Post by SammieSinclair on May 10, 2015 21:34:39 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Charlotte, North Carolina, she stands five feet seven inches tall and weighs in tonight at..." His tone shifted, suggesting that the next few words were ones that he has been instructed to say, rather than those he would elect to employ himself. "... at one hundred and twenty sinfully delicious pounds... CYYYNNNTTTHHHIIIAAA MIIITTTCCCHHHEEELLLLLL!"
Those words were enough to swiftly transform the crowd’s cheers into raucous boos, jeers that were almost quashed when the speakers at the top of the ramp spat a burst of squall and kick into the opening of Skye Sweetnam’s ‘Babydoll Gone Wrong‘. All eyes in the FAWN arena shifted to the stage and within heartbeats, Cynthia Mitchell, former Tag, Lightweight, World champion and all round ice cold bytch goddess brushed through the curtains. The slender brunette regarded the seething mass of fans with a smirk of contempt, but she doesn’t linger more than a few seconds before heading down to the ring with a sassy ‘avert your gaze, mortals!’ swish in her step.
CYNTHIA MITCHELL:
For tonight’s contest, it appeared that Mitchell was clad in her now standard ‘one-piece’--said outfit a deep purple number with a plunging V neckline that went all the way to her navel and a back that might qualify as a thong if you were feeling generous. However, there was a tiny sense of mystery about the Cynful One’s sartorial choices, thanks to the T-shirt that extended down to just above where her thighs curved into her glutes. That shirt was white, with a light red circle in the middle faintly emblazoned with the Stars and Bars of her southern heritage. Inside the circle are two crossed roses, their buds also sporting the rebel emblem, albeit in a much more prominent manner.
And written above all this is the script: “SOUTHERN GIRL: WHO NEEDS BIG BOOBS WHEN YOU GOT A BUTT LIKE MINE”
Cynthia's T-shirt...
Careful to traverse the aisle without coming into contact with any of the subhumanoids that were always trying to touch her, Cynthia ascended the steel steps and waited on the apron until the referee came over and held the ropes open to allow her proper passage.
Once the official took a seat on the middle rope, Mitchell slipped a leg into the ring, then pulled her torso through the strands in an agonizingly slow movement—well, agonizing for those straight males and not-so-straight females in the audience with a heart condition, at least. Finally on the other side of the ropes, the Cynful One sauntered toward the opposite corner, claiming it as her own, the crowd continuing to shower the brunette in derisive whistles and catcalls.
Those jeers turned a little more lustful and appreciative when Mitchell peeled the tee up her torso, revealing the rest of her usual battle togs for the first time tonight. Dropping the garment to the apron on the other side of the ropes, Cynthia turned toward her corner, grabbed the top rope and started to stretch.
After Mitchell’s music died, the Announcer raised his mic again. “And introducing her opponent--”
MIRANDA WAINWRIGHT:
TIFFANY MAYES:
“Shall not be slighted by your incompetent yattering.” said a calm, collected voice from behind the curtain. Heathens and non-believers everywhere raised their voices in full-throated disdain when Miranda Wainright and Tiffany Mayes appeared atop the stage. Greeting their meaningless vitriol with a polite little smile, the Malevolent Moralizer produced a mic of her own and immediately put it to work. “The woman already in the ring claims to be a sinner. She says it in a tone that implies she wants to be held in reverence for these sins, but is there anything there to revere? Hers are the palest, most timid of evils. Now, if it’s TRUE darkness you’re after, allow me to introduce our sister. Hailing from Oxrun Station, Connecticut, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and nineteen pounds. She goes by many names. The Weeping Angel. The Queen of Nightmares. You may call her…ADELAIDE BREWSTER!”
The lights died as her name reached the rafters and the speakers answered the call, not with Midnight Syndicate but with the quietly eerie pop of Lorde’s ‘Glory and Gore’.
GLORY & GORE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEHHh8IBhpY
ADELAIDE BREWSTER:
For a moment there was nothing but darkness and pinpricks of cell phone light, then a few lights on either side of the stage ‘whoomped’ on to reveal Miranda and Tiffany standing in a carpet of ankle deep fog. Still no sign of final Churchgoer and that was the way it stayed until a cold blue light illuminated the gloomy recession leading to the curtain. A figure swung down from the ceiling of that narrow throat, a figure hanging by her knees from a bar suspended just out of camera view. Arms crossed over her chest, Adelaide Brewster opened her eyes, then twisted loose and landed on her feet just as her anthem warned ‘Now we’re in the ring and we’re coming for blood.’
Heading for the squared circle after a brief conference with her Dark Sisters, Adelaide stretched her arms wide, which let her limber up while simultaneously providing the FAWNatics with a great view of her ring attire. In place of the antique ball gown, top hat and velvet number that it sheathed was a blood red one piece made of a mesh just fine enough to allow the discerning eye a glimpse of matching black bra and briefs lurking beneath. This outfit was completed with a clunky black belt complete with a buckle done up as a snarling wolf’s head and matching black boots and pads.
Reaching the ring quickly (because no one quite dared extend a hand) Adelaide slunk under the bottom ropes, popped to her feet and took ownership of a corner on the far side of the ring. Paying no attention to the presence behind her back, the Weeping Angel climbed to the second rope, titled her head back and ‘pppfffwoooooshed’ a cloud of red mist out over the first couple rows of fans. Blood properly let, she climbed down and turned her attention to one Cynthia Mitchell.
The CLANG of the bell acted as a summons that drew the women to the centre of the ring, both seemingly eager to confirm or deny the tales of her opponent’s ferocity for themselves. Looking Mitchell up and down when she drew close enough for a frank appraisal, Adelaide put her hands on her hips and circled right. Cynthia turned with her and raised both hands but she made no move to attack, the former FAWN World Champ was quite content to study this spooky bytch in her natural environment.
Brewster made two full circles around her adversary, then stopped and tilted her head back. Closing her eyes, the brunette drew in a deep breath and held it for five long seconds “I love the fragrance you’re wearing tonight, Cynthia. Superficial arrogance combined with bone deep desperation and just the tiniest hint of self loathing. I do hope you taste as good as you sm--”
The Cyn-Ful One stepped forward and CLAPPED her foe across the cheek with a stinging Bytch Slap. Brewster’s head snapped back so Mitchell stepped after her and curled her right arm around the Churchgoer’s head. “Bytch, please!” Cyn scoffed while stuffing Adelaide’s cheek into the point of her right hip. “Don’t even think about trying that ‘I’m a vampire!’ nonsense while I’m around. There’s only one monster in this ring tonight and she’s currently squeezing your gross little skull!”
Adelaide didn’t care much for Mitchell’s opinion, which probably explained why she reached up and grabbed a huge handful of dark hair. “Hey, leggo of the hair Adelaide. I mean it now, you know better!” Craig Long patted Brewster’s wrist and worried at her elbow, neither of which did a damned thing to extricate the Weeping Angel’s talon.
Smirking in spite of the pain, Cyn muttered, “Thanks for your help chuckles, but I’ve got this.” Mitchell’s left foot went up and down like a piston, a piston aimed directly at Brewster’s toes. Adelaide yelped in pain and surprise, but didn’t give up the hair hold. Indeed, she pulled all the harder and dug her free hand into the crook of Cynthia’s elbow. “Apparently they only teach basic catfighting over there on the Dark Side.” Mitchell taunted in between a second and third stomp. “Don’t worry, I can show your pasty ass plenty of new tricks.”
The first of these tricks entailed stuffing her left hip into the pit of Brewster’s stomach to sling her up, over and down with a BOOMING Headlock Takedown. The impact was certainly jarring, but it didn’t bother Cynthia in the slightest, she merely made some microadjustments to the Headlock and pulled opposing mug into the curve of her left breast. “Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t taken out those fake teeth right about now, aren’t ya, buttercup?” the Hellion planted her feet and leaned back, pouring all the more pressure into the braincase of her increasingly red-faced opposition. “Or maybe you’re happy right where you are? Is that it? Are you one of those sparkly vampires who gets off on nuzzling juGGGGEERRGHHH OHHH YOU’RE DEAD YOU NASTY BYTCHHHHNNNNGGGHHH!”
Mere mention of the hated sparkle was all it took to get Brewster frothing at the mouth and she made the most of it by chomping down on intruding rack. Cynthia threw her head back when she shrieked, which gave Adelaide the perfect opportunity to kick her legs up and lock ‘em around the other woman’s skull. A single violent constriction of Brewster’s thighs broke the Headlock and allowed the Churchgoer to push up on one elbow whereas poor gurgling Cynthia was forced to lay out on her back. “I never said I was a vampire,” Adelaide cooed before smoothing out her hair. “But if I was I’d be the kind that leaves pieces of you draped over several acres of rough terrain. Since you’re hardly worth the effort of a drink, I’ll have to entertain myself with less… sanguine pursuits.”
No one within earshot had any idea what Brewster meant until she curled one hand into a spade and ploughed it deep into the fertile landscape of Mitchell’s tummy. Cynthia hissed, kicked her feet and reached for the other brunette’s hair, but Adelaide was careful to keep it *just* out of reach. The Weeping Angel rated her opponent’s current discomfort as mild to moderate. That was all well and good for waiting in line at the DMV or long car trips, but she wanted this so called ‘Sinner’ shrieking loud enough to be heard down in the service tunnels. Thusly she shifted her index finger into Mitchell’s navel and gouged deep, either to help herself to a massive handful of taut tummy or possibly bore all the way through to the other side.
Gnashing her teeth against the fiery tines attacking her abs, Cyn stopped bothering with Adelaide’s hair and doubled down on her clawin’ hand instead. “Let go right now, bytch.” she demanded of her attacker. “Or everyone’s gonna see your fingers touch your forearMMEERRRGGHHHHH AAAAAHHH SHYT!”
While she’d watched more than enough tape of her rival to take any and all of Cynthia’s threats seriously, it wasn’t in her nature to acquiesce to anyone’s demands, especially when she had a hand free. So rather than answer with words she grabbed hold of Mitchell’s waistband and yaaaaaaaaanked it up in a remarkably unpleasant Inverted Wedgie. “Something you’ll learn about me if you live long enough, Cynthia dear,” Adelaide let loose of those distended trunks and snatched hold of the wrist that the Cyn-Ful One had dispatched to deal with vile intrusion. Drawing Mitchell’s captured hand to her lips, the Queen of Nightmares kissed one knuckle and murmured, “Threats are meaningless. Action however…” she took the brunette’s index finger into her mouth and bit down, eliciting a loud shriek.
“Jeeze Adelaide, stop chewin’ on her!” Long barked. “C’mon now! ONE! TWO! THREE!” He would’ve hit ‘FOUR!’ if Mitchell hadn’t wrenched her head to one side and buried her teeth in the Churchgoer’s thigh.
Adelaide spat out Cynthia’s digits with a snarl, crooked her arm into a ‘V’ and gouged the point of that elbow into the crown of the Tar Heel’s skull until she stopped chewing. “Good to know you’ve got passable listening comprehension skills.” Brewster huffed as she worked her hands into Cyn’s hair, all the better to stuff the Hellion’s face against her crotch. “Perhaps Miranda will want you for conversion after RRRRRRGGGHHHHH SLUT!”
More than willing to take a page out of her opponent’s book, Cynthia reached around with both hands, snagged hold of Brewster’s mesh one piece and repaid the earlier wedgie with bun-searing interest.
