Post by SammieSinclair on Apr 12, 2015 14:26:53 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for our Main Event! The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit and is for the FAWN World Championship! Introducing first, she is the challenger…”
His voice trailed off and the arena's speakers roared back into life, posing one question to the amped crowd:
"Do you wanna get rocked?"
LETS GET ROCKED”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBcsCn9QyUQ
Def Leppard's "Let's Get Rocked" pumps over the speakers, the Ring Announcer stepped forth to resume his introduction. “Hailing from Manchester, England in the United Kingdom… Standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in this evening at one hundred and twenty pounds, THIS IS… SEEENNNSSSAAATTTIIIOOONNNAAAL SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!”
SHEA LONDON:
Shea London strode from backstage to a rapturous reception from the Orlando faithful. The British Bombshell darted down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as she did, her usual million dollar smile on full display for the crowd. The Sensational One returned to action tonight sporting what could best be described as a Union Jack two piece: her top presented a white cross with the quadrants above in red and below in blue, and white trim leading into the shoulder straps. Her bottoms were primarily blue, save for the red, upside-down ‘V’ that started at each thigh and mt at her waist, the waistband and bars both trimmed in white. Though in this case of this Union Jack, the image was broken up by an expanse of scrumptious tummy. Her kneepads displayed the emblem in a much more traditional fashion, with white wrist tape and boots completing the ensemble.
The gorgeous blonde made a complete circuit around ringside, continuing to slap hands and accept the well wishes of her fans. Catching sight of one particular sign in the audience, Shea's grin grew even wider. Leaning over the railing, Shea swung her left arm around the shoulders of one fortunate fan, turning to the camera and pointing at the posterboard with her right. The placard read, rather simply, “THE BLACK QUEEN’S GONNA TAKE A KNEE FOR *TRUE* FAWN ROYALTY!” Further making the fan's day, London gave him a quick peck on the cheek before bounding over to the ring.
Climbing the steps, Shea slipped between the ropes, entering the ring and marching to the nearest corner, claiming it as her own. Climbing onto the middle turnbuckle, Shea raised an arm to a triumphant roar from her fans. Hopping back down, London started to limber up in her corner, preparing for a clash YEARS in the making...
HANDLEBARS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=waRtcBy_GMI
The Sensational One was practically thrumming with anticipation when the FAWN’tron went heavy with static fuzz and the light linked out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of the architect of FAWN’s grand design. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth to address her kingdom.
EMILY WEST:
Cool and composed as a marble bust, Emily took her rightful place at center stage then reached to the small of her back and undid the clasp holding the World Title in place. This she raised overhead, turning it ever so slightly so that it glittered in the low light. Taking that as his cue, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Black Queen and the reigning and defending FAWN World Champion… EMILY WEST!”
For the task of dealing with this most problematic piece, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. Her championship style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.
Quietly eager to humble the so called ‘conscience of FAWN‘, Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of what was clearly her undisputed dominion, the Black Queen paused to mull just what sort of Gordian Knot she could make of the challenger. Satisfied with this mental image, she waited for the lights to return to normalcy and then slipped through the ropes. Claiming the nearest corner, she lifted the title to the rafters and tapped the faceplate three times.
I’m. So. Smart.
The reaction was far more negative than it had been in February. Though a great deal of the crowd had been most impressed with her thunderous dismissal of Kendra LaRue, but the Siren was another dyed in the wool Alpha Bytch. Shea London on the other hand was as beloved a babyface as there ever was and defeating Emily tonight would make her a record four time World Champion. Thusly, they jeered her with everything they had. Far from displeased by their vitriol, Emily hopped down from the buckles and offered the belt to Nick Castle when he walked over to check her pads and boots. She went through the inspection without comment, the full force of her dangerous regard was focused on Shea London, who matched the Queen’s gaze with an equally steely eye.
The bell sounded and Shea started out of her corner at once. Not just because the FAWN World Title was within her grasp for an unprecedented fourth time (though that certainly was motivation enough under normal circumstances) but because she’d been wanting to get her hands on Emily West for a very long time. Couple that with the beating Susan had laid on Jaime earlier tonight and it was a wonder the Sensational One’s feet actually touched the canvas as she went for the Black Queen.
Emily noted the quick approach and exited her corner to the right, following the perimeter of the ropes until she created enough room to-- London came at her with a lightning-fast Collar & Elbow that West dodged by the slimmest of margins. The evasion gave Emily much more room to work with and so she kept moving, forcing Shea to walk her down.
Quite willing to do just that, Shea rounded on her heels and started right after the American. “You’ve run from me for six years, Emily West.” she muttered. “But the chase ends tonight, girl. You an’ I need to ’ave words.”
Emily blinked and came to a stop so sudden it looked like she’d backed into an invisible wall. “Excuse me, it’s very loud in here. I could’ve sworn you just said I’ve been running from--”
London pounced and this time West didn’t shy away, indeed she stepped into the clench to neutralize most of Shea’s momentum. The challenger was just getting used to the feel of Em’s skin under her hands when the brunette laid out on one side and slung the Briton down across the mat with a sort of Double-Armed Arm Drag. Shea hit on her hip and shoulder but the impact barely registered before she tumbled to one knee and sprang to verticality.
The Amazing Academic was already up and there was fire in her eyes. “I ran from you?” she asked softly. “I always suspected you were an idiot, albeit an honest one. Guess I’ll have to revise that opinion.”
Shea bristled, just the sound of the other woman’s voice made her angry. “Use all the pretty words ya want, Ems. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been asking for a shot at you ever since I realized ya were a sadist with a chessboard where ’er ’eart should be.”
“And the most obvious answer is that I was afraid to face you here? That management was somehow protecting me from your oh so sanctimonious wrath? Did it ever occur to you that they were shielding you from ME?”
The fine hairs on the back of Shea’s neck stood straight up, something about West’s mere presence set her to boiling. “They don’t need to protect me from anything, princess. Especially not you.”
Emily smiled for the first time since the bell clanged. “Then what are you still doing way over there?”
London stormed into the breach at once, her hands raised and curved into hooks expressly suited for CRAAACK! Anger didn’t make Shea sloppy, it did however make Emily the tiniest bit quicker on the draw, as evidenced when she stepped forward, flicked her left hand between the blonde’s questing claws and pasted her across the cheek with a head-swiveling, eye-watering, Bytch Slap. Shea stumbled back, one hand rising to her stinging cheek as she regarded Emily with wide, furious eyes. “Don’t you EVER underestimate me, Shea London. Because if you lump me in with relics like VanBuren and Daniel and Armstrong, you’ll find yourself beaten, humiliated and most importantly, out-wrestleNNNNNGGHHH!”
Shea flipped on that vaunted high gear for a split second, more than enough time to paste Emily’s cheek with a Bytch Slap of her own. “I won’t rake your tits or stuff my arse in your face,” the blonde hissed, “but trust me girl, you’re the one getting humiliated on this mat tonig--”
Emily came in fast with a Lock-Up of her own, one which Shea answered via a European Uppercut to the point of the champ’s chin. Reeling back as her teeth ‘clacked’ together, West raised a guard to protect against the next attack, unfortunately her defenses proved way too high to do the job because Shea dropped into a crouch and threaded her legs between the brunette’s ankles. It only took a little bit of force to bring someone down with a Drop Toe-Hold, yet Shea put all her incredible leg strength behind it, she wanted West to hurt bad every time she hit the damned mat. And hurt it did, at least if Emily’s breathy ‘OOOFFFHH!’ was any indication.
Sensing a very real opportunity to end this match in the most emphatic way possible, London spun to one knee, snatched hold of West’s ankles and crossed them up against her butt in a compact little ‘X’. In a manner of heartbeats she had both knees wedged against the small of Emily’s back and her free hand (the one that wasn’t controlling the American’s ankles) twined in West’s hair. Jerking the other woman’s head off the mat despite the flak she’d catch from the referee, Shea rocked up n’ down on her knees, letting the Sensual Scholar feel every bit of her weight. “Bet ya didn’t think we’d come to this Bridge so soon, did ya, Em?”
Elbows pressed against the mat, Emily let her fingers twitch, but she made no move to break free. “Reaching a bridge and crossing it are two very different things, Shea. You’ve achieved the former, but then, the easiest accomplishments were always your favorites, weren’t EEERRGGGHH!”
London jerked up on Emily’s hair hard enough to make her eyes water and earn a sharp rebuke from Nick Castle. Ignoring them both, Shea released Em’s locks and reached under her chin, the last grip she needed to secure before hauling West up and over London’s Brid-- “AAHHHH DAMMIT!”
The Sensational One’s attempt at an early dismissal was itself dismissed when Emily grabbed hold of the fingers cupping her chin tried to bend them all the way back to the blonde’s wrist. Shea pounded a few punches in the ribs to make the champ let her loose, but in doing so she released Emily’s ankles and so they both escaped that first skirmish with minor aches and flaring tempers.
“You would try to sneak by me that way, wouldn’t you?” West muttered as she smoothed out her hair. “Sad that you’d be happy with that sort of asterisk next to a record-setting win.”
“I don’t need to justify myself to you, Emily.” Shea snapped right back. “Beaten is beaten. But if you want me to wear your arse out before I get that three, I’m ‘appy to oblige ya.”
“Please. We both know a sprint is the only chance you have to actually win. Because if this turns into a wrestling match, I will make it a point to spank every square inch of your fading, British ass.”
Shea took in a deep breath and let it out slow. She KNEW Emily was baiting her and she tried to keep her cool, but having that condescending twat besmirch her mat skills was almost too much to bear. Speaking with a calm she most certainly didn’t feel, Shea asked, “Is a right and proper wrestling match you’d like, Miss Emily West?”
“If that’s some charming British colloquialism for tying you in a mewling, sobbing knot, then I would most certainly enjoy a right and proper wrestling match, Miss Shea London.”
“Then that is what you shall ‘ave, luv.”
