Post by SammieSinclair on May 10, 2015 20:50:25 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer begins, bringing tonight’s capacity crowd to its feet. The atmosphere had been electric all night, but now, somehow, the atmosphere only grew in its intensity...
“The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30 minute time limit... and is for the FAWN Tag Team championship! Introducing first, the challengers...”
The announcer’s voice trails off, but the FAWNatics’ voices do not. While there’s no deafening roar, there is a undeniably expectant murmur...until it is interrupted by the voices of Iggy Azalea and Ellie Goulding...
(“HEAVY CROWN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3f8_hp7Nc6I )
“At a combined weight of four hundred and twenty-seven pounds,” our man in the tuxedo resumes, “Representing the Black Court, Ashley Locke, Pandora and Adrianna Papadopolous... they are... THE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!!! ”
The curtains part, and that serves as more than enough of a cue for the audience to lose their collective sh!t. And out step three physical specimens, who together form possibly the most imposing trio FAWN has ever seen
Pandora...
Pandora’s age is a hard thing to guess just by appearances, but she’d likely be carded at the Arena bar. And while there aren’t many women on the roster that can make the likes of Maggie Connor, Becky Clayton and Roxie freakin’ McCrimmon look like lightweights, she would certainly qualify. She stands just south of 6 feet tall and more than pleasingly fills out her white bikini top. The lights seem to dance off Pandora’s impossibly bronzed, impossibly smooth stomach. And her taut undercarriage is sheathed in a matching set of bikini bottoms, with three aqua buttons befitting her Miami roots leading toward tied off stretches of fabric that extend halfway down her thighs.
And when your legs never end, that’s a LOOOONG way.
Ashley Locke...
To her right stands the former Goddess of Love. But with that moniker now relegated to history, Ashley Locke remains an Amazon, a statuesque blonde probably right at six feet with her boots and a good two thirds of that is probably leg. Said gams are exquisitely sculpted and look downright dangerous, as do her shoulders, abdominals and chest, the latter armored in a orangish-red leather bikini top decorated with an intricate pattern of small metal studs. Her bottoms match the top, as do her pads and boots, though the pads are basic lycra and lack any sort of adornment. A detail for the discerning eye, the outer edge of each boot is adorned with a the stylized head and shoulders of a black horse.
Adrianna Papadopolous...
To Pandora’s left is FAWN’s certified Greek Goddess, Adrianna Papadopolous. It’s immediately clear Adrianna regards the filthy, teeming masses much as she did before her time off among the immortals, like a deity gazing down from the heights. Her subjects stare, momentarily slackjawed at the Greek beauty, Addy in a black version of her original attire, only appropriate for a member of Emily West’s Black Court, the organization no doubt buoyed by her return.
Pappy adjusts her revealing bikini top, while the accompanying short, black, pleated skirt gives the look of a miniaturized toga, an occasional flash of the familiarly-hued blue panties still remaining beneath. Her elbow-pads and boots have gotten the Court treatment as well, going basic black.
With all three dressed for battle, combined with their introduction, the crowds look a little on edge. Any combination of these three beauties posed a tall order. Which alignment of heavenly bodies would go into battle seeking the belts?
Pandora approaches the ring, her hindquarters perhaps not possessing quite the same degree of bootyliciousness as her former stablemate LaKeisha Bates—few do—but her hips make up for it with extra sass. Tonight’s unusual circumstances--namely, the Three being introduced first--results in a slight alteration to their usual custom. Normally, the deadly trio would fan out, leaving only the ropes furthest from the exit free to their opposition. But with no opposition in the ring, Pandora claims the ropes to the right of the aisle, Locke the ropes to the left, and Adrianna moves all the way to the ropes facing the ramp.
Panny, Pappy and Locke each thread one luscious leg through the ropes and into the ring... and all three sweep majestically through the ropes, leaving the audience to try to puzzle who would be in action this evening for a few minutes longer. Meanwhile, the announcer again brings the mic to his lips. “And now, introducing the tag team champions... Weighing in tonight at a total combined weight of two-hundred and sixty-eight pounds… Becky Clayton and Roxie McCrimmon… Ladies and gentlemen, together, they are… THE BIIIGGG GUUUNNNSSS!!!”
For a team with that name, there’s only one song that can mark their arrival. And sure enough, within moments, the FAWN Arena speakers begin to pump out AC/DC--in this instance, “Big Gun”. Not long after that, two of FAWN’s hardest hardbodies emerge at the top of the ramp, the reigning and defending tag team champions of the world receiving a tremendous roar of approval from the sellout crowd.
(“BIG GUN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a82cNcjw3iw )
Becky Clayton...
Roxie McCrimmon...
The Army of One Hot Chick sports what has now become her trademark ensemble. Having forsaken her standard one-piece after it been all but shredded by a certain Tennessee Terror, she has transitioned to a camouflage two piece with tie-sided bottoms and an eye catching ladder / double helix of lycra that runs from the center of her waistband all the way up to the bottom of her cups. She finishes it off with matching forest green pads and boots, though thanks to the artillery above, they could’ve been pink with yellow floral print and no one would’ve noticed.
The Beantown Bombshell, on the other hand, is clearly adorned in a different set of togs than her customary solo wear, though they are at least partially obscured by her usual Celtics jersey—tonight’s a green forty-one. What can be seen below the hem of the Kelly Olynyk uni is an extreme rarity in FAWN: pants. Well, “pants” is probably overstating matters. While it’s true that McCrimmon’s inner thighs are covered by shiny, camouflage patterned fabric, her outer legs are left bare save for a one-inch strap at the knee.
Each woman sports her championship strap slung over a shoulder--Becky’s right and Roxie’s left.
When Clayton has given the fans enough time to voice their appreciation, Becky starts her way down to the ring at a quick pace--but still taking the time to slap as many of the outstretched hands as she could reach. Roxanne follows alongside, doing her best to ensure that none of the front row fans are left out from the hand-slapping festivities. Ascending the steps, the Army of One Hot Chick slips through the ropes and headed straight for a far corner, hopping up onto the middle turnbuckle and snapping off a crisp salute to the roaring masses. McCrimmon races to the opposite corner, springing onto the middle buckle herself and pumping a fist—drawing a rousing cheer of her own.
From her perch, Roxie slips her fingers inside the hem of her jersey and pulls it overhead, revealing two more one-inch straps on the “pants”—one at mid-thigh and the other the waist—and a similarly camouflaged halter that leaves plenty of washboard stomach bared. Backed up by a whole platoon of her very own Howling Commandos, Becky drops down from her perch and turns to watch the enemy corner. Giving her partner a supportive slap on the shoulder, Roxie McCrimmon departs the ring, taking up station in the Big Guns corner.
In the opposite, The Three enter into a huddle any man in the arena would pay to be in the middle of. When the conversation breaks, the crowd seems surprised when Ashley Locke is the one remaining. 'Legs' stretches said limbs. moving an ankle to the top rope and reaching, before alternating to the other flawless limb. Adrianna and Pandora slide through the ropes, the FAWNatics waiting breathlessly to see who would challenge alongside the former Aphrodite. The blonde and brunette play with the assembled, each pretending to step off the apron before it's the Greek Goddess who drops from Olympus to the floor, Pandora making this an all-blonde effort from The Three. Ashley turns her attention to GI Joke, striding to center stage. "Are you ready to for a demotion?" Locke asks. "Come receive your dressing down."
The Army of One Hot Chick refuses to acknowledge the leggy blonde's jab. She does, however, note the hand placed on her shoulder by a considerably more friendly blonde. "You've got this," Roxie tells her, before correcting herself. "WE'VE got this."
Becky nods, though she'd be forgiven for having doubts, considering the way this heavenly and hellacious trio had stormed through the division. With McCrimmon out onto the apron, the referee calls for the bell--and the crowd roars as Clayton moves toward the middle of the ring. While she doesn't let her eyes wander from Ashley for long, she still allows herself a moment to launch a volley Pandora's way. "Hope you told your partner here about the beating she can expect..."
With the Guns forced to wait before renewing acquaintances with their one-time nemesis, the Army Brat comes to a halt, lifting her right hand above her head. If there was any trepidation on the champions part in matching firepower with the Three, Becky reveals none in challenging Locke to a test of strength.
Ashley laces her left set of fingers with Becky's right, the eyes of challenger and champion never breaking. Locke lifts her right and when Clayton starts to reply in kind, the blonde sweeps the already joined hands down, Ashley twisting Becky's into an uncomfortable overturned position. Stepping a long stem up and over the captured arm, Locke lands both feet back on the canvas with her back turned and Clayton's right arm scissored between her legs. Grabbing the wrist with her free hand while still clamping down in a tight grip with the other, Ashley hops off the canvas, planning on ramming her undercarriage atop Becky's right elbow when she comes down.
The sculpted gams of the once self-styled Goddess of Love have always been an effect weapon, but now, it's her derriere that does the most damage, eliciting a sharp cry of pain and buckling the mighty stems of the Army of One Hot Chick. When Locke rises up and brings her tush down again on Clayton's elbow, Becky is sent sinking to one knee... seconds into the match. Scowling as much in disgust as pain, the GI balls her free fist, preparing to send a forearm into the back of Ashley's thigh.
With her back to the GI, Locke can't defend the blow and it thumps into the meat of her upper leg. Ashley lurches forward, managing to swallow a yelp. She decides keeping her head turned from Becky is far too dangerous. Holding the captured right arm of Clayton under her control, Ashley dismounts and tugs Becky to her feet with her left hand, ready to smash her drawn right arm across the clavicle of the rising brunette with a shortarm clothesline.
While hardly a lumbering giant, Becky Clayton would never be mistaken for Dominique Daly. Tugged abruptly back to verticality, the Army Brat proves incapable of ducking before Ashley's scythe SMASHES across her chest. Clayton's return to verticality proves distressingly short, as the clothesline loses nothing in power for its brevity. Becky hits the deck hard, the back of her head smacking off the canvas and sending her arms spasming toward cradling her throbbing noggin.
When a nearly six-footer with legs to die for and from is usually considered the finesse of a team, it's clear the challengers are loaded, and with Becky laid out before her, Locke seems intent on showing she's no soft touch among her triumvirate. Racing to the ropes at the GI's side, Ashley rebounds off from the cables and returns to the decked hardbody. Lifting off, her lengthy lower limbs extend, the former Aphrodite seeking to land a big legdrop across the chest and throat of the camo-clad champion.
Rolling clear of the path of Aphrodite's ridiculously long stems is a tall order, but somehow, Becky manages it. Clearing out of the drop zone with maybe a hair to spare, Ashley is left with nothing to absorb the force of her landing, which sends a sudden and sharp jolt of pain shooting from Locke's coccyx up her spine. The Army of One Hot Chick scrambles to her feet, clearly intend on making sure that this match is not the "walk' the Three have grown accustomed to. To her credit, a wincing Ashley is quick to pick herself up as well, but by now, Clayton is already shooting off the cables, launching herself in the air to meet the challenger with a flying shoulderblock.
(FLYING SHOULDERBLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVDmT2BEdIY )
And Ashley is rocked by the leaping hardbody, Locke taken off her feet and THUMPING against the canvas. Undeterred, the Black Courtier scrambles to her feet. But Becky, who only stopped a second to survey, is back on the rebound and repeats the process, knocking Ashley off her feet again. This time the blonde is sent somersaulting through her landing against the mat. Still, she quickly presses up, even if her eyes seem a bit glassy. Becky goes for the apres-peaux three-spot and blows up Locke. Dipping her shoulder deep and throwing, Ashley is sent flying into a violent backflip, landing HARD on her face and chest.