Adelaide did her best to maintain the Scissors, but the sawing both fore and aft proved too much to endure and so she kicked Mitchell away with a loud snarl of disgust. Cynthia let loose and clambered to boot leather the instant she was free, the red-faced battler quick to create some separation between her and the wannabe blood sucker. Adelaide didn’t encroach just yet, she used the time to snap her distended one-piece back into place and tend to the stinging welt on her inner thigh.
“Remember what I said about the smell of desperation, Cynthia?” she cooed. “It’s so much stronger now. Practically oozing out of your pores.”
Mitchell smoothed out her hair and made a few adjustments to her own abused bottoms. “Think that’s the smell coming off of your mustache, sweetums. I haven’t broken a sweat yet and if that’s all you’ve got, I don’t think I will.”
Adelaide sauntered to the middle of the squared circle, claiming it as her own. “Those are bold words for a Fatted Calf. Do you think your courage will hold out long enough to say them to my face?”
Cynthia came forward and she didn’t just walk into the other brunette, she tried to walk through her. But Brewster held her ground admirably, ensuring that the ladies were nose to nose when the Cyn-Ful One promised, “You better hope I don’t break a sweat, fang face. Because if I do you’re going to lap up every drop of it. Your face. My ass. Pucker up, buttercuPMMMMMMMPPPPHHHHH!”
Adelaide took Cynthia’s threat to heart because she grabbed the brunette’s head in her hands and pulled her into a passionate, possessive kiss! The crowd went dead silent for a moment, then exploded in raucous cheers as Brewster took her attack in a whole ‘nother direction. More startled by the smooch than any of the fans, Cyn’s brain didn’t even react to the stimulus until a good three seconds had passed and then she was just swatting and pushing at the other woman’s shoulders.
It wasn’t until she felt Adelaide’s tongue brush against her own that the Cyn-Ful One regained her bearings and shoved the Churchgoer as hard as she could. Sucking wind like she’d just come up from a very long time under water, Mitchell turned her head, spat, then wiped the back of one hand against her lips over and over again. When she was able to form words again, Cynthia started toward Adelaide and hissed, “Just who the fahk do you think you are, bytNNNNNGGGHHH!”
The Queen of Nightmares pivoted around in a quick little circle and PWAAAKED her foe’s jaw with a Rolling Elbow. Mitchell reeled while Brewster came out the far end of her revolution with just enough momentum to THWACK a pretty little Roundhouse off the side of the North Carolinian’s head. This time it was Cynthia who twirled, but damned if she didn’t turn back to her attacker rather than collapse to all fours.
Mildly irritated that this meat sack was still vertical, Adelaide punished Mitchell for her tenacity by lacing both hands across the back of her neck and hopping into the air. Raising her knees to chest level, Brewster stuffed ‘em both against Cyn’s tits and laid out on her back. Pulled down into a short, unpleasant fall atop the pointed joints, Mitchell ‘OOOOFFFHHED!’ and bounced over onto her back with both arms curled tight against her compacted curves. More than happy to provide such treatment herself, Adelaide straddled Cynthia’s waist, snatched her wrists in both hands and pinned them high overhead. Immediately thereafter she leaned forward and down, pressing her breasts to Mitchell’s aching pair. “Pucker up indeed.” she planted a kiss on the former World Champion’s forehead as Long swooped in to count…
INVERTED LUNGBLOWER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVlOAY1wN_w
ONE…
TWO…
Cynthia jabbed a Headbutt between the Churchgoer’s eyes and bucked her hips just as emphatically to buck Brewster loose in time with ‘TWO!’
The sting of the Headbutt was nothing to laugh at and Adelaide certainly didn’t enjoy it, yet it was relatively mild in comparison to the punishment she’d heaped on Mitchell, so it was no surprise when she made it to her feet before the Cyn-Ful One. “Spirited for food stock, I appreciate that.” she cooed shortly after she’d buried a hand in Mitchell’s hair. “Adrenalin is nature’s perfect tenderizer.” Cyn aimed to do some tenderizing of her own with a few ‘pakking!’ punches to Brewster’s ribs, but with her head still scrambled they proved less than an annoyance to the wicked brunette. “Yes, that’s it! Fight Cynthia!” Adelaide hauled the other woman up, stood her against the ropes and pressed in close. “Fight like a mouse caught by a python. Fight like a fly scrabbling against the sides of a pitcher plant! Fight like… well… just like you are now.”
With that she helped herself to Mitchell’s biceps and draped her arms over the top. She mulled pulling the second rope up and over to keep her pet fenced in before remembering free range always tasted better. Putting her back to the woozy battler, she reached back with her right hand and caressed the side of Cynthia’s face. “And to think, you’re the woman who ended FAWN’s longest World Title Reign. I wonder if Olivia was having an off night?”
Mention of her old rival’s name got a stir from Mitchell; unfortunately it also prompted a short, stabbing Back Elbow from Adelaide. Gasping for breath as the bony dagger gouged her sternum, Cynthia tried to shrug her way free of the strands but Adelaide put a stop to that with a second THWHUMPING Back Elbow. “Ropes…. get her offa me, Long. I’m in the ropes!” While Mitchell often detested asking the official for assistance, she did it without hesitation now, if only to get a few seconds of separation from this smirking, smothering bytch.
Truth be told Craig had been closing in to enforce the break already, so the words were barely out of Cyn’s mouth when he said, “Off the ropes, Adelaide, I want this match fought in the ring, not on the edges.”
The Weeping Angel didn’t throw a third elbow, but neither did she make a move to get clear. “Ohhhh, but that’s where all the fun happens.” She rolled her right shoulder, purposely grinding it into the spot where she’d landed her previous strikes. “Isn’t that right, CynthiUNNNGGGHHH!”
Mitchell got a leg up, planted that foot against the small of Brewster’s back and kicked forward hard enough to send the Churchgoer stumbling to all fours. “Damn right, sweetums.” Cyn taunted between deep breaths. “You’d be wise to stay away from these edges, unless you want some more fun things to happen to-- Adelaide popped up, whirled around and charged straight into the boot Mitchell jabbed into her face. Rocked back on her heels by the blow, Brewster shook her head clear and charged for the second time in less than a minute. No repeats from the Cyn-Ful One, this time she used both legs, her thighs in particular, to ‘smeck’ a trap around the brunette’s head.
Suspended by the ropes at one end and her Scissors at the other, Cynthia gathered herself for a heartbeat, then SQUEEZED with all her considerable might. Adelaide shrieked and started clawing at her attacker’s stems, after she kept her knees from buckling that was. “What’s the matter, buttercup? Not having fun anymore?” Mitchell sneered even as Brewster left unpleasant red hatch-marks up and down her legs.
The Queen of Nightmares didn’t offer any more than a gurgled curse, so Craig tapped Cyn’s left knee and told her, “I meant what I said, Cynthia. Get it out of the ropes.”
She fixed him with a beatific smile. “I’m sure you did, Craig. I bet you’ll still mean it after a count, don’t you?”
Long rolled his eyes and ticked off the count. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Cynthia emphasized each with a strong pulse through her gams. On ‘FOUR!’ she grabbed the top rope and pushed up until her arms were fully extended. Enjoying a brief but useful height advantage over her foe, the Terrible Tar Heel pushed off, swung around and twisted down onto her belly to fling Adelaide onto her back with an excellent Frankensteiner. Brewster tumbled through to her butt and sat there with one arm cradled around the back of her noggin while sucking in deep breaths.
ROPE ASSISTED FRANKENSTEINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAWOw3FyI5I
Cynthia on the other hand was already up and in no particular mood to let her foe enjoy a respite, not after the embarrassments she’d already suffered. “Get your ass up, twinkle toes!” Mitchell demanded of the recovering battler. “I thought you claimed to be a monster. That’s what I came here to fight, not one of those brooding Hot Topic clerks who write poems on their backpacks every time they scrape a kn--”
Adelaide got up and launched herself at Cynthia so fast she barely had enough time to step aside, let alone plan anything in the way of offense. Whirling around as Brewster ran the ropes, Mitchell charged after her so that when the brunette turned her back to the ropes THWHAM! An airborne Cynthia locked her hands against the base of the Churchgoer’s neck, yanked back and laid out flat to plant Adelaide’s mug against the thinly-sheathed plywood courtesy of a Leaping Complete Shot. Adelaide whiplashed up, rolled onto her back and probably would’ve made it quite a bit farther if Mitchell hadn’t snatched her at shoulder and hip.
LEAPING COMPLETE SHOT: (first clip)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2tn1-20BAc
Tugging the toothy bytch onto her back, Cyn straddled Adelaide’s waist, palmed her shoulders in both hands and leaned down to close the gap in the ‘domineering liplock’ race. Purposely keeping his eyes from everything but the wrestler’s shoulders, Craig sank to one knee and clapped off…
ONE…
TWO…
Brewster snatched hold of the sinner’s hair and wrenched her from the mount with a full second to spare. “Don’t think we’re done yet, buttercup.” Mitchell swatted the other brunette’s hands away from her hair and quickly returned the favour with interest. “Our little game of Seven Minutes In Heaven’ has just begun.” She paused when Adelaide was on one knee. “Sorry, we’re actually playing ‘An Evening In Hell’. I always get those two confused.”
“Get off of her hair, Cynthia.” the ref commanded when the North Carolinian resumed her tugging. “It’s just as easy to control her with a Chinlock.”
Cynthia nodded earnestly. “You’re right, Craig. Let me get on whoops!”
‘Whoops!’ was the universal alert for an accident, but Mitchell was a study in deliberation when she reared back on her heels and dropped to her knees, all the better to THWHUNK Brewster down on the back of her head and shoulders with a Hair Pull Mat Slam. Adelaide bounced on impact and reached for her stinging scalp. Alas, Mitchell beat her to it, if only because she’d never let go.
HAIR PULL MAT SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZugzeclJRU
“Dammit Cynthia, I warned you about the hair!” Long barked. “Don’t think I won’t start a count on you!”
Cyn looked about as sheepish as a cat with canary feathers on its muzzle. “Sorry, sorry. Her hair’s just so lank and greasy, I lost my grip. Lemme try again.” Making absolutely no attempt to disguise the hair pull, Mitchell got up and forced Brewster for the same. “Ok, Chinlock! I can do this, I know I can OH SHYT!” Cynthia made an exaggerated show of losing her balance, which made it *slightly* more convincing when she pushed onto her toes and dropped to her knees, all the better to THWHUNK Adelaide’s forehead with a Face-First Mat Slam.
Brewster jolted violently and would’ve rolled over if Mitchell hadn’t jammed a knee between her shoulders and scrrrrrruuubbed her face back n’ forth! While he was no fan of the Weeping Angel (that Red Mist of hers took DAYS to wash out) Craig was tired of being ignored, so rather than deliver another warning he went straight into the count. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FO--”
Cyn jerked Brewster’s head up and instantly transitioned into a perfectly legal Chinlock. “What are you whining about now?” she smirked to the referee. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Long held his tongue so the Cyn-Ful One returned to verticality with Adelaide hanging woozy and (temporarily) docile in her clutches. “I don’t know who’s telling all these scary stories about you.” Nuzzled in behind her brunette, Mitchell looped her right arm around Adelaide’s throat and gripped her left bicep for extra leverage. Her left hand cupped the base of her foe’s head and pressed forward. Sleeper secure, Cyn gave it a hard little shake and cooed, “I know plenty of toddlers who throw tantrums when they don’t get their nap.”
Adelaide’s was pretty epic as far as tantrums went, she twisted and writhed, then curled her hands around Cynthia’s encroaching bicep and dug in hard enough to make the former World Champion gasp. “Luuuhhh… let go… byAARRHH!” Cynthia countered the claw by leaning in and chomping down on Brewster’s left ear. The Queen of Nightmares shrieked and let loose of her foe’s arm only to snag a handful of hair and yank so viciously that Cynthia’s forehead bounced off her temple.
