Post by SammieSinclair on Apr 12, 2015 14:52:04 GMT
BRING IT ON:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLjitP78tag&list=PLPuOyWan3CRuPoCuzoiHkAq0VNWg308E4
The opening guitar riff, no different than it had been years earlier, heralded the arrival of Wrestling’s wayward black sheep, the girl who’d had it all and choose to burn it in an act of petulance, opting to make an early exit from the industry that she had been born into whilst nuking as many bridges as she could along the way. Unrepentant summed up her demeanour following her return, and ‘Marvellous’ Marvela Marcille remained every inch the ‘Original’ People’s Princess as she arrived on stage.
MARVELA MARCILLE:
She smiled as she appeared, lights catching all the right curves as she stood without fear, regal in her bearing and utterly without hesitation, raising one hand high, palm faced outward in welcome as the pyrotechnics erupted bombastically to either side of her. She seemed oblivious to the boos that were there to welcome her, the fans she had so effortlessly scorned following her messy exodus not making a dent in the apparent fiction she had created all about herself.
It was this, however, that was the facade, and eventually she broke the illusion and she greeted the crowd’s heckling with an indulgent roll of her eyes, a slightly exasperated ‘tut’ upon her lips and a world weary smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With her less than sincere efforts of extending an olive branch rebuffed, Marvela launched into a light stepped stride down the ramp, the saunter of hips and the swish of her shoulders full of self assured swagger, her mane of chocolate brown immaculate and shimmering, matching her gaze and showing not even a hint of fallibility.
The crimson of the Lightweight’s attire was bright and fierce, the fabric whisper thin and slipping about her every, perfectly carved and refined contours, the two piece outfit as much a part of her as her own personality. The single strap top cut to just below her bosom, leaving her firm tummy temptingly naked, a explosion of yellow and orange sat dead centre between her breasts, a promise of the fury she would surely unleash against anyone unfortunate enough to face her. Her shorts were modest by FAWN standards, even as they left exceedingly little to the imagination, slipping downwards to mid thigh whilst boots, pads and gloves finished off the ensemble that had once been adored by so many, and had so badly hurt the very same.
She spun in a one eighty spiral, sweeping out her arms to either side as she continued to saunter backwards, smiling in a way that suggested that she knew that she was hot shit, and everyone else was just burned by it, her stride as infuriatingly confident in reverse as it was in going the right way. It was at this point she spotted one sign in particular, a message that was repeated several times over throughout the arena in preparation of her appearance, and she barely even had to read the words to know what it said.
What it always said.
NOT “OUR” PRINCESS
She merely rolled her eyes once more and dismissed the heartbroken sentiment with a dismissive flick of her wrist, turning back to sauntering the right way as she reached the ring. She strode up the steel steps and slipped into the squared circle like a welcomed heroine, taking a diagonal path across the canvas until she reached the opposite corner. Marvela climbed the turnbuckles and swept up her arms as if in welcome, ready to salute the crowds that lov... Marcille couldn’t do it, a wickedly indulgent grin marring her features as she opted to flip off the FAWNatics instead, and even that gesture seemed half hearted in its effort as she barely considered them worthy of it. The ‘Perfect’ Princess hopped back down, languishing in the corner as she waited for stage stooges to do their job and welcome the Jobber who would be her opponent for the evening to come out.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the Announcer began, the FAWNatics willing to afford him a small measure of silence to perform his duties. “The following contest if scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, standing at five foot five and weighing in one hundred and twenty pounds, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess… MARVELOUS MARVELA MARCILLE!!!”
Needless to say, the warmth of the FAWNatics did not improve.
The crowd was still giving it to Marvela full force when the FAWN’tron flickered from glorious HD to a ghostly black & white. For viewers at home, the whole arena underwent the same chromatic bleaching. Alongside this grayscale scheme came a decidedly modern combination of guitar and drums, the thrumming beat that heralded Social Distortion’s ‘Machine Gun Blues’. Shortly thereafter the Magnificent Moll strode through the curtain.
MACHINE GUN BLUES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uf3FOEL3KjE
VERONICA TREYMANE:
Dressed in a half length (it ended about mid-thigh) grey trench coat and matching fedora, Veronica Treymane broke into a knowing smile when the sold out crowd roared ’SHOW US THE HEAT!’ She cocked her head to one side. “You sure ’bout that, fellas?” ‘SHOW US THE HEAT!’ came at her even louder than before. “All right, you asked for it.” Veronica whipped open the coat with her free hand and raised the replica Thompson sub machinegun to the rafters. “HANDS IN THE AIR YOUSE MUGS!” she called. “IT‘S ABOUT TO GET REAL HOT IN HERE!” Displaying a technique worthy of any noir-era femme fatale, Veronica squeezed the trigger and swept it back ‘n forth to rake the air with a blistering line of pyro that did a damned good job imitating real artillery. When the clip was exhausted Treymane raised it to her lips, blew smoke off the barrel and started her way down the aisle.
Granted permission to resume his duties only when the Thompson was done talking, the Announcer said, “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Bridgeport California, she stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-four pounds. She is the Neo-Noir Knockout… VERONICA TREYMANE!”
With the blonde moving fast and the coat flapping out in her wake, the FAWN faithful got a much better view of her ring attire. Tonight she sported boy-cut trunks in grey with white pinstripes and topped with a sturdy white belt. The top was a matching one-third length bustier with small buttons running up the center and white edging atop the cups. These halves were connected thin white suspenders, while her pads at knee and elbow were charcoal grey. The outfit was finished with matte-black boots that rose to mid-shin.
Pausing for the occasional ‘Wanted Poster’ with her growing fan base, Treymane made her way down the aisle, then went left at the end and headed up the steel steps where she placed a hand on the brim of her fedora. Headgear properly secured, the Dangerous Dame slipped through the ropes and strode to the official to whom she handed her firepower. She shrugged the trench coat loose immediately thereafter and draped it over his arm. “Gonna keep my barking iron safe tonight, Shamus?”
“Yes ma’am, well out of Gordy’s reach.”
“Good man.” Veronica clapped him on the shoulder, then offered her wrists, elbows and knees for inspection. Once she was cleared the blonde went to her corner, grabbed the top rope in both hands and dropped into a deep stretch, working to get the last of the kinks out before the dance began.
The bell CLANGED and Marvela clapped her hands once, albeit without much enthusiasm. “All right, let’s get this over with.” she announced while strutting out of her corner. “The sooner I dismiss this nobody the sooner I can destroy someone who actually matters.”
Veronica had never shared a ring with Marcille before tonight, but she was well-versed in the other woman’s tactics and histrionics, as they’d been a regular topic of conversation during her Jungle tenure. Even so, it didn’t quite prepare her for coming face to face with the woman herself and Treymane had to work hard to keep her expression neutral. Suddenly quite eager to change Marvela’s opinion of her skills, the Neo-Noir Knockout forced herself to stay in the corner for a little while longer. She wanted to see how the petulant little brat would react when she didn’t immediately get her way.
To put it quite simply: not well.
Disgusted by what was either a show of idiocy (bad enough) or gross insubordination, the red-clad battler actually stamped her foot and pointed an accusing finger at Treymane while glaring daggers at the ref. “What is THIS shyt?” she barked at the poor zebra. “Did you morons actually fix me up with a dolt as some form of hazing? You know who I am, right? I could have your jobs like that!”
Marcille was about to snap her fingers to emphasize the point when Veronica called out, “He’s not hazing you, Daisy. And I heard you just fine. Wanted to find out if you were as big a brat as my co-workers say you are. From what I’ve seen so far they seem to have downplayed it by a lot.”
Marvela stared at the bytch like she was some sort of new and fascinating insect under glass. “Excuse me, who the HELL are you again? I couldn’t help but fall asleep during your entrance.”
One side of Treymane’s mouth curved upward in a small, undeniably dismissive smile. “Name’s Veronica Treymane, Daisy. But you’ll call me that girl who kicked my teeth down my throat.”
The newcomer rolled her eyes. “Is that so? Then perhaps I’d better--” She charged, leapt and would’ve planted a resounding Forearm Smash in Treymane’s gob if the Dangerous Dame hadn’t spun away with a heartbeat to spare. Marcille’s elbow struck the top turnbuckle with a low ‘bwung’, thankfully the pad was enough to dull the impact to a mild string. Whirling around, the haughty-eyed brunette readied for a counterattack and was disappointed and irritated to discuss Veronica waiting near the center of the ring. Hands on her hips, the Marvelous One said, “You really shouldn’t keep me waiting. I get angry.”
“You really shouldn’t telegraph your moves so clearly.” Veronica answered blandly. “I get bored. Is this your first match, Daisy?”
Marvela knew it was a lie, just the tone of the bytch’s voice was proof enough that she knew EXACTLY who she was dealing with, but somehow it made the feigned ignorance that much worse. More than willing to play this game with the snippy bytch, Marcille started toward her and snarked, “Your complexion tells me you’ve been living under a rock, so allow me to introduce myself. I am ‘MARVELOUS’ Marvela Marcille and not only is this not my first match, I am the youngest woman to ever hold a World Championship on this continent or any other. A bit more important to you however, I am the woman who is about to shred your no talent ass as a way of announcing my intentions to all these idiots.”
Veronica started to back away, forcing the brunette to walk with her to maintain distance. Slowing down just enough to let Marcille gain ground without being obvious about it, she stopped without warning and did a little finger snapping of her own. “Oh THAT’S right! You’re the cheating bytch! The one who alienated her fans and squandered a fortune! Yeah, I now I remember! I gotta tell you, I’m really going to enjoy kicking your--”
Marvela ran at her with another Leaping Forearm Smash and this time Treymane didn’t dodge. Rather she pivoted into the smaller woman, dropped a shoulder and threaded that arm between Marcille’s thighs. Now the Marvelous One was only fourteen pounds lighter than her opponent, but you’d be forgiven if you thought it was forty pounds because the Pinstripe Powerhouse caught Marvela in that Fireman’s Carry like it was nobody’s business.
With one arm hooked around the brunette’s leg and another over the back of her neck, Veronica turned to all four sides of the ring before she told ‘em, “Looks like it’s already time for a hard goodbye!” The FAWNatics agreed that it was, so Treymane shifted her grip a bit and ‘hupped’ Marcille from the Fireman’s Carry to a Powerbomb stall in one effortless movement. Marvela might be a colossal pain in the ass, but she hadn’t been lying about her championship credentials. That run with the gold had honed her instincts razor sharp and when the smarmy bytch tossed her up, she crossed her ankles and snapped back as hard as she could to flip Treymane onto her back with a pretty Hurracan--NO!
