polly’s lower half atop her upper for...
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
A seizure from Lockwood saved her from defeat if only for the moment. And though Cherry’s mask hid some of her emotion, if anything could be divined, it appeared she’s somewhat surprised by Polly’s pluck.
Still, it didn’t stop the intergalactic ordinance from rising and dragging a flaccid Polly up with her. Showing she had a little left in the tank, Lockwood balled a right fist and threw it hard, but The Bomb proved quicker on the draw with a Toe Kick to Polly’s already weakened belly and the True American was gutted before her balled digits could reach their target.
Lockwood doubled over and Cherry tugged the blonde’s lowered head between her thighs. Clamping on a Standing Headscissors, the masked marvel wrapped her arms around the tanned midriff of the champ and powered Polly HIGH into the air in a powerbomb-like lift that culminated with Cherry capturing Lockwood under her foe’s arms. A frantic Polly shook her head wildly, pleading for mercy from the alien, alas it wasn’t forthcoming. But instead of planting Polly to the deck with her signature Splash Mountain, Cherry used the tool at hand. She raced toward the cage and threw Polly off her shoulders when she reached the metal fencing.
Lockwood’s back and the back of her head CLANGED into the steel mesh and she bounced off into a Bear Hug from the challenger. Cherry slipped her head under an arm of the blonde and lifted the increasingly ragdolled Polly up ’n over with a Northern Lights Suplex, Cherry bridging for the pin and the win, getting the...
NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UiG-0a_6hSM
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOO!
Again, the True American broke free, this time the effort made a little easier with Cherry’s precarious bridging pin. Lockwood rolled to her side and weakly grabbed onto an ankle of The Bomb, hoping to stop her foe in case Cherry decided to depart the cage.
The Bomb showed a brief inclination to shake off the champ and do just that, but instead she turned back to Polly and landed a knee to the jaw that spread her foe out for one final high impact.
Climbing off the demolished champion, Cherry signaled for the end of Lockwood’s second reign and she hop-skipped to the nearest corner. Easily vaulting to the top buckle, The Bomb continued to climb an extra foot or two via the fencing, managing to turn to face the splayed Polly, holding on to the chain link like a masked spider monkey.
Using the extra height for even more impact from her finalizing Cherry Warhead, The Bomb leapt from her perch, flipping and spinning through incredible acrobatics only a freak from outer space might be able to perform.
Unfortunately for the Bombardiers in the audience, a flagging Polly demonstrated her American survival instinct, pulling her knees into a tuck and gutting Cherry on her landing. The mask on the Roseate Rocket couldn’t hide the pain from the bony ending. Cherry rolled away from the horrible mistake, hugging her tummy as if she’s trying to keep vital organs in place. Meanwhile, the still battered blonde butt scooted to the ropes and leaned against them, viewing the damage as the official had no choice but to start counting both women out.
Lockwood took her time, remaining in recovery mode for an eight count before using the ropes to pull her way up. With the gored Crimson Crack Whore still on the canvas, Polly considered her options and headed for the masked challenger. She grabbed a wrist and tugged Cherry to wobbly feet. Pivoting, she sent The Bomb off for the ride, the challenger turning just in time to take the impact of the buckles against her spinal column.
The force was enough to ‘turn off’ the stems of the brunette, Cherry plopping to a seat on the canvas in front of the buckles, her legs extended in front of her, and that’s the cue the Star Spangled Bytch was waiting for. She took off like Paul Revere on his ride, sprinting across the canvas and leaping as she drew near. On this ride, however, the bronco was only mounted at the end and Polly DROVE her backside into the waiting chest of The Bomb. Grabbing the middle ropes on either side, the champ let Cherry have it, thrusting her undercarriage into the chest and chin of the bouncing Bomb, getting in ten full strokes to leave her challenger a limp lethargic mess.
Grabbing the ankles of the defused Bomb, Polly tugged the Girl from Outer Space a step or two, then released and moved up Cherry’s frame to slip her fingers under the rim of her foe’s mask. The True American used that grip to tug Cherry the rest of the way to center stage. Frustrated she’d barely dislodged the covering when she reached her destination, Polly tossed the brunette’s noggin to the deck, the back of The Bomb’s head bouncing off the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Polly rolled the insensate Cherry to her chest and moves to the nearest corner. Scaling to the top of the corner, perhaps not as quickly as her rival, Lockwood turned instead of continuing up the cage.