Not sure whether to address the biting or the hair pull first, Long settled for bellowing, “HEY! Knock that shyt off right now! I don’t wanna see anything but that Sleep--”
Cynthia stopped chewing and started yowling because Adelaide had affixed her other talon to the centre of the Terrible Tar Heel’s trunks. “Gotcha now, bytch.” Brewster growled through clenched teeth. “Gonna curl your toes long before you put me to sleWHOOOAANNNNNGGGHH!”
Though she was nearly paralyzed by the other woman’s pair of claws, Cynthia just couldn’t bring herself to abandon the Sleeper, so she willed her legs to work just enough to start them both shambling toward the nearest corner. Slumping hard against Adelaide’s back allowed her a semblance of control over their direction and more importantly, speed. While their approach would never be mistaken for a footrace between Domi Daly and Lily Burlingame, the brunettes were moving at a pretty good clip when Cyn worked a heel in front of Adelaide’s ankles and sent her sprawling shoulder-first into the top turnbuckle.
The jarring impact knocked the Churchgoer’s grip from her togs and a half dozen stabbing Kneelifts to opposing backside extricated her hair as well. Free to reef back on the Sleeper as hard as she liked, Mitchell did everything in her power to wrench Adelaide’s head from her shoulders, all the while snarling, “Is this what your nightmares look like, Brewster? AM I WHAT YOUR NIGHTMARES LOOK LIKE?”
Adelaide couldn’t answer with anything more than a reedy whine, so Craig answered for her. “Ropes, Cyn! You’re both in the ropes! Break it up right now and back off!” As a little added incentive, he went straight into the count.
Cursing the mistake, Mitchell abandoned the Sleeper almost immediately, not out of any respect for the rules, but because it allowed her a few more precious seconds to hurt the whimpering poseur. Burying her hands in Adelaide’s hair, she jerked her head back, then slammed it forward once, twice, three times, each hit BWUUUNGING loud enough to make your fillings ache. That slowed Brewster’s struggles considerably and in turn gave Mitchell free reign to wrap both arms around her prey’s right leg. Lifting the limb off the mat, she threaded it over the second rope, then repeated it on her left leg.
With Adelaide looking like she’d missed an especially emphatic Bronco Buster, Cynthia curled an arm around the brunette’s neck and angled her back into an Inverted Facelock. She saw the ref closing in out of the corner of her eye and Cyn simply wasn’t in the mood for it. Cutting him off at the pass, she growled, “You’re either gonna disqualify me, or you’re going to shut your mouth. This isn’t London versus Bloodwind; we’re actually going to FIGHT one another.”
The ref said nothing but didn’t retreat far, leading Cynthia to believe she didn’t have as much time as she would’ve liked. Luckily there wasn’t much left to do other than lock her hands and step away from the corner until Adelaide was suspended by the Facelock at one end and her ankles over the middle rope at the other. Pulling one hand free of her controlling grip, Cyn tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear before treating the brunette’s tummy to a possessive pat. “Nice mesh, buttercup. It’ll look even better stripped and mounted on my wall.” Adelaide squirmed and reached for Mitchell’s hair, a useless bit of resistance the former World Champion tolerated just long enough to titillate the FAWNatics with a tawdry hip waggle. When dancin’ was done she rocked back on her heels and dropped to a seat. All trussed up with nowhere to go but down, Adelaide THWHAMMED down on the back of her head and shoulders, the first victim of a truly Cyn-Sational Reverse DDT.
CYN-SATIONAL REVERSE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdjv_3kDj84
Seated beside the flattened battler, Cynthia swiped a hand through her hair, then pushed to one knee and swung around in a half circle, all the better to bring her mostly-bare buns to rest on Adelaide’s nose. Hands on her hips, the Terrible Tar Heel did a little bit more waggling, Cyn clearly enjoying the flail ‘n squeal as Brewster was butted out through…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Mitchell sprang to boot leather with a startled yelp, both hands pressed to her glutes, one of which sported a brand new bright red crescent. “You cheap skank.” Cynthia muttered once the initial shock wore off. “I think it’s time to put you down and I’m not screwing around with some pissant stake.”
The irritated brunette snagged Adelaide by tresses and trunks, hauled her upright and away from the corner. Brewster only made it a few steps before she tripped and went to all fours but that was ok. Cyn wasn’t looking for a whole ring’s worth of space, she just needed enough distance to slip out onto the apron and climb the corner without being disturbed. Rising to her full height well before the Weeping Angel, Mitchell smacked at her right knee and told the crowd, “This bytch prefers headshots.”
Blissfully ignorant of the problem on her six, Adelaide cupped one hand against the back of her skull and kept it there as she struggled to verticality. It was then that the FAWNatics wised her to the situation and she whirled, claws rising in defence. Cynthia was rising too, the lithesome brunette killer cresting the apex of her ascent with one knee cocked high and aimed at the Churchgoer’s temple. Even a moment’s hesitation would’ve gotten her walloped with the Cyn-Sational Sledge, but instantaneous defence against the aggressions of nonbelievers was a tenet of Miranda Wainright’s faith and Adelaide acted accordingly. Twisting aside like she was little more than a midnight breeze, Brewster didn’t merely avoid the Diving Knee Strike, she caught Cynthia’s right ankle in both hands and stepped back with a colossal yank. The unexpected snapped Cynthia like a towel, then dropped her like a rock, the former World Champion hitting HARD on her face and chest.
Breathless in the aftermath of that ugly landing, Mitchell struggled to rise with her right hand pressed to her nose and the left angled across her chest. It was the latter that Adelaide sought out, reaching around her foe’s torso from the right to seize her left wrist and pull it taut against her midsection. A heartbeat passed and Adelaide stepped back, using the Wristlock like a tether to spin Mitchell in a woozy circle. Brewster did some spinning of her own and she came out lined up on Cyn’s left side, the perfect position to THWHACK her right elbow into the side of her prey’s skull.
RIPCORD ROLLING ELBOW @ 00:10
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUdWrvRGaLg
The crowd ‘OOOOOOOOOH’ed’ in sympathetic anguish as Mitchell’s knees came unhinged, then did it all over again when Adelaide snuggled in behind and wrapped her in a loose Half Waistlock. Head tucked under Mitchell’s left arm, Brewster palmed the back of her foe’s left thigh and hoisted her up like she was seeking an especially energetic Backdrop Suplex. Only instead of dropping back with the other brunette, she twisted into place on Mitchell’s left and THEN laid out on her back, raising both knees to chest level as she did so. Still woozy from the impromptu Faceplant and Rolling Elbow, Cynthia found herself jolted back to reality when her spine THWHUMPED atop the Churchgoer’s wickedly placed knees. Bounced clear of the innovative Backbreaker like Adelaide’s knees were spring-loaded, Cynthia managed to land on her stomach and stay there.
LITTLE GIRL LOST @ 00:50
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOuEgjWNJe4
This proved a boon for her throbbing back for approximately four seconds. That’s when Adelaide crawled over and made a point of dropping her butt into the hollow spot just above the curve of her victim’s buttocks. The Cyn-Ful One pressed her palms against the mat, her instinct to crawl for the ropes still strong despite the recent traumas. But instinct could only take one so far in the presence of well-motivated opposition, especially opposition the calibre of Adelaide Brewster.
“I want you to be quiet, Cynthia Mitchell. As quiet as death.” The Queen of Nightmares reached over Mitchell’s left shoulder to claim her right wrist, then repeated the tactic over her other shoulder. Drawing the other brunette’s forearms against her throat in a tight, squashed ‘X’, Adelaide leaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaned back on the Noctem Aeturnus, a Straightjacket Camel Clutch that inflicted unspeakable agonies on Cynthia’s neck and lower back. “I want you to be so quiet you can hear the blood pounding in your temples.” Adelaide murmured softly. “You need to listen now, because you’ll never hear it again once I’ve had my fill.”
NOCTEM AETURNUS @ 1:29
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIyLgmBZJWM
Shins scraping uselessly against the mat, Mitchell shook her head ‘no’ when the official asked if she wanted to surrender. Doing so was already a challenge with her traitorous arms pulled so close, it was made all the more difficult because Brewster constantly tugged her this way n’ that, each new direction a little more tension on her poor beleaguered vertebrae.
“What do you say Cynthia, need me to call it?” Craig asked the red-faced battler. “If you can’t speak or nod, just tap your foot against the mat, I’ll understand.”
The Terrible Tar Heel did him one better. She pursed her lips and spat something that sounded an awful lot like ‘faaaahhkkhhhhhuuu!’
“I do so love the proud ones,” Adelaide planted her feet and reefed back all the harder, the dark-eyed battler’s visage almost upside down as she leered into the hard camera. “They’re always so willing to suffer to prove a point. The shapes they can make are just… glorious.”
Cynthia didn’t feel very glorious at the moment. In truth it felt like she had maybe thirty seconds, possibly less, before this hold either choked her out or forced her to surrender. Galled and steeled in equal measure, the trapped lovely let out a desperate growl and loosened up, allowing Brewster to bend her into something like a tipped over ‘J’. While this did nothing for her neck or back, it shifted Adelaide’s position enough to let Cynthia squirm a knee out from underneath. Once she had one knee the second came easy. Yeah, her arms were still wedged against her windpipe but with both legs back in the game it wasn’t long before she was getting to her feet.
Bolstered by a strange sound she vaguely recognized as crowd support, Mitchell perhaps a second away from full verticality when the Weeping Angel stepped in and spiked a Kneelift into the small of her back. Cyn sobbed and stumbled forward, the little bit of separation giving Adelaide enough time to twist around so she was back to back with the other brunette. Still very much in possession of Mitchell’s wrists, Adelaide kicked her left leg up and dropped out to THWHAM Cynthia on the back of her head via a Straightjacket Neckbreaker. Spinning around to one knee, the Queen of Nightmares put her hands on the North Carolinian’s shoulders and pushed her down flat. Then she slid back on her toes into a sort of push up and lowered herself close enough to plant a kiss on Cynthia’s lips while the official counted…
STRAIGHTJACKET NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMiiNBM-XYQ
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Mitchell palmed the other woman’s head in both hands and shoved her aside to avoid defeat by the slimmest of margins. Finally grown weary of playing with her food, Brewster claimed ownership of the Terrible Tar Heel’s left wrist and used it to drag Cynthia to her feet. Once there she folded the captured limb behind her opponent’s head in the sort of upside down Hammerlock that was always the precursor to a deadly Heart Punch. Curling her right hand into a fist, Adelaide raised it to her lips and kissed one knuckle.
“Good night, sweet calf.” she murmured to the spaghetti-legged brunette. “Let flights of angels sing thee to thy reSTERRRGGGGGH!”
Cynthia’s right hand had been hanging limp at her side, which was why Brewster forgot all about it. This proved a costly lapse when Mitchell brought it whipping up and raked it nails first across the Churchgoer’s eyes. “HEY!” Craig barked as Adelaide released Cyn’s wrist to better tend her scored visage. “Watch the eyes, Cynthia!”
The former FAWN World Champ was in the midst of formulating a snarky reply when Brewster pounced, her right arm extended for a short-range Clothesline. Not only did Mitchell duck the attempt, she hooked her elbow in Adelaide’s and swung around to end up back-to-back with the Queen of Nightmares. Brewster hammered a few elbows into Cyn’s other arm just because she could, so Mitchell trapped her in an identical Chickenwing, also because she could. While a Backslide in Adelaide’s semi-blinded state could very well yield useful results, the Cyn-Ful One had something a bit more vengeful in mind, which was why she kicked her left leg up as high as it’d go, then snapped it back down and dropped to her knees to land with her forehead against the mat like a penitent. Adelaide joined her in the fall, unfortunately for the mesh-clad battler she THWHUNKED down on the back of her head and shoulders.