Veronica wrapped her arms around Marcille’s thighs and leaned down so far she almost lost her balance (indeed, her opponent’s head was less than half an inch above the canvas). But Treymane didn’t lose her balance and after a moment to steady herself she hauled Marvela back up into the Powerbomb stall, much to the crowd’s delight. Astonished though she was by this galling turn of events, Marvela was far from paralyzed and thus she plunged one hand into Veronica’s hair curled the other into a fist. Cranking the other woman’s head back to kink her neck and expose as much forehead as possible, Marcille started raining down short, angry punches.
“LET ME GO RIGHT NOW! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE MESSING WHOOOOAAAAHH!”
Veronica stamped forward until she was practically at the edge of the ring and the view of the floor several feet below convinced the ingénue to abandon her shots for a stronger grip on her attacker’s skull. The idea of tossing her screeching burden all the way to the barely-padded floor did hold a certain appeal for the Dangerous Dame, unfortunately there was no way for her to do so without making the trip herself. Since that wasn’t an option, she pushed up on her toes and slung Marcille down so her back ‘twanged’ against the top rope. Whipped back the way she’d come by the cable’s inherent springiness, Marvela found herself forced out of the Powerbomb and dropped back into the Fireman’s Carry she’d first landed in seemingly centuries ago.
“Ok, so it’s not time to say goodbye just yet.” Veronica admitted to the buzzing fans. “But there’s nothing that says I can’t take Daisy here for a spin!”
With that she started to turn, slowly at first, then faster and faster and faster until Marvela’s legs were almost fully extended and her hair was whipping wildly in the blonde-powered propeller of the Airplane Spin. Round and round they went, with the FAWNatics doing their best to catch up. Counting off the turns on an Airplane Spin was a bit trickier than just keeping track of punches, thankfully this was a sharp group of folks and they kept pace for a little more than thirty seconds. That’s when they counted ‘TWENTY!’ and Veronica simply undid her hooks, leaving Marvela to fall from her shoulders with all the grace of a dropped rock. Marcille groaned and flopped onto her back, the perfect candidate for a cover, however the Spin had taken its toll on Treymane as well and she stumbled off to the nearest corner to regain her bearings without even considering a pin.
AIRPLANE SPIN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkVvqMvcGxY
“Welcome to FAWN, Daisy.” she chuckled under her breath. “Hope the bright lights and big noises aren’t making your head spin. Because that’s my job.”
Displaying the better part of valor, a quality she was far more eager to embrace these days than she ever would of done as the ‘Original’ People’s Princess, the dazed Marvela tucked herself into a roll and slipped beneath the bottom rope. The relatively short drop to ringside made getting to get to her feet far easier than it would have done otherwise, but with her vision swimming, firm footing remained elusive, a (later denied) whistle of panic upon her lips as she stumbled in a haphazardly drunken line toward the barricades.
She THUNKED against the railings that were put in place to separate the ‘talent’ from the ‘trash’, her trim tummy folding forward over the top of the steel bar and all but toppling her into the lap of a lucky, if somewhat startled spectator. The FAWNatics cheers were distinctly mocking as they reveled in the pratfall and Marcille continued to blink furiously as she struggled to regain her lost bearings, all the while the young man whose lap she was occupying sat with arms upraised and face rosy, flustered beyond belief by the attention and at a complete loss as to how he should behave.
Marvela, however, displayed no such hesitancy as the reality of the situation snapped back into raw focus and her vision ceased its swimming. Reacting as though she had been scalded by burning coals, the Magnificent Marvel spat and spit like a furious feline, ‘fighting’ her way free and back over onto the right side of the barricade. Pulling down sharply upon her top she pivoted about on the spot, a snarl of indignation upon her features as, with palm outstretched, she SHOVED a humiliating pie-face into the features of the gentlemen trying desperately to apologize.
The spectators reacted poorly and, by all accounts, quite noticeably by those who knew her, so did Treymane, the blonde marching across the ring to bring her closer to Marcille. The BOO’s of the FAWNatics were deafening; the cold silence of Veronica spoke volumes.
“WHAT!?!” Marcille shouted in the Dangerous Dame’s direction, arms outstretched and accusatory, “your sheep was pawing me, Bo Peep! He can spank you after I’m finished!”
Veronica chose not to answer just yet, instead turning to the side and, with a firm buttock, sat down upon the middle rope. With a free hand, she pushed up on the top, a clear and obvious invitation for Marvela get her bratty ass back in the squared circle.
Marvela dropped her arms and tilted her head, apparently thinking the matter over before huffing heavily, irritated beyond words by the further lack of rebuttal. She strode forward and, with a deeply suspicious eye on Veronica, hopped up onto the apron, preparing to duck inside and – immediately withdrew!! Much to the frustration of everyone both inside and outside the squared circle, the Elegant Elitist had barely stuck the tip of her head between the ropes before retreating, hopping back down off the apron and sauntering away with a distinctly dismissive swivel in her hips.
“Come on Marcille!” the official protested, yet to begin his count out, “you’re wasting time.”
Marvela’s answer was a smirk, one that quirked her lips to just one side and, in the memories of spurned, formally faithful, looked all the world like a broken mirror reflection of her one time, heart skipping grin. She lifted her hands and, with a wide, dramatic sweeping of her arms, pointed her index fingers towards the top of her own, imagined crown.
“It’s. My. Time.” she explained to the obviously slow referee, the self indulgent affirmation captured for future prosperity. “The sooner you losers learn that, the sooner this show will run smoothly.”
“I know what else will help,” Treymane corrected, finding her own patience tested and began to duck between the ropes that she had opened.
Marvela darted forwards, the warnings of a few thousand far too fleeting to be of value as one of their former favorites grabbed their current by her barely planted ankle. With a YANK!! Marcille pulled backward and, like an upended tree, the blonde gasped in shock before her back slammed down hard across the canvas. The brunette on the outside continued tugging, trying to use the extended stem as leverage to bring the fight to the cold concrete, but Veronica proved to be no Dame in need of saving, recovering quickly to kick out with her captured stem and attempt to shake it free.
“Off the gam ya grabby Mook, beforARRRRRRHHHH!” her demand went unfinished as Marvela, clearly dissatisfied by her lack of progress changed tactics. Fully extending the blonde’s stunning stem, she wickedly swung the long leg like a pendulum and CRACKED the side of the babyface’s knee into the utterly unyielding, and very much made of steel ringpost!
The FAWNatics winced in sympathy as Veronica howled in protest, her resulting spasm powerful enough to yank her leg free, but the damage was already done. With her elbows braced against the mat and her teeth clenched, Veronica dragged herself across the mat and away from the perilous ring edge, making some needed distance as her stems main joint throbbed in misery.
Marvela, clearly now lacking the reservations about returning to the squared circle she had displayed before, took just one moment to swish out her mane and pivot to the hard camera, winking mockingly in its direction before hopping up onto the apron. The ‘Perfect’ Princess zeroed in on her victim and, with a pattering of feet that was quick enough to rival even the swiftest of her fellow lightweights, darted across the ring and swept up her own knee.
Despite the agony that continued to lance her gorgeous gam, Veronica was more than game enough to try and meet her, pushing up onto her one good stem as she almost made it to kneeling. Unfortunately, ‘almost’ was precisely what Marcille needed and the bridge burning brunette used the posted leg as a launch pad to SLAM home a Shining Wizard, her own (very healthy knee) SMASHING flush into the blonde’s jaw.
With her peepers now several shades more glassy as Marvela continued to glide on past the collision, Treymane pivoted in a slow spiral before folding forward onto her hands and knees. It what a tremendous show of resiliency, to simply not topple over into a dumbfounded stupor after a heavy impact to her features, but alas, while commendable, it also proved to be misguided.
Marcille could barely contain herself as she turned upon the spot and found her favorite pedestal in place and, with a half hearted clapping proceeding it, a disdainful call to arms in which the spectators had no interest in participating, Marvela began another sprint across the ring. Only this time it appeared to be more of a trot, a disrespectful skip that, none the less, took her within range.
At the last pace the Sensational Storm hopped both feet up to stand upon her foe’s penitent back, using the beloved young women as a impromptu stool and forcing a grunt of effort to escape the blonde’s body. Aware of the ‘burden’ she was making herself, Marcille relieved her rival of it, bending her knees before popping and, from a standing start, all but LAUNCHED herself into a delightful back-flip that took her sprightly frame up and over, gravity lending a hand to bring her trim tummy SMACKING down across her Treymane’s back!
MY PEDESTAL @0:35
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JnzyjrnRck
One hundred and twenty pounds of weaponized brunette drove Veronica face-first into the mat, the blonde GRUNTING as the air was driven out of her beguiling body. Marvela wasn’t finished yet though, not as she scurried across the frame of the downed blonde and planted her own, sculptured buttocks firmly into a seated position onto the small of the blonde’s back. Cupping the bottom of the Dangerous Dames chin, Marcille had designs on keeping the taller battler grounded, prepared to reef back on an especially vindictive Camel Clutch.
“Look at you, it’s embarrassing to think I used to be the same, pandering pest,” Marvela degraded with her one sided smirk. “Do you know what a gimmick is Treymane? It’s just foreplay for every grubby, One Man Band out there!”
Veronica didn’t answer at first, in fact she saved her only response for the ref, who got a waggled index finger to confirm that she wasn’t going to surrender. This didn’t sit too well with Marvela, who wasn’t about to be ignored by an escapee from Turner Classic Movies. “Hey, I asked you a question, brat!” Marcille slid her Chinlock a little higher, worked her seat a little bit farther back and YANKED up on Treymane’s chin until she was looking up into her attacker’s leering face. “I said,” Marvela enunciated very clearly, marking each syllable with a hard pull, “Do you know what a gimmick is?”
“Shhhuuu…. sure do, Daisy.” Veronica grunted through clenched teeth. “Do you know what mouthwash isSSSEEEEERRRGGGGGGHHH!”
The wicked brunette put a brutal end to that sass by sliding three fingers on each hand into the sides of Treymane’s mouth and pulling back with a vile fishhook. “Don’t you EVER mouth off to me, loser.” Marvela sniped. “Unless you want that ugly smile to get a whole lot wider.”
Veronica didn’t want that and neither did the referee, who wasted no time in calling the turncoat on her illegal tactics. Marcille nodded her understanding, then proceeded to bear down on the fishhooks until the zebra hit ‘FOUR!’ on his count. Then pulled them loose and made a great show of wiping her fingers on Veronica’s cheeks before reapplying the Chinlock.
“You may be a terrible wrestler, but you do make for a great seat.” she taunted. “And ya squealed like a pig when I had my claws in your disgusting mouth. I wonder if you can make any other barnyard sounds?” Halving her control on the blonde’s chin, Marcille reached over with her free hand, curled two fingers into a prong and hooked them into her prey’s nostrils. “Yeaaaaaaaaah, that’s real good,” Marvela purred as her opponent let loose with a nasal shriek, “sounds just like a sheep! Can you moo for me too, bytch?” Abandoning the Chinlock entirely, the brunette reached down, cupped Treymane’s left breast and squeezed hard.