“I’m already in my home country, bytch,” Lockwood shouted to her barely stirring target. “There isn’t one reason why I need to scurry over the fence like an illegal. That’s your way out, not mine.”
Her point verbalized if not necessarily made, Polly flew off the top buckle. At her zenith, she folded into a tuck and then got froggie on the way down, spreading her limbs wide and WHAM! The champ planted her Lockwood Leap perfectly, crushing Cherry beneath her.
The demolished Bomb spasmed under the blonde. Lockwood climbed off and shoveled Cherry over like a pancake on the griddle, climbed aboard in a domineering full body pin and waited for the...
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOO!
Cherry kicked her way free from what to Polly was a foregone conclusion. The True American was unable to believe this pathetic foreigner, whatever country or planet this bytch came from, could have saved herself from defeat.
As Cherry shuddered up to all fours, Polly sat by her foe’s side, not a little panic showing in her eyes.
“Where the hell ARE you from?” she whispered to herself.
A brief deliberation told Madam President it damned well didn’t matter. Wherever the wretch hailed from, she was a threat to the safety of Lockwood’s four-sided nation and the Lightweight Champion meant to put an end to her this very second. Taking the vulnerable battler’s head in both hands, Polly stood up and wedged the Bomb’s noggin between her thighs. She added a Waistlock to the mix shortly thereafter and in Cherry’s groggy state it proved more than adequate for lifting the challenger onto her shoulders.
Only mildly rankled by the proximity of interstellar crotch to her proud American nose, Lockwood muttered, “The rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night… that my flag is planted straight through your heart!” Lockwood slung the Bomb forward and laid out on her back while simultaneously raising her knees to chest level, thus THWHUMPING Cherry’s already tenderized lower back atop the bony joints with a brutal fusion of Powerbomb and Lungblower she called Plant the Flag. The Crimson Comet jolted once, then slid off Polly’s upturned knees with a slippery bonelessness the FAWNatics didn’t like at all.
PLANT THE FLAG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDo0fR5N8cc
Lockwood on the other hand was quite delighted and she knee-walked into place above Cherry’s head and pressed both hands to the invader’s chest in absolutely domineering fashion. Beaming for the cameras, Polly joined the ref in counting…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Cherry lifted a shoulder and turned onto her side, escaping defeat with a whisper to spare. Wide eyed with fury and incredulity, Lockwood shoved the Bomb onto her belly, and just POUNDED Forearm Smashes into her brutalized back. “STAY DOWN!” she bellowed to the suffering challenger. “THE TITLE IS MINE! IT’S MINE AND I WON’T LET YOU TAKE IT FROM ME!”
Halting the mugging only when her shoulder started to get sore, Polly clambered to her feet and took a long look at the door before trudging to the side of the cage. She’d barely put her hands on the links when some smart ass commie lover in the front row yelled, “Why ya goin’ over the wall, Polly? Don’tcha have your papers?”
“I am NOT going over the wall!” Polly shouted at the cretin as she started climbing the cage. “I am going to the TOP, where I will turn around and CRUSH that little snot once and for all with another Lockwood Le--”
The crowd let out a thunderous roar and Polly smiled at the show of patriotism before she felt the cage shivering. “NO!” she shrieked in apoplectic disbelief. “I BROKE YOU!” Cherry Bomb didn’t answer, she just kept cutting the distance between herself and the champion. Driven by equal parts determination and desperation, the Tea Partier resumed her climb up the links like Hillary Clinton was on her tail. Reaching the top was like reaching the gates of Heaven and Polly didn’t think twice about swinging a leg onto the other side. She was about to repeat the process when that alien freak grabbed her ankle.
“LET GO! I SAID GET YOUR FILTHY FOREIGN HANDS OFFA MEEERRGGGHH!”
The Bomb yanked Polly’s leg away from the side of the cage, then slammed it against the links. Lockwood grimaced and reached down to massage the aching limb, which gave Cherry enough time to climb up and sling a leg over the swaying steel. Straddling the cage with a very long fall on each side, Polly Lockwood and Cherry Bomb leaned into each other for support and ease of trash talk delivery.