BACKSLIDE DRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnH0rZDIZ4g
Flipping onto her stomach in the wake of the Backslide Driver, Brewster fought to her knees and wrapped both arms around the whole of her aching skull. While Cynthia wasn’t feeling too great herself, (that Straightjacket Clutch had nearly done her in) her mood improved considerably when she leaned back on her haunches and saw Brewster trying to keep her fool head from cracking apart like a soft-boiled egg. “You inspecting the mat, Addy?” Cynthia huffed as she got to her feet and snatched double handful of her prey’s hair. “I think maybe you need to get a little closer.”
Happy to help in that regard, she wedged Adelaide’s head between her thighs, then reached down and slipped her hands under opposing biceps. Her fingers were just about to meet between Brewster’s shoulders when the other brunette dropped to one knee and started squirming like a wildcat. Mitchell cursed, forced her hands together and pulled up, working hard to make Brewster stand for the Drop Out.
But Adelaide wouldn’t comply.
A combination of stubborn squirming and plain ol’ deadweighting’ keep her rooted to terra firma. She even managed to lift Cyn’s feet off the mat when she went for an impromptu Back Body Drop, but the sultry southerner put a stop to that. Painfully aware that such a delay made it much easier for her opponent to find a way out, Mitchell abruptly released the Double Underhook and PWAAAKED her fists into the vulnerable battler’s kidneys. Adelaide shrieked, reached to protect her midsection and Cynthia grabbed her wrists instead. Bending them up between her shoulders in stereo Hammerlocks, she leaned down and forward, using her chest and belly to keep them pinned in place while she wrapped both arms around the Weeping Angel’s midsection.
Mitchell paused to gather her reserves, then let out a grunt and straightened up to flip Adelaide ass over teakettle for what could only be a-- Cynthia sprang up, kicked her legs forward and landed on her butt to THWHUNK Brewster’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood courtesy a Double Hammerlock Piledriver. Adelaide snapped loose, landed on her stomach and then flopped onto her back all in the span between heartbeats. She could’ve very well been the dictionary example of ‘beaten’, yet Mitchell wasn’t even sort of satisfied until she climbed onto the vulnerable beauty’s chest and thrust her crotch into Adelaide’s mug. “Pucker up, buttercup.” Cynthia sniped as Long swooped into action. “Losing looks good on you.”
DOUBLE HAMMERLOCK PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpxm29GWPHk
The ref punctuated her observation by slapping off…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Adelaide grabbed that scant scrap of purple lycra and yanked up, splitting the Cyn-Ful One’s equally tempting backside with a ruthless wedgie.
“BYTCH!” Cynthia sprang off and stumbled into the ropes, keeping her distance from the other brunette while she tended to her stinging, stretched bottoms. Sighing with relief once things were set to rights, Mitchell stalked around behind Brewster and dropped into a tense crouch. Hands on her knees, Cyn waggled her hips back n’ forth, raising a loud cheer from those FAWNatics on the right side of the arena. “Get up, sparkles,” she demanded of the recovering lovely, “Get up so I can take your fugly little head off.”
It was unclear whether or not Adelaide actually heard the order but she started to move mere moments after the words left Cynthia’s lips. Rolling onto her stomach, the Weeping Angel put her hands against the mat, pushed up and slid a knee into place. Then she took a deep breath, surged to her feet and turned around just in time to see Mitchell coming at her hell-bent for leather. Brewster swung her right shoulder toward the other brunette and stretched that arm wide, all the better to welcome the Cyn-Ful One into a Sidewalk SlamWHOOOAAAAH! Mitchell flipped head over heels, swung around and slipped her left arm around Adelaide’s noggin and cranked down in a Front Facelock at the exact moment she slipped both legs around the Churchgoer’s neck in a Guillotine Choke.
TILT-A-WHIRL GUILLOTINE CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XL1HnBemIbM
Ankles crossed, Cynthia bore down on the Scissors and craaaaaaaaaaaanked back on the Facelock to put all sorts of ugly pressure on Adelaide’s neck. “GOTCHA SWEETUMS!” Mitchell cackled while Brewster struggled to keep her footing. “GIVE IT UP OR YOU WON’T BE AWAKE TO ENJOY MY ASS ON YOUR FACE!”
Doubled over by Cyn’s weight and the crushing squeeze of the Chokehold, Adelaide waggled a finger to the official to keep his mouth shut, then started driving short, desperate punches into her attacker’s ribs. Cynthia snorted and shook her head. “Not enough, bytch. Not even close. You might as well start pursing your lips right now because--oh yeah, THAT’S what I’m talkin’ about!”
Adelaide’s legs gave out and she went down on one knee. She had both hands braced against the mat but everyone knew it wouldn’t be long before the Weeping Angel drifted off into Miranda’s blessed dark. No one knew it more than Mitchell, who clamped down on the Guillotine hard enough to cramp her legs and left shoulder. “Tap out, Brewster.” she huffed. “Tap out on my ass or I’ll snap your EEEERRGGGHHH!”
Adelaide couldn’t get her head loose, she did however twist it to one side and bite down on her tormentor’s side. This unexpected attack loosened Mitchell’s noose ever so slightly and just that bit of extra oxygen allowed Brewster to struggle back to her feet. Long was trying to make the brunette stop chewing with no real success, so Cynthia let loose of the Scissors and transitioned the Facelock into a Standing Headscissors.
“All right, buttercup.” Mitchell snapped, the North Carolinian forced to speak a little louder than expected because the crowd let loose with a loud roar. “You don’t wanna tap out? Then you’ll leave on a goddamned stretcher.”
A voice from the apron observed, “That’s pretty bold talk for a tramp who couldn’t save one sister, let alone two.”
Cynthia and the ref looked toward the side of the ring facing the ramp and there was Lucy Harker, the Scandalous brunette leaning against the ropes like she had every right to be there. “HEY! Get outta here Lucy!” Craig hurried over and jabbed an index finger toward the entryway. “Right now! There’s no reason for you to be out here!”
LUCY HARKER:
Lucy smiled but had the good sense not to roll her eyes. “Oh, there’s every reason for me to be out here, fine sir. This idiot’s about to collapse in spectacular fashion and I wanted a good seat for--” a startled cry from behind the official and he turned just in time to watch Adelaide Brewster fling Cynthia Mitchell up, over and DOWN with a Back Body Drop.
“Dammit!” Craig started toward them, then turned back to Harker, who’d made no move to leave the apron. “Off. Now.”
“Give me an actual reason and I might consider it.”
Elsewhere, Cynthia rolled onto her side and pressed a hand to the small of her back. Not too far away, Adelaide was on her knees and sucking wind, that ugly red flush already creeping out of her face. Torn between dealing with the infuriating intruder or the crippled monster just out of reach, Cynthia chose the latter. Fighting to boot leather, she stalked over to Brewster and used a double fistful of hair to reel her in to yet another Standing Headscissors. The Cyn-Ful One had just reached for her foe’s arms when Adelaide grabbed hold of her waistband on either side and twisted free of Mitchell’s grasp.
Dragged off balance by the shift, Cynthia staggered, tripped and went down in the ropes on the far side of the ring. Careful to keep her throat from striking the rubber-coated steel, the brunette grunted in irritation and push--THWHACK!
Mina Murray, who’d been crouched just out of sight beside the nearest turnbuckle, popped into view and caught Cyn flush across the cheek with a lightning quick Super Kick.
MINA MURRAY:
Knocked loopy by the pinpoint strike, Mitchell reeled back on her heels and stumbled backward without even thinking about Adelaide once. Adelaide however was practically obsessed with her prey and that spelled disaster for the former FAWN World Champ. Striking as suddenly as bad news, the Weeping Angel reached over Mitchell’s left shoulder, grabbed her right wrist and pulled her arm tight under her chin, Cut-Throat style. The was the moment Lucy Harker happened to decide she’d had enough arguing with the official and she dropped off the apron just in time for Craig to see Brewster slip her other arm through Mitchell’s legs.
Muscling Cynthia onto her shoulders in that dangerous sort of sideways Torture Rack, Adelaide held off long enough to bare her teeth for the hard camera. Then she kicked her legs forward and laid out to the left, THWHONKING Mitchell onto the back of her head with the taste of Blood & Black Lace fresh in her mouth.
BLOOD & BLACK LACE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggQhjXPD_fA
Flopped over into an insensate starfish courtesy of Brewster’s brutal finisher, Cynthia’s memories of what happened next came entirely from the tape of this match which she damned near wore out in the weeks and months following.
Seated next to the smouldering wreckage of her opponent, Adelaide flipped hair out of her face, then swung around onto all fours and crawled down to Cynthia’s legs. Hands planted on either side of the other brunette’s thighs, the Queen of Nightmares dipped her head until she was quite literally gazing at Cyn’s navel. “A spirited fight from a calf who believed herself a wolf.” Adelaide said to no one in particular. “But the battle is done and now the true predator takes her share…” She kissed Mitchell’s belly button, which got a loud cheer from the crowd. Then she stuck out her tongue, the tip touching her foe’s tummy *ever* so slightly. Crawling north, Adelaide licked her victim from belly to sternum and a little bit beyond, the trail finally ending in the hollow of Mitchell’s throat.
“I know it’s small comfort,” Brewster whispered into the insensate woman’s right ear, “but you taste exquisite.” With that she pressed her muzzle into the side of Cynthia’s neck and ’fed’. No draining of vital fluids of course, (this was a family show after all) and Adelaide didn’t even break skin, but the welt she left behind was ugly enough for Mitchell to choose unseasonable turtlenecks for the next week or so. When she’d slaked her thirst, Adelaide straightened up, swung around and straddled Cyn’s head, her wicked tush making a second meal of the Cyn-Ful One’s face. Grinding just enough to make sure the Gladiatrix photogs got that ever important shot of Cynthia’s nose disappearing into her cheeks, Adelaide put her hands to Mitchell’s tummy, threw her head back and ’PWFWOOOOOOOSHED!’ a cloud of crimson mist into the air.
The Weeping Angel’s ride had only just begun when the official dove in beside the pair and counted off…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
This was greeted by a mixture of jeers and joy, some FAWNatics displeased to see a (semi) clean contest marred by the interference of Scandalous while others were thrilled to see Cynthia on the end of her own humiliating smother. Said air deprivation was still going strong when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall…. ADELAIDE BREWSTER!”
On the outside, Mina Murray sidled up next to her partner as the monster made a spectacle of the woman who’d dare deny them their fun a couple months back. “Girl’s got style, I’ll give her that.” Lucy said of Adelaide’s wicked ritual.
Murray nodded agreement. “Oh yes. While any bytch with a modicum of talent can embarrass Cynthia Mitchell, it takes a real talent to make the humiliation last and last. Think she’d be interested in a job?”
Lucy tapped her chin thoughtfully. “A good idea, but I believe she’s devoted to a life with the Church.”
“That reminds me, did we tithe this year?”
“What do you think this is?” Harker swept her hand toward Adelaide, who was still enjoying her mount.
“Of course, silly me. So, when do we get to have our own fun with Adelaide’s new Lunchable?” Mina asked.
Whenever we fahking well please.” Lucy purred. “Assuming that Natalie’s Favourite Mistake can show her face in public after this.” She swatted Mina on the arm. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ve got the sudden urge to see if Netflix has The Horror of Dracula.”
