Emily West Vs. Kylie Sanders: World Title Match

As decided by intense negotiations, the once upon a time Pleasant Valley Princess waited impatiently for her cue without any Associates by her side. Likewise, the champ would be without her Court.

She’d tapped. She’d knocked. She’d banged. But tonight, if any time, was the time to bust the door down.

So many roadblocks. So many years. She’d tossed away so-called friends and sycophantic fans to reach the top only to have Emily deny her with a stinging rebuke. Now, through the good graces of both big wins and big Associate money, she had another, or more likely, final, opportunity.

The sound of The Clash filled the arena and broke the Hawkeye from her concentration. The elfin blonde pushed through the curtain entering stage left and moved to the center. Carrying a sporty Louis Vuitton handbag over her shoulder, a trademark perk of joining VB&A and the significant supplemental salary that came with it, Kylie waved to the jeering former members of the Corps.

Although the champ was detestable to most, Kylie had become the ultimate symbol of betrayal and would seemingly be most hated tonight.

Sanders headed down the ramp and aisle. The Hawkeye wore a black one-piece, black leather belt around her midriff, black lace covering her shoulders and upper arms, the Iowan apparently going all in with Vuitton, sporting designer togs as well. She finished things off with black boots and pads.

KYLIE SANDERS:

i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/biggerb/louis_vuitton-31.jpg~original

Kylie passed the hateful masses as The Clash continued…

“So alone I keep the wolves at bay…
And there’s only one thing I can say..ayy…ayy…
You didn’t stand by me…
No not at all…
You didn’t stand by me…
No way”

TRAIN IN VAIN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYkQK8QsQ2w&index=3&list=LLU6MWpP-rt2kWv-tOm824HA

Sanders reached the ring and rose up the steps, her hazel eyes darting around the arena bowl in search of Courtiers. She cautiously slid through the ropes. West would certainly be confident enough to come down alone, why would she not, but she’d likely have a back-up plan in place.

With Kylie nervous but settled, the Ring Announcer made her arrival official.

“Ladies and gentlem, the following contest is our Main Event of the evening and it is for the FAWN WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP. First, the challenger, hailing from Pleasant Valley Iowa, she stands five feet four inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and twelve pounds, this is…KYLIE SANDERS!”

The crowd only increased its enmity and volume. And as she bounced in place, stretching, a low murmur broke into a loud sustained chant.

“TROLL…TROLL…TROLL.”

A furious Sanders covered her ears, shouting at the FAWNatics to shut their mouths. They only increased the decibels of their taunt, the walls close to shaking.

“Get her out here,” Kylie snapped at the official, perhaps to stop the chant as much as to start the proceedings that would make her a world champion and a legend.

With the remnants of the Corps heckling their fallen heroine, the FAWN’tron went heavy with static fuzz and the light linked out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of the architect of FAWN’s grand design. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth command the game board like no other before or since could claim.

EMILY WEST:


Usually as inscrutable as the Mona Lisa’s smile, tonight the champion looked… worried wasn’t the right word, intellects like hers simply did not worry. Troubled, was the closest analog and yet that barely scratched the surface. Whereas the fans responded to Sanders’s betrayal without outrage and histrionics, Em showed only resignation tempered with a subtle disgust. Not for Kylie’s abandonment of the Corps, she’d long told the blonde they were an albatross around her neck, but to see her side with a fading glory whore like Portia VanBuren… that was disconcerting in the extreme. Where once she’d seen a potential equal, now she only saw another corporate lackey, one who’d torched a whole career all for this… trinket…Emily reached to the small of her back and undid the clasp holding the World Title in place. This she raised overhead, turning it ever so slightly so that it glittered in the low light. Taking that as his cue, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Black Queen and the reigning and defending FAWN World Champion… EMILY WEST!”

For the unenviable task of setting Kylie‘s head to rights, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. Her championship style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.

Paying no attention to the deluge of mixed responses, Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of what was clearly her undisputed dominion, the Black Queen paused to come to grips with the idea that she may very well have to end Sanders in order to save her from the clutches of the Sinister Socialite. Accepting this knowledge with a single terse nod, she slipped through the ropes and mounted the nearest corner. From that mount she lifted the title to the rafters and tapped the faceplate three times.

I’m. So. Smart.

Obvious conflict from the crowd. While a good deal of them wanted to see Kylie brought low once and for all, even more of them remembered when the roles had been reversed. Cheering for West to put the hurt on Sanders was a bit like rooting for Moriarty instead of Sherlock. It just felt wrong. Sensing their disquiet, West dropped from the corner without comment and offered the belt to Nick Castle when he walked over to check her pads and boots. She went through the inspection in similar silence, letting the super computer behind her eyes work out just what to do with the ruin she’d make of Kylie Sanders.

Emily left her corner simultaneous with the bell, there was simply to much to do and discuss to waste time dawdling. Kylie came out just a quickly, the blonde all dark eyes and gleaming claws in her new Louis Vuitton attire. Slowing to a halt near the middle of the squared circle, West raised her hands but made no move to engage. “Hello, Kylie. It’s nice to see you again.”

Sanders stopped just outside grappling range. She knew giving Em her ear for any length of time was dangerous, but a few too many rash moves had cost her the match in December and let the brunette embarrass her to boot. So she swallowed her nerves and said, “Nice to see you too, Emily. Thanks for keeping the title in such good shape. I appreciate that.”

The Sensual Scholar smiled slightly. “Of course you do. Portia’s associates always like shiny things, it’s a defining characteristic of magpies, crows and vultures. Tell me, Ky. Do you remember what I told you the last time we shared this ring?”

Kylie flashed back to December and the Season’s Beatings feed. Not her own memory, she’d been quite unconscious at that points. Stripped of her top, sweating and defenseless under the lights, her head lay in Emily’s lap while the Black Queen brushed damp hair off her forehead and murmured a soft, deadly promise. Sanders snapped back to the present and nodded once. “I do. And I am ready to play again. I won’t upend your precious board, but I will END your game, Emily. You’ve had a good… no, you’ve been as domineering a Queen as FAWN’s had in a long, long time. Even I have to admit that. But I’ve waited twelve years for this night. MY NIGHT. You’ve stood in my way for the last time.”

Through talking, the blonde raised her right hand and invited Emily to join her for a Test of Strength.

“You’ve said that before, my friend. Do you really think Portia and her lackeys will succeed where the Corps always failed?” Emily asked quietly.

“ I don’t need any of them tonight,” Sanders answered without hesitation. I just need you to step up and face me.”

West nodded once, then stepped forward and placed her left palm against the blonde’s right. Sanders offered up her left hand shortly thereafter and West wasted no time obliging her. Holding off just long enough to lock fingers, the longtime rivals brought their arms down to their sides and stepped in mouth on shoulder, going at it full force with a lesser seen but no less daunting variation on the traditional Test of Strength.