It's a tempting thought, to stay on the attack. But walking out of the FAWN Arena tonight STILL tag team champion would require both herself and the Beantown Bombshell remaining fresh and fully charged, so Becky quickly turns to her corner and slaps Roxie McCrimmon's outstretched hand. The Irish-American stunner enters the ring... and her compatriot doesn't depart. Instead, both women return to the rising Ashley. The Army of One Hot Chick gives Locke a helping hand by helping herself to plenty of the blonde's locks, before the Guns each wrap an arm around the challenger's neck. Becky and Roxie each reach for a handful of orange-ish red leather at Ashley's hips, preparing to show some power of their own with a dual snap suplex.
And with both Guns working in tandem, Ashley whips up and over at warp speed like she's Noemie Devereaux. Locke's spine CRASHES into the canvas and the blonde beauty arches in pain, her lids clasping shut. Outside, Pandora and Adrianna hold their tongues, seemingly unconcerned. "Just remember," Panny finally offers. "Goose...Gander."
Locke sits up, the former Aphrodite not nearly as calm about having two Guns pointed at her. "REF," she shrieks as Roxie pulls her toward verticality.
"Awwwwwww, quit your bellyachin'," McCrimmon hisses, her lips slightly curled in a vengeful smirk. "Maybe I should give you something else to ache, huh?" Rather than wait for an answer, the Beantown Bombshell's well-defined arms snake around Ashley's midriff, applying a loose hug. But the aim of the blonde hardbody is not to crush the breathe out of Locke. Rather, Roxie begins to muscle Locke off her feet, looking to genuflect and split Aphrodite's luscious wickets with an inverted atomic drop.
Locke, again finding having her six to a Gun is a bad place to be, is sent UP with a jerk, her long lower limbs flying out in front of her. And then DOWN when the flaxen-haired version of hardbody heaven sets to one knee and DRIVES the bony joint DEEP between Locke's thighs. Ashley is sent hopping from the impact, landing a few feet away, pigeon-toed, the crowd delighting in the agony on her face. Hands pressed to her junk, a pained Ashley waddles toward Pandora, arm outstretched.
The Beach Goddess quickly reaches out her hand, but before they can brush fingertips, the Beantown Bombshell snatches Ashley by the shoulder and wheels the statuesque blonde back toward the middle of the ring. Taking Locke's wrist, McCrimmon sets her feet and sends the challenger racing into the Big Guns corner... and she doesn't wait for the Courtier to arrive at her destination before charging in after her. Almost as soon as Locke's back slams into the buckles, Roxie's arm smashes into the blonde's chest with a running clothesline. As Ashley sags a little deeper into the corner, McCrimmon and Clayton high five, bringing the Army of One Hot Chick back into the contest. The Beantown Bombshell makes a more prompt exit that her partner had just: moments ago, leaving the ring and allowing Becky to take Locke's wrist. Again, the challenger is sent for a ride, only now into the ropes--with the Army Brat waiting to deliver a tilt-a-whirl powerslam upon her return.
(TILT-A-WHIRL POWERSLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcgIjIAHrGk )
With the brunette barring her way, Ashley leaps toward her roadblock and it proves a serious mistake. Becky simply catches Ashley and lifts the Black Courtier up across her right shoulder, twisting her into position like she's a lightweight. Clayton turns with her cargo, taking an extra tick to cast a glance in Pandora's direction and then it's DOWN. Becky drops to all fours and SLAMS Ashley violently to the mat, Locke bouncing an inch off the deck before spreading out in a dazed starfish. Clayton hooks a ready leg when she presses tight in a crossbody pin and gets the...
ONE...
TWO...
... the former Goddess of Love shoves a shoulder up defiantly, Pandora slapping the top turnbuckle in support and perhaps angst.
Clayton rises back onto her haunches and fixes the official with a stern glare, but she as well as everyone else understands that it's going to take a lot more than that to dispatch the Three. Meanwhile, Ashley Locke works her way up to a seated position--and the Army Brat into climbs to her knees. Crawling up behind the reeling blonde, Becky fashions both her hands into claws, twin sets of curled digits ready to plunge into the shoulders of the former Goddess of Love when the Army of One Hot Chick latches on her E-Tool.
As the digits sink in, Ashley's shoulders reflexively pinch in pain, her face scrunching from the iron grip of the Tool. Locke's boots patter against the mat and playfully Roxie shouts out that the blonde is tapping, drawing a growl from Adrianna. The GI's biceps flex as she pours her strength into the debilitating nerve-pinching clamps. But even while Becky continues to bore in to the muscles of Locke's neck, Ashley pushes her back into Clayton and uses her foe to rise. It's a slow painful process, but a determined Ashley makes her feet and throws a shoulder behind her, trying to convince Clayton to give up her Tool so she can escape and let Pandora pave a comeback trail.
One shoulder isn't enough. A second loosens Clayton's grasp, and a third finally wins the challenger her freedom. To the immense relief of the Howling Commandos, however, Becky's arms wrap around Ashley's waist from behind before the leggy beauty can pull away, the GI tugging Locke into a bearhug. Much like with Roxie's embrace earlier, Becky primary aim isn't constriction--though her guns DO exert a little more force than McCrimmon's had. Instead, the champ's main goal is to restrict Locke as she backpedals, allowing the Beantown Bombshell to slap her shoulder and make the tag. That swat was still echoing in the air when Becky releases her hug, the Army Brat whipping Ashley into the far ropes as Roxie slides into the ring. With Locke rebounding toward her, McCrimmon charges with an outstretched arm, looking to decapitate the challenger with a massive lariat.
The two blondes race toward one another and Locke dips below Roxie's drawn limb, not an easy trick for the statuesque Ashley. Each races to the cables in front of them and bound back at each other again. Closing the space between them easily with long strides, Ashley and Roxanne reach for the other, both sets of hands finding flaxen hair as they sprint by. Both tug the other off their feet, sending the other's face SMASHING into the deck with ring-rattling collisions. The crowd groans, mostly from Roxie's faceplant, but the dual impacts send both women flopping to their backs, laid out and staring at the rafters. As the FAWNatics clap as one, trying to get a dazed McCrimmon off her taut ass, both women rise and reflexively head for home, Locke toward the extremely eager Pandora and McCrimmon to her fellow loaded Gun.
The former Goddess of Love makes the tag first, another groan running through the masses--equal parts disappointment and alarm. Pandora explodes into the ring--and the third member of the Three, Adrianna Papadopolous, quickly climbs onto the apron, LOUDLY protesting Becky and Roxie's rampant double teaming. The referee marches over to the Greek beauty, ordering her back to the floor...
... just as McCrimmon's hand finds Clayton's. The FAWNatics greet this tag FAR more warmly as the Army of One Hot Chick surges through the ropes, meeting Pandora head on with a series of forearms to the chest that back her toward the ropes. Meanwhile, her purpose served, Adrianna graciously bows to the officials demands and drops down from the apron. And when the zebra turns back to the action, he immediately insinuates himself between Becky and Panny, and ORDERS the Army Brat back to her corner.
"Cheaters never prosper," Pandora informs Clayton, pointing Becky back to her corner. "Not with the outstanding officials we have here in FAWN," she adds, even causing the zebra's eyes to roll. Accompanying the escorted Becky back to the Guns corner, the woman who was considered both an immovable object and an unstoppable force shoves Becky out the rest of the way when the GI puts one leg through. The curvy blonde turns to the Beantown Bombshell, Roxie tightly grabbing the top rope with both hands. "Well," Panny barks, "we're waiting!"
The Beach Goddess' little push ensures that Clayton doesn't just depart the ring, but also sends her tumbling off the apron and crashing to the floor. It wasn't a particularly massive fall, mind you, but it still ensured that McCrimmon didn't simply make another tag, this time with the official's eyes firmly locked on the occasion. No, the Army Brat would need a moment to pick herself back up and get into position--and Pandora is hardly known as the patient sort. Knowing she would need to buy Becky that time, Roxie shoves off from her corner, charging the smirking specimen. Panny raises her right arm to meet the blonde robobabe head on... but that actually turns out to be playing into McCrimmon's hand. Snaring that arm as it comes toward her, the Beantown Bombshell attempts to swing around behind the challenger, hoping to secure a hammerlock--and, if she could manage that even while dealing with a little lingering wooziness, transform that hammerlock into her Boston Pop'skull.
(BOSTON POP’SKULL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=roNXZncq0r4 )
McCrimmon steps skillfully around the busty blonde, drawing Panny's folded arm with her, sending the challenger to tiptoes to relieve the pressure. Gritting her teeth, Pandora readies an elbow to toss behind her, but McCrimmon dips underneath and snatches Panny off the deck at her shin, sending the Court's enforcer onto Roxie's right shoulder. McCrimmon spins with her curvy cargo and falls into a bridge, sending Pandora tumbling over, landing roughly on her head and neck. The crowd, caught up in the unexpected nature of Pandora's peril is flatfooted and silent as Roxie slides over for a crossbody press and gets a...
ONE...
Panny shoves the champ off emphatically and rises to a seat, cradling her head with one arm, but shaking a raised index finger with the other, effectively scolding Roxanne.
By chance or by design, Pandora's kickout had sent the Beantown Bombshell spilling toward the corner of the Three, and AWAY from her own. So, while Clayton had managed to get back on the apron, on her knees, there was still the matter of getting past the Beach Goddess to make that tag--and the curvaceous blonde's wagging finger tells McCrimmon that will take a little more doing. Stalking over to the seated beauty, Roxie grunts as she hauls Pandora back to verticality, then prepares to whip her into the ropes. Alas, Pandora digs in, reversing the whip and sending Roxie off for the ride. For a second time, the challenger raises her arm...
... and for a second time, the sculpted blonde avoids it, this time by ducking under. Pandora quickly turns to find Roxie as she rebounds off the opposite ropes, leaving McCrimmon precious few seconds to figure out a response. Defensive wrestling was hardly the hardbody's game, but she does manage to take flight, sailing toward Pandora in a leaping straddle, aiming to ride the former World champion to the canvas with a Thesz Press.
McCrimmon's flight appears to go well enough until she meets the stone wall that is Pandora. The challenger catches McCrimmon and controls her, a feat few could even hope to match. Stumbling back no more than a step, her arms swaddling under Roxie's thighs, Pandora pivots, ready to drop to her knees and bust the spine of the Big Gun.
Roxie's eyes grow wide, the Beantown Bombshell's face becoming the perfect visual representation of the thought, "Oh sh!t..." Thankfully for her pride, neither the live audience nor the camera crew have much of a chance to capture and/or process moment, Pandora moving with alarming swiftness. In this instance, that speed is actually a product of power, and works in the service of that same quality, the Beach Goddess falling to her knees and DRIVING McCrimmon into the mat below. Roxie's exquisite legs fall away from Pandora's hips, the tag champion left in an anguished starfish, her belly lifted toward the lights thanks to her arched, aching vertebrae.
Pandora doesn't even seem to consider a pin. Instead, she takes a moment to gaze at Becky and mouths 'The best you could do?' Panny sinks her right set of fingers into McCrimmon's scalp and tugs her to a seat before NAILING her in the jaw, flattening the Bostonian. Popping to her feet, Pandora gives her glossy, tawny tummy a couple reverberating slaps and takes off for the ropes behind her. As she returns on approach to the splayed Roxanne, Panny lifts off a couple feet away, preparing to add a little momentum to her signature Tummy Tuck and splash down across the face of the challenger, feeding Roxie a faceful of midriff.
Earlier in the evening, Becky Clayton had managed the challenging task of rolling out of the way of Ashley Locke's impossibly long legs. Unfortunately, the Army of One Hot Chick's partner isn't able to match her in avoiding her opponent's favored weapon. Pandora splashes down, reveling in the sensation of Roxie's nose and chin pressing into her stomach, McCrimmon's gams swinging into the air at impact. In the Guns corner, Clayton grimaces in sympathy--the only expression of the Tummy Tuck's effectiveness visible to the audience.