The Scandalous brunette turned to leave, but Mina hung back for a moment. Catching Adelaide’s eye, she mouthed, “Save me a little, would you?”
Brewster smiled and bore down, forcing a soft, low moan into her undercarriage. “No promises.” she replied quietly.
Mina smiled nastily. Those were her favourite kind.
Those words were enough to swiftly transform the crowd’s cheers into raucous boos, jeers that were almost quashed when the speakers at the top of the ramp spat a burst of squall and kick into the opening of Skye Sweetnam’s ‘Babydoll Gone Wrong‘. All eyes in the FAWN arena shifted to the stage and within heartbeats, Cynthia Mitchell, former Tag, Lightweight, World champion and all round ice cold bytch goddess brushed through the curtains. The slender brunette regarded the seething mass of fans with a smirk of contempt, but she doesn’t linger more than a few seconds before heading down to the ring with a sassy ‘avert your gaze, mortals!’ swish in her step.
CYNTHIA MITCHELL:
For tonight’s contest, it appeared that Mitchell was clad in her now standard ‘one-piece’--said outfit a deep purple number with a plunging V neckline that went all the way to her navel and a back that might qualify as a thong if you were feeling generous. However, there was a tiny sense of mystery about the Cynful One’s sartorial choices, thanks to the T-shirt that extended down to just above where her thighs curved into her glutes. That shirt was white, with a light red circle in the middle faintly emblazoned with the Stars and Bars of her southern heritage. Inside the circle are two crossed roses, their buds also sporting the rebel emblem, albeit in a much more prominent manner.
And written above all this is the script: “SOUTHERN GIRL: WHO NEEDS BIG BOOBS WHEN YOU GOT A BUTT LIKE MINE”
Cynthia's T-shirt...
Careful to traverse the aisle without coming into contact with any of the subhumanoids that were always trying to touch her, Cynthia ascended the steel steps and waited on the apron until the referee came over and held the ropes open to allow her proper passage.
Once the official took a seat on the middle rope, Mitchell slipped a leg into the ring, then pulled her torso through the strands in an agonizingly slow movement—well, agonizing for those straight males and not-so-straight females in the audience with a heart condition, at least. Finally on the other side of the ropes, the Cynful One sauntered toward the opposite corner, claiming it as her own, the crowd continuing to shower the brunette in derisive whistles and catcalls.
Those jeers turned a little more lustful and appreciative when Mitchell peeled the tee up her torso, revealing the rest of her usual battle togs for the first time tonight. Dropping the garment to the apron on the other side of the ropes, Cynthia turned toward her corner, grabbed the top rope and started to stretch.
After Mitchell’s music died, the Announcer raised his mic again. “And introducing her opponent--”
MIRANDA WAINWRIGHT:
TIFFANY MAYES:
“Shall not be slighted by your incompetent yattering.” said a calm, collected voice from behind the curtain. Heathens and non-believers everywhere raised their voices in full-throated disdain when Miranda Wainright and Tiffany Mayes appeared atop the stage. Greeting their meaningless vitriol with a polite little smile, the Malevolent Moralizer produced a mic of her own and immediately put it to work. “The woman already in the ring claims to be a sinner. She says it in a tone that implies she wants to be held in reverence for these sins, but is there anything there to revere? Hers are the palest, most timid of evils. Now, if it’s TRUE darkness you’re after, allow me to introduce our sister. Hailing from Oxrun Station, Connecticut, she stands at five feet six inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and nineteen pounds. She goes by many names. The Weeping Angel. The Queen of Nightmares. You may call her…ADELAIDE BREWSTER!”
The lights died as her name reached the rafters and the speakers answered the call, not with Midnight Syndicate but with the quietly eerie pop of Lorde’s ‘Glory and Gore’.
GLORY & GORE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEHHh8IBhpY
ADELAIDE BREWSTER:
For a moment there was nothing but darkness and pinpricks of cell phone light, then a few lights on either side of the stage ‘whoomped’ on to reveal Miranda and Tiffany standing in a carpet of ankle deep fog. Still no sign of final Churchgoer and that was the way it stayed until a cold blue light illuminated the gloomy recession leading to the curtain. A figure swung down from the ceiling of that narrow throat, a figure hanging by her knees from a bar suspended just out of camera view. Arms crossed over her chest, Adelaide Brewster opened her eyes, then twisted loose and landed on her feet just as her anthem warned ‘Now we’re in the ring and we’re coming for blood.’
Heading for the squared circle after a brief conference with her Dark Sisters, Adelaide stretched her arms wide, which let her limber up while simultaneously providing the FAWNatics with a great view of her ring attire. In place of the antique ball gown, top hat and velvet number that it sheathed was a blood red one piece made of a mesh just fine enough to allow the discerning eye a glimpse of matching black bra and briefs lurking beneath. This outfit was completed with a clunky black belt complete with a buckle done up as a snarling wolf’s head and matching black boots and pads.
Reaching the ring quickly (because no one quite dared extend a hand) Adelaide slunk under the bottom ropes, popped to her feet and took ownership of a corner on the far side of the ring. Paying no attention to the presence behind her back, the Weeping Angel climbed to the second rope, titled her head back and ‘pppfffwoooooshed’ a cloud of red mist out over the first couple rows of fans. Blood properly let, she climbed down and turned her attention to one Cynthia Mitchell.
The CLANG of the bell acted as a summons that drew the women to the centre of the ring, both seemingly eager to confirm or deny the tales of her opponent’s ferocity for themselves. Looking Mitchell up and down when she drew close enough for a frank appraisal, Adelaide put her hands on her hips and circled right. Cynthia turned with her and raised both hands but she made no move to attack, the former FAWN World Champ was quite content to study this spooky bytch in her natural environment.
Brewster made two full circles around her adversary, then stopped and tilted her head back. Closing her eyes, the brunette drew in a deep breath and held it for five long seconds “I love the fragrance you’re wearing tonight, Cynthia. Superficial arrogance combined with bone deep desperation and just the tiniest hint of self loathing. I do hope you taste as good as you sm--”
The Cyn-Ful One stepped forward and CLAPPED her foe across the cheek with a stinging Bytch Slap. Brewster’s head snapped back so Mitchell stepped after her and curled her right arm around the Churchgoer’s head. “Bytch, please!” Cyn scoffed while stuffing Adelaide’s cheek into the point of her right hip. “Don’t even think about trying that ‘I’m a vampire!’ nonsense while I’m around. There’s only one monster in this ring tonight and she’s currently squeezing your gross little skull!”
Adelaide didn’t care much for Mitchell’s opinion, which probably explained why she reached up and grabbed a huge handful of dark hair. “Hey, leggo of the hair Adelaide. I mean it now, you know better!” Craig Long patted Brewster’s wrist and worried at her elbow, neither of which did a damned thing to extricate the Weeping Angel’s talon.
Smirking in spite of the pain, Cyn muttered, “Thanks for your help chuckles, but I’ve got this.” Mitchell’s left foot went up and down like a piston, a piston aimed directly at Brewster’s toes. Adelaide yelped in pain and surprise, but didn’t give up the hair hold. Indeed, she pulled all the harder and dug her free hand into the crook of Cynthia’s elbow. “Apparently they only teach basic catfighting over there on the Dark Side.” Mitchell taunted in between a second and third stomp. “Don’t worry, I can show your pasty ass plenty of new tricks.”
The first of these tricks entailed stuffing her left hip into the pit of Brewster’s stomach to sling her up, over and down with a BOOMING Headlock Takedown. The impact was certainly jarring, but it didn’t bother Cynthia in the slightest, she merely made some microadjustments to the Headlock and pulled opposing mug into the curve of her left breast. “Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t taken out those fake teeth right about now, aren’t ya, buttercup?” the Hellion planted her feet and leaned back, pouring all the more pressure into the braincase of her increasingly red-faced opposition. “Or maybe you’re happy right where you are? Is that it? Are you one of those sparkly vampires who gets off on nuzzling juGGGGEERRGHHH OHHH YOU’RE DEAD YOU NASTY BYTCHHHHNNNNGGGHHH!”
Mere mention of the hated sparkle was all it took to get Brewster frothing at the mouth and she made the most of it by chomping down on intruding rack. Cynthia threw her head back when she shrieked, which gave Adelaide the perfect opportunity to kick her legs up and lock ‘em around the other woman’s skull. A single violent constriction of Brewster’s thighs broke the Headlock and allowed the Churchgoer to push up on one elbow whereas poor gurgling Cynthia was forced to lay out on her back. “I never said I was a vampire,” Adelaide cooed before smoothing out her hair. “But if I was I’d be the kind that leaves pieces of you draped over several acres of rough terrain. Since you’re hardly worth the effort of a drink, I’ll have to entertain myself with less… sanguine pursuits.”
No one within earshot had any idea what Brewster meant until she curled one hand into a spade and ploughed it deep into the fertile landscape of Mitchell’s tummy. Cynthia hissed, kicked her feet and reached for the other brunette’s hair, but Adelaide was careful to keep it *just* out of reach. The Weeping Angel rated her opponent’s current discomfort as mild to moderate. That was all well and good for waiting in line at the DMV or long car trips, but she wanted this so called ‘Sinner’ shrieking loud enough to be heard down in the service tunnels. Thusly she shifted her index finger into Mitchell’s navel and gouged deep, either to help herself to a massive handful of taut tummy or possibly bore all the way through to the other side.
Gnashing her teeth against the fiery tines attacking her abs, Cyn stopped bothering with Adelaide’s hair and doubled down on her clawin’ hand instead. “Let go right now, bytch.” she demanded of her attacker. “Or everyone’s gonna see your fingers touch your forearMMEERRRGGHHHHH AAAAAHHH SHYT!”
While she’d watched more than enough tape of her rival to take any and all of Cynthia’s threats seriously, it wasn’t in her nature to acquiesce to anyone’s demands, especially when she had a hand free. So rather than answer with words she grabbed hold of Mitchell’s waistband and yaaaaaaaaanked it up in a remarkably unpleasant Inverted Wedgie. “Something you’ll learn about me if you live long enough, Cynthia dear,” Adelaide let loose of those distended trunks and snatched hold of the wrist that the Cyn-Ful One had dispatched to deal with vile intrusion. Drawing Mitchell’s captured hand to her lips, the Queen of Nightmares kissed one knuckle and murmured, “Threats are meaningless. Action however…” she took the brunette’s index finger into her mouth and bit down, eliciting a loud shriek.
“Jeeze Adelaide, stop chewin’ on her!” Long barked. “C’mon now! ONE! TWO! THREE!” He would’ve hit ‘FOUR!’ if Mitchell hadn’t wrenched her head to one side and buried her teeth in the Churchgoer’s thigh.
Adelaide spat out Cynthia’s digits with a snarl, crooked her arm into a ‘V’ and gouged the point of that elbow into the crown of the Tar Heel’s skull until she stopped chewing. “Good to know you’ve got passable listening comprehension skills.” Brewster huffed as she worked her hands into Cyn’s hair, all the better to stuff the Hellion’s face against her crotch. “Perhaps Miranda will want you for conversion after RRRRRRGGGHHHHH SLUT!”
More than willing to take a page out of her opponent’s book, Cynthia reached around with both hands, snagged hold of Brewster’s mesh one piece and repaid the earlier wedgie with bun-searing interest.
Adelaide did her best to maintain the Scissors, but the sawing both fore and aft proved too much to endure and so she kicked Mitchell away with a loud snarl of disgust. Cynthia let loose and clambered to boot leather the instant she was free, the red-faced battler quick to create some separation between her and the wannabe blood sucker. Adelaide didn’t encroach just yet, she used the time to snap her distended one-piece back into place and tend to the stinging welt on her inner thigh.