Showing no fear of the rack that’d smothered out the very best FAWN had to offer, Kylie chested in as close as she could, but Em matched her push for push and neither was able to gain an advantage. The crowd was oddly quiet, not due to any lack of interest, it simply struck them as out of place to make too much noise when the competitors themselves were silent as dea--Kylie let out a little grunt of displeasure when Emily wrenched her arms from nine and three to noon all around. The shift threw her ever so slightly off balance and that shift was enough for West to bend her wrists at an unpleasant angle.

What started as the faintest tremor soon developed into a full blown shudder as the Amazing Academic bent her opponent’s hands backward at a near ninety-degree angle. Kylie groaned when Emily started to force her down. “Tonight’s the night you take the knee, Kylie.” the champion promised. “You may never join the Court, but you’re going to show me the deference I des--ohh, very clever.”

Bending the knee to Emily wouldn’t cost Kylie the match, it would however be a savage blow to her pride, which was why she arched backward, allowing herself to drop into a high, taut bridge rather than let her knees touch the mat. Untroubled by this bit of finagling worthy of Portia’s chief counsel, Emily sank down beside her foe and didn’t stop pressing even when the crown of Kylie’s head touched the mat. While this was a good position for the photographers, it did nothing for the champ’s plans, so she pushed herself into a brief handstand, then brought her knees swinging down into Kylie’s midsection. The former PVP shivered hard, her arch getting dangerously low as it strove to bear Emily’s weight. Then she pushed up just as high as before, earning a round of applause from the FAWNatics in the process.

“That all you got, Emily?” Ky asked from the north end of her bridge. “My abs could use a better work-out ohhh shyt!”

Emily could’ve landed a few more knees, but Sanders might have managed a counter in time. Instead she slipped her ankles in behind the Iowan’s and pulled them apart with a violent yank. The Test of Strength transformed into a Double Leg Grapevine in a heartbeat and Sanders found her shoulders down with Em’s chest pressed dangerously close to her face. Even worse, Castle was already in place for the count of…

ONE…
TWO…

Kylie wrenched her legs free of Emily’s, slipped ‘em around the brunette’s waist and rocked enough to put West back on her haunches with a second to spare. Still linked by the Greco-Roman Knucklelocks, Sanders forced Emily’s arms back to shoulder level and pushed forward while bearing down on the Scissors. “I know the counters to your counters, Em.” Kylie murmured in her nemesis’s ear. “I’ve had seven years to learn everything about you. There’s nothing you can do that will surprise mmrrrggghh!”

Emily lowered her head, pressed the top of it against Kylie’s face and swiped to one side, effectively raking the challenger’s eyes. Pulling her head away to protect it from more abuse, Kylie tried to free her hands, but Emily wouldn’t let go so the newest VanBuren Associate made her pay with a violent pulse through the Scissors. West grunted but showed no signs of trying to end the skirmish. Rather she used Sanders’s own tenacity to keep the blonde close as she slowly but surely got to her feet.

Opening her eyes when she realized she was floating, Kylie looked around and was distressed to realize Em was heading toward a corner. Hardly enamored with the idea of spending any time in the buckles with West pressed close, Sanders loosened the Scissors enough to pull one foot around. Planting it in Emily’s belly, she pushed up in anticipation of a Monkey Flip and ended up seated on the top turnbuckle instead. With Ky’s arms out of play for at least a little while longer, Emily shrugged the foot off her stomach and stepped in to THWHUMP a Headbutt into the pit of Kylie’s stomach. Sanders doubled up, then rocked back when Em finally shook her hands loose and THWHAPPED the slumped blonde with a sturdy European Uppercut.

Kylie shook it off and put a hand to her aching jaw, so Emily took possession of her left ankle and threaded it behind the second rope. From there she climbed onto the second turnbuckle and pounded a few shots into the Iowan’s cranium. When West thought she had Sanders’s undivided attention, she grabbed her shoulders and said, “Grab the top rope, friend. Otherwise this will be all the more unpleasant.” Jerking Ky to one side, Emily pushed her over the ropes and dropped to the mat, leaving Kylie hung up on the outside with her left knee bearing the worst of the torque since it was folded in against the top rope.

Sanders hadn’t had the time to snatch the ropes as Emily suggested so she spent a few seconds flailing and groaning in the grip of this new predicament. Eventually she got her hands against the apron and steadied things out with an impressive handstand. Unsure of how to free herself without taking a nasty fall, Kylie shouted, “A little help, Castle? Bytch kinda strung me UUPPPEERRGGGGHHH! GET OFFA ME, EMILY!”

But Emily, who’d climbed the corner shortly after Sanders got control of herself, didn’t get off. Indeed, she pounded another flurry of punches into Kylie’s left knee, then planted her right knee atop the vulnerable joint and started to press down with everything she could.

“Get her back in the ring, Emily! I won’t tell you twice!” Castle warned over the loud, conflicted cries of those assembled.

Emily knew he wouldn’t, which was why she only waited until ‘TWO!’ on the count to reach down and grab hold of Sanders’s belt. Hopping to the mat, she dragged Kylie to a seat and extricated her left ankle from the ropes. That didn’t mean the Black Queen was through with it though, because she most definitely was not. Tucking the limb under her right arm, she took a couple of steps back, then twisted under Ky’s gam and laid out on her side, essentially Hip Tossing the blonde via an elevated Dragon Screw. Kylie landed on her back, sat up and reached for her knee, at least temporarily unaware that Emily still claimed ownership of her ankle.

AVALANCHE DRAGON SCREW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zKojm_zLBU

West gathered up the opposite number and crossed Kylie’s legs in a familiar figure of four. She stepped into the keyhole of the crossed stems. Sanders stared into the champ’s eyes, fearful of what the Amazing Academic had in mind and what it’d do to her already throbbing left leg. The blonde ‘washes windows’ with her palms, pleading for West not to press her advantage.

But how smart would that be? Sometimes the obvious play was the intelligent one and West finished the Leglock before dropping to the canvas and leeeeaning back. Kylie howled in agony, her fingers buried in her shoulder-length flaxen locks. The Hawkeye tore at her own hair to spread the pain, but it’s far from successful as the Brainiac continued her vivisection, yanking and twisting the limb until the ref’s reflex was to ask Kylie if she wanted to give away another chance to be the World Champion to possibly save her career.

Ky shook her head as she rocked her body from side to side, biting her lip until Emily stretched her ligaments again, eliciting a feral shriek from Sanders.

“NO!” Kylie added at the end with a sob.

She pressed her palms to the deck and pushed up to relieve some of the pressure, but the Queen of the Court only smiled.

“So tenacious. So desperate. Desperate to forge a new legacy in the ashes of the old one. Do you really think Portia will help you with that? She can buy a lot of things, but she can’t buy a title. If she could, it’d already be around her waist.”

Emily tugged again, drawing another howl from the sweat-drenched Hawkeye.

“A sad end to see you bend the knee to VanBuren. Console yourself with the knowledge that I will make your time with her brief. Better you’re back on the farm than with her.”

Up on her palms again, Sanders ‘walked’ to within grasping range of the ropes and she stretched her arms out as best she could, barely curling her digits around the bottom strand.