London rolled her shoulders and started forward, hoping against hope that West didn’t try to slink away one more time. She needn’t have worried, Emily met her with a strong Collar & Elbow Lock-Up that ground them both to a halt as they attempted to move the other back to some less hospitable part of the ring. It only took Shea a few seconds to realize she wasn’t going to bull Em around from a dead stop, so she shifted one arm a bit and -- HAH!” London snared her arm around the back of West’s head and yanked her over double in a grinding Side Headlock. “Gonna squeeze ya good, Em.” Shea promised while working the brunette’s temple with the point of her hip. “Gonna squeeze the sass right on outta of gggrrrrhhhhhhh!”
Emily grabbed Shea’s left wrist in both hands, broke the clasp on the Headlock and twisted around behind the Englishwoman to apply a Hammerlock. “Tiptoes, Shea. Unless you want me to break it.” Emily purred in between tugs on her blonde’s wrist.
Shea patted at her stinging shoulder, then tried to spin around for a Hammerlock of her own, but West twisted with her, refusing to cede her position on the other woman’s six. Shaking her head ‘no’ when Castle asked if she wanted to submit, London made another play for a go-behind, only to angle back in the opposite direction and throw an elbow over her shoulder. Almost worked, Emily had to twist her head to one side and even then the strike grazed her cheek. But a graze wasn’t enough to make the Black Queen relent and she made Shea pay for the mistake by wrenching up on the Hammerlock.
“That’s it Shea, look at the canvas. Take a really good look.” Emily chided when her hold forced the blonde to double over. “Memorize all the details you can, I’ll want a thorough report on how different it looks when your nose is pressed up against NO YOU DON’T!”
Shea grabbed hold of Emily left ankle with her right hand in an attempt to pull the Courtier off balance. It would’ve worked if West had maintained the Hammerlock, alas, the Amazing Academic relinquished it in favor of a better idea. Seizing Shea’s right wrist in both hands, she prized it away from her ankle, then stepped back and tugged the blonde’s hand between her own stems, a move that flipped Shea off her feet and onto her back with a heavy ‘thwhump!’
“I’ve already denied your Bridge tonight, London.” Emily taunted the stunned beauty. “You however, cannot deny the power of Mind Over Matter.” Just like that she stepped over Shea’s chest with her right leg, twisted around to face the challenger’s feet and dropped to one effectively trapping Shea’s arm around and under her right leg. The crowd let out a gasp and urged Shea to safety, knowing full well that West was seconds away from cinching in her finisher.
Gripped by a momentary burst of uncharacteristic panic when she felt Emily take control of her ankle, Shea lifted her left shoulder as best she could, then tucked down and in to reach across with that arm and slip it through the brunette’s legs. Doing so did nothing for the pressure on her right shoulder. It did however, allow her to roll through onto her right side, which broke Emily’s holds and stacked the champion on her shoulders for a quick…
ONE…
TWO…
West kicked loose, tumbled away and stood up with her lips twisted into a little moue of disgust. “Acrobatics and leverage, that’s all you’ve ever had, Shea. It astounds me that you’ve made such a career from being a glorified acrobat. But then, I assume they call you Sensational for a reason.”
London stood up and rolled her right shoulder, which still throbbed a bit from the American’s twisting. “Yes they do. It’s because I’ve shown an innate talent for takin’ their breath away,” she swept a finger across the FAWNatics, “while I drive chavs like you straight through the bloody mat.”
The Malefic Malengine did not look impressed. “Bold words from a woman who lost her best gear when Pandora destroyed her without breaking a sweat. You want to impress me, London? Show me some flashes of the woman I’ve been wanting to fight for six years. Show me the best European wrestler of her generation. Show me… show me the woman actually worth submitting.”
London’s arm didn’t hurt anymore. “You’re looking at ‘er, Emily. And you’ll submit to ‘er at the top of your lungs.”
Emily treated her to a small, tolerant smile. “Did you see how Kendra LaRue’s bid for my title ended? If I did that to her, what chance do you--”
Shea lunged like she was coming for a Lock-Up, then pivoted on her left heel and fired a lightning-fast Super Kick at Emily’s chin. The FAWNatics were already bracing for impact and so they were most disappointed when West snatched the blonde’s ankle only inches shy of her face.
“It takes you one point two seconds to throw a Super Kick, but only point eight seconds for me to react to it.” Emily pulled Shea’s leg closer, stuffing it under one arm for lord knew what evil purpose. “In layman’s terms, you’re going to have to be a lot faster than NNNNGGGHHH!”
Shea grabbed a brazen double handful of hair, pushed off with her plant foot and THUNKED that knee into Emily’s forehead with all the force the crowd had wanted from the failed kick. The cradle on her right leg was old news by the time Shea returned to the canvas, so she doubled over and forced her head under the brunette’s left arm. Hardly bothered by this self-imposed Front Facelock, London looped her arms around West’s waist and snapped off a whip-sharp bridge to THWHUMP Emily onto her back with a Northern Lights Suplex. Nick Castle was close, but he didn’t even have time to swoop in before London somersaulted over, landed on her feet and hauled Emily to hers. The second Northern Lights was identical to the first, though this time the challenger pushed up on her toes, the flawless bridge making the light definition in her abs stand out quite nicely throughout the…
ROLLING NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZU4-Flbihk
ONE…
TWO…
Emily brought her right hand up and CLAPPED it against London’s tummy to break the bridge and the pin in a single blow. Shea rolled clear and made it to boot leather a heartbeat before Emily, who looked rather perturbed following the stereo Suplexes. Ready, willing and able to further sour the champ’s mood, London charged her and lashed out with a Clothesline that would’ve given Em’s rack a serious smashing if she hadn’t slid beneath it at the last instant. Worse, she crooked an arm around Shea’s bicep in passing and mirrored the tactic on the other side as soon as she stood up. Pulling Shea’s back tight to her own, West pushed onto her tiptoes, then dropped to her knees and leaaaaaaned forward to stack Shea on her shoulders for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Sensational One wrenched her right arm loose from West’s clutches and rolled off into a seat on the brunette’s right side. Slipping free of the last little bit of Backslide, Shea whipped her arms around Em’s head, locked her hands in place atop her chin and CRAAAAAAAAAAAANKED back on a murderous Crossface that had Emily and the FAWNatics shouting for very different reasons.
WRESTLING! @ 00:27
www.youtube.com/watch?v=v41qJXbY8JU
“What do you say, Emily!” Castle was close, but he still struggled to be heard over the thunderous ‘TAP!’ chants that’d sprung up in the last few seconds.
Posted on her forearms, Emily didn’t put more strain on her neck by trying to shake her head ‘no’, but she did waggle a finger to make sure the ref knew her position. As for Shea, she didn’t mind the resistance at all. She’d known Emily wasn’t going to give it up without a fight, so she settled in a little deeper and reefed back a little harder, content to let the simple hold do the heaviest work.
“Give it up whenever you’re good and ready, Em.” the blonde said coolly. “I’m not going anywhere and I’ve got all night.”
The Black Queen didn’t respond, she only pushed from her elbows to her forearms and started to crawl / drag them both toward the ropes. Shea didn’t try to stop her, rather she pulled her hands up a little higher and ground them back n’ forth across the American’s nose. Emily squealed, stopped crawling and fumbled for Shea’s hands before seizing hold. Her position made it impossible to simply pull the Brit’s grip apart, so she settled for jerking Shea’s hands down just beneath her chin. This intensified the pain in her neck a great deal, but it also removed the obstruction from her line of sight and made the crawl to sanctuary the slightest bit easier. West was an arm’s length from her goal when London let loose and tumbled backward toward her opponent’s feet. Catching Emily’s right ankle in both hands, Shea got up and scrambled to the middle of the ring.
Infuriated by this denial, West reached for the ropes on sheer instinct and paid for it when the Sensational One abandoned the grip on her leg and dove forward to help herself to the exposed wrist. London twisted around in a smooth circle, pulling West’s arm tight around the back of her left thigh. Then she tumbled over the brunette’s back, catching Em’s chin in one hand and hooking a leg in the other to roll Emily onto her shoulders with a textbook La Magistral. Already close because of the submission attempt, Castle wasted no time in counting off the…
LA MAGISTRAL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f06JS3M3z2w
ONE…
TWO…
Emily kicked out and flopped over onto her stomach, title reign still intact for the moment. Shea wanted that reign over sooner rather than later, so she cupped both hands under the brunette’s chin and peeled her off the canvas. With Em still stunned from the barrage of pins and stretches, London curled an arm around the back of her neck, pulled her down and THWHAPPED another European Uppercut across her jaw. West reeled, so Shea stepped after her, measured a shot and PWAAAKED a snappy kick off the champ’s right thigh. An identical kick to the left thigh followed, as did a Dropkick aimed not at opposing rack, but the pit of her stomach. That doubled Em over, allowing London to run the ropes and come back with a mean head of steam. Catching West’s noggin in a Front Facelock on the return trip, London launched herself up, a shift that forced Emily to stand and suspended the blonde several feet up at a near perfect forty-five degree angle.
A DDT of epic proportions seemed all but assured when the Black Queen cupped the pits of Shea’s knees and snapped forward and down. The sudden change in direction broke the Englishwoman’s hold on Emily’s skull and she whiplashed all the way to the mat, the back of her head THWHUNKING against the thinly-sheathed plywood. Seemingly reinvigorated by the sound of London smashing to a dead stop, Emily tapped her temple once, then dropped into a lateral press and hooked the far leg for…
SIDEWALK SLAM @ 1:28
www.youtube.com/watch?v=KY1Ve1nVP7s
ONE…
TWO…
Shea lifted a shoulder off the mat to keep her hopes alive, but the hyper-aware World Champion immediately honed in on the arm her foe curled around the back of her head. Down on one knee, she grabbed London’s wrist, tugged her swaddling arm aside and neatly planted a boot on the side of the blonde’s head. Rising carefully, West leaaaaaaaaaaned in and jostled her foot back n’ forth, effectively standing on the challenger’s head while Shea’s feet beat a pained, angry tattoo against the canvas.
“C’mon Emily, knock that crap off. You know you can’t just stand on her like that!” Nick groused after several seconds on the domineering display earned loud jeers from the crowd.