“Remember what I said about the smell of desperation, Cynthia?” she cooed. “It’s so much stronger now. Practically oozing out of your pores.”
Mitchell smoothed out her hair and made a few adjustments to her own abused bottoms. “Think that’s the smell coming off of your mustache, sweetums. I haven’t broken a sweat yet and if that’s all you’ve got, I don’t think I will.”
Adelaide sauntered to the middle of the squared circle, claiming it as her own. “Those are bold words for a Fatted Calf. Do you think your courage will hold out long enough to say them to my face?”
Cynthia came forward and she didn’t just walk into the other brunette, she tried to walk through her. But Brewster held her ground admirably, ensuring that the ladies were nose to nose when the Cyn-Ful One promised, “You better hope I don’t break a sweat, fang face. Because if I do you’re going to lap up every drop of it. Your face. My ass. Pucker up, buttercuPMMMMMMMPPPPHHHHH!”
Adelaide took Cynthia’s threat to heart because she grabbed the brunette’s head in her hands and pulled her into a passionate, possessive kiss! The crowd went dead silent for a moment, then exploded in raucous cheers as Brewster took her attack in a whole ‘nother direction. More startled by the smooch than any of the fans, Cyn’s brain didn’t even react to the stimulus until a good three seconds had passed and then she was just swatting and pushing at the other woman’s shoulders.
It wasn’t until she felt Adelaide’s tongue brush against her own that the Cyn-Ful One regained her bearings and shoved the Churchgoer as hard as she could. Sucking wind like she’d just come up from a very long time under water, Mitchell turned her head, spat, then wiped the back of one hand against her lips over and over again. When she was able to form words again, Cynthia started toward Adelaide and hissed, “Just who the fahk do you think you are, bytNNNNNGGGHHH!”
The Queen of Nightmares pivoted around in a quick little circle and PWAAAKED her foe’s jaw with a Rolling Elbow. Mitchell reeled while Brewster came out the far end of her revolution with just enough momentum to THWACK a pretty little Roundhouse off the side of the North Carolinian’s head. This time it was Cynthia who twirled, but damned if she didn’t turn back to her attacker rather than collapse to all fours.
Mildly irritated that this meat sack was still vertical, Adelaide punished Mitchell for her tenacity by lacing both hands across the back of her neck and hopping into the air. Raising her knees to chest level, Brewster stuffed ‘em both against Cyn’s tits and laid out on her back. Pulled down into a short, unpleasant fall atop the pointed joints, Mitchell ‘OOOOFFFHHED!’ and bounced over onto her back with both arms curled tight against her compacted curves. More than happy to provide such treatment herself, Adelaide straddled Cynthia’s waist, snatched her wrists in both hands and pinned them high overhead. Immediately thereafter she leaned forward and down, pressing her breasts to Mitchell’s aching pair. “Pucker up indeed.” she planted a kiss on the former World Champion’s forehead as Long swooped in to count…
INVERTED LUNGBLOWER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVlOAY1wN_w
ONE…
TWO…
Cynthia jabbed a Headbutt between the Churchgoer’s eyes and bucked her hips just as emphatically to buck Brewster loose in time with ‘TWO!’
The sting of the Headbutt was nothing to laugh at and Adelaide certainly didn’t enjoy it, yet it was relatively mild in comparison to the punishment she’d heaped on Mitchell, so it was no surprise when she made it to her feet before the Cyn-Ful One. “Spirited for food stock, I appreciate that.” she cooed shortly after she’d buried a hand in Mitchell’s hair. “Adrenalin is nature’s perfect tenderizer.” Cyn aimed to do some tenderizing of her own with a few ‘pakking!’ punches to Brewster’s ribs, but with her head still scrambled they proved less than an annoyance to the wicked brunette. “Yes, that’s it! Fight Cynthia!” Adelaide hauled the other woman up, stood her against the ropes and pressed in close. “Fight like a mouse caught by a python. Fight like a fly scrabbling against the sides of a pitcher plant! Fight like… well… just like you are now.”
With that she helped herself to Mitchell’s biceps and draped her arms over the top. She mulled pulling the second rope up and over to keep her pet fenced in before remembering free range always tasted better. Putting her back to the woozy battler, she reached back with her right hand and caressed the side of Cynthia’s face. “And to think, you’re the woman who ended FAWN’s longest World Title Reign. I wonder if Olivia was having an off night?”
Mention of her old rival’s name got a stir from Mitchell; unfortunately it also prompted a short, stabbing Back Elbow from Adelaide. Gasping for breath as the bony dagger gouged her sternum, Cynthia tried to shrug her way free of the strands but Adelaide put a stop to that with a second THWHUMPING Back Elbow. “Ropes…. get her offa me, Long. I’m in the ropes!” While Mitchell often detested asking the official for assistance, she did it without hesitation now, if only to get a few seconds of separation from this smirking, smothering bytch.
Truth be told Craig had been closing in to enforce the break already, so the words were barely out of Cyn’s mouth when he said, “Off the ropes, Adelaide, I want this match fought in the ring, not on the edges.”
The Weeping Angel didn’t throw a third elbow, but neither did she make a move to get clear. “Ohhhh, but that’s where all the fun happens.” She rolled her right shoulder, purposely grinding it into the spot where she’d landed her previous strikes. “Isn’t that right, CynthiUNNNGGGHHH!”
Mitchell got a leg up, planted that foot against the small of Brewster’s back and kicked forward hard enough to send the Churchgoer stumbling to all fours. “Damn right, sweetums.” Cyn taunted between deep breaths. “You’d be wise to stay away from these edges, unless you want some more fun things to happen to-- Adelaide popped up, whirled around and charged straight into the boot Mitchell jabbed into her face. Rocked back on her heels by the blow, Brewster shook her head clear and charged for the second time in less than a minute. No repeats from the Cyn-Ful One, this time she used both legs, her thighs in particular, to ‘smeck’ a trap around the brunette’s head.
Suspended by the ropes at one end and her Scissors at the other, Cynthia gathered herself for a heartbeat, then SQUEEZED with all her considerable might. Adelaide shrieked and started clawing at her attacker’s stems, after she kept her knees from buckling that was. “What’s the matter, buttercup? Not having fun anymore?” Mitchell sneered even as Brewster left unpleasant red hatch-marks up and down her legs.
The Queen of Nightmares didn’t offer any more than a gurgled curse, so Craig tapped Cyn’s left knee and told her, “I meant what I said, Cynthia. Get it out of the ropes.”
She fixed him with a beatific smile. “I’m sure you did, Craig. I bet you’ll still mean it after a count, don’t you?”
Long rolled his eyes and ticked off the count. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!”
Cynthia emphasized each with a strong pulse through her gams. On ‘FOUR!’ she grabbed the top rope and pushed up until her arms were fully extended. Enjoying a brief but useful height advantage over her foe, the Terrible Tar Heel pushed off, swung around and twisted down onto her belly to fling Adelaide onto her back with an excellent Frankensteiner. Brewster tumbled through to her butt and sat there with one arm cradled around the back of her noggin while sucking in deep breaths.
ROPE ASSISTED FRANKENSTEINER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAWOw3FyI5I
Cynthia on the other hand was already up and in no particular mood to let her foe enjoy a respite, not after the embarrassments she’d already suffered. “Get your ass up, twinkle toes!” Mitchell demanded of the recovering battler. “I thought you claimed to be a monster. That’s what I came here to fight, not one of those brooding Hot Topic clerks who write poems on their backpacks every time they scrape a kn--”
Adelaide got up and launched herself at Cynthia so fast she barely had enough time to step aside, let alone plan anything in the way of offense. Whirling around as Brewster ran the ropes, Mitchell charged after her so that when the brunette turned her back to the ropes THWHAM! An airborne Cynthia locked her hands against the base of the Churchgoer’s neck, yanked back and laid out flat to plant Adelaide’s mug against the thinly-sheathed plywood courtesy of a Leaping Complete Shot. Adelaide whiplashed up, rolled onto her back and probably would’ve made it quite a bit farther if Mitchell hadn’t snatched her at shoulder and hip.
LEAPING COMPLETE SHOT: (first clip)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2tn1-20BAc
Tugging the toothy bytch onto her back, Cyn straddled Adelaide’s waist, palmed her shoulders in both hands and leaned down to close the gap in the ‘domineering liplock’ race. Purposely keeping his eyes from everything but the wrestler’s shoulders, Craig sank to one knee and clapped off…
ONE…
TWO…
Brewster snatched hold of the sinner’s hair and wrenched her from the mount with a full second to spare. “Don’t think we’re done yet, buttercup.” Mitchell swatted the other brunette’s hands away from her hair and quickly returned the favour with interest. “Our little game of Seven Minutes In Heaven’ has just begun.” She paused when Adelaide was on one knee. “Sorry, we’re actually playing ‘An Evening In Hell’. I always get those two confused.”
“Get off of her hair, Cynthia.” the ref commanded when the North Carolinian resumed her tugging. “It’s just as easy to control her with a Chinlock.”
Cynthia nodded earnestly. “You’re right, Craig. Let me get on whoops!”
‘Whoops!’ was the universal alert for an accident, but Mitchell was a study in deliberation when she reared back on her heels and dropped to her knees, all the better to THWHUNK Brewster down on the back of her head and shoulders with a Hair Pull Mat Slam. Adelaide bounced on impact and reached for her stinging scalp. Alas, Mitchell beat her to it, if only because she’d never let go.
HAIR PULL MAT SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZugzeclJRU
“Dammit Cynthia, I warned you about the hair!” Long barked. “Don’t think I won’t start a count on you!”
Cyn looked about as sheepish as a cat with canary feathers on its muzzle. “Sorry, sorry. Her hair’s just so lank and greasy, I lost my grip. Lemme try again.” Making absolutely no attempt to disguise the hair pull, Mitchell got up and forced Brewster for the same. “Ok, Chinlock! I can do this, I know I can OH SHYT!” Cynthia made an exaggerated show of losing her balance, which made it *slightly* more convincing when she pushed onto her toes and dropped to her knees, all the better to THWHUNK Adelaide’s forehead with a Face-First Mat Slam.
Brewster jolted violently and would’ve rolled over if Mitchell hadn’t jammed a knee between her shoulders and scrrrrrruuubbed her face back n’ forth! While he was no fan of the Weeping Angel (that Red Mist of hers took DAYS to wash out) Craig was tired of being ignored, so rather than deliver another warning he went straight into the count. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FO--”
Cyn jerked Brewster’s head up and instantly transitioned into a perfectly legal Chinlock. “What are you whining about now?” she smirked to the referee. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Long held his tongue so the Cyn-Ful One returned to verticality with Adelaide hanging woozy and (temporarily) docile in her clutches. “I don’t know who’s telling all these scary stories about you.” Nuzzled in behind her brunette, Mitchell looped her right arm around Adelaide’s throat and gripped her left bicep for extra leverage. Her left hand cupped the base of her foe’s head and pressed forward. Sleeper secure, Cyn gave it a hard little shake and cooed, “I know plenty of toddlers who throw tantrums when they don’t get their nap.”
Adelaide’s was pretty epic as far as tantrums went, she twisted and writhed, then curled her hands around Cynthia’s encroaching bicep and dug in hard enough to make the former World Champion gasp. “Luuuhhh… let go… byAARRHH!” Cynthia countered the claw by leaning in and chomping down on Brewster’s left ear. The Queen of Nightmares shrieked and let loose of her foe’s arm only to snag a handful of hair and yank so viciously that Cynthia’s forehead bounced off her temple.