“I knew you’d run,” Cherry huffed. “You’re not a great American. You’re just a mean little punk who feeds on making everyone else as miserable as NNNNGGHH!”
Lockwood decked her with a Haymaker, grabbed a handful of ponytail and pulled her in close to snarl, “I am great. I am an American. Therefore, I am a great American. You are deluded. You are trash. Therefore, you are deluded traGHHUUUFFFHH!”
Cherry punched the champ in the pit of her stomach and just like that the slug fest was on, blonde and brunette teeing off on one another from the most dangerous perch in the house. Falling into a mindless mouth and shoulder clench, Polly kept pounding at her opponent’s ribs until the tang of Cherry’s sweat grew intolerable and she sank her teeth into the meat of the challenger’s shoulder. Cherry shrieked and buried her hands in Lockwood’s hair, so Madam President wormed a hand between them and punched opposing crotch as hard as she could.
Another yowl of pain and the Bomb doubled up along the narrow metal rail, too concerned with her own aches to worry about the other woman. Polly gave the brunette a few rough shoves, trying to send her to the canvas, but the Bomb was hooked on too tight. Snorting with disgust, Lockwood spat, Fine, sit there and cry. I’ve got a title to retain.”
She slid a little ways back, shifted her butt and-- Cherry straightened up, swung her other leg over and then pushed herself from tush to toes in the blink of an eye. So astounded by this display of balance that thoughts of defense momentarily left her mind, Polly muttered, “Who the fahk are NNNNNGGGGHH!”
The Girl That Gravity Forgot earned her nickname a hundred times over when she flicked out a short, crisp kick that clipped Polly’s jaw. Madam President’s head snapped to the side, then lolled forward as her arms dropped to her sides. The rest of her followed quickly, the once fearsome tyrant doing an amazing impression of a red, white and blue rocket before she THAWHAMMED into the canvas seemingly a few miles below.
THE SUPER KICK THAT GRAVITY FORGOT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6g1U_2rxA8
So entranced by Polly’s fall were the FAWNatics that most didn’t see Cherry drop off the other side and barely catch hold to avoid a fall of her own. When they did notice, the chant of ‘DROP!’ went up right away, as they all knew the Lightweight Championship was hers for the taking. Cherry knew it too and she desperately wanted to feel that leather around her waist, but titles were few and far between in FAWN and she’d only win her first one once. So in direct defiance of those assembled she hauled herself up and crouched atop the cage.
Breathing deep, she steadied her balance and slowly, slooooooooooooowly stood up while the crowd lost its collective shyt. Lips curled into a weary smile, Cherry raised a hand and put her thumb to an invisible detonator. “Escaping the cage is for pussies.”
Then she jammed the button and leapt off into the void.
The whole arena held its breath as the Bomb twirled through a flawless corkscrew and a headlong shooting star all in the heartbeats before she stretched out full length and THWHAMMED down atop Lockwood’s defenseless midsection. Polly sat up, sobbed and went right back down when Cherry shoved her to the canvas. On her knees, she slung a leg over, slid back and planted her butt firmly on Polly’s chest. In the next instant she hooked a leg and pulled it back in a Half Matchbook, hoping against hope that it’d finally be enough to put Lockwood down for the…
CHERRY WARHEAD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT9Q9gkx7tQ
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Madness erupted along with the bell, so loud in fact that the Announcer had to wait a good ten seconds to confirm, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the NEW FAWN LIGHTWEIGHT CHAM--”
“STOP!” Cherry clambered to verticality and shambled toward the Announcer, gesturing for him to pipe down for a second.
Expecting any reaction but this, Craig Long hurried over to her and asked, “What’s wrong Cherry, are you hurt?”
“Yeah, but not injured.” she panted. “I just… I need… can I have a mic, Craig?”