The Black Queen looked up from her task with an amused smile on her lips. “On the contrary, Nicholas. I am well within my rights to apply the pressure of my choosing to this nitwit’s skull, just so long as I don’t impede her breathing or vision. So unless Shea here can fight loose, she’s going to bear my boot for as long as I see--”
London swatted Emily’s foot aside, rolled to one knee and “OOOOFFFFHHH!”
The Sensational One’s latest run ended before it began when Emily drilled a Kneelift into her naval mid-pounce. With the Briton staggered and short on breath, West rushed in and laced both hands across the nape of her neck. In the next instant her head was wedged under Shea’s chin and the brunette dropped to her knees after a quick hop. London dropped with her and so the Jawkbreaker hit with even more force, Shea’s head snapping back in time with the thumping impact. Forced into an involuntary penance by the simple maneuver, Shea was vaguely aware when Emily got up and raced out of her field of vision, but she had no idea which way the bytch might have gone. The FAWNatics knew and tried to warn Shea at the top of their lungs, alas mere noise couldn’t stop Emily from running the ropes on the Brit’s six. Nor could it stop her when she jumped up and THWHUNKED her right knee against the back of London’s head.
JAWBREAKER & ENZU KNEE STRIKE @ 3:10
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2sg5NV3Tyw
Shea spun around mid-fall to land on her back and Emily simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Mounting the vulnerable blonde’s waist, she leaned down and pressed the swell of that copious cleavage flush against her foe’s face. She didn’t bother to wrap her arms around London’s head so it wasn’t a true Front Sleeper, but the Englishwoman’s features were most definitely out of sight and her shoulders were flat against the mat, thus Castle dropping in to count…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Shea shoved her way loose with a distressed groan and made it onto one side but she couldn’t get all the way to her stomach with Emily astride her waist. Angry and embarrassed, the former World Champion wiped a hand across her face and muttered, “Keep yer saggy crap away from me, EmilYYYNNNNGGHHH!”
The Insidious Intellectual snatched a painful double handful of hair, yanked London’s head off the mat and promptly bounced it like a basketball. Forced to devote all resources to protecting her head, Shea wasn’t able to squirm out from under the brunette, meaning Emily had an easy go of it when she caught the other woman’s left arm in a Half Nelson and used it to turn Shea onto her stomach. Working her knees in against Shea’s ribs to make sure she didn’t go anywhere, West swatted the challenger’s head with one hand and then the other. “I’m starting to run up the score, Shea. Do something about it.” She slapped London’s aching pate a few more times before mussing those dirty-blonde locks in decidedly non-playful fashion.
If there was one tactic that made Shea London’s blood boil hotter and faster than any other, it was being toyed with. And Emily wasn’t just toying with her, she was being PLAYED with. Jaw clenched to keep from screaming, Shea stopped protecting and started grabbing, specifically Emily’s wrists. Digging her nails into the soft undersides of the brunette’s wrists, London pulled forward and down in hopes of laying Emily out on her tummy to level the playing field.
It was a good plan, indeed it seemed to be working right up until the moment West shifted her left knee and planted it deep between her rival’s shoulders. Leaning heavily on the intruding joint, West crushed some air from Shea’s lungs before she pulled loose of the Wristlocks and slapped on another Full Nelson. Rolling onto her back allowed Em to bring London along for the ride and apply a snug Bodyscissors to boot. Still not satisfied, she reached across with her right hand, grabbed Shea’s wrist and pulled that arm tight across the Englishwoman’s own throat to secure the Cobra Clutch.
Shea started to struggle at once, though not as hard as many of those assembled thought she would or should. This wasn’t due to a lack of energy on the blonde’s part, rather it was calculated attempt to make sure she didn’t exhaust herself escaping the notoriously draining hold. Limited to her right arm, London worried at her left forearm, searching for enough give to get the traitorous limb over her head or at least off her throat. No use, her chin was wedged flush against the meat of her bicep and she couldn’t so much as squirm without giving West reason to increase the pressure.
Speaking of Emily, she tugged up on the Half Nelson a little and sent another long pulse through her thighs to make sure Shea hadn’t forgotten the Scissors. In this she was successful because London abruptly gave up on trying to free her arm and started to slap Em’s right thigh as hard as she could. “Tapping out I see.” Emily purred in Shea’s ear even though she damned well knew the blonde wasn’t giving in, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve done all night, my friNNNGGHHH!”
Shea stopped slapping and started elbowing. They were short, stubby and lacked a great deal of her usual power, but London was nothing of not patient and she knew she could get a good bruise started if Emily let her keep at “OOOOOOWWWWWWW STOP THAT YOU BYTCH!” The Sensational One started to flail in earnest when Emily let loose of her right wrist to affix a firm grip on her left breast. Though her breathing was much improved, Shea’s left arm was still trapped over her head at an odd angle and her right was entirely devoted to getting the Black Queen’s talon off her bounty.
Continuing to bear down on the Bodyscissors even as she worked more obvious torments, West stopped clawing just long enough to worm that hand under Shea’s navy blue top. Then she squeeeeeeeeezed and started to rotate her wrist, thus letting her nails do the real damage to British bounty. “This is Check, Shea.” Emily whispered into her opponent’s ear. “Better find a way out or this game is overRRGGH! Hair! Get her off my hair, Nicholas!”
Growing increasingly frustrated with the American’s control, London finally gave in to baser instincts and helped herself to a brutal handful of West’s hair. Emily hissed with pain but didn’t relinquish the Breast Claw. In fact, she narrowed the focus to London’s nipple and gave it a vile twist. Shea shrieked in agony and let loose of the brunette’s wrist. Choking down some traitorous words trying to force their way up her throat, the suffering blonde reached back with her right hand and after some searching, managed to grab hold of West’s other hand.
“All right, girl.” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You want tooth and claw. I’ll give it to ya.” London pulled Emily’s hand around and down in front of her face, then lunged forward and chomped down as soon as it was within range.
“You guileless savage.” Emily’s voice was a hateful whisper as she endured the gnawing to tweak Shea’s bud all the harder. “I’ll see you in tears for GRRAAAAAHHH BYTCH!”
London went to work on West’s thumb, which proved too much for the Black Queen to take. Abandoning the claw to pound wild, angry elbows into the crown of her blonde’s head, Em tore her way free of Shea’s teeth, plunged both hands into her hair and dragged her up into a Front Facelock. Ready for the Hemorrhage in record time, the Amazing Academic tugged up on Shea’s neck and growled, “Mate in two, London. You really should learn to NNNNNGGGGGHH!”
Shea’s right leg whipped up n’ over her own back to SMACK a flat-footed kick into Emily’s face with a movement reminiscent of a scorpion’s sting. This loosened the grip on her head by quite a lot so the Sensational One pounded a few punches into the American’s tummy, then planted her hands flat, pushed up and shoved with all her might. West let go and floated back a little ways to land on her feet with no discernible effort.
Tired of wasting her brilliant observations on this washerwoman’s thick skull, Emily held her tongue when she stormed into the breach with her right arm pulled back and ready for CRAAACK! Shea flicked out a hand that raised an immediate welt on one cheek and a cheer in several thousand throats. “More where that came from, luv!” Shea barked at the reeling champion. “Just toddle on over ‘ere and get ‘cherself some mo--”
Emily took her up on the offer, not that it ended any better than her previous attempt. In fact it wouldn’t be improper to say it went all to hell. Rather than slap the taste from West’s mouth again, Shea leaned to the right and wrapped her arms around the Insidious Intellectual’s strong waist. Her hands locked and she spun Em off her feet, through a perfect two hundred and seventy degree twirl that ended with London going down on one knee and Emily landing firmly atop it. The THWHUMP was still heavy in the air when Shea pulled her prop loose and drove West’s convulsing spine into the mat.
TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGIq81Calt0
“Instinct tells me ta pin ya.” London muttered to the gaping Courtier. “But karma tells me ya need a bloody lesson.” With that she shoved Emily onto her stomach, stood up and made a point of stomping on her foe’s lower back as she stepped over. Aware that the ropes were a bit too far to assist with what she had in mind, London called an audible and launched into gorgeous back-flip. It would’ve been a Standing Moonsault if she hadn’t kept her knees tucked so high, as it was they landed squarely on Emily’s back and earned a throaty cry from the prone brunette.
“Oh ‘ush up.” Shea clapped West’s butt before she got to her feet. “The real ‘urt ‘asn’t even started yet.” Must’ve been starting soon though because London spun around on one heel and raced to the ropes, the second of which she mounted following a low, arching leap. Curling in on herself to get all the momentum she could, Shea sprang off and flew backward, this time for a more conventional Springboard Moonsault. Like the Kneedrop in landed flush across the small of Emily’s back and Emily once again tried to roll away only to have Shea clamp down on her at neck and thigh.
“Want to tend to yer back, Miss Emily?” London asked sweetly. “All you ‘ave to say is three little words.”
“Of course they’re little words.” Emily growled. “Monosyllabic is the only thing you’d underNNNGHHHH!”
The Englishwoman pulled back her right knee and drilled it into her foe’s quickly stiffening back. “Three little words, girl.” London’s voice was soft as down and poison as nightshade. “Go ahead and say ‘em real loud.”
Silence for a moment. Then: “Go. Fuck. YourselfFFAAAAAUUGGGHHH!”
Shea commenced with the Kneelifts for real this time, pushing up on her planted hands to get that right leg fully drawn back before POUNDING it into the dense meat of West’s flank. Emily, bless her little black heart, fought like a wildcat to get clear of the abuse, but Shea was dug in deep at the nape of her neck and the insurance grip on her waistband didn’t make things any easier. Slowing only when she felt her leg starting to cramp, the blonde set that knee down and laid the other across her rival’s shoulders. “It’s ‘igh time you learned a little ‘umility, yer majesty.” Shea switched over to a blatant hair-hold and yanked Em’s head off the canvas. “SO TELL YER LOYAL SUBJECTS ‘OW MUCH IT ‘URTS!”
‘It’ happened to be the absolutely massive wedgie London unleashed after she’d helped herself to an equally gluttonous handful of black briefs. Emily keened like a banshee and flailed in that helpless little ‘stop hurting me!’ tantrum way Shea loved to see in all her brats, but she made no move to surrender and Shea was forced to let go when Castle reached the end of his count.