Not sure whether to address the biting or the hair pull first, Long settled for bellowing, “HEY! Knock that shyt off right now! I don’t wanna see anything but that Sleep--”
Cynthia stopped chewing and started yowling because Adelaide had affixed her other talon to the centre of the Terrible Tar Heel’s trunks. “Gotcha now, bytch.” Brewster growled through clenched teeth. “Gonna curl your toes long before you put me to sleWHOOOAANNNNNGGGHH!”
Though she was nearly paralyzed by the other woman’s pair of claws, Cynthia just couldn’t bring herself to abandon the Sleeper, so she willed her legs to work just enough to start them both shambling toward the nearest corner. Slumping hard against Adelaide’s back allowed her a semblance of control over their direction and more importantly, speed. While their approach would never be mistaken for a footrace between Domi Daly and Lily Burlingame, the brunettes were moving at a pretty good clip when Cyn worked a heel in front of Adelaide’s ankles and sent her sprawling shoulder-first into the top turnbuckle.
The jarring impact knocked the Churchgoer’s grip from her togs and a half dozen stabbing Kneelifts to opposing backside extricated her hair as well. Free to reef back on the Sleeper as hard as she liked, Mitchell did everything in her power to wrench Adelaide’s head from her shoulders, all the while snarling, “Is this what your nightmares look like, Brewster? AM I WHAT YOUR NIGHTMARES LOOK LIKE?”
Adelaide couldn’t answer with anything more than a reedy whine, so Craig answered for her. “Ropes, Cyn! You’re both in the ropes! Break it up right now and back off!” As a little added incentive, he went straight into the count.
Cursing the mistake, Mitchell abandoned the Sleeper almost immediately, not out of any respect for the rules, but because it allowed her a few more precious seconds to hurt the whimpering poseur. Burying her hands in Adelaide’s hair, she jerked her head back, then slammed it forward once, twice, three times, each hit BWUUUNGING loud enough to make your fillings ache. That slowed Brewster’s struggles considerably and in turn gave Mitchell free reign to wrap both arms around her prey’s right leg. Lifting the limb off the mat, she threaded it over the second rope, then repeated it on her left leg.
With Adelaide looking like she’d missed an especially emphatic Bronco Buster, Cynthia curled an arm around the brunette’s neck and angled her back into an Inverted Facelock. She saw the ref closing in out of the corner of her eye and Cyn simply wasn’t in the mood for it. Cutting him off at the pass, she growled, “You’re either gonna disqualify me, or you’re going to shut your mouth. This isn’t London versus Bloodwind; we’re actually going to FIGHT one another.”
The ref said nothing but didn’t retreat far, leading Cynthia to believe she didn’t have as much time as she would’ve liked. Luckily there wasn’t much left to do other than lock her hands and step away from the corner until Adelaide was suspended by the Facelock at one end and her ankles over the middle rope at the other. Pulling one hand free of her controlling grip, Cyn tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear before treating the brunette’s tummy to a possessive pat. “Nice mesh, buttercup. It’ll look even better stripped and mounted on my wall.” Adelaide squirmed and reached for Mitchell’s hair, a useless bit of resistance the former World Champion tolerated just long enough to titillate the FAWNatics with a tawdry hip waggle. When dancin’ was done she rocked back on her heels and dropped to a seat. All trussed up with nowhere to go but down, Adelaide THWHAMMED down on the back of her head and shoulders, the first victim of a truly Cyn-Sational Reverse DDT.
CYN-SATIONAL REVERSE DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdjv_3kDj84
Seated beside the flattened battler, Cynthia swiped a hand through her hair, then pushed to one knee and swung around in a half circle, all the better to bring her mostly-bare buns to rest on Adelaide’s nose. Hands on her hips, the Terrible Tar Heel did a little bit more waggling, Cyn clearly enjoying the flail ‘n squeal as Brewster was butted out through…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Mitchell sprang to boot leather with a startled yelp, both hands pressed to her glutes, one of which sported a brand new bright red crescent. “You cheap skank.” Cynthia muttered once the initial shock wore off. “I think it’s time to put you down and I’m not screwing around with some pissant stake.”
The irritated brunette snagged Adelaide by tresses and trunks, hauled her upright and away from the corner. Brewster only made it a few steps before she tripped and went to all fours but that was ok. Cyn wasn’t looking for a whole ring’s worth of space, she just needed enough distance to slip out onto the apron and climb the corner without being disturbed. Rising to her full height well before the Weeping Angel, Mitchell smacked at her right knee and told the crowd, “This bytch prefers headshots.”
Blissfully ignorant of the problem on her six, Adelaide cupped one hand against the back of her skull and kept it there as she struggled to verticality. It was then that the FAWNatics wised her to the situation and she whirled, claws rising in defence. Cynthia was rising too, the lithesome brunette killer cresting the apex of her ascent with one knee cocked high and aimed at the Churchgoer’s temple. Even a moment’s hesitation would’ve gotten her walloped with the Cyn-Sational Sledge, but instantaneous defence against the aggressions of nonbelievers was a tenet of Miranda Wainright’s faith and Adelaide acted accordingly. Twisting aside like she was little more than a midnight breeze, Brewster didn’t merely avoid the Diving Knee Strike, she caught Cynthia’s right ankle in both hands and stepped back with a colossal yank. The unexpected snapped Cynthia like a towel, then dropped her like a rock, the former World Champion hitting HARD on her face and chest.
Breathless in the aftermath of that ugly landing, Mitchell struggled to rise with her right hand pressed to her nose and the left angled across her chest. It was the latter that Adelaide sought out, reaching around her foe’s torso from the right to seize her left wrist and pull it taut against her midsection. A heartbeat passed and Adelaide stepped back, using the Wristlock like a tether to spin Mitchell in a woozy circle. Brewster did some spinning of her own and she came out lined up on Cyn’s left side, the perfect position to THWHACK her right elbow into the side of her prey’s skull.
RIPCORD ROLLING ELBOW @ 00:10
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUdWrvRGaLg
The crowd ‘OOOOOOOOOH’ed’ in sympathetic anguish as Mitchell’s knees came unhinged, then did it all over again when Adelaide snuggled in behind and wrapped her in a loose Half Waistlock. Head tucked under Mitchell’s left arm, Brewster palmed the back of her foe’s left thigh and hoisted her up like she was seeking an especially energetic Backdrop Suplex. Only instead of dropping back with the other brunette, she twisted into place on Mitchell’s left and THEN laid out on her back, raising both knees to chest level as she did so. Still woozy from the impromptu Faceplant and Rolling Elbow, Cynthia found herself jolted back to reality when her spine THWHUMPED atop the Churchgoer’s wickedly placed knees. Bounced clear of the innovative Backbreaker like Adelaide’s knees were spring-loaded, Cynthia managed to land on her stomach and stay there.
LITTLE GIRL LOST @ 00:50
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOuEgjWNJe4
This proved a boon for her throbbing back for approximately four seconds. That’s when Adelaide crawled over and made a point of dropping her butt into the hollow spot just above the curve of her victim’s buttocks. The Cyn-Ful One pressed her palms against the mat, her instinct to crawl for the ropes still strong despite the recent traumas. But instinct could only take one so far in the presence of well-motivated opposition, especially opposition the calibre of Adelaide Brewster.
“I want you to be quiet, Cynthia Mitchell. As quiet as death.” The Queen of Nightmares reached over Mitchell’s left shoulder to claim her right wrist, then repeated the tactic over her other shoulder. Drawing the other brunette’s forearms against her throat in a tight, squashed ‘X’, Adelaide leaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaned back on the Noctem Aeturnus, a Straightjacket Camel Clutch that inflicted unspeakable agonies on Cynthia’s neck and lower back. “I want you to be so quiet you can hear the blood pounding in your temples.” Adelaide murmured softly. “You need to listen now, because you’ll never hear it again once I’ve had my fill.”
NOCTEM AETURNUS @ 1:29
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIyLgmBZJWM
Shins scraping uselessly against the mat, Mitchell shook her head ‘no’ when the official asked if she wanted to surrender. Doing so was already a challenge with her traitorous arms pulled so close, it was made all the more difficult because Brewster constantly tugged her this way n’ that, each new direction a little more tension on her poor beleaguered vertebrae.
“What do you say Cynthia, need me to call it?” Craig asked the red-faced battler. “If you can’t speak or nod, just tap your foot against the mat, I’ll understand.”
The Terrible Tar Heel did him one better. She pursed her lips and spat something that sounded an awful lot like ‘faaaahhkkhhhhhuuu!’
“I do so love the proud ones,” Adelaide planted her feet and reefed back all the harder, the dark-eyed battler’s visage almost upside down as she leered into the hard camera. “They’re always so willing to suffer to prove a point. The shapes they can make are just… glorious.”
Cynthia didn’t feel very glorious at the moment. In truth it felt like she had maybe thirty seconds, possibly less, before this hold either choked her out or forced her to surrender. Galled and steeled in equal measure, the trapped lovely let out a desperate growl and loosened up, allowing Brewster to bend her into something like a tipped over ‘J’. While this did nothing for her neck or back, it shifted Adelaide’s position enough to let Cynthia squirm a knee out from underneath. Once she had one knee the second came easy. Yeah, her arms were still wedged against her windpipe but with both legs back in the game it wasn’t long before she was getting to her feet.
Bolstered by a strange sound she vaguely recognized as crowd support, Mitchell perhaps a second away from full verticality when the Weeping Angel stepped in and spiked a Kneelift into the small of her back. Cyn sobbed and stumbled forward, the little bit of separation giving Adelaide enough time to twist around so she was back to back with the other brunette. Still very much in possession of Mitchell’s wrists, Adelaide kicked her left leg up and dropped out to THWHAM Cynthia on the back of her head via a Straightjacket Neckbreaker. Spinning around to one knee, the Queen of Nightmares put her hands on the North Carolinian’s shoulders and pushed her down flat. Then she slid back on her toes into a sort of push up and lowered herself close enough to plant a kiss on Cynthia’s lips while the official counted…
STRAIGHTJACKET NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMiiNBM-XYQ
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Mitchell palmed the other woman’s head in both hands and shoved her aside to avoid defeat by the slimmest of margins. Finally grown weary of playing with her food, Brewster claimed ownership of the Terrible Tar Heel’s left wrist and used it to drag Cynthia to her feet. Once there she folded the captured limb behind her opponent’s head in the sort of upside down Hammerlock that was always the precursor to a deadly Heart Punch. Curling her right hand into a fist, Adelaide raised it to her lips and kissed one knuckle.
“Good night, sweet calf.” she murmured to the spaghetti-legged brunette. “Let flights of angels sing thee to thy reSTERRRGGGGGH!”
Cynthia’s right hand had been hanging limp at her side, which was why Brewster forgot all about it. This proved a costly lapse when Mitchell brought it whipping up and raked it nails first across the Churchgoer’s eyes. “HEY!” Craig barked as Adelaide released Cyn’s wrist to better tend her scored visage. “Watch the eyes, Cynthia!”
The former FAWN World Champ was in the midst of formulating a snarky reply when Brewster pounced, her right arm extended for a short-range Clothesline. Not only did Mitchell duck the attempt, she hooked her elbow in Adelaide’s and swung around to end up back-to-back with the Queen of Nightmares. Brewster hammered a few elbows into Cyn’s other arm just because she could, so Mitchell trapped her in an identical Chickenwing, also because she could. While a Backslide in Adelaide’s semi-blinded state could very well yield useful results, the Cyn-Ful One had something a bit more vengeful in mind, which was why she kicked her left leg up as high as it’d go, then snapped it back down and dropped to her knees to land with her forehead against the mat like a penitent. Adelaide joined her in the fall, unfortunately for the mesh-clad battler she THWHUNKED down on the back of her head and shoulders.