Pandora rises to hands and knees, uncovering the dazed visage of McCrimmon. She gives Becky a wink as she ascends, pulling Roxie up with her with a clenched handful of flaxen locks. Disdainfully spinning McCrimmon, Panny slips an arm between her foe's legs from behind and vaults the not insignificant mass of the Beantown Bombshell off the canvas and across her shoulders in a Torture Rack. But before Roxie gets a chance to feel the slow backbreaking agony of the Rack, Pandora decides to speed the process. Dipping slightly, she prepares to 'hup' Roxie over her shoulders, genuflecting to send a knee directly into the lower spinal column of the Boston-born Big Gun with an Argentine Backbreaker.
(ARGENTINE BACKBREAKER @0:58:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo5bJxLm24k )
The Beantown Bombshell swings off Pandora's shoulders, propelling on a short trip upward, followed by a long and precipitous fall. The champ's descent ends when her back CRASHES into the Beach Goddess' posted knee. Roxie lets out a particularly loud wail as she bounces off of Panny's thigh, landing flat on her arse, facing the corner of the challengers. It's only a moment, however, before she tumbles over on one hip, left sprawled, face down and rubbing at the base of her spine. In a true testament to Pandora's might, the Beach Goddess was making Roxie McCrimmon look like Allie McKenzie... and the FAWNatics are beginning to grow very, VERY concerned.
Pandora reaches and finds a grip in McCrimmon's follicles again. This time she tears Roxie to all fours, the champ yelping on her way up and mewling as Panny leads her like a bytch on a leash to the corner of The Three. Reaching her destination, the beach blonde holds out a palm and receives a slap from an eager Ashley. As Locke goes up instead of in, Pandora scoops Roxanne off the deck, turning the squirming McCrimmon in her grip and dropping her spine-first across bended knee once more. With her upper body noticeably extended, Roxie yips in pain from the knee inserted into her lower back. She fails to see the long-legged Love Goddess on her heavenly perch, ready for liftoff and a legdrop of a whole different level, Locke planning to level the champ out of her backbreaking predicament.
And with Pandora holding her writhing, moaning prey firmly in place, there's nowhere for the Beantown Bombshell to go. Showing a fluidity that spoke of countless hours in the gym--and no doubt many a hapless, aspiring talent who'd consented to be a sparring partner rendered demolished--the voluptuous blonde pulls her hand away from Roxie's chin at the very last possible moment before Ashley's delectable thigh SLAMS into McCrimmon's upper chest and lower throat. The defused Big Gun is throttled off Pandora's knee with a loud cry, the Irish-American beauty left on her belly, flopping like a fish on the beach.
Pandora rises from one knee and moves to the spasming McCrimmon. She tugs a rubbery Roxie to her feet and leads her to center stage, the official barking at Panny to evacuate, but the powerhouse paying him no mind. Setting Roxanne up like a wobbly bowling pin dead center, the challengers head in opposite directions. They rebound off the ropes, each sprinting directly toward the Beantown Bombshell, ready to deliver a sandwich that would satisfy any appetite for destruction, the twosome planning on simultaneously SPLASHING McCrimmon from either side.
From her corner, Becky Clayton slaps the top turnbuckle as hard as she can. Perhaps she hoped the loud rhythm would rouse the Beantown Bombshell out of her stupor. With the Three continuing to bear down on her partner and Roxie showing little sign of recognizing the danger that she's in, the Army of One Hot Chick shouts, "COME ON, ROXIE!!!!"
But McCrimmon goes nowhere, not until she is CRUSHED between 289 combined pounds of shapely, stunning blonde devastation. Locke and Panny bounce away from the champion and from each other, leaving Roxie to... continue to sway in the breeze. Initially. After about two seconds, though, the Irish-American hardbody tumbles to her knees, finally sagging back to take a seat with her tush resting against her heels, McCrimmon's head slumping forward.
"REF!" the Army of One Hot Chick bellows from her corner, threading one leg through the ropes. "Either YOU get one of those two out of there, or *I* will!"
The official nods but moves to Becky. "I'm working on it, but I can't do my job with you in here." He waits on guard until Clayton pulls her leg out. Meanwhile, Panny races to the ropes in front of the stunned McCrimmon and hits a u-turn out of the cables. The buxom blonde dives into a crossbody of Roxie's face, NAILING her with the Shining Tummy. As quickly as Pandora can roll off, Ashley lands a kneedrop to McCrimmon's right temple. With Becky backing off, despite all her instincts shouting otherwise, Pandora heads for the exit while Ashley hauls Roxanne to her feet, grabs a wrist and flings the hardbody to the ropes. As the glassy-eyed blonde rebounds toward her, Ashley surges at her foe, lifting a Big Boot in the direction of the champ's chin.
And heel meets jaw in a savage collision, Roxie's head snapping backward and her legs sailing out from underneath her a heartbeat later. McCrimmon plummets back to the canvas, arms and legs splayed at her sides, left motionless at the feet of the Goddess of Love. Ashley gaze sinks to the wreckage of the Beantown Bombshell... but not for long. Lifting her eyes to meet the Army of One Hot Chick, Locke plants a sole atop Roxie's heaving bosom, and without saying a word issues a challenge:
"Bring your ass in here and break this up."
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOO!!!!!
McCrimmon's right palm shoves at Ashley's ankle, hardly the most forceful expression of her strength she'd ever managed, but enough to stave off the pinfall.
Locke peers down at McCrimmon and steps atop the chest of Roxie on her way to the corner of The Three. She formally hands off the reins to Pandora with a tag and the powerhouse of The Court slides in as Ashley steps over the tope rope to move out. "Any complaints?" Pandora asks with a smirk, showing Clayton the challengers can run a clean tag.
Pandora gleefully grasps a wrist of the demolished McCrimmon and tugs the jellied blonde to her feet. She buggywhips Roxanne to a neutral corner, the Bostonian barely able to keep her balance to make the buckles. Still, when she SLAMS in back-first, it's a significant collision that sends a shudder through the champ. Panny gives a wave to Becky and takes off in a surprisingly speedy sprint across the canvas, Pandora racing toward an avalanche splash of her foe that would take out what little starch remains in the titleholder.
Being made the meat in a sandwich between Pandora and the turnbuckles might not have been as devastating as the splash Pandora had performed with Ashley Locke, but it's certainly effective. "GYYYUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" a bug-eyed Big Gun gasps, her opponent making a point to keep her one hundred and fifty-one pounds pressed in tight against McCrimmon into the official observes that Roxie is, by virtue of being in the corner, also in the ropes. Only when he starts to count does the Beach Goddess pull back. And, deprived of Panny's frame offering incidental support, the Beantown Bombshell plops to a seat, struggling to suck down air.
Pandora grins at Roxie's predicament and turns to race to a corner. But instead of directly heading for the opposite number, the big blonde chugs to the champ's HQ and NAILS Becky with a forearm that sends the brunette tumbling to the floor. Ashley and Adrianna share a slap of hands as Pandora makes a right turn and heads for the buckles opposite what's left of Roxanne. Reaching them, Panny barrels across the deck, the curvy blonde crossing the canvas in short order. She leaps toward a low crossbody, planning to give Roxie another slightly modified Tummy Tuck.
Even if she hadn't spent the last several minutes being systematically ground into paste, rolling clear of a length-wise nearly 6 foot Beach Goddess (and with her arms extended over her head, raise that figure closer to 7 feet) is--forgive the expression--a tall order. In her current state, the challenge is an all but impossible one. Bronzed abdomen meets shellshocked features, the thin sheen of perspiration gracing Pandora's tummy adding a little extra resonance to the collision. As Panny climbs back to her knees between McCrimmon's splayed legs, the boneless Beantown Bombshell melts a little deeper into the corner, the back of her head taking a tumble to rest atop the bottom turnbuckle.
Deciding the inevitable transfer of titles has been delayed long enough, Pandora grasps the bobbling head of the blonde. Panny drags the ragdolled McCrimmon to her feet and bullies her to the middle, spinning the bleary-eyed, boneless Bostonian 180 degrees then quickly capturing Roxie in a full nelson. As she raises the arms of McCrimmon, Pandora slips her head under Roxanne's left and starts to vault the hardbody HIGH, planning to release her grip at its highest point so she can treat the fellow member of The Three to something both could no doubt appreciate...a Greek Tragedy.
(GREEK TRAGEDY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uD8FwEDXAMo )
The FAWNatics instantly recognize one of the most feared finishers in the company. To date, no one had survived it--and it was nearly impossible for the crowd to conceive any way even the most valiant of warriors could kick out after it. Becky Clayton elects to rally the fans voices, waving her right hand up to the ceiling, the chant of "ROX-IE!" increasing in volume which each entreaty.
The thing about good tag teams, REALLY good tag teams, is that they tend to work together so much that they can communicate without speaking a syllable. And that has certainly been the case for the Big Guns throughout their run. As Pandora nudges her head up and underneath Roxie's left arm, her right trapped in the clutches of the Beach Goddess' half nelson, the Beantown Bombshell's head drifts upward, allowing dulled eyes to meet the Army Brat's, one unspoken word passing from one to the other...
"Sorry."
Pandora muscles Roxie airborne, only to abruptly shift course and swing the sculpted blonde upside down, sitting out and SPIKING McCrimmon's head and shoulders into the mat. The impact leaves the Beantown Bombshell imploded, folded into the snuggest of matchbooks--and prompts the Army of One Hot Chick to rush into the ring before Pandora can cover. Right now, their ONLY hope of retaining rested with her ability to prevent the voluptuous blonde from gaining an all-too-academic one-two-three.
The camo-clad brunette races to beat the ticking clock and leaps over her partner to PLANT a dropkick to the jaw of Pandora. The buxom blonde is knocked off the blasted champion, rolling in a back somersault through the impact and popping to her feet. Not waiting for the ref to eject the Army interloper, Pandora rushes at a rising Becky with right arm drawn, ready to swing the scythe-like appendage to Clayton's clavicle and lariat the GI into next week, leaving her to clean up the puddle that is Roxie McCrimmon.
But it's a swing and a miss for the challenger, Becky ducking the would-be clothesline. Having swung her sickle with all the force that she could muster, the Beach Goddess struggles to reclaim her balance as the Army of One Hot Chick straightens up. Adrenaline coursing through her veins with the stakes never higher, Clayton begins slamming forearm after forearm after forearm into Pandora's vaunted bosom, the barrage of blows soon forcing the curvy blonde into a retreat. When her back hits the ropes, Panny tries to charge back into a return of fire... but as she does, Becky dips a shoulder, looking to scoop her fellow former World champion up into a fireman's carry--and into position for her Army of One.
(ARMY OF ONE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz9GPZjiL3A )
The onrushing Pandora gives Becky the momentum she needs to make the lift an easy one, Clayton popping Panny across her shoulders. Becky skillfully crosses the flailing legs of the beach beauty and spins the curvy blonde around and off her shoulders, keeping Panny in a cradled ball as she sits out, THUMPING Pandora into the deck. Out of instinct, Becky keeps Panny cradled in the pin for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOO!
Reflexively, Pandora kicks out, though it isn't necessary. Ashley, unwilling to watch this charade any longer gets to Clayton before the official can escort the Big Gun out, Locke clamping down on shoulder and head to peel the GI off her partner.
Getting Becky off the Beach Goddess is the easy part. But once she's on her feet, the Army of One Hot Chick starts swinging elbows back into Locke's abdomen, each one knocking a louder gust of air from the lungs of the former Goddess of Love. It takes two to break Ashley's grip on her noggin, and a third allows Clayton to shrug her shoulder clear, the Army Brat spinning to face her opponent. And, stuffing one hand between Locke's thighs as her other moves to the challenger's chest, Becky attempts to do to Locke what she dared not try with Pandora, preparing to hoist Ashley up into a military press--the precursor to her Black Ops over-the-shoulder powerslam.