“I should’a known somethin’ that thick could take an ungodly amount of punishment.” Shea conceded while patting the American’s stinging buns. “Yer backbone though, that’s always struck me as a little gimpy.”
“Yuuuuhhh… you’re one to talk about backbone, London.” Emily rasped with one side of her face still pressed against the cool canvas. “Considering yours gave out more than five years agOOHHH NOOOOOOHH LET GO OF ME DAMMIIITTERRRGGGGRRRRHHHH!”
Shea leaned down and hooked her left arm under West’s bicep, all the better to pull her to her knees. In the next instant she reached over, snatched Emily’s wrist in her right hand and snugged it across the champ’s windpipe to secure a Cobra Clutch identical to the one that’d tortured her a few minutes prior. “Don’t worry girl, I’m not gonna maul yer grubby tits… yet.” Shea made sure to emphasize the last word as she stood up and forced Emily to do the same. “I just want these people to ‘ave the best angle while I beat ya to yer knees.” She punctuated the ominous statement with a quick Kneelift that struck, you guessed it, the small of West’s back.
Being on her feet again made it a little easier for Emily to assess the situation, not that you needed a genius level I.Q. to see it was bad. As if the Clutch wasn’t enough, London pounded knees into her back every few seconds, the stupidly tenacious Brit changing her timing and force of delivery to make sure the champion couldn’t get a bead on her pattern. Even more galling, London turned them constantly, both to keep her prey disoriented and to make damned sure West knew the whole arena was enjoying her suffering. Offering a weary ‘no’ when Castle asked if she wanted to surrender, Emily braced herself for the next Kneelift, then staggered forward as soon as it struck. Shea reeled her back just like the Black Queen hoped she would, so she steadied balance and waited for the next “NNNGGGHH!” Em soaked it up and lurched left, her right hand straining for the ropes that were still a few yards out.
“Not like that ya don’t,” Shea reeled her back to center and delivered another blow. “Ya either go ta sleep on your knees or go out on yer feet with tears in yer RRRRGGHHHH CHEAP SLAG!”
Emily’d finally succeeded in lulling Shea into a rhythm with her repeated escape attempts so when the blonde readied a strike West stamped on her plant foot with as much venom as she could muster. Granted a much wider freedom of movement the instant her heel met Shea’s toes, Emily dug down deep and stomped / charged her way toward the security of the strands. London recognized it for what it was and cranked back on the Clutch but her grip was failing and Emily’s momentum a bit too strong. Blundering into the ropes, West wrapped her right arm around the top like a lifeline and gurgled, “Ropes, Nicholas. Get this washed up hack away from MMMNNNGGGHHH!”
Angry in a way she could hardly comprehend, London clamped down on the Cobra Clutch even tighter than before and forced the brunette to pay for her insolence with a half dozen more vengefully vicious Kneelifts to that traumatized expanse of muscle, sinew and bone. All but grafted to West’s back, London leaned in close even as she continued throwing knees. She wanted to make sure the evil bytch heard her over the sound of Castle’s count. “’Ow’s it feel ta be at the mercy of someone else’s rules, chav? Go’wan and say it. Say it as loud as ya bloody want.”
Emily hissed like a cat, which wasn’t nearly enough acknowledgement for the Brit’s liking. Alas, the count reached ‘FOUR!’ and she broke the Clutch to avoid disqualification. Didn’t go far though. In fact London backed off *maybe* a half step before clouting the side of Em’s skull with a THAWHAPPING Bytch Slap.
West grunted and Castle barked disapproval, but the Sensational One barely cared. She could feel the Black Queen starting to come apart at the seams and Shea meant to tear her to pieces. Thusly she followed the smack with a manacle grip on the brunette’s shoulder and used it to spin her into a European Uppercut that snapped Emily’s vaunted skull back at an ugly angle.
Bounced into ropes by the power of London’s vengeful sock, the Insidious Intellectual found her right wrist shackled by the challenger a heartbeat before Shea jerked her out and twisted around to catch the brunette in a Three Quarters Facelock with an Arm Trap added for good measure. Striking in the moment of silence where Shea dipped her knees and the crowd drew in its collective breath, Emily West drilled a heartless punch in above the curve of Shea’s left hip, then put that hand against the small of her back and shoved with everything she had left.
Disconnected from London Calling, Shea staggered to mid-ring, caught her balance and rounded on the flagging champion. One arm pressed to her aching side, she sucked in a deep breath and growled, “You’re done, West. Fight it all ya want, we both know the rest is just moppin’ up.”
Forcing herself to stand a little straighter to spite the pain in her back, Emily met Shea with a smile. “I knew you’d say that London. I knew you’d say it ten minutes ago. Did I forget to mention I’m brilliant?” As evidence she raised an index finger to her temple and tapped it three times. I’m. So. Sma--”
London came at her like a runaway lorry and probably would’ve done comparable damage if the American hadn’t twisted aside at the last possible second. Catching Shea by the scruff of the neck as she passed, West twisted with the blonde and tossed her forward and down. Dropped into a short, ungainly skid, the Sensational One didn’t even have time to raise her hands before she TWAAANGED throat-first against the second strand. World reduced to the width of her burning windpipe, London whiplashed off the ropes and tumbled backward on her shoulders to end up on all fours somewhere just shy of center ring. Planting both hands against the mat to steady herself, the woozy Briton sucked in a deep bre-- THWHUNK! Emily charged, sprang, planted her right foot across Shea’s shoulders. Then she stomped down with vile force, the only kind that would do for planting London’s face with the move she called Checkmate. Shea’s head bounced once and then she laid still, the formerly frenetic fighter reduced to sludgy semiconscious by the power of the Black Queen’s genius.
CHECKMATE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=U40KQn5XIUg
With both hands curled into fists and pressed tight against her protesting spine, Emily took several deep breaths to steady her nerves all while keeping one possessive foot nuzzled against the side of Shea’s neck. Eventually she felt well enough to crouch down and twine her fingers in London’s hair. “We all play by the same rules, Shea.” she said softly. “Otherwise the game wouldn’t be fair. I’m just better than you, that’s all.”
Shea burbled a nonsense reply and groped feebly for the Queen’s wrists but this only made it easier for West to scrape her off the canvas. Quite cognizant of the fact that Shea London presented a significant threat up until the precise moment the bell sounded again, Emily wasted no time in stuffing the blonde’s aching head under her right arm and tossing the near arm over her shoulders. She hooked a handful of waistband with similar urgency, then gave it a sharp tug to make sure it would hold. It did, so the Amazing Academic gathered her strength and hoisted the challenger all the way to high noon in a single go. Deflated though they were to see the doomsday clock that close to midnight again, the FAWNatics couldn’t stop from tolling off each and every tick. ‘ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…SEVEN.’
CEREBRAL HEMMORHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L53TPig5wAM
Em kicked her right leg up high and dropped practically straight down to THWHONK the crown of Shea’s skull into the mat with a perfectly delivered Cerebral Hemorrhage. The most dangerous Brainbuster in the history of FAWN left Shea a starfished shell of her former self, unable to so much as groan when Emily bent down and very carefully peeeeeeeeeeeled the Englishwoman’s top up over her head.
“This isn’t about embarrassment, though many of you probably hope otherwise.” West told the crowd as she tucked Shea’s shorn attire into her waistband. “It is a reminder. Or a lesson if you prefer. Not just for Shea’s benefit, but for all of you as well.” Emily moved from Shea’s head to her waist, carefully stepping over so that a boot rested beside each hip. “For you see, as good as she is. For as much as you want her to be your savior and for as much as she DESPERATELY wants to play the role for you, the facts do not lie… Shea London is no longer worthy of the World Championship… let alone your love.”
This pronouncement brought thunderous boos that were almost choked off by incredulous cheers when West grabbed the bottom edge of her top and pulled it loose in a single tug. Absently tucking it against her other hip, Emily dropped to her knees, slipped her hands behind London’s head and pulled her to a seat. She let Shea’s cheek rest against the swell of her breasts for a long moment, so long that several of the Sensational One’s fans thought Emily might pin their heroine simply to make a point. Then Emily turned her face forward with a savage twist and plunged the challenger’s slack features into her décolletage. Binding Shea’s head with a Bear Hug that was unnecessarily snug at that point, West didn’t draw the Front Sleeper back n’ forth, she WRENCHED it, like a pit-bull getting to work on a particularly tasty bit of rawhide.
Shea’s hands started to twitch after a few seconds, not the seemingly electrified flailing of some wrestlers mired in a similar trap, but rather the weary thrashing of a discomfited sleeper trying to shrug off a burdensome blanket without having the required clarity to succeed. In most cases such a conflict ends with the sleeper adjusting to their position before returning to a more restful slumber and Shea London proved no different. Pushing at the brunette’s hips did no good, neither did pawing at her shoulders or fumbling at her biceps, especially not with Emily torquing her hips like the Briton might escape at any moment. No, there was nothing for Shea to do but go back to sleep and after a time she did, the settling into a relaxed bonelessness that Emily knew from respiration alone. Resting a cheek against Shea’s sweltering pate, she glanced at Nick Castle and murmured, “She’s left us, Nicholas.”
The ref dropped to one knee and murmured in London’s ear to no reaction whatsoever. Almost as familiar with the signs of Jugg Shock as Emily herself, Castle patted West on the shoulder and said, “Checkmate, Emily. You can let her go.”
Emily nodded, but she made no move to disengage until the official had tossed a signal to the Timekeeper. Shortly thereafter the bell CLANGED and Emily treated Shea’s face to a final languid scrub that was perfectly timed to the Announcer’s confirmation. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via knockout and STILL the FAWN World Champion… EMILY WEST!”
Emily let go of her elbows and rolled her shoulders, the motion of which sent Shea tumbling onto her back in a dreamless, greasy-faced tumble. The Black Queen patted her cheek, then stood up and allowed Castle to raise her hand. She took the belt a moment later and draped it over one shoulder. “The old queen is incapable. The current queen is…. growing impatient. And no new queen presents herself.” Emily sighed and raked a hand through her hair and sighed. “A game played against oneself can only sustain the imagination for so long. I fear ennui lurking just over the horizon. And should I grow bored…” Emily looked up from her ruminations and her smile was a terrible thing. “…this place will NEVER stop screaming.”