“All right Marvela, that’s enough!” the ref barked over the displeased roars of the crowd. “Let her go right now! Don’t make me tell you twice!”
Marvela feigned ignorance even as she tried to remove Veronica’s nose from her face. “WHAT’S THAT?” she asked. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER ALL THE SCREAMING!” A yowl from Treymane seemed to prove her point, of course that was because the domineering lass had worked a hand under the cup of her top and mercilessly *tweaked* the blonde’s nipple.
Tired of the newcomer’s games, the ref took a step back and called, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FO--”
In her defense, Marcille would’ve broken it off at ‘FOUR!’ if Veronica hadn’t taken it out of her hands by wrapping both arms around the smaller woman’s thighs and powering to one knee. Suddenly trapped in a piggyback ride she didn’t want, Marvela relinquished both illegal grips for a Sleeper that not even the strictest official could fault. Right arm curled her around Treymane’s throat, Marcille gripped her own left bicep for extra leverage while her left hand cupped the back of the Neo-Noir Knockout’s skull and pushed with all her might.
“Let go of my legs, Treymane.” Marvela’s previous snide tone was gone, it was all business as she snarled into the other woman’s ear. “Let me go right now and maybe, just MAYBE I’ll let you finish this fight on your WHOOAAAAHHHH!”
Not even sort of interested in taking the brunette’s deal, Veronica ‘hupped’ Marvela up a little bit higher and took off toward the far corner as fast as her legs could carry her. Fully aware of what the idiot had planned, Marcille bore down on the Sleeper and reeeeeeeeeeeefed back, desperately trying to halt the ride before-- BWUUUNG! Treymane spun around and hurled herself into the buckles to sandwich the Elegant Elitist between herself and the buckles.
The coil around her throat loosened considerably but remained doggedly intact, so Veronica trudged forward and threw it into reverse to squash the brunette for the second time in less than a minute. That finally got Marvela off her back and Treymane stumbled away to draw her first deep breath in what felt like hours. Much as she wanted to rest, the Dangerous Dame knew this was no time to let the brat recover. That’s why she spun around, charged in and THWHAP!
Arms draped over the top ropes, Marcille leaned back, pulled her legs up and drilled both feet into Treymane’s chest before the blonde could carry out her revenge. Veronica ‘ooofffhed’ and swung back the way she came, unfortunately she didn’t get more than a couple steps before Marvela snatched a huge handful of hair. “You’re not going anywhere, piggy. Not when there’s still so much fun to be had.”
Settling in against the corner, Marcille hopped into a seat on the top turnbuckle and used her hair-hold to wedge Treymane’s chin into her right armpit via an Inverted Facelock. With Veronica reduced from vixen to vulnerable, Marvela winked to the crowd, then pushed off her perch and whipped around in a smooth half circle to land on her stomach while poor Treymane was THWHUNKED down full force on the back of her head and shoulders.
INVERTED TORNADO DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYR4PfwhR6U
Bounced onto her knees in the wake of the Inverted Tornado DDT, Marvela crawled into place above Veronica’s head and palmed the flattened blonde’s shoulders. Stretching out full length, she pushed up on her toes and leaaaaaaned in close, her nose only inches from Veronica’s as she whispered, “You’re not in my league, sweetheart.” This observation was missed by the audience, as they and the referee were too busy counting…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Veronica’s hands darted up and laced over the back of Marcille’s head. In the same instant she pulled the brunette down and brought her right knee up, the two meeting just north of the waist with a dull THUNK!
Marvela yelped and rolled away clutching her head but it wasn’t five seconds before she was back on her feet and coming straight for the Dangerous Dame. “You just don’t learn, do you?” Marcille twined her fingers into Treymane’s hair and hauled her up with half a dozen evil yanks. “Guess it’s hard to wrap your head around modern ideas when you’re stuck in the age of radio dramas and polio shots.”
Nothing but a murmur from Veronica so Marvela fired off a few Kneelifts into her midsection, then helped herself to a Wristlock and stepped back for an Irish Wh-- cheers from those assembled when the Neo-Noir Knockout dug in her heels and sent Marcille to the strands in her place.
Irritated but hardly flustered, Marvela hit the ropes and came back with a good head of steam. Veronica surged forward to meet her, the blonde’s left arm scything out in a Clothesline that would’ve done serious damage if Marcille hadn’t dipped underneath at the last possible minute. Slinging her own arm around the extended limb as she passed by, the Elegant Elitist sprang up and threw herself across Treymane’s shoulders, all the better to thread her legs around the blonde’s right shoulder. Leaning against Veronica’s back with every ounce of her weight, Marcille suddenly snapped backward and, “WHAAAAAGGHHH SHYT!”
She’d meant tear the idiot off her feet with a Crucifix Driver, problem was, no one told Veronica, who’d managed to keep her footing despite the smaller woman’s machinations. Straightening up with Marcille kicking and squirming atop her shoulders, Veronica took a moment and huffed, “Seems like we’ve been here before, doesn’t it?”
“Put me down, bytch!” Marvela commanded. “If you even think about spinning me again I swear to God I’ll AAAAHHHHHH!”
Marcille need not have worried, Treymane was loathe to repeat herself, though you might be forgiven for thinking otherwise when she tossed Marvela up into the stall for a Powerbomb. Rounding toward the corner she’d so recently visited, Veronica broke into a sprint, then tossed the brunette forward and down, Marvela BWUUUUNGING spine-first against the thinly-padded steel. Marcille bounced out and immediately crumpled to her knees, whereupon landing she toppled onto her face, the formerly haughty brunette laid low by Veronica’s improvised Hard Goodbye.
TURNBUCKLE HARD GOODBYE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7RtVCMO25w
Some instincts, however, were deeply ingrained and, even as the small of her back began to spasm uncontrollably, forcing several sharp twitches to shudder through her elegant stems, Marvela found herself willfully returning to the better part of valor. Self preservation had saved her former status as a World Champion just as frequently as her actual skill set, much to the lament of her formerly beloved fan-base, and so it was that Marcille was forever aware of the location of the closest ring ropes. Without even needing to see them, the ‘Magnificent’ Marvel was already well on her way to making a ‘Magnificent’ escape, scampering across the canvas on her hands and knees to speedily slip outside the ring to grab a fresh breather.
“Not on your life ya slippery twist!” Veronica declared, clearly the first to recover following the sudden reverse in fortunes and leaning low to grab not one, but both of the escaping brunette’s ankles!
Marvela yowled in indignation as the blonde upended her lower body and took possession of items that did not belong to her, spitting furiously as she kicked out, gaining enough leverage to thrust her upper body beneath the bottom rope and over the edge of the apron. Unwilling to give up on her surge to freedom, Marcille urgently made a grab for everything within reach, between the apron, the ringpost and even the steel steps before settling upon the bottom rope, managing to roll herself over onto her back as, undaunted by a little hard work, Treymane continued to drag, tug and pull on the brunettes ensnared and thrashing stems.
“Let go,” Veronica insisted.
“No!” Marvela petulantly persisted.
“Suit yourself.”
Too late Marcille realized the change in her opponent’s demeanor, the quirk in the blonde’s lips becoming a snarl as the ‘Original’ People’s Princess understood a pivotal error. In her frantic attempts to wriggle her way free, it had failed to dawn on her until now that she had not so much as ‘rolled’ herself over rather than been ‘flipped’ and, with her ankles being tucked beneath the shoulders of the knockout, her brown eyes opened wide with alarm as she saw her predicament.
“DON’T YOU DA...” Marvela was keen to warn, but clearly Veronica wasn’t prepared to listen, not as she snapped herself backward and, with the brunette’s stems leveraged, Marcille’s own, smaller frame was swung wickedly upwards like a seesaw into a Monkey Flip! Only this was to prove to be the world’s shortest flight as the Monkey Flip was deliberately cut short, the Elegant Elitist positioned so that her throat TWANGED! up into the bottom rope and, with an audible “GACK!!” to accompany it, Marvela ricocheted right back down onto the canvas with a dull thud following her near decapitation.
She lay there prone, her legs no longer kicking and her arms stretched out over head, haughty gaze bleary as her cheeks had turned a worrying shade of rosy, almost enough to match her crimson outfit. Her heaving inhalations were released as gasping sputters and, as Marcille struggled to breathe, she was easy pickings for Treymane to rise unimpeded and purposely drag the silenced brunette towards centre ring.
As charitable as only a Babyface could be, Veronica immediately helped the stuttering Marvela back to her feet, the barely comprehensible profanity falling on deaf ears. Of course, within the squared circle, nothing was done without alterative motive and Treymane all but immediately tucked Marcille forward, guiding one of the young women’s arms between her own thighs so she secure the wrist on the other side and lock in a Pumphandle. Even with all the time in the world, the Dame chose not to waste any, securing her new rival’s second arm as though she were about to begin a painful abdominal stretch, she instead demonstrated her superior strength, lifting the Marvelous One clean off the canvas before spinning her about, the sudden descent heralding a Journey Into Fear!
JOURNEY INTO FEAR
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-2mVWZigWA
Veronica’s signature Backbreaker connected with resounding success, a sudden ‘YELP!!’ from Marcille confirming its devastating effect. Something had surely popped as she her flexible frame bent over backward over the posted knee of the Dangerous Dame, the angle Marvela was wrenched into far too steep to be natural as she flexed and then snapped back into something resembling her original posture. The ‘Perfect’ Princess genuflected from her opponent’s long, weaponized stem and rolled to the canvas with a hollowed out grown, Treymane dropping down across her to claim a pin-fall.
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE...
Marvela threw up a shoulder, a guttural and somewhat undignified growl upon her creased lips as she refused to capitulate.
Undaunted by the second escape, Treymane was immediately back to business, again showing her charitable nature as she began assisting the slightly less ‘Magnificent’ Marvel back up to standing. Marcille, however, wasn’t as keen to see it that way as she hissed her displeasure, “Let go!”
“Hmm,” Veronica took a less than honest second to think the request over before shaking her head, “no.”
Marcille scowled and, as she was jerked up onto her knees she suddenly engaged in behavior unbecoming of a royal and SLAMMED her forearm deep between the thighs of the gorgeous knockout. The ‘Original’ People’s Princess struck her target and the shimmy that entered the gams of Veronica was immediate, as was the release of the astonishingly pained gasp.
The blonde began to stumble backward, folding over as her arms moved with a mind of their own so she could cradle her ruthlessly violated womanhood. It left her in a poor position defensively, as proven when Marvela surged to boot leather, ignoring the flare of agony throughout her own spine as she found her feet and left them immediately; taking flight as she sublimely whipped her lightweight frame about into a blistering Spin Kick!
The face of the brunette’s boot connected flush with the perfectly round cheek of the Dangerous Dame, the SLAP!! of connection turning the blondes head on a gobsmacked swivel, the rest of Treymane’s incredibly sculptured frame following the enforced spiral soon after. The bleary eyed knockout spun a full one eighty, her now somewhat bowlegged gait taking her across the ring and away from the former fan favorite at her back.