“Sure thing.” He made a beeline for the cage and motioned for a tech to hand through a microphone. Once it was procured, he returned to Cherry, who took his offering with a nod of thanks.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to let the Announcer finish soon enough,” she explained to the buzzing FAWNatics, “but when he does, I want him to use the right name.” She paused to let that sink in. “As most of you have probably guessed, ‘Cherry Bomb’ isn’t printed on my birth certificate and despite the phenomenal production values in my entrance and my own gravity defying awesomeness, I am not in fact, from outer space. Cherry was a name, no, an identity, I forged for myself after everyone I cared about laughed in my face when I told them I wanted to be a professional wrestler. You’re too small they said! You’re too nice they said! You’ll get hurt they said! Know what? They were right about that last one. I did get hurt. Very badly in fact. It was so bad that my doctors told everyone I’d never be able to wrestle at anything near a professional level.”
Cherry looked up and smiled widely.
“Well, that’s what I TOLD them to tell everyone. See, even then I understood with my… background, no one would believe in me, no matter how good I was. Enter Cherry Bomb. If they weren’t going to believe in me, they’d believe in her. Judging from the way you’re all on your feet, is it safe to say I succeeded?”
‘WE BELIEVE! WE BELIEVE!’ was thrown at her at near deafening levels.
The Bomb nodded solemnly. “Good. I hope you all liked this match, because it’s the last time you’re going to see Cherry Bomb in a FAWN ring. Oh, I’m not going anywhere, but this thing…” she reached up and tapped her mask, “that’s going under glass in my trophy case.”
With that she tucked the microphone into her waistband and went to work on the velvet laces that held the mask to her head. Practiced fingers made quick work of the task and she was about to pull it clear when a noise caught her attention. Polly Lockwood was starting to come out of her stupor and had apparently not realized she was no longer a champion. Stomping over to the defeated wrestler, Cherry straddled her waist, grabbed hold of Polly’s wrists and pulled them down to her sides to make sure couldn’t bring her claws to bear.
Pretty face framed by Cherry’s thighs and crotch, Polly squirmed fitfully, but couldn’t dislodge the brunette. “Guuuhhhh… get off me…. you commie.” she rasped.
“Jeeze Polly, you missed my big speech. Don’t worry, I can recap it real quick.”
Slipping the mic loose, Cherry raised it to her lips while her other hand went behind her head. “The Girl That Gravity Forgot is now the Girl with Lightweight Gold. And the girl with the gold just so happens to be your girl on the street.” she pulled the mask away and dropped it beside Lockwood’s head.
Polly saw, blinked, shook her head ‘no’. “No.” she whispered. “YOU’RE NOT EVEN A WRESTLER!”
The brunette up top smiled, cocked her head and cupped a hand to one ear. “Sure about that, Polly? Lets hear what the Announcer has to say.”
As stunned as everyone else, the man gathered his wits quickly enough and shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the NEEEEEEEEEW FAWN LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION… LILY BURLINGAME!”
YOUR NEW LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMP:
Polly started to scream and that’s when Lily scooted forward and cut her off with a faceful of gams and tush. It wasn’t a full smother, she didn’t have the energy for that, she just didn’t want to listen to Lockwood’s caterwauling during her celebration. Once the worst of it died down she got to her feet and strolled over to Craig Long, who’d retrieved the Lightweight Title during all the commotion.
“I know it’s lost almost all meaning these days.” he said as he laid the leather and gold across her right shoulder. “But holy shit. Holy shit, Che- I mean, Lily. Sorry, this’ll take some getting used to.”
With the undercover life finally behind her, the youngest Burlingame sister gave the zebra the first of several dozen hugs she’d dole out around the locker room tonight. “All’s forgiven if you raise my hand, Craig.”
He did and the crowd went nuts, all of them astounded in the most pleasing of ways. With the sound of her name threatening to crack the walls, Lily made a circuit of the ring, then went over to Polly, who’d pushed onto her knees. Regarding the new champion with wide, hateful eyes, the blonde whispered, “I’m going to drive you out of this business. I swear to God I will. There’s no place for you here, bytch.”
Lily sank down on her haunches and held the belt beside Polly’s face. “See this, Pol? This sez otherwise. It says this land is MY land. Get used to it, baby.”
Done with the dangerous demagogue for tonight, Burlingame stood up, turned away and barely resisted the urge to kick invisible dirt in Polly’s direction. Instead she strutted out of the cage, went down the steel steps and proceeded make a lap around the ring so she could finally greet all her fans face to face.