A yelp of “OFF” was all Ky could manage in terms of a response and when West unlocked the knot, the elfin blonde cradled her pulsating stem close. She mewled as she rolled out under the bottom rope, landed on the floor with her remaining working lower appendage and limped around the squared circle.

“Do you see how comfortable I am without the Court?” Emily asked, rising to her feet and following her foe from the inside, unconcerned the official had yet to start a count on Kylie. “You however are looking for your crutch, figuratively and literally.”

Anger starting to replace pain, Kylie stared a hazel laser at the World Champion, shaking her leg carefully. She put some weight on it and winced, but it kept her upright. Gingerly, she limped to the steel steps and slowly made it up, reaching to straighten her Louis Vuitton bag when she hobbled by it before sliding through the cables.

“I’m not playing,” Kylie growled. “There are dozens of women under FAWN contract who want to be where I am with the chance I have.” Kylie circled away from the ropes, beckoning the Black Queen to do the same. “If you believe I’m at the end of my rope, you STILL aren’t smart enough to understand me.”

Emily tied up with Sanders and easily gained leverage on the wobbling Kylie, backing her to a corner in fits and spurts until the blonde’s back was against the corner. “And her we are agUHHH.” Emily words were cut short by a guttural grunt.

But it’s Kylie who shouted in pain as a lightning strike erupted from her knee. However, it’s only because she’s lifted the balled joint so fast and hard into West’s crotch. It’s clear sacrificing momentary anguish for the bug-eyed look on Emily’s face was well worth the trade. Kylie pie-faced the gasping West, shoving her back several steps, Em bent at the waist, hands buried at the juncture of her thighs.

Keeping it simple, something the Brainiac would never understand, Sanders struggles up to the middle ropes behind her and leaps off. She captures Em’s noggin in a Front Facelock as she flew by to the champ’s left and tugged West around in a wicked u-turn, SPIKING Emily’s skull into the canvas with a Tornado DDT.

West tumbled over after a split-second headstand, spreading into a dazed starfish before the brunette cradled her head with both arms. Seated next to her, Kylie winced through some flexes of her left knee. This match was going to put her in a brace, Ky could tell already and, if that was the case, she might as well make it worthwhile by becoming FAWN World Champion.

The thought must have pushed Kylie to movement as she scrambled to all fours and shoved West to her ample chest. Moving to a reverse straddle of Emily’s waist, Kylie raised her right hand high, curling her fingers into a set of ruby-tipped tines.

“FARM…HAND” the crowd shouted in spite of their disdain for FAWN‘s biggest Traitorface.

Indeed they despised Kylie and the way she abandoned them, turning on friends and now selling out to VB&A. But the thought of a woman who had calculated and smothered her way to the top, a rare combination in anyone’s book, in agonizing pain, seemed to be an activity they could get behind.

Sanders sank her fingers into the flesh of Emily’s upper thigh just at the curve of her left gluteus, Kylie’s infamous hammy clamp DRIVING into the muscle and meat of Emily’s sinewy hamstring. Emily’s dark eyes narrowed and she bit her lower lip. No way was she going to allOWWW…

West offered up a piteous moan that grew higher of pitch when Kylie flexed her palm to sink the nails in deeper then pressed her left hand atop her right to dig farther into the nerve bundle, sending a shudder down the brunette’s stem.

“I can exert…a little control…myself,” the Hawkeye grunted between digs into satiny thigh and the muscle beneath. While her clamped leg a[ppeared frozen in Kylie’s clutches, the rest of West’s body flailed in pain and frustration. The busty Brainiac dug her nails in and pulled the duo toward the ropes in painful inches. And, just as Emily prepared to reach out for the cable, Kylie relented, releasing the Queen’s hamstring, leaving rosy indentations.

Kylie rose quickly, turned, and grabed an ankle, dragging the clawing West back toward the middle. The Midwestern Menace dropped a knee into the same succulent thigh, Emily shuddering as she yelped.

“Who’s going to bow to whom, bytch?” Kylie snapped, watching as Emily pulled her leg in close.

“Don‘t bore me with stupid questions, Ky. It‘s beneath you.” came a steely voice from the tucked West.

Infuriated, Kylie snatched a wrist and hauled an off-balance Emily to her feet. Sanders didn’t take the time to draw West back to the ropes behind her, wanting to send her on her way immediately. The blonde whipped the champion toward the far ropes, Emily’s assets bouncing their way to the rubber-coated steel before they and their owner rebounded toward a dipped and charging Kylie who nearly cut Em in half with as vicious a Spear as the former Pleasant Valley Princess ever managed.

West folded in a sideways ‘V’ around the delving shoulder of the Hawkeye, a large ‘GUHHH’ escaping the Queen’s lips, music to Ky’s nearby ear as she carried the gutted brunette for a step before PLANTING her into the canvas.

On all fours, gazing down at the spread-eagled Emily, a look of supreme satisfaction firmly situated on Kylie’s features, shifted only slightly when she crawled to West, putting some weight on her still balky left knee. Undeterred, the blonde moved to a Schoolgirl pin of the grunting, writhing Emily.

“Tell me,” Kylie said, perfect pearlies bared. “Tell me you calculated you would be the one to give me the title.”

The official dropped to the pinned and pressed Emily, slapping for ‘ONE’.

“Don’t worry you didn’t see it, Em.”

‘TWO’

“It’s the new math.”

THR…

Old math or new, Emily was a master of both, as Kylie learned when the prone brunette curled her right hand into a fist and smashed it against the curve of her foe’s left knee. Sanders shouted and rolled away, both hands pressed protectively to the swaddling joint. Though free of immediate danger, the Black Queen was not without aches and pains of her own, assuming the way she favored her ribs was any indication.

Pushing onto her good knee when the pain in the bad had settled to tolerable levels, Ky got to her feet and made a few quick adjustments to her rumpled Louis Vuitton. “Get up, Emily.” she demanded. “You can swaddle your swollen little gut once there’s no belt to keep it hidden.”

West flipped hair from her eyes and joined Sanders in verticality. “That’s rich coming from a woman hiding behind a false face. Tell me, what’s the starting salary for a replacement Cricket Mun--”

The challenger darted forward and lashed a Toe Kick toward West’s tummy. Seeing as how it was her left leg, Emily caught it with room to spare. But she wasn’t given the time to comment on this seemingly poor tactical decision because Sanders immediately launched off her plant foot and THWHACKED it against the side of the champ’s head in an Enzugiri.

Emily’s knees loosened up and she staggered away with a hand against her temple, the usually well defended Royal easy pickins when Kylie gave chase. A Double Axehandle to the base of West’s neck slowed her down even more, not that Ky wasted any time turning her around and slipping an arm between the brunette’s thighs. The former Corps cheered in spite of themselves, a Fireman’s Carry from their fallen heroine would always raise a cheer. Kylie ignored it entirely. she had more pressing matters than the opinions of fair-weather losers like them. Bypassing the PVD opportunity in favor of doing more damage to the Black Queen’s ribs, Sanders ‘hupped’ Emily off her shoulders, went down on her ailing knee and presented the other to opposing tummy in the form of a Gutbuster. West wretched and started to slide off Sanders’s thigh, but the blonde gripped her at shoulder and buttock.