SPIN KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQPAMfbBE3Q
Utterly unable to ignore such a sight, Marvela was back on her feet again, powering through the pain as she smelled blood in the water. Marcille had done it all, even in her short career, a prodigal daughter returning and there was not a chance that she was going to be upstaged by a pinstriped putz! She took off at a sprint, zeroing in on Veronica who had grasped the top rope for support, and as she closed the distance swiftly a smile slipped across her vindictive expression as she considered the nuisances of karma.
Even as the FAWNatics shouted a warning, the Elegant Elitist was already airborne, effortlessly flinging her own frame clean over the uppermost coil as if there was naught to it but, instead merely engaging in what could be a suicidal leap, she caught the blindsided Treymane by her noggin. Letting gravity do the work, Marcille plummeted earthwards and YANKED a blonde mane down with her, viciously BWUNGING!! the other young women’s throat down across it!
DIVING STUN GUN CUTTER @3:35
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FQ0IKDvRuE
Utterly unprepared for the assault as it hit her, Veronica whiplashed away from the coil that had briefly, yet so effectively chocked her with a “GAK!” of her own. Down she thundered to the canvas as though she had been shot, coughing and stuttering and her mind struggled to keep up with her bodies’ flurry of punishment.
For her part, Marvela was feeling much better, picking herself up off the concrete after a landing which, regardless of her control, had remained slightly unpleasant. An absurdly self confident smile was back on her features as she cradled the small of her back, composing herself as she shook out her mane and upturned her chin, the ‘Perfect’ Princess indulged the booing masses with an extravagant bow. It was lost on no-one that she had arrived where she had intended to be in the first place, outside the ring where she could recover and plan her next strategy.
“I ALWAYS GET WHAT I WANT!!” she shouted with infuriatingly smug satisfaction, lifting her arms to deliver a duo of one fingers. “And Spoilers,” she continued, unable to resist baiting the ingrates who had once beloved her, “I Win!!”
“Do you want to get your ass kicked?” called a voice somewhere in the front row. “Because that’s what’s gonna happen!”
Not about to take that sort of sass from a bunch of bed wetters and basement dwellers, Marcille stormed up and down the length of the guardrail in search of the offending fan. “Who said that?” she barked. “C’mon big man, here’s your chance to talk shyt to someone on something other than a keyboard! You got something to say, let’s hear it!”
There were plenty of jeers in response, but nothing from that particular heckler, which both pleased and irritated Marvela to no end. Dismissing the trolls with a pair of double M’s she promptly transformed into a pair of birds, the disowned fan favorite whirled around and hopped onto the apron right around ‘TEN!’ on the ref’s count. That short break had done both wrestlers some good, though Treymane definitely got the short end of the stick as she was still down on all fours nursing her throat while Marvela was itching to resume her assault. Electing to head to the nearest corner rather than launch a head-on assault via Springboard, Marcille scurried over to the nearest corner and hopped over onto the second turnbuckle.
This angle put her directly behind the Neo-Noir Knockout when she started to rise shortly after her foe returned to the squared circle. As of yet oblivious to the threat, Treymane’s ignorance came to an abrupt end thanks to a warning cry from the fans and a taunting whistle from Marcille herself. Alas, mere information didn’t guarantee one’s safety. One had to act upon said information and unfortunately for Veronica she spun directly into the path of her airborne adversary. Stretched out sideways like she was thinking about a Diving Crossbody Press, Marvela instead extended her right arm and THWHAPPED the Dangerous Dame across the sternum with a Diving Clothesline that put her on the canvas with ring-rattling force.
DIVING CLOTHESLINE @ 3:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLqLJiMYVzg
Treymane sat up and clutched the back of her head but otherwise offered no resistance when Marcille shoveled her onto her back and laid down in a domineering Lateral Press. Far too sure of herself to stoop to hooking a leg, Marvela kept her palms flat and blew the hard camera a kiss while the official counted…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Veronica stuffed a hand against her foe’s chin and shoved her back on her ass, much to the delight of everyone not named Marvela Marcille. Cheeks flushed pink following the aggressive dismissal, Marvela scrambled to her feet and promptly drove them into the blonde’s ribs with nearly a dozen stomps. Halting only when her hip started to ache, she bent down, buried her hands in the big blonde’s hair, and scraped her off the canvas.
“Up. I said UP you petulant pretender!” More focused on her be-stomped middle than the burn in her scalp, Veronica dug deep enough to fire a few ‘get offa me’ punches into her attacker’s ribs, but Marcille stopped the jailbreak before it began with a savage rake of the eyes.
“Hey, watch the eyes Marvela!” the zebra said of the blatant illegal tactic.
“You watch ‘em!” the brunette snapped back. “And that’s MS. Marcille to you, peon!”
Forgetting him before the words were entirely out of her mouth, Marcille went low and snuggled a Waistlock in against Treymane’s left side. Feet planted she bent deep and hoisted Veronica into the air, only to set her down again when she proved too heavy. The laughter from the crowd proved to be just what she needed and Marvela shut them up but good when her second attempt took the Dangerous Dame up, over and DOWN onto the back of her head and shoulders. Rolled through to a seat by the Side Suplex, Veronica flopped out at once and ended up tumbling a good distance away, her arms once again swaddling the back of her abused skull.
SIDE SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpU6kNgZyc4
Elsewhere, Marvela sat up and smirked over one shoulder. “Go back to the land of black and white has-beens and never was’s, loser.” she taunted the hurting blonde. “You’ve got no place here in my Marvelous, Technicolor world.”
No response from Treymane, so Marvela stood up and sauntered over to the wreckage. Helping herself to an ankle and a wrist, she dragged Veronica a bit closer to center ring before tossing her limbs aside and stepping on tummy en route to the nearest corner. Springing from the ground floor to the penthouse in a single bound, she twisted around to face the squared circle and stood up straight. “Swallow those sweet treats and salty snacks you miserable fatties!” she demanded of the FAWNatics. “I won’t be held responsible for anyone choking when I take their breath away!”
Punctuating that sentiment with another pair of middle fingers, Marcille leapt into the void, curled her limber frame into a tight ball and rolled through a full four-hundred and fifty degrees worth of revolution before she stretched out and THWHAMMED down on Treymane’s tummy in a glorious Splash. Confident as ever, Marcille still didn’t hook a leg, she did however sit up and swing a leg over to take a confident tush on tits seat atop her prone prey. With one hand pressed to Veronica’s midsection and the other extended high overhead, Marvela joined the ref and several thousand spectators in counting out the…
450 SPLASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtHEeqOnVK8
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Veronica got her hands against Marcille’s insolent backside and shoved her off with all of a heartbeat to spare. “WHAT?” Marvela bellowed, her eyes wide and oh so furious. “ARE YOU FAHKING KIDDING ME!? SHE’S PUDDING ON THE INSIDE, THERE’S NO WAY SHE KICKED OUT!”
The ref held his ground though, steadfastly offering two fingers when Marcille kept demanding three. Finally forced to admit the buffoon wouldn’t see reason, the brunette stalked back to Treymane and hauled her upright with the most spiteful hair pull in recent memory. “Time to read your last will and testament, bytch.” Marvela slapped Treymane’s cheek on general principle. “Hope you made it a good one. Because no one’s going to remember you when you’re gone.”
She followed that missive with another scathing Bytch Slap, then whirled around and raced to the ropes opposite. Charging back the way she’d came, Marcille took to the skies and landed with her legs straddling each side of the blonde’s head. Ankles crossed, she leaned forward and torqued her hips to flip Treymane off her feet with a HurricanranNOOOOOOOOO! The Neo-Noir Knockout must’ve sensed the ‘Rana coming because she pushed off in time with Marvela’s launch, thus giving her enough momentum to swing through onto her butt while poor Marcille was PLANTED flat on her back via an emphatic Yoshi Tonic! Just as amazed as the crowd, the official dove in beside the battlers and counted off…
SO PRETTY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=CuxCjXeOciQ
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Marvela shuddered loose and ended up on her stomach, one arm draped awkwardly against the back of her head. Feeling much better now that she’d shut Marcille’s mouth, Veronica slid away, got to her feet and stumbled into the ropes to take a breather. Didn’t amount to much though, not with the tenacious brunette showing signs of life almost immediately thereafter.
“I don’t know if they’re black and white or Technicolor,” Treymane muttered under her breath, “but Daisy, you’re about to see stars.”
Resisting the urge to stamp the mat, Veronica hoisted an invisible Thompson and raked the rafters of the FAWN arena while Marvela struggled to verticality. In motion as soon as the smaller woman started to turn, the Pinstripe Powerhouse pivoted around on her right foot, then hopped up and THWHACKED it into Marcille’s unsuspecting face! Zapped by a full dose of Chicago Lightning, Marvela got turned inside out and would’ve stayed on the canvas for a very long time if Veronica hadn’t scraped her up almost immediately thereafter.
CHICAGO LIGHTNING:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vN3jJgwDcXU
“You’re on your way to bein’ a real hard case, you know that Daisy?” the blonde asked as she laced her hands across the back of Marvela’s neck and twisted her head sharply toward her left shoulder. “You’ve got speed, strength, smarts and lord knows you’ve got sass. Far as I can see, there’s only one thing you’re lacking.” With that she dipped her knees and pulled up, forcing Marcille to hop and lace her legs around opposing waist. Marvela’s legs didn’t feel nearly as strong as they had even a minute ago, but that didn’t mean Treymane was in the mood to let her linger overlong. Cranking the Cravate a little tighter, she started to spin in a wobbly circle, one that smoothed out with each passing revolution. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Treymane pushed onto her toes and dropped to her butt, the impact sending Marcille’s head whiplashing back to the mat with vile force. Spread out nice and flat by the Maltese Noose, Marvela only groaned when Treymane laid her legs over the brunette’s biceps and crowded in against her upturned haunches for the…
MALTESE NOOSE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3amQS-IQFLc
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Veronica put her hands on Marcille’s tush and pushed her away, leaving the former fan favorite and current insensate heap sprawled on her stomach while the Announcer bellowed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… VERONICA TREYMANE!”
The Dangerous Dame stood up and broke into a big smile when the ref raised her hand. Treating herself to a boot planted on Marvela’s tush, she raked a hand through her hair and smiled for the camera. “That’s another roundheels brat set to rights.” she said. “Any of you other hair pullers and trunk grabbers want to get put down, you know where to find me. That goes double for you, Alexis. When you finally get tired of scouting, come down here and we’ll have a nice, civilized chat, just the two of us.”