Becky dips and draws Ashley across her chest. Seeing Adrianna vault to the apron and start to slip through out of the corner of her eye, Clayton spins the wriggling Locke so her long lithe legs THUMP into the chin of the Greek Goddess, sending her tumbling from whence she'd come. With the crowd roaring, the GI then cleans Ashley to her shoulders and aptly military presses the wide-eyed, fearful Locke overhead, Ashley's noggin shaking in disbelief.
As Clayton powers one of The Three up, Pandora is on her feet, charging. While there isn't time to follow through on Black Ops, there is to toss Ashley into her charging partner and one blonde crossbodies the other, the challengers ending in a groaning flattened 'X' on the canvas. With Roxie having retrieved enough of her senses to make heads and tails of Becky's remarkable audible, the Beantown Bombshell dives atop the splattered blondes, lying on Ashley's back while Locke sandwiches Pandora to her shoulders underneath for the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
It's Ashley who manages to buck Roxie off the pair of them--which is a good thing, as Pandora doesn't manage to get a shoulder off the canvas until about a whole second after the former Goddess of Love sits up. When Becky moves toward Locke, the referee tries to intercept her, but the Army of Chick will have none of it and brushes him aside. At that point, the zebra throws his hands up, resigned to his loss of control while Clayton hairhauls Ashley to her feet. Holding the leggy blonde so that her left flank is to Clayton, the GI reaches through Ashley's thighs in hopes of claiming a wrist. No, she couldn't collect a pinfall here. But FUBARing Locke would give Becky and her pummeled partner a better shot of finishing off the Beach Goddess.
(FUBAR @0:28:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VDkfiHvd5s )
Becky finds the wrist and tugs the leggy blonde's left arm up and in between, smacking Locke's limb into her own undercarriage, bringing a yip from the Black Courtier as she rises to tiptoes. But before Becky can reach across her foe's lowered back and fully secure the pumphandle, Ashley's elbow crooks with Clayton's and the blonde hiptosses the GI over her back and shoulder, Becky landing on her taut derriere. Ashley skips over a seated Clayton, hits the ropes in front of her, and levels a lowered Big Boot toward Becky's jaw. No more than a few steps away, Pandora is having less success with Roxie, McCrimmon straddling the beach goddess's waist and using Panny's gurls like speed bags.
Following her reprieve from the Greek Tragedy, the Beantown Bombshell's "second act" is going remarkably well--and Roxie intends to keep it going. Yanking the towering, voluptuous blonde up with two handfuls of hair, McCrimmon lets out a fierce cry as she slings the former World champion into the near corner. "MIGHT BE A LITTLE LATE," the Irish-American blonde bellows, "BUT IT'S NEVER *TOO* LATE TO GET THE 'PARTY' STARTED!" Marching toward the slumping Beach Goddess, Roxie prepares to make Pandora her bytch in a way perhaps no one--no, not even Burlingame--had managed, by inviting her to the Violence Party.
(VIOLENCE PARTY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDuqpbZATV4 )
But, as successfully as things are going for the blonde robobabe, her partner is suddenly having a less successful go of it. Becky's arms begin to rise, looking to block the oncoming boot. But Ashley's looooooooong stems are a difficult thing to judge when you've been put flat on your ass, and the Army of One Hot Chick's reaction time is a little too slow. Sweeping through Clayton's defenses, Locke's sole SMASHES into the GI's mug, her heel blasting into Becky's jaw and snapping her head back. The camo-clad cutie tumbles backward and stares blankly up into the lights for a moment... but then, her eyelids begin a furious round of blinking as she tries to regain her wits.
Roxie lays into Pandora's upper body with a flurry of chops and forearms, the crowd wooing itself silly. And the delight only grows when the 'Boston Strong' McCrimmon lays into Panny with headbutts galore. The blonde hardbody rotates and snap mares a dazed Pandora to the deck. Roxanne tears into her foe's spine with some wicked kicks. But that's where the Party may come to an end, as Ashley lurches toward her second Gun, raising her Big Boot to a higher level to remove Roxie's head from her shoulders.
And with Roxie's head lowered toward the seated Pandora, she never even sees the former Aphrodite's incoming kick. And also, with her head lowered, Locke's Big Boot catches crown and forehead rather than jaw. But the results are much the same--the Beantown Bombshell's head whips backward, her eyes briefly crossing as McCrimmon is sent into a drunken backpedal. Her retreat ends when her back smacks into the turnbuckles, Roxie's arms spilling over the top rope and her noggin drooping toward her bosom, the stunned Irish-American stunner's legs shimmying as she starts to slump toward a seat.
For her part, the Army of One Hot Chick has worked her way up to a seated position, knees raised and elbows resting atop them. Becky's shake of her head shows that, even as she tries to regroup, there are STILL a number of bells ringing in her head.
With Adrianna pumping her fist on the outside at Locke's success, Ashley swings an arm underneath one of her tag partner's, helping the rubbery Pandora to her feet. Panny shows plenty of effects from Roxie's Party, proving it is a FAWN happening not to be missed. But with the previously unsung Ashley helping her to the Guns unadulterated leader, Pandora regains her bearings and strength enough to help Locke draw Becky to her feet. Running the brunette to the ropes, the blackhearted blondes bum rush her over, Clayton thunking off the apron on the way down to the floor.
With Becky ejected, the duo turn their attention to McCrimmon. Without a word, Ashley grabs a wrist of Pandora and makes the curvy force of nature her weapon, Irish whipping Panny toward a rising Roxie. With Pandora bearing and bouncing down upon her, ready to make Roxanne a greasespot with a memorable avalanche splash, the champ is on a very tenuous clock and, with every step/jiggle, the time to save herself lessens for the Beantown Bombshell.
And in no time at all, the clock strikes midnight. Pandora flies the last couple of feet into the corner, her curvaceous one hundred and fifty-one pound frame CRUUUUUSSSSHHHHIIIINNNNNGGGG Roxie into the buckles.
"GYYYUUUUUUUUUuuunnnnmmmmmmmppppppppphhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!" a wide-eyed blonde hardbody gasps, but that becomes a muffled cry when the force of the Beach Goddess' collision with her sends her head swinging forward, her face up to those bulging eyes disappearing between Pandora's cleavage. This development is hardly amiss from Panny's point of view. With a wicked smirk, she elects to lounge against the deflated robobabe for a few seconds, reveling in McCrimmon's ineffectual shoves against her hips. Pandora is dislodged only by her own whim, stepping back to allow Roxie to take a lumbering step forward and to the left... followed by an even more awkward, OVER-corrected step to the right--and finally, for the Beantown Bombshell to dive toward the mat, landing in a face down jumble of arms and legs.
Out on the floor, Becky Clayton crawls her way back to the ring, clutching the apron as she drags herself up to her knees.
She seems ready to reenter when the Greek Goddess slips her arms under and around those of the GI. Quickly capturing Becky in a full nelson, Adrianna draws Becky's head and upper body backward. Clayton's face belies the anxiety in her heart and Pappy shows there is good cause when she swings Clayton's face into the apron, banging her head off the deck. The camo-clad beauty melts to the feet of the Goddess.
In the ring, Ashley nods toward a redfaced ref who continues to demand she leave the premises. Slipping her long legs through and following behind, Ashley takes her rightful spot and waves to Pandora to make them champions. Panny tugs Roxanne off the canvas and into a front facelock, the busty blonde swinging a limp arm of McCrimmon's over her shoulder. Pressing a hand into the pelvis of the hardbody, Panny pushes Roxanne to vertical and overturned and there she hols and holds and holds, the blood rushing to Roxie's braincase. Finally, Pandora seems ready to complete the jackhammer in the way and with the emphasis only she could.
(DELAYED JACKHAMMER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bD2Js9gCk0 )
The shots to the head are beginning to add up for the Army of One Hot Chick, but that doesn't stop Clayton from rolling away from Papadopoulos and pushing up to her hands and knees. While Becky begins to crawl toward the ring steps, the Beantown Bombshell is going nowhere, Roxie McCrimmon held on display by the Eighth Wonder of the Femfighting World. And as much as they might loathe Panny, the FAWNatics still feel a strange compulsion to count off the seconds...
"ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
EIGHT!
NINE!
TEN!
ELEV..."
While the tremor in Pandora's bicep had grown a little more pronounced, enough fans had thought she could keep Roxie elevated enough to keep counting, but the Beach Goddess instead grunts and DRIVES McCrimmon down to the mat. As the former World champ lands on her knees, it's almost a surprise that the Irish-American hardbody's landing doesn't leave an impact crater. What it DOES do is send spasms through the length and breadth of Roxie's sculpted frame.
It takes but the time for Pandora to collect a few calming breaths for her to begin scooting forward on her knees, ending in a reverse straddle a few inches over McCrimmon's face. Panny glances over her left shoulder and down into Roxanne's worried features, the blonde hardbody already ineffectually pushing at Panny's thighs as they lower. And with them come the cheeks of doom, Pandora's Box lowered to send the face of Boston's Big Gun into warm, velvety, oxygen-depriving darkness, FAWN's heaviest ordinance ready to force surrender from the champion Guns.
Outside the ring, it's all the Greek Goddess can do not to lick her lips as she watches Becky near the steps... and then, Adrianna charges forward, extending her right leg and VICIOUSLY sandwiching Becky Clayton's skull between bootleather and steel. The Army of One Hot Chick is out cold, well before her body finishing puddling before Pappy. There'd be no cavalry for Roxie.
Inside the ring, Pandora's glutes settles into her suit atop McCrimmon's face, the Irish-American blonde's hands continuing to shove at the beach Goddess' hips and thighs... and continuing to have the same lack of results. Panny didn't often finish matches this way, but really, when claiming a championship, surely only making the soon-to-be-EX-champ her throne was only fitting. Eventually, the Beantown Bombshell's hands drop away... the already weak pushing and kicking of her sculpted gams grower slower... and slower... and then stop altogether. And though he hardly relishes asking the question, the referee dutifully poses it to Pandora: "Which do you want me to check, her shoulders or her ar..." Realizing that with Panny's shins resting atop Roxie's biceps, the arms are perhaps NOT the best gauge of consciousness, he corrects to, "errrr... leg?"
"The quickest way you'd like to dispense with this pretender the better." Shrugging, the official makes the easy call. Moving to Roxie's side, he slaps the mat for...
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!
There's a slight buck before the final fall, a remnant of resolve from somewhere deep in Roxanne's played reserves, but it's not nearly enough to dislodge Pandora from her perch. Immediately, the zebra calls for the bell sending the rest of The Three into join the beach bombshell. There are smiles and a warm embrace between Ashley and Adrianna, but hardly histrionics. Each offers Panny a hand, but the unparalleled Courtier, having taken a momentary backseat to Ashley's opportune save, remains seated on her throne until the ring announcer makes it official. "YOUR WINNERS...AND NEEWWWW
TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...THE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!!!"
The one-time World champ continues to enjoy her throne, even as one of the ring crew brings the tag straps over to the ring. There's a brief delay in their delivery to the official, as he has to step over the still insensate body of the Army of One Hot Chick, but he then passes the ten pounds of leather and gold through the ropes. Papadopoulos claims them in a heartbeat, quickly return to and offering one of the belts to Ashley. Only now does the Beach Goddess dismount the Beantown Bombshell, rising into a standing straddle of the snoozing McCrimmon. But when Adrianna starts to pass her the other title, Panny refuses the offering. "I'll wear it soon enough," she says. "You're as much a champion as Ashley or I. Go ahead and put it on."
The Greek Goddess doesn't need any further invitation. With the titles now adorning the waists of Locke and Pappy, Pandora takes their wrists, raising their hands to a thunderous chorus of jeers. "GO AHEAD," the Beach Goddess tells them. "WE'RE GOING TO GIVE YOU *PLENTY* OF REASONS TO DO THAT IN THE YEARS TO COME!"