His voice trailed off and the arena's speakers roared back into life, posing one question to the amped crowd:
"Do you wanna get rocked?"
LETS GET ROCKED”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBcsCn9QyUQ
Def Leppard's "Let's Get Rocked" pumps over the speakers, the Ring Announcer stepped forth to resume his introduction. “Hailing from Manchester, England in the United Kingdom… Standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in this evening at one hundred and twenty pounds, THIS IS… SEEENNNSSSAAATTTIIIOOONNNAAAL SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!”
SHEA LONDON:
Shea London strode from backstage to a rapturous reception from the Orlando faithful. The British Bombshell darted down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as she did, her usual million dollar smile on full display for the crowd. The Sensational One returned to action tonight sporting what could best be described as a Union Jack two piece: her top presented a white cross with the quadrants above in red and below in blue, and white trim leading into the shoulder straps. Her bottoms were primarily blue, save for the red, upside-down ‘V’ that started at each thigh and mt at her waist, the waistband and bars both trimmed in white. Though in this case of this Union Jack, the image was broken up by an expanse of scrumptious tummy. Her kneepads displayed the emblem in a much more traditional fashion, with white wrist tape and boots completing the ensemble.
The gorgeous blonde made a complete circuit around ringside, continuing to slap hands and accept the well wishes of her fans. Catching sight of one particular sign in the audience, Shea's grin grew even wider. Leaning over the railing, Shea swung her left arm around the shoulders of one fortunate fan, turning to the camera and pointing at the posterboard with her right. The placard read, rather simply, “THE BLACK QUEEN’S GONNA TAKE A KNEE FOR *TRUE* FAWN ROYALTY!” Further making the fan's day, London gave him a quick peck on the cheek before bounding over to the ring.
Climbing the steps, Shea slipped between the ropes, entering the ring and marching to the nearest corner, claiming it as her own. Climbing onto the middle turnbuckle, Shea raised an arm to a triumphant roar from her fans. Hopping back down, London started to limber up in her corner, preparing for a clash YEARS in the making...
HANDLEBARS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=waRtcBy_GMI
The Sensational One was practically thrumming with anticipation when the FAWN’tron went heavy with static fuzz and the light linked out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of the architect of FAWN’s grand design. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth to address her kingdom.
EMILY WEST:
Cool and composed as a marble bust, Emily took her rightful place at center stage then reached to the small of her back and undid the clasp holding the World Title in place. This she raised overhead, turning it ever so slightly so that it glittered in the low light. Taking that as his cue, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Black Queen and the reigning and defending FAWN World Champion… EMILY WEST!”
For the task of dealing with this most problematic piece, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. Her championship style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.
Quietly eager to humble the so called ‘conscience of FAWN‘, Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of what was clearly her undisputed dominion, the Black Queen paused to mull just what sort of Gordian Knot she could make of the challenger. Satisfied with this mental image, she waited for the lights to return to normalcy and then slipped through the ropes. Claiming the nearest corner, she lifted the title to the rafters and tapped the faceplate three times.
I’m. So. Smart.
The reaction was far more negative than it had been in February. Though a great deal of the crowd had been most impressed with her thunderous dismissal of Kendra LaRue, but the Siren was another dyed in the wool Alpha Bytch. Shea London on the other hand was as beloved a babyface as there ever was and defeating Emily tonight would make her a record four time World Champion. Thusly, they jeered her with everything they had. Far from displeased by their vitriol, Emily hopped down from the buckles and offered the belt to Nick Castle when he walked over to check her pads and boots. She went through the inspection without comment, the full force of her dangerous regard was focused on Shea London, who matched the Queen’s gaze with an equally steely eye.
The bell sounded and Shea started out of her corner at once. Not just because the FAWN World Title was within her grasp for an unprecedented fourth time (though that certainly was motivation enough under normal circumstances) but because she’d been wanting to get her hands on Emily West for a very long time. Couple that with the beating Susan had laid on Jaime earlier tonight and it was a wonder the Sensational One’s feet actually touched the canvas as she went for the Black Queen.
Emily noted the quick approach and exited her corner to the right, following the perimeter of the ropes until she created enough room to-- London came at her with a lightning-fast Collar & Elbow that West dodged by the slimmest of margins. The evasion gave Emily much more room to work with and so she kept moving, forcing Shea to walk her down.
Quite willing to do just that, Shea rounded on her heels and started right after the American. “You’ve run from me for six years, Emily West.” she muttered. “But the chase ends tonight, girl. You an’ I need to ’ave words.”
Emily blinked and came to a stop so sudden it looked like she’d backed into an invisible wall. “Excuse me, it’s very loud in here. I could’ve sworn you just said I’ve been running from--”
London pounced and this time West didn’t shy away, indeed she stepped into the clench to neutralize most of Shea’s momentum. The challenger was just getting used to the feel of Em’s skin under her hands when the brunette laid out on one side and slung the Briton down across the mat with a sort of Double-Armed Arm Drag. Shea hit on her hip and shoulder but the impact barely registered before she tumbled to one knee and sprang to verticality.
The Amazing Academic was already up and there was fire in her eyes. “I ran from you?” she asked softly. “I always suspected you were an idiot, albeit an honest one. Guess I’ll have to revise that opinion.”
Shea bristled, just the sound of the other woman’s voice made her angry. “Use all the pretty words ya want, Ems. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been asking for a shot at you ever since I realized ya were a sadist with a chessboard where ’er ’eart should be.”
“And the most obvious answer is that I was afraid to face you here? That management was somehow protecting me from your oh so sanctimonious wrath? Did it ever occur to you that they were shielding you from ME?”
The fine hairs on the back of Shea’s neck stood straight up, something about West’s mere presence set her to boiling. “They don’t need to protect me from anything, princess. Especially not you.”
Emily smiled for the first time since the bell clanged. “Then what are you still doing way over there?”
London stormed into the breach at once, her hands raised and curved into hooks expressly suited for CRAAACK! Anger didn’t make Shea sloppy, it did however make Emily the tiniest bit quicker on the draw, as evidenced when she stepped forward, flicked her left hand between the blonde’s questing claws and pasted her across the cheek with a head-swiveling, eye-watering, Bytch Slap. Shea stumbled back, one hand rising to her stinging cheek as she regarded Emily with wide, furious eyes. “Don’t you EVER underestimate me, Shea London. Because if you lump me in with relics like VanBuren and Daniel and Armstrong, you’ll find yourself beaten, humiliated and most importantly, out-wrestleNNNNNGGHHH!”
Shea flipped on that vaunted high gear for a split second, more than enough time to paste Emily’s cheek with a Bytch Slap of her own. “I won’t rake your tits or stuff my arse in your face,” the blonde hissed, “but trust me girl, you’re the one getting humiliated on this mat tonig--”
Emily came in fast with a Lock-Up of her own, one which Shea answered via a European Uppercut to the point of the champ’s chin. Reeling back as her teeth ‘clacked’ together, West raised a guard to protect against the next attack, unfortunately her defenses proved way too high to do the job because Shea dropped into a crouch and threaded her legs between the brunette’s ankles. It only took a little bit of force to bring someone down with a Drop Toe-Hold, yet Shea put all her incredible leg strength behind it, she wanted West to hurt bad every time she hit the damned mat. And hurt it did, at least if Emily’s breathy ‘OOOFFFHH!’ was any indication.
Sensing a very real opportunity to end this match in the most emphatic way possible, London spun to one knee, snatched hold of West’s ankles and crossed them up against her butt in a compact little ‘X’. In a manner of heartbeats she had both knees wedged against the small of Emily’s back and her free hand (the one that wasn’t controlling the American’s ankles) twined in West’s hair. Jerking the other woman’s head off the mat despite the flak she’d catch from the referee, Shea rocked up n’ down on her knees, letting the Sensual Scholar feel every bit of her weight. “Bet ya didn’t think we’d come to this Bridge so soon, did ya, Em?”
Elbows pressed against the mat, Emily let her fingers twitch, but she made no move to break free. “Reaching a bridge and crossing it are two very different things, Shea. You’ve achieved the former, but then, the easiest accomplishments were always your favorites, weren’t EEERRGGGHH!”
London jerked up on Emily’s hair hard enough to make her eyes water and earn a sharp rebuke from Nick Castle. Ignoring them both, Shea released Em’s locks and reached under her chin, the last grip she needed to secure before hauling West up and over London’s Brid-- “AAHHHH DAMMIT!”
The Sensational One’s attempt at an early dismissal was itself dismissed when Emily grabbed hold of the fingers cupping her chin tried to bend them all the way back to the blonde’s wrist. Shea pounded a few punches in the ribs to make the champ let her loose, but in doing so she released Emily’s ankles and so they both escaped that first skirmish with minor aches and flaring tempers.
“You would try to sneak by me that way, wouldn’t you?” West muttered as she smoothed out her hair. “Sad that you’d be happy with that sort of asterisk next to a record-setting win.”
“I don’t need to justify myself to you, Emily.” Shea snapped right back. “Beaten is beaten. But if you want me to wear your arse out before I get that three, I’m ‘appy to oblige ya.”
“Please. We both know a sprint is the only chance you have to actually win. Because if this turns into a wrestling match, I will make it a point to spank every square inch of your fading, British ass.”
Shea took in a deep breath and let it out slow. She KNEW Emily was baiting her and she tried to keep her cool, but having that condescending twat besmirch her mat skills was almost too much to bear. Speaking with a calm she most certainly didn’t feel, Shea asked, “Is a right and proper wrestling match you’d like, Miss Emily West?”
“If that’s some charming British colloquialism for tying you in a mewling, sobbing knot, then I would most certainly enjoy a right and proper wrestling match, Miss Shea London.”
“Then that is what you shall ‘ave, luv.”
London rolled her shoulders and started forward, hoping against hope that West didn’t try to slink away one more time. She needn’t have worried, Emily met her with a strong Collar & Elbow Lock-Up that ground them both to a halt as they attempted to move the other back to some less hospitable part of the ring. It only took Shea a few seconds to realize she wasn’t going to bull Em around from a dead stop, so she shifted one arm a bit and -- HAH!” London snared her arm around the back of West’s head and yanked her over double in a grinding Side Headlock. “Gonna squeeze ya good, Em.” Shea promised while working the brunette’s temple with the point of her hip. “Gonna squeeze the sass right on outta of gggrrrrhhhhhhh!”