Gauntlet thrown, Treymane raised her hands one more time and put a little bit more pressure on Marvela’s buns, just to make sure she wouldn’t forget. Then the blonde battler went to the corner, grabbed her fedora and slipped out of the ring en route to a much deserved victory celebration with the aisle-side FAWNatics.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLjitP78tag&list=PLPuOyWan3CRuPoCuzoiHkAq0VNWg308E4
The opening guitar riff, no different than it had been years earlier, heralded the arrival of Wrestling’s wayward black sheep, the girl who’d had it all and choose to burn it in an act of petulance, opting to make an early exit from the industry that she had been born into whilst nuking as many bridges as she could along the way. Unrepentant summed up her demeanour following her return, and ‘Marvellous’ Marvela Marcille remained every inch the ‘Original’ People’s Princess as she arrived on stage.
MARVELA MARCILLE:
She smiled as she appeared, lights catching all the right curves as she stood without fear, regal in her bearing and utterly without hesitation, raising one hand high, palm faced outward in welcome as the pyrotechnics erupted bombastically to either side of her. She seemed oblivious to the boos that were there to welcome her, the fans she had so effortlessly scorned following her messy exodus not making a dent in the apparent fiction she had created all about herself.
It was this, however, that was the facade, and eventually she broke the illusion and she greeted the crowd’s heckling with an indulgent roll of her eyes, a slightly exasperated ‘tut’ upon her lips and a world weary smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With her less than sincere efforts of extending an olive branch rebuffed, Marvela launched into a light stepped stride down the ramp, the saunter of hips and the swish of her shoulders full of self assured swagger, her mane of chocolate brown immaculate and shimmering, matching her gaze and showing not even a hint of fallibility.
The crimson of the Lightweight’s attire was bright and fierce, the fabric whisper thin and slipping about her every, perfectly carved and refined contours, the two piece outfit as much a part of her as her own personality. The single strap top cut to just below her bosom, leaving her firm tummy temptingly naked, a explosion of yellow and orange sat dead centre between her breasts, a promise of the fury she would surely unleash against anyone unfortunate enough to face her. Her shorts were modest by FAWN standards, even as they left exceedingly little to the imagination, slipping downwards to mid thigh whilst boots, pads and gloves finished off the ensemble that had once been adored by so many, and had so badly hurt the very same.
She spun in a one eighty spiral, sweeping out her arms to either side as she continued to saunter backwards, smiling in a way that suggested that she knew that she was hot shit, and everyone else was just burned by it, her stride as infuriatingly confident in reverse as it was in going the right way. It was at this point she spotted one sign in particular, a message that was repeated several times over throughout the arena in preparation of her appearance, and she barely even had to read the words to know what it said.
What it always said.
NOT “OUR” PRINCESS
She merely rolled her eyes once more and dismissed the heartbroken sentiment with a dismissive flick of her wrist, turning back to sauntering the right way as she reached the ring. She strode up the steel steps and slipped into the squared circle like a welcomed heroine, taking a diagonal path across the canvas until she reached the opposite corner. Marvela climbed the turnbuckles and swept up her arms as if in welcome, ready to salute the crowds that lov... Marcille couldn’t do it, a wickedly indulgent grin marring her features as she opted to flip off the FAWNatics instead, and even that gesture seemed half hearted in its effort as she barely considered them worthy of it. The ‘Perfect’ Princess hopped back down, languishing in the corner as she waited for stage stooges to do their job and welcome the Jobber who would be her opponent for the evening to come out.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the Announcer began, the FAWNatics willing to afford him a small measure of silence to perform his duties. “The following contest if scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, standing at five foot five and weighing in one hundred and twenty pounds, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess… MARVELOUS MARVELA MARCILLE!!!”
Needless to say, the warmth of the FAWNatics did not improve.
The crowd was still giving it to Marvela full force when the FAWN’tron flickered from glorious HD to a ghostly black & white. For viewers at home, the whole arena underwent the same chromatic bleaching. Alongside this grayscale scheme came a decidedly modern combination of guitar and drums, the thrumming beat that heralded Social Distortion’s ‘Machine Gun Blues’. Shortly thereafter the Magnificent Moll strode through the curtain.
MACHINE GUN BLUES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uf3FOEL3KjE
VERONICA TREYMANE:
Dressed in a half length (it ended about mid-thigh) grey trench coat and matching fedora, Veronica Treymane broke into a knowing smile when the sold out crowd roared ’SHOW US THE HEAT!’ She cocked her head to one side. “You sure ’bout that, fellas?” ‘SHOW US THE HEAT!’ came at her even louder than before. “All right, you asked for it.” Veronica whipped open the coat with her free hand and raised the replica Thompson sub machinegun to the rafters. “HANDS IN THE AIR YOUSE MUGS!” she called. “IT‘S ABOUT TO GET REAL HOT IN HERE!” Displaying a technique worthy of any noir-era femme fatale, Veronica squeezed the trigger and swept it back ‘n forth to rake the air with a blistering line of pyro that did a damned good job imitating real artillery. When the clip was exhausted Treymane raised it to her lips, blew smoke off the barrel and started her way down the aisle.
Granted permission to resume his duties only when the Thompson was done talking, the Announcer said, “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Bridgeport California, she stands at five feet eight inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-four pounds. She is the Neo-Noir Knockout… VERONICA TREYMANE!”
With the blonde moving fast and the coat flapping out in her wake, the FAWN faithful got a much better view of her ring attire. Tonight she sported boy-cut trunks in grey with white pinstripes and topped with a sturdy white belt. The top was a matching one-third length bustier with small buttons running up the center and white edging atop the cups. These halves were connected thin white suspenders, while her pads at knee and elbow were charcoal grey. The outfit was finished with matte-black boots that rose to mid-shin.
Pausing for the occasional ‘Wanted Poster’ with her growing fan base, Treymane made her way down the aisle, then went left at the end and headed up the steel steps where she placed a hand on the brim of her fedora. Headgear properly secured, the Dangerous Dame slipped through the ropes and strode to the official to whom she handed her firepower. She shrugged the trench coat loose immediately thereafter and draped it over his arm. “Gonna keep my barking iron safe tonight, Shamus?”
“Yes ma’am, well out of Gordy’s reach.”
“Good man.” Veronica clapped him on the shoulder, then offered her wrists, elbows and knees for inspection. Once she was cleared the blonde went to her corner, grabbed the top rope in both hands and dropped into a deep stretch, working to get the last of the kinks out before the dance began.
The bell CLANGED and Marvela clapped her hands once, albeit without much enthusiasm. “All right, let’s get this over with.” she announced while strutting out of her corner. “The sooner I dismiss this nobody the sooner I can destroy someone who actually matters.”
Veronica had never shared a ring with Marcille before tonight, but she was well-versed in the other woman’s tactics and histrionics, as they’d been a regular topic of conversation during her Jungle tenure. Even so, it didn’t quite prepare her for coming face to face with the woman herself and Treymane had to work hard to keep her expression neutral. Suddenly quite eager to change Marvela’s opinion of her skills, the Neo-Noir Knockout forced herself to stay in the corner for a little while longer. She wanted to see how the petulant little brat would react when she didn’t immediately get her way.
To put it quite simply: not well.
Disgusted by what was either a show of idiocy (bad enough) or gross insubordination, the red-clad battler actually stamped her foot and pointed an accusing finger at Treymane while glaring daggers at the ref. “What is THIS shyt?” she barked at the poor zebra. “Did you morons actually fix me up with a dolt as some form of hazing? You know who I am, right? I could have your jobs like that!”
Marcille was about to snap her fingers to emphasize the point when Veronica called out, “He’s not hazing you, Daisy. And I heard you just fine. Wanted to find out if you were as big a brat as my co-workers say you are. From what I’ve seen so far they seem to have downplayed it by a lot.”
Marvela stared at the bytch like she was some sort of new and fascinating insect under glass. “Excuse me, who the HELL are you again? I couldn’t help but fall asleep during your entrance.”
One side of Treymane’s mouth curved upward in a small, undeniably dismissive smile. “Name’s Veronica Treymane, Daisy. But you’ll call me that girl who kicked my teeth down my throat.”
The newcomer rolled her eyes. “Is that so? Then perhaps I’d better--” She charged, leapt and would’ve planted a resounding Forearm Smash in Treymane’s gob if the Dangerous Dame hadn’t spun away with a heartbeat to spare. Marcille’s elbow struck the top turnbuckle with a low ‘bwung’, thankfully the pad was enough to dull the impact to a mild string. Whirling around, the haughty-eyed brunette readied for a counterattack and was disappointed and irritated to discuss Veronica waiting near the center of the ring. Hands on her hips, the Marvelous One said, “You really shouldn’t keep me waiting. I get angry.”
“You really shouldn’t telegraph your moves so clearly.” Veronica answered blandly. “I get bored. Is this your first match, Daisy?”
Marvela knew it was a lie, just the tone of the bytch’s voice was proof enough that she knew EXACTLY who she was dealing with, but somehow it made the feigned ignorance that much worse. More than willing to play this game with the snippy bytch, Marcille started toward her and snarked, “Your complexion tells me you’ve been living under a rock, so allow me to introduce myself. I am ‘MARVELOUS’ Marvela Marcille and not only is this not my first match, I am the youngest woman to ever hold a World Championship on this continent or any other. A bit more important to you however, I am the woman who is about to shred your no talent ass as a way of announcing my intentions to all these idiots.”
Veronica started to back away, forcing the brunette to walk with her to maintain distance. Slowing down just enough to let Marcille gain ground without being obvious about it, she stopped without warning and did a little finger snapping of her own. “Oh THAT’S right! You’re the cheating bytch! The one who alienated her fans and squandered a fortune! Yeah, I now I remember! I gotta tell you, I’m really going to enjoy kicking your--”
Marvela ran at her with another Leaping Forearm Smash and this time Treymane didn’t dodge. Rather she pivoted into the smaller woman, dropped a shoulder and threaded that arm between Marcille’s thighs. Now the Marvelous One was only fourteen pounds lighter than her opponent, but you’d be forgiven if you thought it was forty pounds because the Pinstripe Powerhouse caught Marvela in that Fireman’s Carry like it was nobody’s business.
With one arm hooked around the brunette’s leg and another over the back of her neck, Veronica turned to all four sides of the ring before she told ‘em, “Looks like it’s already time for a hard goodbye!” The FAWNatics agreed that it was, so Treymane shifted her grip a bit and ‘hupped’ Marcille from the Fireman’s Carry to a Powerbomb stall in one effortless movement. Marvela might be a colossal pain in the ass, but she hadn’t been lying about her championship credentials. That run with the gold had honed her instincts razor sharp and when the smarmy bytch tossed her up, she crossed her ankles and snapped back as hard as she could to flip Treymane onto her back with a pretty Hurracan--NO!
Veronica wrapped her arms around Marcille’s thighs and leaned down so far she almost lost her balance (indeed, her opponent’s head was less than half an inch above the canvas). But Treymane didn’t lose her balance and after a moment to steady herself she hauled Marvela back up into the Powerbomb stall, much to the crowd’s delight. Astonished though she was by this galling turn of events, Marvela was far from paralyzed and thus she plunged one hand into Veronica’s hair curled the other into a fist. Cranking the other woman’s head back to kink her neck and expose as much forehead as possible, Marcille started raining down short, angry punches.