“We’re not done yet, Ems.” she huffed. “Not unless you’re ready to give it up.”

The Amazing Academic tried to squirm off Kylie’s knee again and took a Forearm Smash across the back for her troubles. “The time for quarter is long over, my friend.” she grunted. “Do what you must and I will do the samNNNGHH!”

Kylie did as bade, wrapping her arms around Emily’s wheezing middle in a Gutwrench. Standing up with a throbbing leg and a squirming genius wasn’t easy, but Sanders had spent her formative years lugging hay bales and she handled it well enough. After a minor struggle she managed to flip West over so she was looking at the lights rather than the canvas. “Don’t need your permission to do anything, Emily.” the blonde muttered while getting her footing. “But thank you for granting it.”

Shifting West around so she was bundled under the challenger’s right arm, Kylie braced her left arm against the pits of Emily’s knees, then pushed onto her toes and genuflected again, this time THWHUNKING Em’s spine with a Backbreaker. Touching her left knee to the mat did that joint no favors, but Sanders endured it without complaint to better enjoy West’s shocked groan of pain. Still not through, the surging Associate rose up, swung around in a half circle and dropped to her tush, thus completing the impressive trifecta with a ring-shivering Sidewalk Slam. Making a note to buy Raker’s drinks all night if this got her the gold, Sanders locked her hands across Emily’s calves and leaned back hard, folding the champ in half for…

BACKBREAKER & SIDEWALK SLAM @ 1:20
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzIg0gt7j_o

ONE…
TWO…

The Amazing Academic bucked free and turned onto her side with a full second to spare. Kylie fetched a deep sigh and showed three fingers to Castle, who responded with two just as she’d expected he would. “You don’t want to give up the title. I can respect that.” The Iowan worked her hands into Emily’s hair and got to her feet, forcing the Courtier to come up alongside. “But this is not a matter of want, Em. It’s a necessity. Your time on top is over. If you won’t walk gracefully down the mountain I’ll throw you off the side.”

With that she switched over to a Wristlock, took two big steps back and dropped her hips to fire off the Irish Whip that sent West racing into a corner on the far side of the ring. Jogging to the opposite corner once she confirmed the Sensual Scholar wasn’t going to leave her feet, Ky smacked her hurt knee a few times to limber it up, then charged across the canvas and took to the skies just in time to THWHACK her heels into EM’s jaw with a high-powered Dropkick.

RUNNING TURNBUCKLE DROPKICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIrHCHIQLvM

Sanders angled herself backward and landed on her shoulders, which in turn allowed for a quick somersault back to boot leather. Crowding the corner before Emily could crumple to her knees, Kylie stuffed a shoulder into the brunette’s midsection and boosted her into a seat on the top turnbuckle. “I’m sure you think of yourself as an icon.” Sanders said when she turned her back on the slumped champion. “So I’m sure you’ll find this more amusing than most.” Reaching back with both hands, she grabbed Emily’s biceps and “ERRRGGGHH!” Emily wrenched her right arm loose and drilled the point of that elbow into the top of Kylie’s skull. She tagged her with a few more just to create some space, then raised her legs, planted both feet against the challenger’s shoulders and pistoned forward to Mule Kick Kylie almost to center ring.

The landing wasn’t pleasant but it wasn’t debilitating either and Sanders scrambled up after a second or two. Rounding on the corner, she saw Emily hop down and that was invite enough for the Heartland Horror to charge her longtime rival. West answered with a sprint of her own but where Kylie might’ve been thinking about a second Spear, the Black Queen went even lower and THWHUNKED her left shoulder into Kylie’s left knee. Flipped head over heels by the savage Chopblock, Ky landed hard on her back, not that it even registered. Every active synapse was devoted to the hellfire burning in her knee and the vain efforts to quell its rage.

A short distance away, Emily got to her feet and took a deep breath. Far from malicious, smug or even worried, the FAWN World Champion looked grim, her face that of a woman doing a necessary evil. “I gave you every opportunity to do the right thing, my friend. I want you to remember that.” Emily noted after she’d stalked over to Kylie and rolled her onto her stomach. “I take no pleasure in the task at hand, but I WILL NOT allow VanBuren’s mindless poison to claim someone so close to me.”

With that she cupped Sanders’s ears and dragged her to all fours. A Standing Headscissors didn’t distract Kylie from her rotted knee, it did however keep her from fighting free when West leaned over, grabbed her right ankle and stuffed it into the pit of the challenger’s left knee. Then she gripped Kylie’s left ankle in both hands, dropped into a deep crouch and slooooooooooooowly hoisted Sanders up n’ over into the stall position for a Piledriver. Only this one was infinitely worse than normal because Kylie’s bad knee was wrapped tight around her own foot in an ingeniously administered Figure Four.

“AAAAWWWWWWWW GAAAAAAWWWD!” Ky wailed in absolute anguish. “STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHP!”

Emily grit her teeth and shook her head ‘no’. “I’ll break it before I let you be her puppet, Kylie. Submit before I do something I’ll regret.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO! IT’S MINE! I’VE WORKED TOO HARD FOR NAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH DAMN YOU, EMILY!”

Kylie kept wailing and flailing, but she wouldn’t submit and West was forced to admit she might have to carry through on her promise. Not quite ready to go that far just yet, the Black Queen hopped up and dropped to a seat, just THWHUNKING her opponent’s skull with that heartless Piledriver.

INDIAN DEATHLOCK PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXcN8fXiktE

Kylie bounced clear and flopped onto her back, noggin so thoroughly rattled she forgot about her knee. Nor did she notice when Emily crawled across her chest, hooked the bad leg and cradled it up for…

ONE…
TWO…
and more than half of THREE!

But not all!

Something that hadn’t gone dormant in Sanders, along with her ethics, showed itself. The Hawkeye’s celebrated resolution reanimated the form of the seemingly semiconscious Kylie as she kicked her way partially out of the grip, flopping to her side.

West rose to all fours, hovering over the softly stirring Sanders. If the Black Queen didn’t know Kylie better than anyone, as she’d always claimed, she knew the blonde’s ability to force an opponent to play nearly every card to extinguish her match life, and so there’s only the hint of surprise on the face of the Amazing Academic.

“She doesn’t deserve you.” Emily whispered softly. “But then do you really deserve to stay after falling for her parlor games.”

Em snatched a wrist of the dazed Sanders and, when West made it to her feet, she tugged the blasted Kylie with her. The brunette got the Heartland Horror to vertical and whipped her away in a single fluid motion. Kylie ran headlong toward the far corner with not nearly the sense or senses to turn her back into the collision.

Hitting chest first, the elfin blonde staggered out of the corner, backpedaling several steps. It appeared she’d manage to keep her feet, if barely, until a charging West SLAMMED a Clothesline into the back of Kylie’s neck and made quick work of that idea, Kylie landing face and chest first on the canvas, the crown of her noggin only a few inches away from the corner with which she’d collided.