Emily grabbed Shea’s left wrist in both hands, broke the clasp on the Headlock and twisted around behind the Englishwoman to apply a Hammerlock. “Tiptoes, Shea. Unless you want me to break it.” Emily purred in between tugs on her blonde’s wrist.
Shea patted at her stinging shoulder, then tried to spin around for a Hammerlock of her own, but West twisted with her, refusing to cede her position on the other woman’s six. Shaking her head ‘no’ when Castle asked if she wanted to submit, London made another play for a go-behind, only to angle back in the opposite direction and throw an elbow over her shoulder. Almost worked, Emily had to twist her head to one side and even then the strike grazed her cheek. But a graze wasn’t enough to make the Black Queen relent and she made Shea pay for the mistake by wrenching up on the Hammerlock.
“That’s it Shea, look at the canvas. Take a really good look.” Emily chided when her hold forced the blonde to double over. “Memorize all the details you can, I’ll want a thorough report on how different it looks when your nose is pressed up against NO YOU DON’T!”
Shea grabbed hold of Emily left ankle with her right hand in an attempt to pull the Courtier off balance. It would’ve worked if West had maintained the Hammerlock, alas, the Amazing Academic relinquished it in favor of a better idea. Seizing Shea’s right wrist in both hands, she prized it away from her ankle, then stepped back and tugged the blonde’s hand between her own stems, a move that flipped Shea off her feet and onto her back with a heavy ‘thwhump!’
“I’ve already denied your Bridge tonight, London.” Emily taunted the stunned beauty. “You however, cannot deny the power of Mind Over Matter.” Just like that she stepped over Shea’s chest with her right leg, twisted around to face the challenger’s feet and dropped to one effectively trapping Shea’s arm around and under her right leg. The crowd let out a gasp and urged Shea to safety, knowing full well that West was seconds away from cinching in her finisher.
Gripped by a momentary burst of uncharacteristic panic when she felt Emily take control of her ankle, Shea lifted her left shoulder as best she could, then tucked down and in to reach across with that arm and slip it through the brunette’s legs. Doing so did nothing for the pressure on her right shoulder. It did however, allow her to roll through onto her right side, which broke Emily’s holds and stacked the champion on her shoulders for a quick…
ONE…
TWO…
West kicked loose, tumbled away and stood up with her lips twisted into a little moue of disgust. “Acrobatics and leverage, that’s all you’ve ever had, Shea. It astounds me that you’ve made such a career from being a glorified acrobat. But then, I assume they call you Sensational for a reason.”
London stood up and rolled her right shoulder, which still throbbed a bit from the American’s twisting. “Yes they do. It’s because I’ve shown an innate talent for takin’ their breath away,” she swept a finger across the FAWNatics, “while I drive chavs like you straight through the bloody mat.”
The Malefic Malengine did not look impressed. “Bold words from a woman who lost her best gear when Pandora destroyed her without breaking a sweat. You want to impress me, London? Show me some flashes of the woman I’ve been wanting to fight for six years. Show me the best European wrestler of her generation. Show me… show me the woman actually worth submitting.”
London’s arm didn’t hurt anymore. “You’re looking at ‘er, Emily. And you’ll submit to ‘er at the top of your lungs.”
Emily treated her to a small, tolerant smile. “Did you see how Kendra LaRue’s bid for my title ended? If I did that to her, what chance do you--”
Shea lunged like she was coming for a Lock-Up, then pivoted on her left heel and fired a lightning-fast Super Kick at Emily’s chin. The FAWNatics were already bracing for impact and so they were most disappointed when West snatched the blonde’s ankle only inches shy of her face.
“It takes you one point two seconds to throw a Super Kick, but only point eight seconds for me to react to it.” Emily pulled Shea’s leg closer, stuffing it under one arm for lord knew what evil purpose. “In layman’s terms, you’re going to have to be a lot faster than NNNNGGGHHH!”
Shea grabbed a brazen double handful of hair, pushed off with her plant foot and THUNKED that knee into Emily’s forehead with all the force the crowd had wanted from the failed kick. The cradle on her right leg was old news by the time Shea returned to the canvas, so she doubled over and forced her head under the brunette’s left arm. Hardly bothered by this self-imposed Front Facelock, London looped her arms around West’s waist and snapped off a whip-sharp bridge to THWHUMP Emily onto her back with a Northern Lights Suplex. Nick Castle was close, but he didn’t even have time to swoop in before London somersaulted over, landed on her feet and hauled Emily to hers. The second Northern Lights was identical to the first, though this time the challenger pushed up on her toes, the flawless bridge making the light definition in her abs stand out quite nicely throughout the…
ROLLING NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZU4-Flbihk
ONE…
TWO…
Emily brought her right hand up and CLAPPED it against London’s tummy to break the bridge and the pin in a single blow. Shea rolled clear and made it to boot leather a heartbeat before Emily, who looked rather perturbed following the stereo Suplexes. Ready, willing and able to further sour the champ’s mood, London charged her and lashed out with a Clothesline that would’ve given Em’s rack a serious smashing if she hadn’t slid beneath it at the last instant. Worse, she crooked an arm around Shea’s bicep in passing and mirrored the tactic on the other side as soon as she stood up. Pulling Shea’s back tight to her own, West pushed onto her tiptoes, then dropped to her knees and leaaaaaaned forward to stack Shea on her shoulders for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
The Sensational One wrenched her right arm loose from West’s clutches and rolled off into a seat on the brunette’s right side. Slipping free of the last little bit of Backslide, Shea whipped her arms around Em’s head, locked her hands in place atop her chin and CRAAAAAAAAAAAANKED back on a murderous Crossface that had Emily and the FAWNatics shouting for very different reasons.
WRESTLING! @ 00:27
www.youtube.com/watch?v=v41qJXbY8JU
“What do you say, Emily!” Castle was close, but he still struggled to be heard over the thunderous ‘TAP!’ chants that’d sprung up in the last few seconds.
Posted on her forearms, Emily didn’t put more strain on her neck by trying to shake her head ‘no’, but she did waggle a finger to make sure the ref knew her position. As for Shea, she didn’t mind the resistance at all. She’d known Emily wasn’t going to give it up without a fight, so she settled in a little deeper and reefed back a little harder, content to let the simple hold do the heaviest work.
“Give it up whenever you’re good and ready, Em.” the blonde said coolly. “I’m not going anywhere and I’ve got all night.”
The Black Queen didn’t respond, she only pushed from her elbows to her forearms and started to crawl / drag them both toward the ropes. Shea didn’t try to stop her, rather she pulled her hands up a little higher and ground them back n’ forth across the American’s nose. Emily squealed, stopped crawling and fumbled for Shea’s hands before seizing hold. Her position made it impossible to simply pull the Brit’s grip apart, so she settled for jerking Shea’s hands down just beneath her chin. This intensified the pain in her neck a great deal, but it also removed the obstruction from her line of sight and made the crawl to sanctuary the slightest bit easier. West was an arm’s length from her goal when London let loose and tumbled backward toward her opponent’s feet. Catching Emily’s right ankle in both hands, Shea got up and scrambled to the middle of the ring.
Infuriated by this denial, West reached for the ropes on sheer instinct and paid for it when the Sensational One abandoned the grip on her leg and dove forward to help herself to the exposed wrist. London twisted around in a smooth circle, pulling West’s arm tight around the back of her left thigh. Then she tumbled over the brunette’s back, catching Em’s chin in one hand and hooking a leg in the other to roll Emily onto her shoulders with a textbook La Magistral. Already close because of the submission attempt, Castle wasted no time in counting off the…
LA MAGISTRAL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f06JS3M3z2w
ONE…
TWO…
Emily kicked out and flopped over onto her stomach, title reign still intact for the moment. Shea wanted that reign over sooner rather than later, so she cupped both hands under the brunette’s chin and peeled her off the canvas. With Em still stunned from the barrage of pins and stretches, London curled an arm around the back of her neck, pulled her down and THWHAPPED another European Uppercut across her jaw. West reeled, so Shea stepped after her, measured a shot and PWAAAKED a snappy kick off the champ’s right thigh. An identical kick to the left thigh followed, as did a Dropkick aimed not at opposing rack, but the pit of her stomach. That doubled Em over, allowing London to run the ropes and come back with a mean head of steam. Catching West’s noggin in a Front Facelock on the return trip, London launched herself up, a shift that forced Emily to stand and suspended the blonde several feet up at a near perfect forty-five degree angle.
A DDT of epic proportions seemed all but assured when the Black Queen cupped the pits of Shea’s knees and snapped forward and down. The sudden change in direction broke the Englishwoman’s hold on Emily’s skull and she whiplashed all the way to the mat, the back of her head THWHUNKING against the thinly-sheathed plywood. Seemingly reinvigorated by the sound of London smashing to a dead stop, Emily tapped her temple once, then dropped into a lateral press and hooked the far leg for…
SIDEWALK SLAM @ 1:28
www.youtube.com/watch?v=KY1Ve1nVP7s
ONE…
TWO…
Shea lifted a shoulder off the mat to keep her hopes alive, but the hyper-aware World Champion immediately honed in on the arm her foe curled around the back of her head. Down on one knee, she grabbed London’s wrist, tugged her swaddling arm aside and neatly planted a boot on the side of the blonde’s head. Rising carefully, West leaaaaaaaaaaned in and jostled her foot back n’ forth, effectively standing on the challenger’s head while Shea’s feet beat a pained, angry tattoo against the canvas.
“C’mon Emily, knock that crap off. You know you can’t just stand on her like that!” Nick groused after several seconds on the domineering display earned loud jeers from the crowd.
The Black Queen looked up from her task with an amused smile on her lips. “On the contrary, Nicholas. I am well within my rights to apply the pressure of my choosing to this nitwit’s skull, just so long as I don’t impede her breathing or vision. So unless Shea here can fight loose, she’s going to bear my boot for as long as I see--”
London swatted Emily’s foot aside, rolled to one knee and “OOOOFFFFHHH!”