“LET ME GO RIGHT NOW! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE MESSING WHOOOOAAAAHH!”
Veronica stamped forward until she was practically at the edge of the ring and the view of the floor several feet below convinced the ingénue to abandon her shots for a stronger grip on her attacker’s skull. The idea of tossing her screeching burden all the way to the barely-padded floor did hold a certain appeal for the Dangerous Dame, unfortunately there was no way for her to do so without making the trip herself. Since that wasn’t an option, she pushed up on her toes and slung Marcille down so her back ‘twanged’ against the top rope. Whipped back the way she’d come by the cable’s inherent springiness, Marvela found herself forced out of the Powerbomb and dropped back into the Fireman’s Carry she’d first landed in seemingly centuries ago.
“Ok, so it’s not time to say goodbye just yet.” Veronica admitted to the buzzing fans. “But there’s nothing that says I can’t take Daisy here for a spin!”
With that she started to turn, slowly at first, then faster and faster and faster until Marvela’s legs were almost fully extended and her hair was whipping wildly in the blonde-powered propeller of the Airplane Spin. Round and round they went, with the FAWNatics doing their best to catch up. Counting off the turns on an Airplane Spin was a bit trickier than just keeping track of punches, thankfully this was a sharp group of folks and they kept pace for a little more than thirty seconds. That’s when they counted ‘TWENTY!’ and Veronica simply undid her hooks, leaving Marvela to fall from her shoulders with all the grace of a dropped rock. Marcille groaned and flopped onto her back, the perfect candidate for a cover, however the Spin had taken its toll on Treymane as well and she stumbled off to the nearest corner to regain her bearings without even considering a pin.
AIRPLANE SPIN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkVvqMvcGxY
“Welcome to FAWN, Daisy.” she chuckled under her breath. “Hope the bright lights and big noises aren’t making your head spin. Because that’s my job.”
Displaying the better part of valor, a quality she was far more eager to embrace these days than she ever would of done as the ‘Original’ People’s Princess, the dazed Marvela tucked herself into a roll and slipped beneath the bottom rope. The relatively short drop to ringside made getting to get to her feet far easier than it would have done otherwise, but with her vision swimming, firm footing remained elusive, a (later denied) whistle of panic upon her lips as she stumbled in a haphazardly drunken line toward the barricades.
She THUNKED against the railings that were put in place to separate the ‘talent’ from the ‘trash’, her trim tummy folding forward over the top of the steel bar and all but toppling her into the lap of a lucky, if somewhat startled spectator. The FAWNatics cheers were distinctly mocking as they reveled in the pratfall and Marcille continued to blink furiously as she struggled to regain her lost bearings, all the while the young man whose lap she was occupying sat with arms upraised and face rosy, flustered beyond belief by the attention and at a complete loss as to how he should behave.
Marvela, however, displayed no such hesitancy as the reality of the situation snapped back into raw focus and her vision ceased its swimming. Reacting as though she had been scalded by burning coals, the Magnificent Marvel spat and spit like a furious feline, ‘fighting’ her way free and back over onto the right side of the barricade. Pulling down sharply upon her top she pivoted about on the spot, a snarl of indignation upon her features as, with palm outstretched, she SHOVED a humiliating pie-face into the features of the gentlemen trying desperately to apologize.
The spectators reacted poorly and, by all accounts, quite noticeably by those who knew her, so did Treymane, the blonde marching across the ring to bring her closer to Marcille. The BOO’s of the FAWNatics were deafening; the cold silence of Veronica spoke volumes.
“WHAT!?!” Marcille shouted in the Dangerous Dame’s direction, arms outstretched and accusatory, “your sheep was pawing me, Bo Peep! He can spank you after I’m finished!”
Veronica chose not to answer just yet, instead turning to the side and, with a firm buttock, sat down upon the middle rope. With a free hand, she pushed up on the top, a clear and obvious invitation for Marvela get her bratty ass back in the squared circle.
Marvela dropped her arms and tilted her head, apparently thinking the matter over before huffing heavily, irritated beyond words by the further lack of rebuttal. She strode forward and, with a deeply suspicious eye on Veronica, hopped up onto the apron, preparing to duck inside and – immediately withdrew!! Much to the frustration of everyone both inside and outside the squared circle, the Elegant Elitist had barely stuck the tip of her head between the ropes before retreating, hopping back down off the apron and sauntering away with a distinctly dismissive swivel in her hips.
“Come on Marcille!” the official protested, yet to begin his count out, “you’re wasting time.”
Marvela’s answer was a smirk, one that quirked her lips to just one side and, in the memories of spurned, formally faithful, looked all the world like a broken mirror reflection of her one time, heart skipping grin. She lifted her hands and, with a wide, dramatic sweeping of her arms, pointed her index fingers towards the top of her own, imagined crown.
“It’s. My. Time.” she explained to the obviously slow referee, the self indulgent affirmation captured for future prosperity. “The sooner you losers learn that, the sooner this show will run smoothly.”
“I know what else will help,” Treymane corrected, finding her own patience tested and began to duck between the ropes that she had opened.
Marvela darted forwards, the warnings of a few thousand far too fleeting to be of value as one of their former favorites grabbed their current by her barely planted ankle. With a YANK!! Marcille pulled backward and, like an upended tree, the blonde gasped in shock before her back slammed down hard across the canvas. The brunette on the outside continued tugging, trying to use the extended stem as leverage to bring the fight to the cold concrete, but Veronica proved to be no Dame in need of saving, recovering quickly to kick out with her captured stem and attempt to shake it free.
“Off the gam ya grabby Mook, beforARRRRRRHHHH!” her demand went unfinished as Marvela, clearly dissatisfied by her lack of progress changed tactics. Fully extending the blonde’s stunning stem, she wickedly swung the long leg like a pendulum and CRACKED the side of the babyface’s knee into the utterly unyielding, and very much made of steel ringpost!
The FAWNatics winced in sympathy as Veronica howled in protest, her resulting spasm powerful enough to yank her leg free, but the damage was already done. With her elbows braced against the mat and her teeth clenched, Veronica dragged herself across the mat and away from the perilous ring edge, making some needed distance as her stems main joint throbbed in misery.
Marvela, clearly now lacking the reservations about returning to the squared circle she had displayed before, took just one moment to swish out her mane and pivot to the hard camera, winking mockingly in its direction before hopping up onto the apron. The ‘Perfect’ Princess zeroed in on her victim and, with a pattering of feet that was quick enough to rival even the swiftest of her fellow lightweights, darted across the ring and swept up her own knee.
Despite the agony that continued to lance her gorgeous gam, Veronica was more than game enough to try and meet her, pushing up onto her one good stem as she almost made it to kneeling. Unfortunately, ‘almost’ was precisely what Marcille needed and the bridge burning brunette used the posted leg as a launch pad to SLAM home a Shining Wizard, her own (very healthy knee) SMASHING flush into the blonde’s jaw.
With her peepers now several shades more glassy as Marvela continued to glide on past the collision, Treymane pivoted in a slow spiral before folding forward onto her hands and knees. It what a tremendous show of resiliency, to simply not topple over into a dumbfounded stupor after a heavy impact to her features, but alas, while commendable, it also proved to be misguided.
Marcille could barely contain herself as she turned upon the spot and found her favorite pedestal in place and, with a half hearted clapping proceeding it, a disdainful call to arms in which the spectators had no interest in participating, Marvela began another sprint across the ring. Only this time it appeared to be more of a trot, a disrespectful skip that, none the less, took her within range.
At the last pace the Sensational Storm hopped both feet up to stand upon her foe’s penitent back, using the beloved young women as a impromptu stool and forcing a grunt of effort to escape the blonde’s body. Aware of the ‘burden’ she was making herself, Marcille relieved her rival of it, bending her knees before popping and, from a standing start, all but LAUNCHED herself into a delightful back-flip that took her sprightly frame up and over, gravity lending a hand to bring her trim tummy SMACKING down across her Treymane’s back!
MY PEDESTAL @0:35
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JnzyjrnRck
One hundred and twenty pounds of weaponized brunette drove Veronica face-first into the mat, the blonde GRUNTING as the air was driven out of her beguiling body. Marvela wasn’t finished yet though, not as she scurried across the frame of the downed blonde and planted her own, sculptured buttocks firmly into a seated position onto the small of the blonde’s back. Cupping the bottom of the Dangerous Dames chin, Marcille had designs on keeping the taller battler grounded, prepared to reef back on an especially vindictive Camel Clutch.
“Look at you, it’s embarrassing to think I used to be the same, pandering pest,” Marvela degraded with her one sided smirk. “Do you know what a gimmick is Treymane? It’s just foreplay for every grubby, One Man Band out there!”
Veronica didn’t answer at first, in fact she saved her only response for the ref, who got a waggled index finger to confirm that she wasn’t going to surrender. This didn’t sit too well with Marvela, who wasn’t about to be ignored by an escapee from Turner Classic Movies. “Hey, I asked you a question, brat!” Marcille slid her Chinlock a little higher, worked her seat a little bit farther back and YANKED up on Treymane’s chin until she was looking up into her attacker’s leering face. “I said,” Marvela enunciated very clearly, marking each syllable with a hard pull, “Do you know what a gimmick is?”
“Shhhuuu…. sure do, Daisy.” Veronica grunted through clenched teeth. “Do you know what mouthwash isSSSEEEEERRRGGGGGGHHH!”
The wicked brunette put a brutal end to that sass by sliding three fingers on each hand into the sides of Treymane’s mouth and pulling back with a vile fishhook. “Don’t you EVER mouth off to me, loser.” Marvela sniped. “Unless you want that ugly smile to get a whole lot wider.”
Veronica didn’t want that and neither did the referee, who wasted no time in calling the turncoat on her illegal tactics. Marcille nodded her understanding, then proceeded to bear down on the fishhooks until the zebra hit ‘FOUR!’ on his count. Then pulled them loose and made a great show of wiping her fingers on Veronica’s cheeks before reapplying the Chinlock.
“You may be a terrible wrestler, but you do make for a great seat.” she taunted. “And ya squealed like a pig when I had my claws in your disgusting mouth. I wonder if you can make any other barnyard sounds?” Halving her control on the blonde’s chin, Marcille reached over with her free hand, curled two fingers into a prong and hooked them into her prey’s nostrils. “Yeaaaaaaaaah, that’s real good,” Marvela purred as her opponent let loose with a nasal shriek, “sounds just like a sheep! Can you moo for me too, bytch?” Abandoning the Chinlock entirely, the brunette reached down, cupped Treymane’s left breast and squeezed hard.
“All right Marvela, that’s enough!” the ref barked over the displeased roars of the crowd. “Let her go right now! Don’t make me tell you twice!”