West stood in a straddle over the fallen Sanders. Though she proclaimed to like Kylie there seemed little doubt she also enjoyed keeping Kylie under her thumb and/or boot sole. For with Ky facedown and barely moving, Emily knotted Ky’s legs then yanked Sanders upper half off the deck by snatching her wrists and tugging upward. The Black Queen shuffled Kylie’s frame forward a half-foot and, with Sanders’s features hovering over the bottom buckle, Emily placed her boot squarely on the back of the blonde’s head.

Even the stupor couldn’t keep the challenger’s hazel eyes from widening when Emily held her signature Brain Drain in abeyance for several long seconds, giving Ky the opportunity to ruminate. This time Emily didn’t bother providing an out, knowing Kylie wouldn’t take it, and she brutally THUMPED the Hawkeye’s face into the bottom turnbuckle with her Brain Drain.

BRAIN DRAIN @ 2:39
www.youtube.com/watch?v=05XDcBiPxmo

Even those who now despised Sanders groaned in sympathy, at least for a moment, though more than a smattering of cheers accompanied Emily pulling the deadweight of the former leader of the Corps to mid-ring cavewoman style by an ankle.

With Sanders dead center, Emily let the blonde’s leg flop to the canvas and took a forward-facing straddle on her haunches and atop Kylie’s knees. West crossed her wrists in an ‘X’ and sank dual clawholds into the blonde’s hammys just where Ky’s thighs joined into the curves of her glutes. Some of the crowd chant ‘FARM…HANDS’ to mock a quickly resuscitated and howling Kylie, though Emily’s face turns sour, seeing that as a woefully inadequate description of her vastly superior Hammy Clamp.

When Kylie’s howls turned to breathy sobs, the official knelt in front of the twisted features of the beleaguered blonde, Kylie tugging her locks, tears pooling in her eyes, nearly ready to release them on tracks down her face. Sanders shook her head ‘no’ in response, sending them on their way, but she also dug her nails into the canvas, drawing herself inches closer to the salvation of the ropes.

With her lower limbs fully incapacitated from the debilitating clamps the Black Queen DUG into the muscle of the blonde’s thighs, it’s a nearly impossible trek and after getting halfway to the strands, Kylie fell flat to the canvas exhausted, apparently unable to overcome Emily’s ‘chewing’ grips. It seemed all that’s left was for West to continue to flex her claws until Sanders capitulates altogether, but for reasons known only to her, the tines receded and West rose to her feet.

Kylie reached back to massage the scalding stems when Emily added a vicious Knee Drop to the left hamstring. Sanders seemed electrified by the delving kneecap, her already dissected left leg getting more of Emily’s treatment.

Ky spun to her back, cradling the leg close. The blonde butt-scooted her way toward the corner behind her, the Hawkeye holding high a pleading hand, lower lip aquiver.

Emily followed purposefully. “We both know it’s past time for mercy. You’ve proven there’s only one way you might be able to learn; if wrestling is no longer an option and you can devote your life to other more suitable pursuits.”

Reaching the buckles, Kylie pulled her way up, keeping her weight off the leg Emily had turned into a pain-inducing appendage that could be little more than dragged behind.

West landed a blistering right fist to Kylie’s jaw that put the blonde’s head on a swivel. Emily took advantage, lifting and folding Ky’s left leg upward, using it and an arm wrapped around Kylie’s waist to send Sanders skyward before the shin was dropped to bended knee. But the grappling genius added more, tossing Kylie over her shoulder like used up, flaxen-haired garbage ready to finally be placed in FAWN’s history books.

SHINBREAKER & BACKDROP SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGXNiiqTB2s

Kylie cradled the back of her head with one arm and her left leg with the other, appearing far from able to deal with the intricate calculus needed to remove the Black Queen from her throne. When Emily drew in range, Kylie shot her right leg up to nail the crotch of the approaching West but the brunette brushed it aside.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Emily said, “but I’ve already put in so much work on the left, it seems a shame to start over with another.”

Emily drove a boot into the gut of Sanders and scooped up the elfin blonde under both arms. She bullied the besieged challenger into the buckles, liftws up her foe’s left leg, extended it, and placed the ankle on the middle rope. Getting a running start, West sprinted to the opposite cables and rebounded into a race to obliterate what was left in the limb. As she approached her front leg went high and through, so could land her full weight atop the knee. But Kylie had the fortitude to pull the leg to safety and Emily crotched herself on the deeply-delving, rubber-coated steel.

The jaw of the Black Queen dropped wide. Her hands moved to the juncture of her thighs, Emily remaining hung out to dry. Ready for revenge, Kylie grabbed the rope and sent it up and down enthusiastically, putting Emily on a very wild and unappreciated ride.

The FAWN World Champion keened like a madwoman and held on for dear life as Sanders sent her down some of the roughest terrain imaginable. While she certainly didn’t set out with such lofty goals in mind, Ky managed to prove that prove time travel was possible as she crammed an eternity’s worth of anguish into the meager ’FOUR!’ seconds allotted by Nick Castle’s count. Switching over to double handful of hair once the grace period was over, Kylie jerked a mincing Emily clear of the traitorous strands and marched her to the middle of the squared circle.

“Still got one good knee, Ems.” Sanders rasped as she dipped down and cinched both arms around the brunette’s upper thighs. “And that’s all I need to break you.”

Hands knotted just beneath the curve of her opponent’s buttocks, Portia’s latest and greatest hire rose up on her tiptoes and forced herself to hold the position even though it played hell on her bad wheel. Once she was satisfied the blonde sank to one knee (good posted, gimpy against the mat) and THWHUMPED West’s undercarriage against the solid plank of her thigh. Already short of breath after her unpleasant ride on the pony, Emily only offered up a thin, wheezy scream as the Inverted Atomic Drop lived up to its namesake. While the thought of Emily retreating in a helpless waddle was highly satisfying, Sanders didn’t quite dare let the brunette get too far away. She might’ve been in control now, but her left knee felt like it was holding on by a thread and that meant she had to stay on the Insidious Intellectual. Steeling herself for what came next, Kylie shifted her head and forced it between West’s thighs.

No suicidal act this, the blonde used her noggin as an additional bit of leverage when she clambered to boot leather. Emily ’eeeped’ and wrapped her arms around the challenger’s waist, the idea being that she could cancel out whatever Sanders had in mind if she stayed glued to her six. A good plan, but ultimately not a workable one. Kylie cupped her hands against the backs of West’s thighs and squeeeeeeeeeezed the dense meat until the Black Queen squealed and redirected her efforts to those rending claws. Thus separated from her anchor, Emily couldn’t stop the Pleasant Valley Deceiver when she hupped her up, over and DOWN, Kylie dropping to her tush to plant West’s spine on the pine courtesy of a move she called the Iowa Waterwheel.