The Sensational One’s latest run ended before it began when Emily drilled a Kneelift into her naval mid-pounce. With the Briton staggered and short on breath, West rushed in and laced both hands across the nape of her neck. In the next instant her head was wedged under Shea’s chin and the brunette dropped to her knees after a quick hop. London dropped with her and so the Jawkbreaker hit with even more force, Shea’s head snapping back in time with the thumping impact. Forced into an involuntary penance by the simple maneuver, Shea was vaguely aware when Emily got up and raced out of her field of vision, but she had no idea which way the bytch might have gone. The FAWNatics knew and tried to warn Shea at the top of their lungs, alas mere noise couldn’t stop Emily from running the ropes on the Brit’s six. Nor could it stop her when she jumped up and THWHUNKED her right knee against the back of London’s head.
JAWBREAKER & ENZU KNEE STRIKE @ 3:10
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2sg5NV3Tyw
Shea spun around mid-fall to land on her back and Emily simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Mounting the vulnerable blonde’s waist, she leaned down and pressed the swell of that copious cleavage flush against her foe’s face. She didn’t bother to wrap her arms around London’s head so it wasn’t a true Front Sleeper, but the Englishwoman’s features were most definitely out of sight and her shoulders were flat against the mat, thus Castle dropping in to count…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Shea shoved her way loose with a distressed groan and made it onto one side but she couldn’t get all the way to her stomach with Emily astride her waist. Angry and embarrassed, the former World Champion wiped a hand across her face and muttered, “Keep yer saggy crap away from me, EmilYYYNNNNGGHHH!”
The Insidious Intellectual snatched a painful double handful of hair, yanked London’s head off the mat and promptly bounced it like a basketball. Forced to devote all resources to protecting her head, Shea wasn’t able to squirm out from under the brunette, meaning Emily had an easy go of it when she caught the other woman’s left arm in a Half Nelson and used it to turn Shea onto her stomach. Working her knees in against Shea’s ribs to make sure she didn’t go anywhere, West swatted the challenger’s head with one hand and then the other. “I’m starting to run up the score, Shea. Do something about it.” She slapped London’s aching pate a few more times before mussing those dirty-blonde locks in decidedly non-playful fashion.
If there was one tactic that made Shea London’s blood boil hotter and faster than any other, it was being toyed with. And Emily wasn’t just toying with her, she was being PLAYED with. Jaw clenched to keep from screaming, Shea stopped protecting and started grabbing, specifically Emily’s wrists. Digging her nails into the soft undersides of the brunette’s wrists, London pulled forward and down in hopes of laying Emily out on her tummy to level the playing field.
It was a good plan, indeed it seemed to be working right up until the moment West shifted her left knee and planted it deep between her rival’s shoulders. Leaning heavily on the intruding joint, West crushed some air from Shea’s lungs before she pulled loose of the Wristlocks and slapped on another Full Nelson. Rolling onto her back allowed Em to bring London along for the ride and apply a snug Bodyscissors to boot. Still not satisfied, she reached across with her right hand, grabbed Shea’s wrist and pulled that arm tight across the Englishwoman’s own throat to secure the Cobra Clutch.
Shea started to struggle at once, though not as hard as many of those assembled thought she would or should. This wasn’t due to a lack of energy on the blonde’s part, rather it was calculated attempt to make sure she didn’t exhaust herself escaping the notoriously draining hold. Limited to her right arm, London worried at her left forearm, searching for enough give to get the traitorous limb over her head or at least off her throat. No use, her chin was wedged flush against the meat of her bicep and she couldn’t so much as squirm without giving West reason to increase the pressure.
Speaking of Emily, she tugged up on the Half Nelson a little and sent another long pulse through her thighs to make sure Shea hadn’t forgotten the Scissors. In this she was successful because London abruptly gave up on trying to free her arm and started to slap Em’s right thigh as hard as she could. “Tapping out I see.” Emily purred in Shea’s ear even though she damned well knew the blonde wasn’t giving in, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve done all night, my friNNNGGHHH!”
Shea stopped slapping and started elbowing. They were short, stubby and lacked a great deal of her usual power, but London was nothing of not patient and she knew she could get a good bruise started if Emily let her keep at “OOOOOOWWWWWWW STOP THAT YOU BYTCH!” The Sensational One started to flail in earnest when Emily let loose of her right wrist to affix a firm grip on her left breast. Though her breathing was much improved, Shea’s left arm was still trapped over her head at an odd angle and her right was entirely devoted to getting the Black Queen’s talon off her bounty.
Continuing to bear down on the Bodyscissors even as she worked more obvious torments, West stopped clawing just long enough to worm that hand under Shea’s navy blue top. Then she squeeeeeeeeezed and started to rotate her wrist, thus letting her nails do the real damage to British bounty. “This is Check, Shea.” Emily whispered into her opponent’s ear. “Better find a way out or this game is overRRGGH! Hair! Get her off my hair, Nicholas!”
Growing increasingly frustrated with the American’s control, London finally gave in to baser instincts and helped herself to a brutal handful of West’s hair. Emily hissed with pain but didn’t relinquish the Breast Claw. In fact, she narrowed the focus to London’s nipple and gave it a vile twist. Shea shrieked in agony and let loose of the brunette’s wrist. Choking down some traitorous words trying to force their way up her throat, the suffering blonde reached back with her right hand and after some searching, managed to grab hold of West’s other hand.
“All right, girl.” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You want tooth and claw. I’ll give it to ya.” London pulled Emily’s hand around and down in front of her face, then lunged forward and chomped down as soon as it was within range.
“You guileless savage.” Emily’s voice was a hateful whisper as she endured the gnawing to tweak Shea’s bud all the harder. “I’ll see you in tears for GRRAAAAAHHH BYTCH!”
London went to work on West’s thumb, which proved too much for the Black Queen to take. Abandoning the claw to pound wild, angry elbows into the crown of her blonde’s head, Em tore her way free of Shea’s teeth, plunged both hands into her hair and dragged her up into a Front Facelock. Ready for the Hemorrhage in record time, the Amazing Academic tugged up on Shea’s neck and growled, “Mate in two, London. You really should learn to NNNNNGGGGGHH!”
Shea’s right leg whipped up n’ over her own back to SMACK a flat-footed kick into Emily’s face with a movement reminiscent of a scorpion’s sting. This loosened the grip on her head by quite a lot so the Sensational One pounded a few punches into the American’s tummy, then planted her hands flat, pushed up and shoved with all her might. West let go and floated back a little ways to land on her feet with no discernible effort.
Tired of wasting her brilliant observations on this washerwoman’s thick skull, Emily held her tongue when she stormed into the breach with her right arm pulled back and ready for CRAAACK! Shea flicked out a hand that raised an immediate welt on one cheek and a cheer in several thousand throats. “More where that came from, luv!” Shea barked at the reeling champion. “Just toddle on over ‘ere and get ‘cherself some mo--”
Emily took her up on the offer, not that it ended any better than her previous attempt. In fact it wouldn’t be improper to say it went all to hell. Rather than slap the taste from West’s mouth again, Shea leaned to the right and wrapped her arms around the Insidious Intellectual’s strong waist. Her hands locked and she spun Em off her feet, through a perfect two hundred and seventy degree twirl that ended with London going down on one knee and Emily landing firmly atop it. The THWHUMP was still heavy in the air when Shea pulled her prop loose and drove West’s convulsing spine into the mat.
TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGIq81Calt0
“Instinct tells me ta pin ya.” London muttered to the gaping Courtier. “But karma tells me ya need a bloody lesson.” With that she shoved Emily onto her stomach, stood up and made a point of stomping on her foe’s lower back as she stepped over. Aware that the ropes were a bit too far to assist with what she had in mind, London called an audible and launched into gorgeous back-flip. It would’ve been a Standing Moonsault if she hadn’t kept her knees tucked so high, as it was they landed squarely on Emily’s back and earned a throaty cry from the prone brunette.
“Oh ‘ush up.” Shea clapped West’s butt before she got to her feet. “The real ‘urt ‘asn’t even started yet.” Must’ve been starting soon though because London spun around on one heel and raced to the ropes, the second of which she mounted following a low, arching leap. Curling in on herself to get all the momentum she could, Shea sprang off and flew backward, this time for a more conventional Springboard Moonsault. Like the Kneedrop in landed flush across the small of Emily’s back and Emily once again tried to roll away only to have Shea clamp down on her at neck and thigh.
“Want to tend to yer back, Miss Emily?” London asked sweetly. “All you ‘ave to say is three little words.”
“Of course they’re little words.” Emily growled. “Monosyllabic is the only thing you’d underNNNGHHHH!”
The Englishwoman pulled back her right knee and drilled it into her foe’s quickly stiffening back. “Three little words, girl.” London’s voice was soft as down and poison as nightshade. “Go ahead and say ‘em real loud.”
Silence for a moment. Then: “Go. Fuck. YourselfFFAAAAAUUGGGHHH!”
Shea commenced with the Kneelifts for real this time, pushing up on her planted hands to get that right leg fully drawn back before POUNDING it into the dense meat of West’s flank. Emily, bless her little black heart, fought like a wildcat to get clear of the abuse, but Shea was dug in deep at the nape of her neck and the insurance grip on her waistband didn’t make things any easier. Slowing only when she felt her leg starting to cramp, the blonde set that knee down and laid the other across her rival’s shoulders. “It’s ‘igh time you learned a little ‘umility, yer majesty.” Shea switched over to a blatant hair-hold and yanked Em’s head off the canvas. “SO TELL YER LOYAL SUBJECTS ‘OW MUCH IT ‘URTS!”
‘It’ happened to be the absolutely massive wedgie London unleashed after she’d helped herself to an equally gluttonous handful of black briefs. Emily keened like a banshee and flailed in that helpless little ‘stop hurting me!’ tantrum way Shea loved to see in all her brats, but she made no move to surrender and Shea was forced to let go when Castle reached the end of his count.
“I should’a known somethin’ that thick could take an ungodly amount of punishment.” Shea conceded while patting the American’s stinging buns. “Yer backbone though, that’s always struck me as a little gimpy.”