“The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30 minute time limit... and is for the FAWN Tag Team championship! Introducing first, the challengers...”
The announcer’s voice trails off, but the FAWNatics’ voices do not. While there’s no deafening roar, there is a undeniably expectant murmur...until it is interrupted by the voices of Iggy Azalea and Ellie Goulding...
(“HEAVY CROWN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3f8_hp7Nc6I )
“At a combined weight of four hundred and twenty-seven pounds,” our man in the tuxedo resumes, “Representing the Black Court, Ashley Locke, Pandora and Adrianna Papadopolous... they are... THE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!!! ”
The curtains part, and that serves as more than enough of a cue for the audience to lose their collective sh!t. And out step three physical specimens, who together form possibly the most imposing trio FAWN has ever seen
Pandora...
Pandora’s age is a hard thing to guess just by appearances, but she’d likely be carded at the Arena bar. And while there aren’t many women on the roster that can make the likes of Maggie Connor, Becky Clayton and Roxie freakin’ McCrimmon look like lightweights, she would certainly qualify. She stands just south of 6 feet tall and more than pleasingly fills out her white bikini top. The lights seem to dance off Pandora’s impossibly bronzed, impossibly smooth stomach. And her taut undercarriage is sheathed in a matching set of bikini bottoms, with three aqua buttons befitting her Miami roots leading toward tied off stretches of fabric that extend halfway down her thighs.
And when your legs never end, that’s a LOOOONG way.
Ashley Locke...
To her right stands the former Goddess of Love. But with that moniker now relegated to history, Ashley Locke remains an Amazon, a statuesque blonde probably right at six feet with her boots and a good two thirds of that is probably leg. Said gams are exquisitely sculpted and look downright dangerous, as do her shoulders, abdominals and chest, the latter armored in a orangish-red leather bikini top decorated with an intricate pattern of small metal studs. Her bottoms match the top, as do her pads and boots, though the pads are basic lycra and lack any sort of adornment. A detail for the discerning eye, the outer edge of each boot is adorned with a the stylized head and shoulders of a black horse.
Adrianna Papadopolous...
To Pandora’s left is FAWN’s certified Greek Goddess, Adrianna Papadopolous. It’s immediately clear Adrianna regards the filthy, teeming masses much as she did before her time off among the immortals, like a deity gazing down from the heights. Her subjects stare, momentarily slackjawed at the Greek beauty, Addy in a black version of her original attire, only appropriate for a member of Emily West’s Black Court, the organization no doubt buoyed by her return.
Pappy adjusts her revealing bikini top, while the accompanying short, black, pleated skirt gives the look of a miniaturized toga, an occasional flash of the familiarly-hued blue panties still remaining beneath. Her elbow-pads and boots have gotten the Court treatment as well, going basic black.
With all three dressed for battle, combined with their introduction, the crowds look a little on edge. Any combination of these three beauties posed a tall order. Which alignment of heavenly bodies would go into battle seeking the belts?
Pandora approaches the ring, her hindquarters perhaps not possessing quite the same degree of bootyliciousness as her former stablemate LaKeisha Bates—few do—but her hips make up for it with extra sass. Tonight’s unusual circumstances--namely, the Three being introduced first--results in a slight alteration to their usual custom. Normally, the deadly trio would fan out, leaving only the ropes furthest from the exit free to their opposition. But with no opposition in the ring, Pandora claims the ropes to the right of the aisle, Locke the ropes to the left, and Adrianna moves all the way to the ropes facing the ramp.
Panny, Pappy and Locke each thread one luscious leg through the ropes and into the ring... and all three sweep majestically through the ropes, leaving the audience to try to puzzle who would be in action this evening for a few minutes longer. Meanwhile, the announcer again brings the mic to his lips. “And now, introducing the tag team champions... Weighing in tonight at a total combined weight of two-hundred and sixty-eight pounds… Becky Clayton and Roxie McCrimmon… Ladies and gentlemen, together, they are… THE BIIIGGG GUUUNNNSSS!!!”
For a team with that name, there’s only one song that can mark their arrival. And sure enough, within moments, the FAWN Arena speakers begin to pump out AC/DC--in this instance, “Big Gun”. Not long after that, two of FAWN’s hardest hardbodies emerge at the top of the ramp, the reigning and defending tag team champions of the world receiving a tremendous roar of approval from the sellout crowd.
(“BIG GUN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a82cNcjw3iw )
Becky Clayton...
Roxie McCrimmon...
The Army of One Hot Chick sports what has now become her trademark ensemble. Having forsaken her standard one-piece after it been all but shredded by a certain Tennessee Terror, she has transitioned to a camouflage two piece with tie-sided bottoms and an eye catching ladder / double helix of lycra that runs from the center of her waistband all the way up to the bottom of her cups. She finishes it off with matching forest green pads and boots, though thanks to the artillery above, they could’ve been pink with yellow floral print and no one would’ve noticed.
The Beantown Bombshell, on the other hand, is clearly adorned in a different set of togs than her customary solo wear, though they are at least partially obscured by her usual Celtics jersey—tonight’s a green forty-one. What can be seen below the hem of the Kelly Olynyk uni is an extreme rarity in FAWN: pants. Well, “pants” is probably overstating matters. While it’s true that McCrimmon’s inner thighs are covered by shiny, camouflage patterned fabric, her outer legs are left bare save for a one-inch strap at the knee.
Each woman sports her championship strap slung over a shoulder--Becky’s right and Roxie’s left.
When Clayton has given the fans enough time to voice their appreciation, Becky starts her way down to the ring at a quick pace--but still taking the time to slap as many of the outstretched hands as she could reach. Roxanne follows alongside, doing her best to ensure that none of the front row fans are left out from the hand-slapping festivities. Ascending the steps, the Army of One Hot Chick slips through the ropes and headed straight for a far corner, hopping up onto the middle turnbuckle and snapping off a crisp salute to the roaring masses. McCrimmon races to the opposite corner, springing onto the middle buckle herself and pumping a fist—drawing a rousing cheer of her own.
From her perch, Roxie slips her fingers inside the hem of her jersey and pulls it overhead, revealing two more one-inch straps on the “pants”—one at mid-thigh and the other the waist—and a similarly camouflaged halter that leaves plenty of washboard stomach bared. Backed up by a whole platoon of her very own Howling Commandos, Becky drops down from her perch and turns to watch the enemy corner. Giving her partner a supportive slap on the shoulder, Roxie McCrimmon departs the ring, taking up station in the Big Guns corner.
In the opposite, The Three enter into a huddle any man in the arena would pay to be in the middle of. When the conversation breaks, the crowd seems surprised when Ashley Locke is the one remaining. 'Legs' stretches said limbs. moving an ankle to the top rope and reaching, before alternating to the other flawless limb. Adrianna and Pandora slide through the ropes, the FAWNatics waiting breathlessly to see who would challenge alongside the former Aphrodite. The blonde and brunette play with the assembled, each pretending to step off the apron before it's the Greek Goddess who drops from Olympus to the floor, Pandora making this an all-blonde effort from The Three. Ashley turns her attention to GI Joke, striding to center stage. "Are you ready to for a demotion?" Locke asks. "Come receive your dressing down."
The Army of One Hot Chick refuses to acknowledge the leggy blonde's jab. She does, however, note the hand placed on her shoulder by a considerably more friendly blonde. "You've got this," Roxie tells her, before correcting herself. "WE'VE got this."
Becky nods, though she'd be forgiven for having doubts, considering the way this heavenly and hellacious trio had stormed through the division. With McCrimmon out onto the apron, the referee calls for the bell--and the crowd roars as Clayton moves toward the middle of the ring. While she doesn't let her eyes wander from Ashley for long, she still allows herself a moment to launch a volley Pandora's way. "Hope you told your partner here about the beating she can expect..."
With the Guns forced to wait before renewing acquaintances with their one-time nemesis, the Army Brat comes to a halt, lifting her right hand above her head. If there was any trepidation on the champions part in matching firepower with the Three, Becky reveals none in challenging Locke to a test of strength.
Ashley laces her left set of fingers with Becky's right, the eyes of challenger and champion never breaking. Locke lifts her right and when Clayton starts to reply in kind, the blonde sweeps the already joined hands down, Ashley twisting Becky's into an uncomfortable overturned position. Stepping a long stem up and over the captured arm, Locke lands both feet back on the canvas with her back turned and Clayton's right arm scissored between her legs. Grabbing the wrist with her free hand while still clamping down in a tight grip with the other, Ashley hops off the canvas, planning on ramming her undercarriage atop Becky's right elbow when she comes down.
The sculpted gams of the once self-styled Goddess of Love have always been an effect weapon, but now, it's her derriere that does the most damage, eliciting a sharp cry of pain and buckling the mighty stems of the Army of One Hot Chick. When Locke rises up and brings her tush down again on Clayton's elbow, Becky is sent sinking to one knee... seconds into the match. Scowling as much in disgust as pain, the GI balls her free fist, preparing to send a forearm into the back of Ashley's thigh.
With her back to the GI, Locke can't defend the blow and it thumps into the meat of her upper leg. Ashley lurches forward, managing to swallow a yelp. She decides keeping her head turned from Becky is far too dangerous. Holding the captured right arm of Clayton under her control, Ashley dismounts and tugs Becky to her feet with her left hand, ready to smash her drawn right arm across the clavicle of the rising brunette with a shortarm clothesline.
While hardly a lumbering giant, Becky Clayton would never be mistaken for Dominique Daly. Tugged abruptly back to verticality, the Army Brat proves incapable of ducking before Ashley's scythe SMASHES across her chest. Clayton's return to verticality proves distressingly short, as the clothesline loses nothing in power for its brevity. Becky hits the deck hard, the back of her head smacking off the canvas and sending her arms spasming toward cradling her throbbing noggin.
When a nearly six-footer with legs to die for and from is usually considered the finesse of a team, it's clear the challengers are loaded, and with Becky laid out before her, Locke seems intent on showing she's no soft touch among her triumvirate. Racing to the ropes at the GI's side, Ashley rebounds off from the cables and returns to the decked hardbody. Lifting off, her lengthy lower limbs extend, the former Aphrodite seeking to land a big legdrop across the chest and throat of the camo-clad champion.
Rolling clear of the path of Aphrodite's ridiculously long stems is a tall order, but somehow, Becky manages it. Clearing out of the drop zone with maybe a hair to spare, Ashley is left with nothing to absorb the force of her landing, which sends a sudden and sharp jolt of pain shooting from Locke's coccyx up her spine. The Army of One Hot Chick scrambles to her feet, clearly intend on making sure that this match is not the "walk' the Three have grown accustomed to. To her credit, a wincing Ashley is quick to pick herself up as well, but by now, Clayton is already shooting off the cables, launching herself in the air to meet the challenger with a flying shoulderblock.
(FLYING SHOULDERBLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVDmT2BEdIY )
And Ashley is rocked by the leaping hardbody, Locke taken off her feet and THUMPING against the canvas. Undeterred, the Black Courtier scrambles to her feet. But Becky, who only stopped a second to survey, is back on the rebound and repeats the process, knocking Ashley off her feet again. This time the blonde is sent somersaulting through her landing against the mat. Still, she quickly presses up, even if her eyes seem a bit glassy. Becky goes for the apres-peaux three-spot and blows up Locke. Dipping her shoulder deep and throwing, Ashley is sent flying into a violent backflip, landing HARD on her face and chest.