IOWA WATERWHEEL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMQKpMgwui8

Em’s head bounced and she cradled it in both hands in a vain effort to keep her vaunted brain from rattling. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to go for a cover, but Sanders didn’t even consider the possibility. Rather she slid back, grabbed hold of Emily’s ankles in either hand and struggled to her feet. “I already know I can outwrestle you,” she huffed to the reeling battler, “it’s even more satisfying to know I can outfight you too.” She didn’t give West a chance to response before dropping her good knee in the juncture of Emily’s thighs. Em howled, sat bolt upright and would’ve cradled her aching junk if Sanders hadn’t swatted her hands away. Drawing the other woman’s legs out flat, Kylie squirmed into a seat on West’s upper thighs, then curled her right hand into a five-pointed spade.

“Checkmate, your highness.”

There was a low ’shumping’ sound as Kylie slotted her cupped hand against the champion’s womanhood. This sound was almost immediately blotted out by Emily’s scream, yet even that didn’t go on for more than a second before West cut it off behind gritted teeth. Taking stock of their position in the squared circle before asking his question, the referee eased in and said, “How are you doing, Emily? If you need to give up, just say the word and I’ll get you out of there.”

Emily, who’d been tugging at her own hair while searching for any sort of escape option, actually took a moment to hone in on the zebra. “I’ve…. been… grrrrrrggghhhhhh….. better, Nicholas. But I have no intention of AAAAAAAAGGGHHHH… I won’t… I won’t… Kylie hasn’t learned her lesson yet. Therefore I cannot, in good conscience, relinquish my GAAAAAAAAHHHHHH SHYYYYYT!”

Kylie pressed down on her clawin’ wrist and leaaaaaaaaaned in, putting every bit of her weight behind that salacious corkscrew. “JUST GIVE!” Ky demanded / bawled. “IT’S OVER, EMILY! I’VE GOT YOU COLD, SO JUST TELL THEM I’M QUEENNAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH FAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHK!”

Denied all but the most obvious option, the Sensual Scholar tugged Kylie’s left kneepad up over her thigh, then went to work with a claw hold of her own. Sanders didn’t let go of her groin but she did shift her weight to one side and West immediately scooted away, an unabashed run for the ropes. The hobbled Hawkeye crawled after her even though she wanted to scream every time her knee was jostled or groped. Drawing within range after what seemed like forever, Emily hooked her free arm around the bottom rope and dragged herself that much closer. “Get her off my trunks, Nicholas!” she pleaded.

Kylie knew she had to let go, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. She knew, just KNEW that the Crotch Claw would finish Emily off if she kept it in place. After all, the same move had defeated her dozens of times and she was twice the wrestler Em--

Castle looped an arm around her waist and dragged the challenger to the middle of the ring, kicking and screaming every step of the way. “Not a word. Not one WORD, Ky.” Nick threatened when the blonde got up in his business. “I had every right to disqualify you just then and I didn’t. So think about that before you mouth off to me.”

Kylie dismissed him with a snarl and tromped toward Emily like an escapee from a Romero film. Twining her fingers in the brunette’s hair felt like coming home and hauling her upright felt even better. Alas, the good feelings turned to ash when she slipped her right arm between West’s legs in search of a Fireman’s Carry. The left knee buckled halfway up and she went down like a penitent. Or at least she would have if the Black Queen hadn’t trapped her arms in a Double Underhook. Already hunched up by the pain in her nethers, Emily planted her feet and wrenched Sanders up so far the tips of her toes were pointed at the rafters. Then she dropped back and down, THWHONKING the crown of Ky’s skull with a Double Underhook variation of the Cerebral Hemorrhage.

DOUBLE UNDERHOOK HEMORRHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qnYuqZbEoXY

Kylie sat up, then flopped down, the Iowa Barnstormer nothing more than a defenseless starfish when Em rolled over and draped an arm across her chest…

ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!

Kylie didn’t kick out, she merely shifted forcefully enough to free herself of Emily’s arm. In the grip of some serious pain herself, the Black Queen got to her feet and reached for Kyl-- she backed away, one hand swiping hair off her forehead.

“Get up, Kylie.”

No response.

“Get. Up. Kylie.”

Still no response, save for Castle’s count.

“I SAID ON YOUR FEET YOU STUBBORN LITTLE TROLL.” Emily barked.

Kylie turned over and rose in slow motion. Hazel eyes glittering with pain and hatred, she whispered, “Kiss my ass, Emily.”

West replied with one word. “Kneel.”

Sanders tromped over and BELTED her across the face with a Backhand that made the whole lower bowl wince. “NEVER!” she roared in the champ’s ear.

Em flipped hair off her face and blistered one side of Ky’s face with an equally savage forehand. “I said kneeLLEERRRGGGGHH!”

Kylie slapped her so hard she thought she’d wrenched her shoulder. “Get it through your head, genius.” she hissed. “I will NEVER bend the knee to NNNGGGGHHHH!”

Emily bloodied the challenger’s nose with her second slap, a still of which became one of several iconic images associated with this match. “You’ve knelt for a false idol.” West whispered to the suffering blonde. “It’s time you did the same for a true frie--”

Sanders tried to slap her a third time but Emily caught her wrist. Too furious to do anything but speak, Kylie growled, “You are not my friend, EmNNNGGGGGHHHHH!”

Emily pistoned her left foot into the blonde’s left shin and after seven long years Kylie Sanders finally bent the knee. Aware of nothing but the penitent woman before her, the Black Queen reached out a hand and grabbed Kylie’s hair. “I am the only friend who hasn’t abandoned you, Kylie Sanders. And that’s why this breaks my heart.”

With that Emily jerked Sanders’s noggin under her arm in a Front Facelock and slung the near arm over her shoulders. From there she snatched hold of some Louis Vuitton waistband and tugged up, prepping her old friend and nemesis for the most devastating Cerebral Hemorrhage she’d ever delivered.

Red-faced both from the assault she’s endured and having to genuflect in front of FAWN’s Queen, Kylie wobbled in front of West after being pulled to her feet, at least until she’s secured in the Facelock. Emily dipped and ‘hupped’ Sanders toward her destruction, or rather tried. Using her remaining working stem, the elfin blonde snaked it around a leg of Emily’s and kept herself grounded. The Sensual Scholar started again, determined to end Ky once and for all, but the Midwestern Menace kept the grapevined limb in place.

Frustration seeping through, Emily disconnected from her Facelock to drive a right forearm into Sanders’ left temple and end the lingering resistance. But with the arm thrown, Kylie got her left up to block the effort and responded with a blistering return blow that rocked West. Unperturbed, the busty brunette tried to even the score but again Kylie snuffed the swing and NAILED Em in the jaw with another forearm that sent the Amazing Academic’s noggin on a swivel. When Emily’s braincase returned, there’s a slight glaze over the dark pools and the champ couldn’t counter a third, and a fourth, and a fifth that finally put Emily on her ass. West’s palms ket her from fully horizontal, but her head and the brain within bobbled on her loosened neck.