Marvela feigned ignorance even as she tried to remove Veronica’s nose from her face. “WHAT’S THAT?” she asked. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER ALL THE SCREAMING!” A yowl from Treymane seemed to prove her point, of course that was because the domineering lass had worked a hand under the cup of her top and mercilessly *tweaked* the blonde’s nipple.
Tired of the newcomer’s games, the ref took a step back and called, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FO--”
In her defense, Marcille would’ve broken it off at ‘FOUR!’ if Veronica hadn’t taken it out of her hands by wrapping both arms around the smaller woman’s thighs and powering to one knee. Suddenly trapped in a piggyback ride she didn’t want, Marvela relinquished both illegal grips for a Sleeper that not even the strictest official could fault. Right arm curled her around Treymane’s throat, Marcille gripped her own left bicep for extra leverage while her left hand cupped the back of the Neo-Noir Knockout’s skull and pushed with all her might.
“Let go of my legs, Treymane.” Marvela’s previous snide tone was gone, it was all business as she snarled into the other woman’s ear. “Let me go right now and maybe, just MAYBE I’ll let you finish this fight on your WHOOAAAAHHHH!”
Not even sort of interested in taking the brunette’s deal, Veronica ‘hupped’ Marvela up a little bit higher and took off toward the far corner as fast as her legs could carry her. Fully aware of what the idiot had planned, Marcille bore down on the Sleeper and reeeeeeeeeeeefed back, desperately trying to halt the ride before-- BWUUUNG! Treymane spun around and hurled herself into the buckles to sandwich the Elegant Elitist between herself and the buckles.
The coil around her throat loosened considerably but remained doggedly intact, so Veronica trudged forward and threw it into reverse to squash the brunette for the second time in less than a minute. That finally got Marvela off her back and Treymane stumbled away to draw her first deep breath in what felt like hours. Much as she wanted to rest, the Dangerous Dame knew this was no time to let the brat recover. That’s why she spun around, charged in and THWHAP!
Arms draped over the top ropes, Marcille leaned back, pulled her legs up and drilled both feet into Treymane’s chest before the blonde could carry out her revenge. Veronica ‘ooofffhed’ and swung back the way she came, unfortunately she didn’t get more than a couple steps before Marvela snatched a huge handful of hair. “You’re not going anywhere, piggy. Not when there’s still so much fun to be had.”
Settling in against the corner, Marcille hopped into a seat on the top turnbuckle and used her hair-hold to wedge Treymane’s chin into her right armpit via an Inverted Facelock. With Veronica reduced from vixen to vulnerable, Marvela winked to the crowd, then pushed off her perch and whipped around in a smooth half circle to land on her stomach while poor Treymane was THWHUNKED down full force on the back of her head and shoulders.
INVERTED TORNADO DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYR4PfwhR6U
Bounced onto her knees in the wake of the Inverted Tornado DDT, Marvela crawled into place above Veronica’s head and palmed the flattened blonde’s shoulders. Stretching out full length, she pushed up on her toes and leaaaaaaned in close, her nose only inches from Veronica’s as she whispered, “You’re not in my league, sweetheart.” This observation was missed by the audience, as they and the referee were too busy counting…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Veronica’s hands darted up and laced over the back of Marcille’s head. In the same instant she pulled the brunette down and brought her right knee up, the two meeting just north of the waist with a dull THUNK!
Marvela yelped and rolled away clutching her head but it wasn’t five seconds before she was back on her feet and coming straight for the Dangerous Dame. “You just don’t learn, do you?” Marcille twined her fingers into Treymane’s hair and hauled her up with half a dozen evil yanks. “Guess it’s hard to wrap your head around modern ideas when you’re stuck in the age of radio dramas and polio shots.”
Nothing but a murmur from Veronica so Marvela fired off a few Kneelifts into her midsection, then helped herself to a Wristlock and stepped back for an Irish Wh-- cheers from those assembled when the Neo-Noir Knockout dug in her heels and sent Marcille to the strands in her place.
Irritated but hardly flustered, Marvela hit the ropes and came back with a good head of steam. Veronica surged forward to meet her, the blonde’s left arm scything out in a Clothesline that would’ve done serious damage if Marcille hadn’t dipped underneath at the last possible minute. Slinging her own arm around the extended limb as she passed by, the Elegant Elitist sprang up and threw herself across Treymane’s shoulders, all the better to thread her legs around the blonde’s right shoulder. Leaning against Veronica’s back with every ounce of her weight, Marcille suddenly snapped backward and, “WHAAAAAGGHHH SHYT!”
She’d meant tear the idiot off her feet with a Crucifix Driver, problem was, no one told Veronica, who’d managed to keep her footing despite the smaller woman’s machinations. Straightening up with Marcille kicking and squirming atop her shoulders, Veronica took a moment and huffed, “Seems like we’ve been here before, doesn’t it?”
“Put me down, bytch!” Marvela commanded. “If you even think about spinning me again I swear to God I’ll AAAAHHHHHH!”
Marcille need not have worried, Treymane was loathe to repeat herself, though you might be forgiven for thinking otherwise when she tossed Marvela up into the stall for a Powerbomb. Rounding toward the corner she’d so recently visited, Veronica broke into a sprint, then tossed the brunette forward and down, Marvela BWUUUUNGING spine-first against the thinly-padded steel. Marcille bounced out and immediately crumpled to her knees, whereupon landing she toppled onto her face, the formerly haughty brunette laid low by Veronica’s improvised Hard Goodbye.
TURNBUCKLE HARD GOODBYE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7RtVCMO25w
Some instincts, however, were deeply ingrained and, even as the small of her back began to spasm uncontrollably, forcing several sharp twitches to shudder through her elegant stems, Marvela found herself willfully returning to the better part of valor. Self preservation had saved her former status as a World Champion just as frequently as her actual skill set, much to the lament of her formerly beloved fan-base, and so it was that Marcille was forever aware of the location of the closest ring ropes. Without even needing to see them, the ‘Magnificent’ Marvel was already well on her way to making a ‘Magnificent’ escape, scampering across the canvas on her hands and knees to speedily slip outside the ring to grab a fresh breather.
“Not on your life ya slippery twist!” Veronica declared, clearly the first to recover following the sudden reverse in fortunes and leaning low to grab not one, but both of the escaping brunette’s ankles!
Marvela yowled in indignation as the blonde upended her lower body and took possession of items that did not belong to her, spitting furiously as she kicked out, gaining enough leverage to thrust her upper body beneath the bottom rope and over the edge of the apron. Unwilling to give up on her surge to freedom, Marcille urgently made a grab for everything within reach, between the apron, the ringpost and even the steel steps before settling upon the bottom rope, managing to roll herself over onto her back as, undaunted by a little hard work, Treymane continued to drag, tug and pull on the brunettes ensnared and thrashing stems.
“Let go,” Veronica insisted.
“No!” Marvela petulantly persisted.
“Suit yourself.”
Too late Marcille realized the change in her opponent’s demeanor, the quirk in the blonde’s lips becoming a snarl as the ‘Original’ People’s Princess understood a pivotal error. In her frantic attempts to wriggle her way free, it had failed to dawn on her until now that she had not so much as ‘rolled’ herself over rather than been ‘flipped’ and, with her ankles being tucked beneath the shoulders of the knockout, her brown eyes opened wide with alarm as she saw her predicament.
“DON’T YOU DA...” Marvela was keen to warn, but clearly Veronica wasn’t prepared to listen, not as she snapped herself backward and, with the brunette’s stems leveraged, Marcille’s own, smaller frame was swung wickedly upwards like a seesaw into a Monkey Flip! Only this was to prove to be the world’s shortest flight as the Monkey Flip was deliberately cut short, the Elegant Elitist positioned so that her throat TWANGED! up into the bottom rope and, with an audible “GACK!!” to accompany it, Marvela ricocheted right back down onto the canvas with a dull thud following her near decapitation.
She lay there prone, her legs no longer kicking and her arms stretched out over head, haughty gaze bleary as her cheeks had turned a worrying shade of rosy, almost enough to match her crimson outfit. Her heaving inhalations were released as gasping sputters and, as Marcille struggled to breathe, she was easy pickings for Treymane to rise unimpeded and purposely drag the silenced brunette towards centre ring.
As charitable as only a Babyface could be, Veronica immediately helped the stuttering Marvela back to her feet, the barely comprehensible profanity falling on deaf ears. Of course, within the squared circle, nothing was done without alterative motive and Treymane all but immediately tucked Marcille forward, guiding one of the young women’s arms between her own thighs so she secure the wrist on the other side and lock in a Pumphandle. Even with all the time in the world, the Dame chose not to waste any, securing her new rival’s second arm as though she were about to begin a painful abdominal stretch, she instead demonstrated her superior strength, lifting the Marvelous One clean off the canvas before spinning her about, the sudden descent heralding a Journey Into Fear!
JOURNEY INTO FEAR
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-2mVWZigWA
Veronica’s signature Backbreaker connected with resounding success, a sudden ‘YELP!!’ from Marcille confirming its devastating effect. Something had surely popped as she her flexible frame bent over backward over the posted knee of the Dangerous Dame, the angle Marvela was wrenched into far too steep to be natural as she flexed and then snapped back into something resembling her original posture. The ‘Perfect’ Princess genuflected from her opponent’s long, weaponized stem and rolled to the canvas with a hollowed out grown, Treymane dropping down across her to claim a pin-fall.
ONE!
TWO!!
THRE...
Marvela threw up a shoulder, a guttural and somewhat undignified growl upon her creased lips as she refused to capitulate.
Undaunted by the second escape, Treymane was immediately back to business, again showing her charitable nature as she began assisting the slightly less ‘Magnificent’ Marvel back up to standing. Marcille, however, wasn’t as keen to see it that way as she hissed her displeasure, “Let go!”
“Hmm,” Veronica took a less than honest second to think the request over before shaking her head, “no.”
Marcille scowled and, as she was jerked up onto her knees she suddenly engaged in behavior unbecoming of a royal and SLAMMED her forearm deep between the thighs of the gorgeous knockout. The ‘Original’ People’s Princess struck her target and the shimmy that entered the gams of Veronica was immediate, as was the release of the astonishingly pained gasp.
The blonde began to stumble backward, folding over as her arms moved with a mind of their own so she could cradle her ruthlessly violated womanhood. It left her in a poor position defensively, as proven when Marvela surged to boot leather, ignoring the flare of agony throughout her own spine as she found her feet and left them immediately; taking flight as she sublimely whipped her lightweight frame about into a blistering Spin Kick!
The face of the brunette’s boot connected flush with the perfectly round cheek of the Dangerous Dame, the SLAP!! of connection turning the blondes head on a gobsmacked swivel, the rest of Treymane’s incredibly sculptured frame following the enforced spiral soon after. The bleary eyed knockout spun a full one eighty, her now somewhat bowlegged gait taking her across the ring and away from the former fan favorite at her back.