It's a tempting thought, to stay on the attack. But walking out of the FAWN Arena tonight STILL tag team champion would require both herself and the Beantown Bombshell remaining fresh and fully charged, so Becky quickly turns to her corner and slaps Roxie McCrimmon's outstretched hand. The Irish-American stunner enters the ring... and her compatriot doesn't depart. Instead, both women return to the rising Ashley. The Army of One Hot Chick gives Locke a helping hand by helping herself to plenty of the blonde's locks, before the Guns each wrap an arm around the challenger's neck. Becky and Roxie each reach for a handful of orange-ish red leather at Ashley's hips, preparing to show some power of their own with a dual snap suplex.
And with both Guns working in tandem, Ashley whips up and over at warp speed like she's Noemie Devereaux. Locke's spine CRASHES into the canvas and the blonde beauty arches in pain, her lids clasping shut. Outside, Pandora and Adrianna hold their tongues, seemingly unconcerned. "Just remember," Panny finally offers. "Goose...Gander."
Locke sits up, the former Aphrodite not nearly as calm about having two Guns pointed at her. "REF," she shrieks as Roxie pulls her toward verticality.
"Awwwwwww, quit your bellyachin'," McCrimmon hisses, her lips slightly curled in a vengeful smirk. "Maybe I should give you something else to ache, huh?" Rather than wait for an answer, the Beantown Bombshell's well-defined arms snake around Ashley's midriff, applying a loose hug. But the aim of the blonde hardbody is not to crush the breathe out of Locke. Rather, Roxie begins to muscle Locke off her feet, looking to genuflect and split Aphrodite's luscious wickets with an inverted atomic drop.
Locke, again finding having her six to a Gun is a bad place to be, is sent UP with a jerk, her long lower limbs flying out in front of her. And then DOWN when the flaxen-haired version of hardbody heaven sets to one knee and DRIVES the bony joint DEEP between Locke's thighs. Ashley is sent hopping from the impact, landing a few feet away, pigeon-toed, the crowd delighting in the agony on her face. Hands pressed to her junk, a pained Ashley waddles toward Pandora, arm outstretched.
The Beach Goddess quickly reaches out her hand, but before they can brush fingertips, the Beantown Bombshell snatches Ashley by the shoulder and wheels the statuesque blonde back toward the middle of the ring. Taking Locke's wrist, McCrimmon sets her feet and sends the challenger racing into the Big Guns corner... and she doesn't wait for the Courtier to arrive at her destination before charging in after her. Almost as soon as Locke's back slams into the buckles, Roxie's arm smashes into the blonde's chest with a running clothesline. As Ashley sags a little deeper into the corner, McCrimmon and Clayton high five, bringing the Army of One Hot Chick back into the contest. The Beantown Bombshell makes a more prompt exit that her partner had just: moments ago, leaving the ring and allowing Becky to take Locke's wrist. Again, the challenger is sent for a ride, only now into the ropes--with the Army Brat waiting to deliver a tilt-a-whirl powerslam upon her return.
(TILT-A-WHIRL POWERSLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcgIjIAHrGk )
With the brunette barring her way, Ashley leaps toward her roadblock and it proves a serious mistake. Becky simply catches Ashley and lifts the Black Courtier up across her right shoulder, twisting her into position like she's a lightweight. Clayton turns with her cargo, taking an extra tick to cast a glance in Pandora's direction and then it's DOWN. Becky drops to all fours and SLAMS Ashley violently to the mat, Locke bouncing an inch off the deck before spreading out in a dazed starfish. Clayton hooks a ready leg when she presses tight in a crossbody pin and gets the...
ONE...
TWO...
... the former Goddess of Love shoves a shoulder up defiantly, Pandora slapping the top turnbuckle in support and perhaps angst.
Clayton rises back onto her haunches and fixes the official with a stern glare, but she as well as everyone else understands that it's going to take a lot more than that to dispatch the Three. Meanwhile, Ashley Locke works her way up to a seated position--and the Army Brat into climbs to her knees. Crawling up behind the reeling blonde, Becky fashions both her hands into claws, twin sets of curled digits ready to plunge into the shoulders of the former Goddess of Love when the Army of One Hot Chick latches on her E-Tool.
As the digits sink in, Ashley's shoulders reflexively pinch in pain, her face scrunching from the iron grip of the Tool. Locke's boots patter against the mat and playfully Roxie shouts out that the blonde is tapping, drawing a growl from Adrianna. The GI's biceps flex as she pours her strength into the debilitating nerve-pinching clamps. But even while Becky continues to bore in to the muscles of Locke's neck, Ashley pushes her back into Clayton and uses her foe to rise. It's a slow painful process, but a determined Ashley makes her feet and throws a shoulder behind her, trying to convince Clayton to give up her Tool so she can escape and let Pandora pave a comeback trail.
One shoulder isn't enough. A second loosens Clayton's grasp, and a third finally wins the challenger her freedom. To the immense relief of the Howling Commandos, however, Becky's arms wrap around Ashley's waist from behind before the leggy beauty can pull away, the GI tugging Locke into a bearhug. Much like with Roxie's embrace earlier, Becky primary aim isn't constriction--though her guns DO exert a little more force than McCrimmon's had. Instead, the champ's main goal is to restrict Locke as she backpedals, allowing the Beantown Bombshell to slap her shoulder and make the tag. That swat was still echoing in the air when Becky releases her hug, the Army Brat whipping Ashley into the far ropes as Roxie slides into the ring. With Locke rebounding toward her, McCrimmon charges with an outstretched arm, looking to decapitate the challenger with a massive lariat.
The two blondes race toward one another and Locke dips below Roxie's drawn limb, not an easy trick for the statuesque Ashley. Each races to the cables in front of them and bound back at each other again. Closing the space between them easily with long strides, Ashley and Roxanne reach for the other, both sets of hands finding flaxen hair as they sprint by. Both tug the other off their feet, sending the other's face SMASHING into the deck with ring-rattling collisions. The crowd groans, mostly from Roxie's faceplant, but the dual impacts send both women flopping to their backs, laid out and staring at the rafters. As the FAWNatics clap as one, trying to get a dazed McCrimmon off her taut ass, both women rise and reflexively head for home, Locke toward the extremely eager Pandora and McCrimmon to her fellow loaded Gun.
The former Goddess of Love makes the tag first, another groan running through the masses--equal parts disappointment and alarm. Pandora explodes into the ring--and the third member of the Three, Adrianna Papadopolous, quickly climbs onto the apron, LOUDLY protesting Becky and Roxie's rampant double teaming. The referee marches over to the Greek beauty, ordering her back to the floor...
... just as McCrimmon's hand finds Clayton's. The FAWNatics greet this tag FAR more warmly as the Army of One Hot Chick surges through the ropes, meeting Pandora head on with a series of forearms to the chest that back her toward the ropes. Meanwhile, her purpose served, Adrianna graciously bows to the officials demands and drops down from the apron. And when the zebra turns back to the action, he immediately insinuates himself between Becky and Panny, and ORDERS the Army Brat back to her corner.
"Cheaters never prosper," Pandora informs Clayton, pointing Becky back to her corner. "Not with the outstanding officials we have here in FAWN," she adds, even causing the zebra's eyes to roll. Accompanying the escorted Becky back to the Guns corner, the woman who was considered both an immovable object and an unstoppable force shoves Becky out the rest of the way when the GI puts one leg through. The curvy blonde turns to the Beantown Bombshell, Roxie tightly grabbing the top rope with both hands. "Well," Panny barks, "we're waiting!"
The Beach Goddess' little push ensures that Clayton doesn't just depart the ring, but also sends her tumbling off the apron and crashing to the floor. It wasn't a particularly massive fall, mind you, but it still ensured that McCrimmon didn't simply make another tag, this time with the official's eyes firmly locked on the occasion. No, the Army Brat would need a moment to pick herself back up and get into position--and Pandora is hardly known as the patient sort. Knowing she would need to buy Becky that time, Roxie shoves off from her corner, charging the smirking specimen. Panny raises her right arm to meet the blonde robobabe head on... but that actually turns out to be playing into McCrimmon's hand. Snaring that arm as it comes toward her, the Beantown Bombshell attempts to swing around behind the challenger, hoping to secure a hammerlock--and, if she could manage that even while dealing with a little lingering wooziness, transform that hammerlock into her Boston Pop'skull.
(BOSTON POP’SKULL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=roNXZncq0r4 )
McCrimmon steps skillfully around the busty blonde, drawing Panny's folded arm with her, sending the challenger to tiptoes to relieve the pressure. Gritting her teeth, Pandora readies an elbow to toss behind her, but McCrimmon dips underneath and snatches Panny off the deck at her shin, sending the Court's enforcer onto Roxie's right shoulder. McCrimmon spins with her curvy cargo and falls into a bridge, sending Pandora tumbling over, landing roughly on her head and neck. The crowd, caught up in the unexpected nature of Pandora's peril is flatfooted and silent as Roxie slides over for a crossbody press and gets a...
ONE...
Panny shoves the champ off emphatically and rises to a seat, cradling her head with one arm, but shaking a raised index finger with the other, effectively scolding Roxanne.
By chance or by design, Pandora's kickout had sent the Beantown Bombshell spilling toward the corner of the Three, and AWAY from her own. So, while Clayton had managed to get back on the apron, on her knees, there was still the matter of getting past the Beach Goddess to make that tag--and the curvaceous blonde's wagging finger tells McCrimmon that will take a little more doing. Stalking over to the seated beauty, Roxie grunts as she hauls Pandora back to verticality, then prepares to whip her into the ropes. Alas, Pandora digs in, reversing the whip and sending Roxie off for the ride. For a second time, the challenger raises her arm...
... and for a second time, the sculpted blonde avoids it, this time by ducking under. Pandora quickly turns to find Roxie as she rebounds off the opposite ropes, leaving McCrimmon precious few seconds to figure out a response. Defensive wrestling was hardly the hardbody's game, but she does manage to take flight, sailing toward Pandora in a leaping straddle, aiming to ride the former World champion to the canvas with a Thesz Press.
McCrimmon's flight appears to go well enough until she meets the stone wall that is Pandora. The challenger catches McCrimmon and controls her, a feat few could even hope to match. Stumbling back no more than a step, her arms swaddling under Roxie's thighs, Pandora pivots, ready to drop to her knees and bust the spine of the Big Gun.
Roxie's eyes grow wide, the Beantown Bombshell's face becoming the perfect visual representation of the thought, "Oh sh!t..." Thankfully for her pride, neither the live audience nor the camera crew have much of a chance to capture and/or process moment, Pandora moving with alarming swiftness. In this instance, that speed is actually a product of power, and works in the service of that same quality, the Beach Goddess falling to her knees and DRIVING McCrimmon into the mat below. Roxie's exquisite legs fall away from Pandora's hips, the tag champion left in an anguished starfish, her belly lifted toward the lights thanks to her arched, aching vertebrae.
Pandora doesn't even seem to consider a pin. Instead, she takes a moment to gaze at Becky and mouths 'The best you could do?' Panny sinks her right set of fingers into McCrimmon's scalp and tugs her to a seat before NAILING her in the jaw, flattening the Bostonian. Popping to her feet, Pandora gives her glossy, tawny tummy a couple reverberating slaps and takes off for the ropes behind her. As she returns on approach to the splayed Roxanne, Panny lifts off a couple feet away, preparing to add a little momentum to her signature Tummy Tuck and splash down across the face of the challenger, feeding Roxie a faceful of midriff.
Earlier in the evening, Becky Clayton had managed the challenging task of rolling out of the way of Ashley Locke's impossibly long legs. Unfortunately, the Army of One Hot Chick's partner isn't able to match her in avoiding her opponent's favored weapon. Pandora splashes down, reveling in the sensation of Roxie's nose and chin pressing into her stomach, McCrimmon's gams swinging into the air at impact. In the Guns corner, Clayton grimaces in sympathy--the only expression of the Tummy Tuck's effectiveness visible to the audience.