Sanders winced as she took a single step to Emily to repossess the titleholder. The blonde intercepted the pistoning left lower limb of the brunette just before it cracked into her ailing knee. The Hawkeye shook her head, ready when Emily fired again, Sanders now in custody of both of Emily’s legs. Kylie spread them wide.

“You say I’m your friend?” Sanders asked.

Emily nodded worriedly. “You don’t know how much.”

Kylie nodded back with less concern on her face. “With friends like me…”

The Heartland Horror dropped to her knees and sent her forehead even lower, butting it into Emily’s crotch. West jolted into a crunching ‘V’, eyes wide and jaw dropped. She squeaked as Kylie rose and yelped when Ky dropped an elbow in the same tenderized location.

Pulling the brunette out of her attempt to turtle, Kylie braved the pain she knew was coming and leapt above the splayed Queen, stomping Emily’s considerable chest into pancakes. The blonde ground her boot leather into the thinly sheathed bosom, Kylie gritting her teeth at the pain from her balky knee but, at the same time, enjoying every second of the whimpering from the vulnerable monarch.

Kylie stepped off her ‘platform’ and took a quick circuit of the ring, trying to work her left leg into something more akin to working order. By the time she returned to West, she’s still limping and the champion was on all fours. Grabbing the long dark locks of the Brainiac, Kylie pulled Emily to stooped feet and gave her a pernicious punt to the privates to keep her that way. The blonde left her feet and sat out to the canvas, ivory-skinned gams wide and, in between, Emily’s face SLAMMED into the thinly-covered plywood, the Facebuster knocking West down to little more than cum laude status, a blank gaze pointed at the rafters when West wheeled to her back after the impact.

SIT-OUT FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sll-3Pm7RqM

A stonefaced Kylie planted her legs over West’s shoulders and counted along with Castle...

ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!

The closeness of the call dropped Kylie from seated to flat on her back, shaking her head as Emily shoved the Hawkeye’s lower limbs away, settling on her side.

“When you kneel next,” Emily huffed as she again made it to all fours, “you will say the words.”

The sound perked Kylie’s ears. She rolled to her chest and pushed to her feet. The blonde wrapped her arms around Emily’s gulping tanned tummy, first tugging West to her feet then, despite a shriek from Sanders that told everyone Emily’s handiwork on the left knee remained in the forefront, Kylie managed to vault Emily into the air, give a quarter-turn and SPIKE Em’s skull into the deck with her Child of the Corn.

CHILD OF THE CORN @ 1:20
www.youtube.com/watch?v=owFBXxoELhM&feature=channel_page

Kylie cradled the demolished Emily for...

ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!

While West was silent, Kylie shouted out a sobbing “NOOOO!”

Again she ended on her back as if hit by a Haymaker from Pandora. She rubbed her hands over her face and swept back her flaxen locks.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang through the arena and, on the FAWNtron, the patrician features of Sanders’ fellow Associate. VanBuren called to her.

“Get your ass up, Kylie,” Portia shouted, abiding by the letter of the law that kept her from ringside. “Let that bytch know who’s better and let her know who your true friends are.”

Woken from her stupor, Sanders scrambled to her feet. This time Em was a long way from all fours and Kylie dragged the addlebrained brunette up to rubbery compliance and a Front Facelock. The quieted crowd watched flabbergasted as their one-time favorite tried to prove her worth without them.

With an adrenaline-fueled shout, Ky muscled Emily overhead, her knee nearly giving out, but like Kylie herself, stubbornly holding on as she balanced Emily for a moment, fully vertical and overturned. And in a career-defining genuflection, again dropping to her knee though under very different circumstances, West was paralyzed by Kylie’s Pleasant turned Bad Dreams.

BAD DREAMS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmV8tXcKir8

As the back of Emily‘s head and neck CRASHED across the bony ball of Kylie’s right knee and the Black Queen spilled into curvy Jell-O at Kylie’s side, the crowd gasped in unison.

With Baby’s beaming visage filling the Tron, Kylie threw her aching, sweat-soaked frame across the obliterated Emily, hooking a leg for safety, and Castle dropped to his chest, his heart beating fast for the history to come in his...

ONE…
TWO…
THREE SLAPS OF THE MAT!

An eerie silence was broken by a shriek, though this was one of joy not pain. Kylie released the limp leg of the semiconscious West and reclined against the plentiful cushion of the broken Black Queen’s chest. Raising her arms high, Sanders managed to turn to the FAWNtron and Portia was gone, though just as quickly she and the rest of the Associates streamed toward the ring, Alexis leading the way then Rachel and finally VanBuren at the back of the parade.

In turn, they climbed the steps and slid through to join their VB&A compatriot, Portia having plucked the World Title belt off the Timekeeper’s table and toting it to its new owner. A delighted Alexis scooped the drenched and bruised Hawkeye off her defeated ‘friend’ and if there’s any doubt as to that friendship, Sanders turned and woke her forlorn foe with a stomp to her gurls.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, bytch,” Kylie snarled.

Portia tapped the elfin blonde on the shoulder, laying the gold and leather across her left arm to hand over the World Title in style, the FAWN WORLD F’N TITLE TO KYLIE SANDERS.

Sanders stared at the hardware long and hard, her hazel eyes pooling with tears.
“I don’t believe it,” she murmured. “That’s mine.”

“I do,” Portia responded. “And it is.”

VanBuren delivered the big belt to Sanders who turned and held it over the rousing West. She placed her left boot sole gingerly on Emily’s gulping tummy, both for Gladiatrix and herself, wanting to show the overthrown Queen her assaulted leg was just fine.

“These are friends, Emily,” Kylie barked at the battered brunette. “And I’m going to show you how much I feel the same way toward them.”

Kylie lifted her leg off the splattered Emily with a wince and slipped the belt around her waist, buckling it.

“You may do what you wish with the former champion,” the Hawkeye pronounced before embracing her fellow FAWN icon.

Portia and Kylie hugged while Rachel assisted a floundering Emily to her feet, shoving the former champ into the waiting and open arms of a very eager Filipino, Alexis dipping and wrapping Emily in a Bear Hug, the gorgeous and powerful exotique of Portia’s collection of talent squeezing the considerable stuffing out of Emily. It’s apparent West immediately felt the crushing strength, West gasping, no amount of calculations saving her from being the plaything of the junior Associate. Kylie and Baby watched with glee, Sanders between long gazes at the gleaming gold around her midriff.

With Kylie and Portia basking in that radiant glow and Alexis enjoying her gift, it was left to threat assessor extraordinaire Rachel Raker to keep an eye on the situation. Raker, the only Associate who didn’t look entirely enthused with the situation, kept her head on a swivel. It was a large part of what Portia paid her for, after all. Thirty seconds ticked by with nothing to show for it but gloating from Suguitan and groaning from West. The Fixer was about to give herself permission to breathe again when she caught a flicker of movement beside the Announce Table.