“Yuuuuhhh… you’re one to talk about backbone, London.” Emily rasped with one side of her face still pressed against the cool canvas. “Considering yours gave out more than five years agOOHHH NOOOOOOHH LET GO OF ME DAMMIIITTERRRGGGGRRRRHHHH!”
Shea leaned down and hooked her left arm under West’s bicep, all the better to pull her to her knees. In the next instant she reached over, snatched Emily’s wrist in her right hand and snugged it across the champ’s windpipe to secure a Cobra Clutch identical to the one that’d tortured her a few minutes prior. “Don’t worry girl, I’m not gonna maul yer grubby tits… yet.” Shea made sure to emphasize the last word as she stood up and forced Emily to do the same. “I just want these people to ‘ave the best angle while I beat ya to yer knees.” She punctuated the ominous statement with a quick Kneelift that struck, you guessed it, the small of West’s back.
Being on her feet again made it a little easier for Emily to assess the situation, not that you needed a genius level I.Q. to see it was bad. As if the Clutch wasn’t enough, London pounded knees into her back every few seconds, the stupidly tenacious Brit changing her timing and force of delivery to make sure the champion couldn’t get a bead on her pattern. Even more galling, London turned them constantly, both to keep her prey disoriented and to make damned sure West knew the whole arena was enjoying her suffering. Offering a weary ‘no’ when Castle asked if she wanted to surrender, Emily braced herself for the next Kneelift, then staggered forward as soon as it struck. Shea reeled her back just like the Black Queen hoped she would, so she steadied balance and waited for the next “NNNGGGHH!” Em soaked it up and lurched left, her right hand straining for the ropes that were still a few yards out.
“Not like that ya don’t,” Shea reeled her back to center and delivered another blow. “Ya either go ta sleep on your knees or go out on yer feet with tears in yer RRRRGGHHHH CHEAP SLAG!”
Emily’d finally succeeded in lulling Shea into a rhythm with her repeated escape attempts so when the blonde readied a strike West stamped on her plant foot with as much venom as she could muster. Granted a much wider freedom of movement the instant her heel met Shea’s toes, Emily dug down deep and stomped / charged her way toward the security of the strands. London recognized it for what it was and cranked back on the Clutch but her grip was failing and Emily’s momentum a bit too strong. Blundering into the ropes, West wrapped her right arm around the top like a lifeline and gurgled, “Ropes, Nicholas. Get this washed up hack away from MMMNNNGGGHHH!”
Angry in a way she could hardly comprehend, London clamped down on the Cobra Clutch even tighter than before and forced the brunette to pay for her insolence with a half dozen more vengefully vicious Kneelifts to that traumatized expanse of muscle, sinew and bone. All but grafted to West’s back, London leaned in close even as she continued throwing knees. She wanted to make sure the evil bytch heard her over the sound of Castle’s count. “’Ow’s it feel ta be at the mercy of someone else’s rules, chav? Go’wan and say it. Say it as loud as ya bloody want.”
Emily hissed like a cat, which wasn’t nearly enough acknowledgement for the Brit’s liking. Alas, the count reached ‘FOUR!’ and she broke the Clutch to avoid disqualification. Didn’t go far though. In fact London backed off *maybe* a half step before clouting the side of Em’s skull with a THAWHAPPING Bytch Slap.
West grunted and Castle barked disapproval, but the Sensational One barely cared. She could feel the Black Queen starting to come apart at the seams and Shea meant to tear her to pieces. Thusly she followed the smack with a manacle grip on the brunette’s shoulder and used it to spin her into a European Uppercut that snapped Emily’s vaunted skull back at an ugly angle.
Bounced into ropes by the power of London’s vengeful sock, the Insidious Intellectual found her right wrist shackled by the challenger a heartbeat before Shea jerked her out and twisted around to catch the brunette in a Three Quarters Facelock with an Arm Trap added for good measure. Striking in the moment of silence where Shea dipped her knees and the crowd drew in its collective breath, Emily West drilled a heartless punch in above the curve of Shea’s left hip, then put that hand against the small of her back and shoved with everything she had left.
Disconnected from London Calling, Shea staggered to mid-ring, caught her balance and rounded on the flagging champion. One arm pressed to her aching side, she sucked in a deep breath and growled, “You’re done, West. Fight it all ya want, we both know the rest is just moppin’ up.”
Forcing herself to stand a little straighter to spite the pain in her back, Emily met Shea with a smile. “I knew you’d say that London. I knew you’d say it ten minutes ago. Did I forget to mention I’m brilliant?” As evidence she raised an index finger to her temple and tapped it three times. I’m. So. Sma--”
London came at her like a runaway lorry and probably would’ve done comparable damage if the American hadn’t twisted aside at the last possible second. Catching Shea by the scruff of the neck as she passed, West twisted with the blonde and tossed her forward and down. Dropped into a short, ungainly skid, the Sensational One didn’t even have time to raise her hands before she TWAAANGED throat-first against the second strand. World reduced to the width of her burning windpipe, London whiplashed off the ropes and tumbled backward on her shoulders to end up on all fours somewhere just shy of center ring. Planting both hands against the mat to steady herself, the woozy Briton sucked in a deep bre-- THWHUNK! Emily charged, sprang, planted her right foot across Shea’s shoulders. Then she stomped down with vile force, the only kind that would do for planting London’s face with the move she called Checkmate. Shea’s head bounced once and then she laid still, the formerly frenetic fighter reduced to sludgy semiconscious by the power of the Black Queen’s genius.
CHECKMATE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=U40KQn5XIUg
With both hands curled into fists and pressed tight against her protesting spine, Emily took several deep breaths to steady her nerves all while keeping one possessive foot nuzzled against the side of Shea’s neck. Eventually she felt well enough to crouch down and twine her fingers in London’s hair. “We all play by the same rules, Shea.” she said softly. “Otherwise the game wouldn’t be fair. I’m just better than you, that’s all.”
Shea burbled a nonsense reply and groped feebly for the Queen’s wrists but this only made it easier for West to scrape her off the canvas. Quite cognizant of the fact that Shea London presented a significant threat up until the precise moment the bell sounded again, Emily wasted no time in stuffing the blonde’s aching head under her right arm and tossing the near arm over her shoulders. She hooked a handful of waistband with similar urgency, then gave it a sharp tug to make sure it would hold. It did, so the Amazing Academic gathered her strength and hoisted the challenger all the way to high noon in a single go. Deflated though they were to see the doomsday clock that close to midnight again, the FAWNatics couldn’t stop from tolling off each and every tick. ‘ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…SEVEN.’
CEREBRAL HEMMORHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L53TPig5wAM
Em kicked her right leg up high and dropped practically straight down to THWHONK the crown of Shea’s skull into the mat with a perfectly delivered Cerebral Hemorrhage. The most dangerous Brainbuster in the history of FAWN left Shea a starfished shell of her former self, unable to so much as groan when Emily bent down and very carefully peeeeeeeeeeeled the Englishwoman’s top up over her head.
“This isn’t about embarrassment, though many of you probably hope otherwise.” West told the crowd as she tucked Shea’s shorn attire into her waistband. “It is a reminder. Or a lesson if you prefer. Not just for Shea’s benefit, but for all of you as well.” Emily moved from Shea’s head to her waist, carefully stepping over so that a boot rested beside each hip. “For you see, as good as she is. For as much as you want her to be your savior and for as much as she DESPERATELY wants to play the role for you, the facts do not lie… Shea London is no longer worthy of the World Championship… let alone your love.”
This pronouncement brought thunderous boos that were almost choked off by incredulous cheers when West grabbed the bottom edge of her top and pulled it loose in a single tug. Absently tucking it against her other hip, Emily dropped to her knees, slipped her hands behind London’s head and pulled her to a seat. She let Shea’s cheek rest against the swell of her breasts for a long moment, so long that several of the Sensational One’s fans thought Emily might pin their heroine simply to make a point. Then Emily turned her face forward with a savage twist and plunged the challenger’s slack features into her décolletage. Binding Shea’s head with a Bear Hug that was unnecessarily snug at that point, West didn’t draw the Front Sleeper back n’ forth, she WRENCHED it, like a pit-bull getting to work on a particularly tasty bit of rawhide.
Shea’s hands started to twitch after a few seconds, not the seemingly electrified flailing of some wrestlers mired in a similar trap, but rather the weary thrashing of a discomfited sleeper trying to shrug off a burdensome blanket without having the required clarity to succeed. In most cases such a conflict ends with the sleeper adjusting to their position before returning to a more restful slumber and Shea London proved no different. Pushing at the brunette’s hips did no good, neither did pawing at her shoulders or fumbling at her biceps, especially not with Emily torquing her hips like the Briton might escape at any moment. No, there was nothing for Shea to do but go back to sleep and after a time she did, the settling into a relaxed bonelessness that Emily knew from respiration alone. Resting a cheek against Shea’s sweltering pate, she glanced at Nick Castle and murmured, “She’s left us, Nicholas.”
The ref dropped to one knee and murmured in London’s ear to no reaction whatsoever. Almost as familiar with the signs of Jugg Shock as Emily herself, Castle patted West on the shoulder and said, “Checkmate, Emily. You can let her go.”
Emily nodded, but she made no move to disengage until the official had tossed a signal to the Timekeeper. Shortly thereafter the bell CLANGED and Emily treated Shea’s face to a final languid scrub that was perfectly timed to the Announcer’s confirmation. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via knockout and STILL the FAWN World Champion… EMILY WEST!”
Emily let go of her elbows and rolled her shoulders, the motion of which sent Shea tumbling onto her back in a dreamless, greasy-faced tumble. The Black Queen patted her cheek, then stood up and allowed Castle to raise her hand. She took the belt a moment later and draped it over one shoulder. “The old queen is incapable. The current queen is…. growing impatient. And no new queen presents herself.” Emily sighed and raked a hand through her hair and sighed. “A game played against oneself can only sustain the imagination for so long. I fear ennui lurking just over the horizon. And should I grow bored…” Emily looked up from her ruminations and her smile was a terrible thing. “…this place will NEVER stop screaming.”