Pandora rises to hands and knees, uncovering the dazed visage of McCrimmon. She gives Becky a wink as she ascends, pulling Roxie up with her with a clenched handful of flaxen locks. Disdainfully spinning McCrimmon, Panny slips an arm between her foe's legs from behind and vaults the not insignificant mass of the Beantown Bombshell off the canvas and across her shoulders in a Torture Rack. But before Roxie gets a chance to feel the slow backbreaking agony of the Rack, Pandora decides to speed the process. Dipping slightly, she prepares to 'hup' Roxie over her shoulders, genuflecting to send a knee directly into the lower spinal column of the Boston-born Big Gun with an Argentine Backbreaker.
(ARGENTINE BACKBREAKER @0:58:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo5bJxLm24k )
The Beantown Bombshell swings off Pandora's shoulders, propelling on a short trip upward, followed by a long and precipitous fall. The champ's descent ends when her back CRASHES into the Beach Goddess' posted knee. Roxie lets out a particularly loud wail as she bounces off of Panny's thigh, landing flat on her arse, facing the corner of the challengers. It's only a moment, however, before she tumbles over on one hip, left sprawled, face down and rubbing at the base of her spine. In a true testament to Pandora's might, the Beach Goddess was making Roxie McCrimmon look like Allie McKenzie... and the FAWNatics are beginning to grow very, VERY concerned.
Pandora reaches and finds a grip in McCrimmon's follicles again. This time she tears Roxie to all fours, the champ yelping on her way up and mewling as Panny leads her like a bytch on a leash to the corner of The Three. Reaching her destination, the beach blonde holds out a palm and receives a slap from an eager Ashley. As Locke goes up instead of in, Pandora scoops Roxanne off the deck, turning the squirming McCrimmon in her grip and dropping her spine-first across bended knee once more. With her upper body noticeably extended, Roxie yips in pain from the knee inserted into her lower back. She fails to see the long-legged Love Goddess on her heavenly perch, ready for liftoff and a legdrop of a whole different level, Locke planning to level the champ out of her backbreaking predicament.
And with Pandora holding her writhing, moaning prey firmly in place, there's nowhere for the Beantown Bombshell to go. Showing a fluidity that spoke of countless hours in the gym--and no doubt many a hapless, aspiring talent who'd consented to be a sparring partner rendered demolished--the voluptuous blonde pulls her hand away from Roxie's chin at the very last possible moment before Ashley's delectable thigh SLAMS into McCrimmon's upper chest and lower throat. The defused Big Gun is throttled off Pandora's knee with a loud cry, the Irish-American beauty left on her belly, flopping like a fish on the beach.
Pandora rises from one knee and moves to the spasming McCrimmon. She tugs a rubbery Roxie to her feet and leads her to center stage, the official barking at Panny to evacuate, but the powerhouse paying him no mind. Setting Roxanne up like a wobbly bowling pin dead center, the challengers head in opposite directions. They rebound off the ropes, each sprinting directly toward the Beantown Bombshell, ready to deliver a sandwich that would satisfy any appetite for destruction, the twosome planning on simultaneously SPLASHING McCrimmon from either side.
From her corner, Becky Clayton slaps the top turnbuckle as hard as she can. Perhaps she hoped the loud rhythm would rouse the Beantown Bombshell out of her stupor. With the Three continuing to bear down on her partner and Roxie showing little sign of recognizing the danger that she's in, the Army of One Hot Chick shouts, "COME ON, ROXIE!!!!"
But McCrimmon goes nowhere, not until she is CRUSHED between 289 combined pounds of shapely, stunning blonde devastation. Locke and Panny bounce away from the champion and from each other, leaving Roxie to... continue to sway in the breeze. Initially. After about two seconds, though, the Irish-American hardbody tumbles to her knees, finally sagging back to take a seat with her tush resting against her heels, McCrimmon's head slumping forward.
"REF!" the Army of One Hot Chick bellows from her corner, threading one leg through the ropes. "Either YOU get one of those two out of there, or *I* will!"
The official nods but moves to Becky. "I'm working on it, but I can't do my job with you in here." He waits on guard until Clayton pulls her leg out. Meanwhile, Panny races to the ropes in front of the stunned McCrimmon and hits a u-turn out of the cables. The buxom blonde dives into a crossbody of Roxie's face, NAILING her with the Shining Tummy. As quickly as Pandora can roll off, Ashley lands a kneedrop to McCrimmon's right temple. With Becky backing off, despite all her instincts shouting otherwise, Pandora heads for the exit while Ashley hauls Roxanne to her feet, grabs a wrist and flings the hardbody to the ropes. As the glassy-eyed blonde rebounds toward her, Ashley surges at her foe, lifting a Big Boot in the direction of the champ's chin.
And heel meets jaw in a savage collision, Roxie's head snapping backward and her legs sailing out from underneath her a heartbeat later. McCrimmon plummets back to the canvas, arms and legs splayed at her sides, left motionless at the feet of the Goddess of Love. Ashley gaze sinks to the wreckage of the Beantown Bombshell... but not for long. Lifting her eyes to meet the Army of One Hot Chick, Locke plants a sole atop Roxie's heaving bosom, and without saying a word issues a challenge:
"Bring your ass in here and break this up."
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOO!!!!!
McCrimmon's right palm shoves at Ashley's ankle, hardly the most forceful expression of her strength she'd ever managed, but enough to stave off the pinfall.
Locke peers down at McCrimmon and steps atop the chest of Roxie on her way to the corner of The Three. She formally hands off the reins to Pandora with a tag and the powerhouse of The Court slides in as Ashley steps over the tope rope to move out. "Any complaints?" Pandora asks with a smirk, showing Clayton the challengers can run a clean tag.
Pandora gleefully grasps a wrist of the demolished McCrimmon and tugs the jellied blonde to her feet. She buggywhips Roxanne to a neutral corner, the Bostonian barely able to keep her balance to make the buckles. Still, when she SLAMS in back-first, it's a significant collision that sends a shudder through the champ. Panny gives a wave to Becky and takes off in a surprisingly speedy sprint across the canvas, Pandora racing toward an avalanche splash of her foe that would take out what little starch remains in the titleholder.
Being made the meat in a sandwich between Pandora and the turnbuckles might not have been as devastating as the splash Pandora had performed with Ashley Locke, but it's certainly effective. "GYYYUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" a bug-eyed Big Gun gasps, her opponent making a point to keep her one hundred and fifty-one pounds pressed in tight against McCrimmon into the official observes that Roxie is, by virtue of being in the corner, also in the ropes. Only when he starts to count does the Beach Goddess pull back. And, deprived of Panny's frame offering incidental support, the Beantown Bombshell plops to a seat, struggling to suck down air.
Pandora grins at Roxie's predicament and turns to race to a corner. But instead of directly heading for the opposite number, the big blonde chugs to the champ's HQ and NAILS Becky with a forearm that sends the brunette tumbling to the floor. Ashley and Adrianna share a slap of hands as Pandora makes a right turn and heads for the buckles opposite what's left of Roxanne. Reaching them, Panny barrels across the deck, the curvy blonde crossing the canvas in short order. She leaps toward a low crossbody, planning to give Roxie another slightly modified Tummy Tuck.
Even if she hadn't spent the last several minutes being systematically ground into paste, rolling clear of a length-wise nearly 6 foot Beach Goddess (and with her arms extended over her head, raise that figure closer to 7 feet) is--forgive the expression--a tall order. In her current state, the challenge is an all but impossible one. Bronzed abdomen meets shellshocked features, the thin sheen of perspiration gracing Pandora's tummy adding a little extra resonance to the collision. As Panny climbs back to her knees between McCrimmon's splayed legs, the boneless Beantown Bombshell melts a little deeper into the corner, the back of her head taking a tumble to rest atop the bottom turnbuckle.
Deciding the inevitable transfer of titles has been delayed long enough, Pandora grasps the bobbling head of the blonde. Panny drags the ragdolled McCrimmon to her feet and bullies her to the middle, spinning the bleary-eyed, boneless Bostonian 180 degrees then quickly capturing Roxie in a full nelson. As she raises the arms of McCrimmon, Pandora slips her head under Roxanne's left and starts to vault the hardbody HIGH, planning to release her grip at its highest point so she can treat the fellow member of The Three to something both could no doubt appreciate...a Greek Tragedy.
(GREEK TRAGEDY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uD8FwEDXAMo )
The FAWNatics instantly recognize one of the most feared finishers in the company. To date, no one had survived it--and it was nearly impossible for the crowd to conceive any way even the most valiant of warriors could kick out after it. Becky Clayton elects to rally the fans voices, waving her right hand up to the ceiling, the chant of "ROX-IE!" increasing in volume which each entreaty.
The thing about good tag teams, REALLY good tag teams, is that they tend to work together so much that they can communicate without speaking a syllable. And that has certainly been the case for the Big Guns throughout their run. As Pandora nudges her head up and underneath Roxie's left arm, her right trapped in the clutches of the Beach Goddess' half nelson, the Beantown Bombshell's head drifts upward, allowing dulled eyes to meet the Army Brat's, one unspoken word passing from one to the other...
"Sorry."
Pandora muscles Roxie airborne, only to abruptly shift course and swing the sculpted blonde upside down, sitting out and SPIKING McCrimmon's head and shoulders into the mat. The impact leaves the Beantown Bombshell imploded, folded into the snuggest of matchbooks--and prompts the Army of One Hot Chick to rush into the ring before Pandora can cover. Right now, their ONLY hope of retaining rested with her ability to prevent the voluptuous blonde from gaining an all-too-academic one-two-three.
The camo-clad brunette races to beat the ticking clock and leaps over her partner to PLANT a dropkick to the jaw of Pandora. The buxom blonde is knocked off the blasted champion, rolling in a back somersault through the impact and popping to her feet. Not waiting for the ref to eject the Army interloper, Pandora rushes at a rising Becky with right arm drawn, ready to swing the scythe-like appendage to Clayton's clavicle and lariat the GI into next week, leaving her to clean up the puddle that is Roxie McCrimmon.
But it's a swing and a miss for the challenger, Becky ducking the would-be clothesline. Having swung her sickle with all the force that she could muster, the Beach Goddess struggles to reclaim her balance as the Army of One Hot Chick straightens up. Adrenaline coursing through her veins with the stakes never higher, Clayton begins slamming forearm after forearm after forearm into Pandora's vaunted bosom, the barrage of blows soon forcing the curvy blonde into a retreat. When her back hits the ropes, Panny tries to charge back into a return of fire... but as she does, Becky dips a shoulder, looking to scoop her fellow former World champion up into a fireman's carry--and into position for her Army of One.
(ARMY OF ONE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz9GPZjiL3A )
The onrushing Pandora gives Becky the momentum she needs to make the lift an easy one, Clayton popping Panny across her shoulders. Becky skillfully crosses the flailing legs of the beach beauty and spins the curvy blonde around and off her shoulders, keeping Panny in a cradled ball as she sits out, THUMPING Pandora into the deck. Out of instinct, Becky keeps Panny cradled in the pin for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOO!
Reflexively, Pandora kicks out, though it isn't necessary. Ashley, unwilling to watch this charade any longer gets to Clayton before the official can escort the Big Gun out, Locke clamping down on shoulder and head to peel the GI off her partner.
Getting Becky off the Beach Goddess is the easy part. But once she's on her feet, the Army of One Hot Chick starts swinging elbows back into Locke's abdomen, each one knocking a louder gust of air from the lungs of the former Goddess of Love. It takes two to break Ashley's grip on her noggin, and a third allows Clayton to shrug her shoulder clear, the Army Brat spinning to face her opponent. And, stuffing one hand between Locke's thighs as her other moves to the challenger's chest, Becky attempts to do to Locke what she dared not try with Pandora, preparing to hoist Ashley up into a military press--the precursor to her Black Ops over-the-shoulder powerslam.