“Portia!” was all she managed before the crowd ‘ooooohhhed’ and Alexis let out a startled little gasp. Spinning around in the span between heartbeats, Raker cursed inwardly. Susannah Burlingame had crept out of the crowd while the redhead was looking the other way, then slid under the bottom rope and coiled a Sleeper around the Filipino Phenom’s neck as neat as you please. To make matters worse, Adrianna Papadopoulos was in place behind the deposed queen, Ashley Locke was practically at Rachel’s right shoulder and Lenore Lemarchand was within kissing distance of Portia and Kylie. That left Pandora unaccounted for and that made Rachel far more nervous than any of the new arrivals.

It was Susan who broke the silence, although she spoke so softly it was only Alexis that heard. “Hi there kiddo, remember me? That was my ass on your face right before Babcock stove it in with her knee. I already put one chick on a backboard tonight, I wouldn’t mind putting another in a neck brace.” To prove it she crimped down on Suguitan’s throat, which prompted a choked growl and another compression of Emily’s torso, albeit not so forcefully.

A short distance away, Portia took her eyes off the Raven to address her protégé. “Don’t let her go, Alexis. These Jerseys won’t lift a finger as long as you’re ragdolling that bytch.”

“Is that so, Baby?” VanBuren returned her attention to Lemarchand, who was watching the blonde with an arched eyebrow.

“You’re goddamned right it is, trash heap. Now get out of my-OUR ring and maybe, just maybe we’ll drop what’s left of West at the nearest hosp--”

Lemarchand raised two fingers to silence the Trust Fund Terror and Portia was so shocked by her gall that it actually worked. “In the event of such a shift as we just saw, congratulations on winning in her trunks by the way, Ky, I have been authorized to discuss terms with the new World Champion only.” Lenore looked from Kylie to Portia. “Figureheads need not apply… Baby.”

Portia reached for the hidden pocket that housed her knux, but Sanders patted her wrist. “Hold on, Portia. I want to hear how they’re gonna try to spin this.”

“No spin here, Kylie.” Lenore answered. “Just the facts. There are only two ways this is going to end. Option one, you ask Alexis to release her Bear Hug. Adrianna takes possession of Emily and we exit the ring peaceably, leaving you and yours to celebrate what was once considered a sure sign of the FAWN Apocalypse.”

Sanders smirked, traced a possessive hand over the golden faceplate and specifically the little insert that still bore Emily’s name. She couldn’t wait to tear that shyt off HER belt. “And option two?”

Lemarchand’s smile was small, but oh so poisonous. “That’s my personal favorite. That’s when you don’t tell Alexis to let go. She keeps on squeezing even though she knows Susan could choke her out or even break her neck. Rachel will go for Ashley because like Alexis she’s also a fighter and unlike the rest of you, she’s used to astronomical odds. It won’t work of course, Ashley and Adrianna will swarm at once and leave her… in a bad way. As for Portia, she’ll go for those knux and maybe she’ll even put my lights out, she does have an impressive right hand after all. But even if she takes me out…”

Someone stepped in behind the Sinister Socialite and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hello Portia.” Pandora said sweetly. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Portia looked ready to chew nails, but with the Beach Colossus’s mitt so near her throat she didn’t quite dare. After a moment of silence, Kylie asked, “What about me, Lenore? Where do I fit into this hypothetical slaughter of yours?”

The Fair & Radiant Maiden seemed surprised. “You? Why, you walk out of here under your own power. The Court won’t make a move against you, unless you do something ill-advised.”

Sanders looked to Emily in hopes of reading her expression but the former champ’s head was bowed over Alexis’s left shoulder and dark hair hung over her face. She looked back to Lenore. “And I get a pass because…”

“You took the knee, Kylie. You’re one of us now.”

“The HELL she is!” Portia exploded. “SHE’S WITH US! AN ASSOCIATE THROUGH AND THROUGH, SO JUST SHUT YOUR LYING JERSEY MOUTH!”

Lenore was nonplussed. “You’re welcome to your opinion, but last time I checked, ‘associates’ didn’t wear World Titles. They’re reserved for Champions, Queens, and CEO’s even. Sanders and Associates. Has a nice ring, don’t you--”

This time it was Kylie who raised her hand. “Stop. Don’t even think you’re going to pull that shyt on me. THESE,” she swept a hand toward Portia, Rachel and Alexis, “are my friends. Not you. Not Susan. And sure as hell not Emily West. Did you really think you could come out here and spoil the greatest moment of my career by screwing with my head?”

Lenore stepped forward and Kylie went to meet her, the battle-weary blonde ignoring the bolt of pain that ran from her left knee to her hip and back again. “I think that chess is a game of sacrifices, Kylie. Emily lost a very important piece tonight but in doing so she placed a member of the Court at the head of VB&A AND gave her friend the greatest victory of her career. I THINK that Kylie Sanders can always be counted on to do right by those closest to her, so if these three really are worth more to you than your cousin or Krystal or the Corps, you’ll tell Alexis to let Emily go. If you don’t… tonight won’t be worth remembering.”

Kylie Sanders felt the combined weight of their gazes on her. The Associates, the Court, the FAWNatics, they were all waiting to see what the new champ would do. Following a tense interlude where she never once broke eye contact with Lemarchand, the Pleasant Valley Queen said, “Let her go, Alexis. Carefully.”

Suguitan did and Emily collapsed into Adrianna’s waiting arms like a scarecrow with a disfigured middle.

“Your turn, Susan.” Lenore noted.

Burlingame did as bade, though she offered a taunting smirk when Suguitan rounded on her heel.

“You got what you wanted.” Sanders muttered. “Take her and get the hell out of my ring.”

Lenore gave her a small nod. “As we agreed. Ashley, Pandora, stand down.” The Raven looked back to Kylie. “Pleasure doing business with you, Kylie. And congratulations on the buyout. I’ll have some Sanders & Associates letterhead shipped over real--”

“Get the fahk out or I’ll crush your jaw, Jersey.” Portia hissed through clenched teeth.

Lemarchand backed up to the center of the ring. “Good game, Kylie Sanders. See ya round.” With that she turned to Adrianna, who was working to get Emily through the ropes.

The Black Queen was about halfway there when she stopped and lifted her head. “Kylie.” she croaked. Sanders’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing. “Enjoy every moment of this. Because when it goes bad, it will go very badly indeed. If there’s anything left in the aftermath…you’ll know where to find me.”

“Because you’re my friend?” the blonde scoffed.

“Because you’re my friend.” Emily agreed. Then she slumped and practically fell into Addy and Ashley, two thirds of The Three supporting their fallen Queen while the Rainmaker, the Raven and the Colossus escorted them up the aisle.

Fuming in the wake of the Court’s departure, Portia swatted Alexis and Rachel on the arm and demanded, “Kylie’s a World Champion, put her on your shoulders, dammit! And be careful of her knee!”

They did and they were, Kylie hardly noticed the pain as she was hoisted like the conquering hero she goddamned well was. Scorching the already salted earth between her and the Corps with a pair of raised middle fingers, Kylie unsnapped the big belt and raised it to the rafters.

“SO IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD, IS IT?” she shouted to the jeering throng. “WELL GUESS WHAT, BYTCHES? I FEEL FINE!”