SPIN KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQPAMfbBE3Q
Utterly unable to ignore such a sight, Marvela was back on her feet again, powering through the pain as she smelled blood in the water. Marcille had done it all, even in her short career, a prodigal daughter returning and there was not a chance that she was going to be upstaged by a pinstriped putz! She took off at a sprint, zeroing in on Veronica who had grasped the top rope for support, and as she closed the distance swiftly a smile slipped across her vindictive expression as she considered the nuisances of karma.
Even as the FAWNatics shouted a warning, the Elegant Elitist was already airborne, effortlessly flinging her own frame clean over the uppermost coil as if there was naught to it but, instead merely engaging in what could be a suicidal leap, she caught the blindsided Treymane by her noggin. Letting gravity do the work, Marcille plummeted earthwards and YANKED a blonde mane down with her, viciously BWUNGING!! the other young women’s throat down across it!
DIVING STUN GUN CUTTER @3:35
www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FQ0IKDvRuE
Utterly unprepared for the assault as it hit her, Veronica whiplashed away from the coil that had briefly, yet so effectively chocked her with a “GAK!” of her own. Down she thundered to the canvas as though she had been shot, coughing and stuttering and her mind struggled to keep up with her bodies’ flurry of punishment.
For her part, Marvela was feeling much better, picking herself up off the concrete after a landing which, regardless of her control, had remained slightly unpleasant. An absurdly self confident smile was back on her features as she cradled the small of her back, composing herself as she shook out her mane and upturned her chin, the ‘Perfect’ Princess indulged the booing masses with an extravagant bow. It was lost on no-one that she had arrived where she had intended to be in the first place, outside the ring where she could recover and plan her next strategy.
“I ALWAYS GET WHAT I WANT!!” she shouted with infuriatingly smug satisfaction, lifting her arms to deliver a duo of one fingers. “And Spoilers,” she continued, unable to resist baiting the ingrates who had once beloved her, “I Win!!”
“Do you want to get your ass kicked?” called a voice somewhere in the front row. “Because that’s what’s gonna happen!”
Not about to take that sort of sass from a bunch of bed wetters and basement dwellers, Marcille stormed up and down the length of the guardrail in search of the offending fan. “Who said that?” she barked. “C’mon big man, here’s your chance to talk shyt to someone on something other than a keyboard! You got something to say, let’s hear it!”
There were plenty of jeers in response, but nothing from that particular heckler, which both pleased and irritated Marvela to no end. Dismissing the trolls with a pair of double M’s she promptly transformed into a pair of birds, the disowned fan favorite whirled around and hopped onto the apron right around ‘TEN!’ on the ref’s count. That short break had done both wrestlers some good, though Treymane definitely got the short end of the stick as she was still down on all fours nursing her throat while Marvela was itching to resume her assault. Electing to head to the nearest corner rather than launch a head-on assault via Springboard, Marcille scurried over to the nearest corner and hopped over onto the second turnbuckle.
This angle put her directly behind the Neo-Noir Knockout when she started to rise shortly after her foe returned to the squared circle. As of yet oblivious to the threat, Treymane’s ignorance came to an abrupt end thanks to a warning cry from the fans and a taunting whistle from Marcille herself. Alas, mere information didn’t guarantee one’s safety. One had to act upon said information and unfortunately for Veronica she spun directly into the path of her airborne adversary. Stretched out sideways like she was thinking about a Diving Crossbody Press, Marvela instead extended her right arm and THWHAPPED the Dangerous Dame across the sternum with a Diving Clothesline that put her on the canvas with ring-rattling force.
DIVING CLOTHESLINE @ 3:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLqLJiMYVzg
Treymane sat up and clutched the back of her head but otherwise offered no resistance when Marcille shoveled her onto her back and laid down in a domineering Lateral Press. Far too sure of herself to stoop to hooking a leg, Marvela kept her palms flat and blew the hard camera a kiss while the official counted…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Veronica stuffed a hand against her foe’s chin and shoved her back on her ass, much to the delight of everyone not named Marvela Marcille. Cheeks flushed pink following the aggressive dismissal, Marvela scrambled to her feet and promptly drove them into the blonde’s ribs with nearly a dozen stomps. Halting only when her hip started to ache, she bent down, buried her hands in the big blonde’s hair, and scraped her off the canvas.
“Up. I said UP you petulant pretender!” More focused on her be-stomped middle than the burn in her scalp, Veronica dug deep enough to fire a few ‘get offa me’ punches into her attacker’s ribs, but Marcille stopped the jailbreak before it began with a savage rake of the eyes.
“Hey, watch the eyes Marvela!” the zebra said of the blatant illegal tactic.
“You watch ‘em!” the brunette snapped back. “And that’s MS. Marcille to you, peon!”
Forgetting him before the words were entirely out of her mouth, Marcille went low and snuggled a Waistlock in against Treymane’s left side. Feet planted she bent deep and hoisted Veronica into the air, only to set her down again when she proved too heavy. The laughter from the crowd proved to be just what she needed and Marvela shut them up but good when her second attempt took the Dangerous Dame up, over and DOWN onto the back of her head and shoulders. Rolled through to a seat by the Side Suplex, Veronica flopped out at once and ended up tumbling a good distance away, her arms once again swaddling the back of her abused skull.
SIDE SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpU6kNgZyc4
Elsewhere, Marvela sat up and smirked over one shoulder. “Go back to the land of black and white has-beens and never was’s, loser.” she taunted the hurting blonde. “You’ve got no place here in my Marvelous, Technicolor world.”
No response from Treymane, so Marvela stood up and sauntered over to the wreckage. Helping herself to an ankle and a wrist, she dragged Veronica a bit closer to center ring before tossing her limbs aside and stepping on tummy en route to the nearest corner. Springing from the ground floor to the penthouse in a single bound, she twisted around to face the squared circle and stood up straight. “Swallow those sweet treats and salty snacks you miserable fatties!” she demanded of the FAWNatics. “I won’t be held responsible for anyone choking when I take their breath away!”
Punctuating that sentiment with another pair of middle fingers, Marcille leapt into the void, curled her limber frame into a tight ball and rolled through a full four-hundred and fifty degrees worth of revolution before she stretched out and THWHAMMED down on Treymane’s tummy in a glorious Splash. Confident as ever, Marcille still didn’t hook a leg, she did however sit up and swing a leg over to take a confident tush on tits seat atop her prone prey. With one hand pressed to Veronica’s midsection and the other extended high overhead, Marvela joined the ref and several thousand spectators in counting out the…
450 SPLASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtHEeqOnVK8
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Veronica got her hands against Marcille’s insolent backside and shoved her off with all of a heartbeat to spare. “WHAT?” Marvela bellowed, her eyes wide and oh so furious. “ARE YOU FAHKING KIDDING ME!? SHE’S PUDDING ON THE INSIDE, THERE’S NO WAY SHE KICKED OUT!”
The ref held his ground though, steadfastly offering two fingers when Marcille kept demanding three. Finally forced to admit the buffoon wouldn’t see reason, the brunette stalked back to Treymane and hauled her upright with the most spiteful hair pull in recent memory. “Time to read your last will and testament, bytch.” Marvela slapped Treymane’s cheek on general principle. “Hope you made it a good one. Because no one’s going to remember you when you’re gone.”
She followed that missive with another scathing Bytch Slap, then whirled around and raced to the ropes opposite. Charging back the way she’d came, Marcille took to the skies and landed with her legs straddling each side of the blonde’s head. Ankles crossed, she leaned forward and torqued her hips to flip Treymane off her feet with a HurricanranNOOOOOOOOO! The Neo-Noir Knockout must’ve sensed the ‘Rana coming because she pushed off in time with Marvela’s launch, thus giving her enough momentum to swing through onto her butt while poor Marcille was PLANTED flat on her back via an emphatic Yoshi Tonic! Just as amazed as the crowd, the official dove in beside the battlers and counted off…
SO PRETTY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=CuxCjXeOciQ
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Marvela shuddered loose and ended up on her stomach, one arm draped awkwardly against the back of her head. Feeling much better now that she’d shut Marcille’s mouth, Veronica slid away, got to her feet and stumbled into the ropes to take a breather. Didn’t amount to much though, not with the tenacious brunette showing signs of life almost immediately thereafter.
“I don’t know if they’re black and white or Technicolor,” Treymane muttered under her breath, “but Daisy, you’re about to see stars.”
Resisting the urge to stamp the mat, Veronica hoisted an invisible Thompson and raked the rafters of the FAWN arena while Marvela struggled to verticality. In motion as soon as the smaller woman started to turn, the Pinstripe Powerhouse pivoted around on her right foot, then hopped up and THWHACKED it into Marcille’s unsuspecting face! Zapped by a full dose of Chicago Lightning, Marvela got turned inside out and would’ve stayed on the canvas for a very long time if Veronica hadn’t scraped her up almost immediately thereafter.
CHICAGO LIGHTNING:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vN3jJgwDcXU
“You’re on your way to bein’ a real hard case, you know that Daisy?” the blonde asked as she laced her hands across the back of Marvela’s neck and twisted her head sharply toward her left shoulder. “You’ve got speed, strength, smarts and lord knows you’ve got sass. Far as I can see, there’s only one thing you’re lacking.” With that she dipped her knees and pulled up, forcing Marcille to hop and lace her legs around opposing waist. Marvela’s legs didn’t feel nearly as strong as they had even a minute ago, but that didn’t mean Treymane was in the mood to let her linger overlong. Cranking the Cravate a little tighter, she started to spin in a wobbly circle, one that smoothed out with each passing revolution. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Treymane pushed onto her toes and dropped to her butt, the impact sending Marcille’s head whiplashing back to the mat with vile force. Spread out nice and flat by the Maltese Noose, Marvela only groaned when Treymane laid her legs over the brunette’s biceps and crowded in against her upturned haunches for the…
MALTESE NOOSE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3amQS-IQFLc
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Veronica put her hands on Marcille’s tush and pushed her away, leaving the former fan favorite and current insensate heap sprawled on her stomach while the Announcer bellowed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… VERONICA TREYMANE!”
The Dangerous Dame stood up and broke into a big smile when the ref raised her hand. Treating herself to a boot planted on Marvela’s tush, she raked a hand through her hair and smiled for the camera. “That’s another roundheels brat set to rights.” she said. “Any of you other hair pullers and trunk grabbers want to get put down, you know where to find me. That goes double for you, Alexis. When you finally get tired of scouting, come down here and we’ll have a nice, civilized chat, just the two of us.”
Gauntlet thrown, Treymane raised her hands one more time and put a little bit more pressure on Marvela’s buns, just to make sure she wouldn’t forget. Then the blonde battler went to the corner, grabbed her fedora and slipped out of the ring en route to a much deserved victory celebration with the aisle-side FAWNatics.