Becky dips and draws Ashley across her chest. Seeing Adrianna vault to the apron and start to slip through out of the corner of her eye, Clayton spins the wriggling Locke so her long lithe legs THUMP into the chin of the Greek Goddess, sending her tumbling from whence she'd come. With the crowd roaring, the GI then cleans Ashley to her shoulders and aptly military presses the wide-eyed, fearful Locke overhead, Ashley's noggin shaking in disbelief.
As Clayton powers one of The Three up, Pandora is on her feet, charging. While there isn't time to follow through on Black Ops, there is to toss Ashley into her charging partner and one blonde crossbodies the other, the challengers ending in a groaning flattened 'X' on the canvas. With Roxie having retrieved enough of her senses to make heads and tails of Becky's remarkable audible, the Beantown Bombshell dives atop the splattered blondes, lying on Ashley's back while Locke sandwiches Pandora to her shoulders underneath for the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
It's Ashley who manages to buck Roxie off the pair of them--which is a good thing, as Pandora doesn't manage to get a shoulder off the canvas until about a whole second after the former Goddess of Love sits up. When Becky moves toward Locke, the referee tries to intercept her, but the Army of Chick will have none of it and brushes him aside. At that point, the zebra throws his hands up, resigned to his loss of control while Clayton hairhauls Ashley to her feet. Holding the leggy blonde so that her left flank is to Clayton, the GI reaches through Ashley's thighs in hopes of claiming a wrist. No, she couldn't collect a pinfall here. But FUBARing Locke would give Becky and her pummeled partner a better shot of finishing off the Beach Goddess.
(FUBAR @0:28:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VDkfiHvd5s )
Becky finds the wrist and tugs the leggy blonde's left arm up and in between, smacking Locke's limb into her own undercarriage, bringing a yip from the Black Courtier as she rises to tiptoes. But before Becky can reach across her foe's lowered back and fully secure the pumphandle, Ashley's elbow crooks with Clayton's and the blonde hiptosses the GI over her back and shoulder, Becky landing on her taut derriere. Ashley skips over a seated Clayton, hits the ropes in front of her, and levels a lowered Big Boot toward Becky's jaw. No more than a few steps away, Pandora is having less success with Roxie, McCrimmon straddling the beach goddess's waist and using Panny's gurls like speed bags.
Following her reprieve from the Greek Tragedy, the Beantown Bombshell's "second act" is going remarkably well--and Roxie intends to keep it going. Yanking the towering, voluptuous blonde up with two handfuls of hair, McCrimmon lets out a fierce cry as she slings the former World champion into the near corner. "MIGHT BE A LITTLE LATE," the Irish-American blonde bellows, "BUT IT'S NEVER *TOO* LATE TO GET THE 'PARTY' STARTED!" Marching toward the slumping Beach Goddess, Roxie prepares to make Pandora her bytch in a way perhaps no one--no, not even Burlingame--had managed, by inviting her to the Violence Party.
(VIOLENCE PARTY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDuqpbZATV4 )
But, as successfully as things are going for the blonde robobabe, her partner is suddenly having a less successful go of it. Becky's arms begin to rise, looking to block the oncoming boot. But Ashley's looooooooong stems are a difficult thing to judge when you've been put flat on your ass, and the Army of One Hot Chick's reaction time is a little too slow. Sweeping through Clayton's defenses, Locke's sole SMASHES into the GI's mug, her heel blasting into Becky's jaw and snapping her head back. The camo-clad cutie tumbles backward and stares blankly up into the lights for a moment... but then, her eyelids begin a furious round of blinking as she tries to regain her wits.
Roxie lays into Pandora's upper body with a flurry of chops and forearms, the crowd wooing itself silly. And the delight only grows when the 'Boston Strong' McCrimmon lays into Panny with headbutts galore. The blonde hardbody rotates and snap mares a dazed Pandora to the deck. Roxanne tears into her foe's spine with some wicked kicks. But that's where the Party may come to an end, as Ashley lurches toward her second Gun, raising her Big Boot to a higher level to remove Roxie's head from her shoulders.
And with Roxie's head lowered toward the seated Pandora, she never even sees the former Aphrodite's incoming kick. And also, with her head lowered, Locke's Big Boot catches crown and forehead rather than jaw. But the results are much the same--the Beantown Bombshell's head whips backward, her eyes briefly crossing as McCrimmon is sent into a drunken backpedal. Her retreat ends when her back smacks into the turnbuckles, Roxie's arms spilling over the top rope and her noggin drooping toward her bosom, the stunned Irish-American stunner's legs shimmying as she starts to slump toward a seat.
For her part, the Army of One Hot Chick has worked her way up to a seated position, knees raised and elbows resting atop them. Becky's shake of her head shows that, even as she tries to regroup, there are STILL a number of bells ringing in her head.
With Adrianna pumping her fist on the outside at Locke's success, Ashley swings an arm underneath one of her tag partner's, helping the rubbery Pandora to her feet. Panny shows plenty of effects from Roxie's Party, proving it is a FAWN happening not to be missed. But with the previously unsung Ashley helping her to the Guns unadulterated leader, Pandora regains her bearings and strength enough to help Locke draw Becky to her feet. Running the brunette to the ropes, the blackhearted blondes bum rush her over, Clayton thunking off the apron on the way down to the floor.
With Becky ejected, the duo turn their attention to McCrimmon. Without a word, Ashley grabs a wrist of Pandora and makes the curvy force of nature her weapon, Irish whipping Panny toward a rising Roxie. With Pandora bearing and bouncing down upon her, ready to make Roxanne a greasespot with a memorable avalanche splash, the champ is on a very tenuous clock and, with every step/jiggle, the time to save herself lessens for the Beantown Bombshell.
And in no time at all, the clock strikes midnight. Pandora flies the last couple of feet into the corner, her curvaceous one hundred and fifty-one pound frame CRUUUUUSSSSHHHHIIIINNNNNGGGG Roxie into the buckles.
"GYYYUUUUUUUUUuuunnnnmmmmmmmppppppppphhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!" a wide-eyed blonde hardbody gasps, but that becomes a muffled cry when the force of the Beach Goddess' collision with her sends her head swinging forward, her face up to those bulging eyes disappearing between Pandora's cleavage. This development is hardly amiss from Panny's point of view. With a wicked smirk, she elects to lounge against the deflated robobabe for a few seconds, reveling in McCrimmon's ineffectual shoves against her hips. Pandora is dislodged only by her own whim, stepping back to allow Roxie to take a lumbering step forward and to the left... followed by an even more awkward, OVER-corrected step to the right--and finally, for the Beantown Bombshell to dive toward the mat, landing in a face down jumble of arms and legs.
Out on the floor, Becky Clayton crawls her way back to the ring, clutching the apron as she drags herself up to her knees.
She seems ready to reenter when the Greek Goddess slips her arms under and around those of the GI. Quickly capturing Becky in a full nelson, Adrianna draws Becky's head and upper body backward. Clayton's face belies the anxiety in her heart and Pappy shows there is good cause when she swings Clayton's face into the apron, banging her head off the deck. The camo-clad beauty melts to the feet of the Goddess.
In the ring, Ashley nods toward a redfaced ref who continues to demand she leave the premises. Slipping her long legs through and following behind, Ashley takes her rightful spot and waves to Pandora to make them champions. Panny tugs Roxanne off the canvas and into a front facelock, the busty blonde swinging a limp arm of McCrimmon's over her shoulder. Pressing a hand into the pelvis of the hardbody, Panny pushes Roxanne to vertical and overturned and there she hols and holds and holds, the blood rushing to Roxie's braincase. Finally, Pandora seems ready to complete the jackhammer in the way and with the emphasis only she could.
(DELAYED JACKHAMMER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bD2Js9gCk0 )
The shots to the head are beginning to add up for the Army of One Hot Chick, but that doesn't stop Clayton from rolling away from Papadopoulos and pushing up to her hands and knees. While Becky begins to crawl toward the ring steps, the Beantown Bombshell is going nowhere, Roxie McCrimmon held on display by the Eighth Wonder of the Femfighting World. And as much as they might loathe Panny, the FAWNatics still feel a strange compulsion to count off the seconds...
"ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
EIGHT!
NINE!
TEN!
ELEV..."
While the tremor in Pandora's bicep had grown a little more pronounced, enough fans had thought she could keep Roxie elevated enough to keep counting, but the Beach Goddess instead grunts and DRIVES McCrimmon down to the mat. As the former World champ lands on her knees, it's almost a surprise that the Irish-American hardbody's landing doesn't leave an impact crater. What it DOES do is send spasms through the length and breadth of Roxie's sculpted frame.
It takes but the time for Pandora to collect a few calming breaths for her to begin scooting forward on her knees, ending in a reverse straddle a few inches over McCrimmon's face. Panny glances over her left shoulder and down into Roxanne's worried features, the blonde hardbody already ineffectually pushing at Panny's thighs as they lower. And with them come the cheeks of doom, Pandora's Box lowered to send the face of Boston's Big Gun into warm, velvety, oxygen-depriving darkness, FAWN's heaviest ordinance ready to force surrender from the champion Guns.
Outside the ring, it's all the Greek Goddess can do not to lick her lips as she watches Becky near the steps... and then, Adrianna charges forward, extending her right leg and VICIOUSLY sandwiching Becky Clayton's skull between bootleather and steel. The Army of One Hot Chick is out cold, well before her body finishing puddling before Pappy. There'd be no cavalry for Roxie.
Inside the ring, Pandora's glutes settles into her suit atop McCrimmon's face, the Irish-American blonde's hands continuing to shove at the beach Goddess' hips and thighs... and continuing to have the same lack of results. Panny didn't often finish matches this way, but really, when claiming a championship, surely only making the soon-to-be-EX-champ her throne was only fitting. Eventually, the Beantown Bombshell's hands drop away... the already weak pushing and kicking of her sculpted gams grower slower... and slower... and then stop altogether. And though he hardly relishes asking the question, the referee dutifully poses it to Pandora: "Which do you want me to check, her shoulders or her ar..." Realizing that with Panny's shins resting atop Roxie's biceps, the arms are perhaps NOT the best gauge of consciousness, he corrects to, "errrr... leg?"
"The quickest way you'd like to dispense with this pretender the better." Shrugging, the official makes the easy call. Moving to Roxie's side, he slaps the mat for...
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!
There's a slight buck before the final fall, a remnant of resolve from somewhere deep in Roxanne's played reserves, but it's not nearly enough to dislodge Pandora from her perch. Immediately, the zebra calls for the bell sending the rest of The Three into join the beach bombshell. There are smiles and a warm embrace between Ashley and Adrianna, but hardly histrionics. Each offers Panny a hand, but the unparalleled Courtier, having taken a momentary backseat to Ashley's opportune save, remains seated on her throne until the ring announcer makes it official. "YOUR WINNERS...AND NEEWWWW
TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...THE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!!!"
The one-time World champ continues to enjoy her throne, even as one of the ring crew brings the tag straps over to the ring. There's a brief delay in their delivery to the official, as he has to step over the still insensate body of the Army of One Hot Chick, but he then passes the ten pounds of leather and gold through the ropes. Papadopoulos claims them in a heartbeat, quickly return to and offering one of the belts to Ashley. Only now does the Beach Goddess dismount the Beantown Bombshell, rising into a standing straddle of the snoozing McCrimmon. But when Adrianna starts to pass her the other title, Panny refuses the offering. "I'll wear it soon enough," she says. "You're as much a champion as Ashley or I. Go ahead and put it on."
The Greek Goddess doesn't need any further invitation. With the titles now adorning the waists of Locke and Pappy, Pandora takes their wrists, raising their hands to a thunderous chorus of jeers. "GO AHEAD," the Beach Goddess tells them. "WE'RE GOING TO GIVE YOU *PLENTY* OF REASONS TO DO THAT IN THE YEARS TO COME!"