BACKSLIDE DRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnH0rZDIZ4g
Flipping onto her stomach in the wake of the Backslide Driver, Brewster fought to her knees and wrapped both arms around the whole of her aching skull. While Cynthia wasn’t feeling too great herself, (that Straightjacket Clutch had nearly done her in) her mood improved considerably when she leaned back on her haunches and saw Brewster trying to keep her fool head from cracking apart like a soft-boiled egg. “You inspecting the mat, Addy?” Cynthia huffed as she got to her feet and snatched double handful of her prey’s hair. “I think maybe you need to get a little closer.”
Happy to help in that regard, she wedged Adelaide’s head between her thighs, then reached down and slipped her hands under opposing biceps. Her fingers were just about to meet between Brewster’s shoulders when the other brunette dropped to one knee and started squirming like a wildcat. Mitchell cursed, forced her hands together and pulled up, working hard to make Brewster stand for the Drop Out.
But Adelaide wouldn’t comply.
A combination of stubborn squirming and plain ol’ deadweighting’ keep her rooted to terra firma. She even managed to lift Cyn’s feet off the mat when she went for an impromptu Back Body Drop, but the sultry southerner put a stop to that. Painfully aware that such a delay made it much easier for her opponent to find a way out, Mitchell abruptly released the Double Underhook and PWAAAKED her fists into the vulnerable battler’s kidneys. Adelaide shrieked, reached to protect her midsection and Cynthia grabbed her wrists instead. Bending them up between her shoulders in stereo Hammerlocks, she leaned down and forward, using her chest and belly to keep them pinned in place while she wrapped both arms around the Weeping Angel’s midsection.
Mitchell paused to gather her reserves, then let out a grunt and straightened up to flip Adelaide ass over teakettle for what could only be a-- Cynthia sprang up, kicked her legs forward and landed on her butt to THWHUNK Brewster’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood courtesy a Double Hammerlock Piledriver. Adelaide snapped loose, landed on her stomach and then flopped onto her back all in the span between heartbeats. She could’ve very well been the dictionary example of ‘beaten’, yet Mitchell wasn’t even sort of satisfied until she climbed onto the vulnerable beauty’s chest and thrust her crotch into Adelaide’s mug. “Pucker up, buttercup.” Cynthia sniped as Long swooped into action. “Losing looks good on you.”
DOUBLE HAMMERLOCK PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpxm29GWPHk
The ref punctuated her observation by slapping off…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Adelaide grabbed that scant scrap of purple lycra and yanked up, splitting the Cyn-Ful One’s equally tempting backside with a ruthless wedgie.
“BYTCH!” Cynthia sprang off and stumbled into the ropes, keeping her distance from the other brunette while she tended to her stinging, stretched bottoms. Sighing with relief once things were set to rights, Mitchell stalked around behind Brewster and dropped into a tense crouch. Hands on her knees, Cyn waggled her hips back n’ forth, raising a loud cheer from those FAWNatics on the right side of the arena. “Get up, sparkles,” she demanded of the recovering lovely, “Get up so I can take your fugly little head off.”
It was unclear whether or not Adelaide actually heard the order but she started to move mere moments after the words left Cynthia’s lips. Rolling onto her stomach, the Weeping Angel put her hands against the mat, pushed up and slid a knee into place. Then she took a deep breath, surged to her feet and turned around just in time to see Mitchell coming at her hell-bent for leather. Brewster swung her right shoulder toward the other brunette and stretched that arm wide, all the better to welcome the Cyn-Ful One into a Sidewalk SlamWHOOOAAAAH! Mitchell flipped head over heels, swung around and slipped her left arm around Adelaide’s noggin and cranked down in a Front Facelock at the exact moment she slipped both legs around the Churchgoer’s neck in a Guillotine Choke.
TILT-A-WHIRL GUILLOTINE CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XL1HnBemIbM
Ankles crossed, Cynthia bore down on the Scissors and craaaaaaaaaaaanked back on the Facelock to put all sorts of ugly pressure on Adelaide’s neck. “GOTCHA SWEETUMS!” Mitchell cackled while Brewster struggled to keep her footing. “GIVE IT UP OR YOU WON’T BE AWAKE TO ENJOY MY ASS ON YOUR FACE!”
Doubled over by Cyn’s weight and the crushing squeeze of the Chokehold, Adelaide waggled a finger to the official to keep his mouth shut, then started driving short, desperate punches into her attacker’s ribs. Cynthia snorted and shook her head. “Not enough, bytch. Not even close. You might as well start pursing your lips right now because--oh yeah, THAT’S what I’m talkin’ about!”
Adelaide’s legs gave out and she went down on one knee. She had both hands braced against the mat but everyone knew it wouldn’t be long before the Weeping Angel drifted off into Miranda’s blessed dark. No one knew it more than Mitchell, who clamped down on the Guillotine hard enough to cramp her legs and left shoulder. “Tap out, Brewster.” she huffed. “Tap out on my ass or I’ll snap your EEEERRGGGHHH!”
Adelaide couldn’t get her head loose, she did however twist it to one side and bite down on her tormentor’s side. This unexpected attack loosened Mitchell’s noose ever so slightly and just that bit of extra oxygen allowed Brewster to struggle back to her feet. Long was trying to make the brunette stop chewing with no real success, so Cynthia let loose of the Scissors and transitioned the Facelock into a Standing Headscissors.
“All right, buttercup.” Mitchell snapped, the North Carolinian forced to speak a little louder than expected because the crowd let loose with a loud roar. “You don’t wanna tap out? Then you’ll leave on a goddamned stretcher.”
A voice from the apron observed, “That’s pretty bold talk for a tramp who couldn’t save one sister, let alone two.”
Cynthia and the ref looked toward the side of the ring facing the ramp and there was Lucy Harker, the Scandalous brunette leaning against the ropes like she had every right to be there. “HEY! Get outta here Lucy!” Craig hurried over and jabbed an index finger toward the entryway. “Right now! There’s no reason for you to be out here!”
LUCY HARKER:
Lucy smiled but had the good sense not to roll her eyes. “Oh, there’s every reason for me to be out here, fine sir. This idiot’s about to collapse in spectacular fashion and I wanted a good seat for--” a startled cry from behind the official and he turned just in time to watch Adelaide Brewster fling Cynthia Mitchell up, over and DOWN with a Back Body Drop.
“Dammit!” Craig started toward them, then turned back to Harker, who’d made no move to leave the apron. “Off. Now.”
“Give me an actual reason and I might consider it.”
Elsewhere, Cynthia rolled onto her side and pressed a hand to the small of her back. Not too far away, Adelaide was on her knees and sucking wind, that ugly red flush already creeping out of her face. Torn between dealing with the infuriating intruder or the crippled monster just out of reach, Cynthia chose the latter. Fighting to boot leather, she stalked over to Brewster and used a double fistful of hair to reel her in to yet another Standing Headscissors. The Cyn-Ful One had just reached for her foe’s arms when Adelaide grabbed hold of her waistband on either side and twisted free of Mitchell’s grasp.
Dragged off balance by the shift, Cynthia staggered, tripped and went down in the ropes on the far side of the ring. Careful to keep her throat from striking the rubber-coated steel, the brunette grunted in irritation and push--THWHACK!
Mina Murray, who’d been crouched just out of sight beside the nearest turnbuckle, popped into view and caught Cyn flush across the cheek with a lightning quick Super Kick.
MINA MURRAY:
Knocked loopy by the pinpoint strike, Mitchell reeled back on her heels and stumbled backward without even thinking about Adelaide once. Adelaide however was practically obsessed with her prey and that spelled disaster for the former FAWN World Champ. Striking as suddenly as bad news, the Weeping Angel reached over Mitchell’s left shoulder, grabbed her right wrist and pulled her arm tight under her chin, Cut-Throat style. The was the moment Lucy Harker happened to decide she’d had enough arguing with the official and she dropped off the apron just in time for Craig to see Brewster slip her other arm through Mitchell’s legs.
Muscling Cynthia onto her shoulders in that dangerous sort of sideways Torture Rack, Adelaide held off long enough to bare her teeth for the hard camera. Then she kicked her legs forward and laid out to the left, THWHONKING Mitchell onto the back of her head with the taste of Blood & Black Lace fresh in her mouth.
BLOOD & BLACK LACE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggQhjXPD_fA
Flopped over into an insensate starfish courtesy of Brewster’s brutal finisher, Cynthia’s memories of what happened next came entirely from the tape of this match which she damned near wore out in the weeks and months following.
Seated next to the smouldering wreckage of her opponent, Adelaide flipped hair out of her face, then swung around onto all fours and crawled down to Cynthia’s legs. Hands planted on either side of the other brunette’s thighs, the Queen of Nightmares dipped her head until she was quite literally gazing at Cyn’s navel. “A spirited fight from a calf who believed herself a wolf.” Adelaide said to no one in particular. “But the battle is done and now the true predator takes her share…” She kissed Mitchell’s belly button, which got a loud cheer from the crowd. Then she stuck out her tongue, the tip touching her foe’s tummy *ever* so slightly. Crawling north, Adelaide licked her victim from belly to sternum and a little bit beyond, the trail finally ending in the hollow of Mitchell’s throat.
“I know it’s small comfort,” Brewster whispered into the insensate woman’s right ear, “but you taste exquisite.” With that she pressed her muzzle into the side of Cynthia’s neck and ’fed’. No draining of vital fluids of course, (this was a family show after all) and Adelaide didn’t even break skin, but the welt she left behind was ugly enough for Mitchell to choose unseasonable turtlenecks for the next week or so. When she’d slaked her thirst, Adelaide straightened up, swung around and straddled Cyn’s head, her wicked tush making a second meal of the Cyn-Ful One’s face. Grinding just enough to make sure the Gladiatrix photogs got that ever important shot of Cynthia’s nose disappearing into her cheeks, Adelaide put her hands to Mitchell’s tummy, threw her head back and ’PWFWOOOOOOOSHED!’ a cloud of crimson mist into the air.
The Weeping Angel’s ride had only just begun when the official dove in beside the pair and counted off…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
This was greeted by a mixture of jeers and joy, some FAWNatics displeased to see a (semi) clean contest marred by the interference of Scandalous while others were thrilled to see Cynthia on the end of her own humiliating smother. Said air deprivation was still going strong when the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall…. ADELAIDE BREWSTER!”
On the outside, Mina Murray sidled up next to her partner as the monster made a spectacle of the woman who’d dare deny them their fun a couple months back. “Girl’s got style, I’ll give her that.” Lucy said of Adelaide’s wicked ritual.
Murray nodded agreement. “Oh yes. While any bytch with a modicum of talent can embarrass Cynthia Mitchell, it takes a real talent to make the humiliation last and last. Think she’d be interested in a job?”
Lucy tapped her chin thoughtfully. “A good idea, but I believe she’s devoted to a life with the Church.”
“That reminds me, did we tithe this year?”
“What do you think this is?” Harker swept her hand toward Adelaide, who was still enjoying her mount.
“Of course, silly me. So, when do we get to have our own fun with Adelaide’s new Lunchable?” Mina asked.
Whenever we fahking well please.” Lucy purred. “Assuming that Natalie’s Favourite Mistake can show her face in public after this.” She swatted Mina on the arm. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ve got the sudden urge to see if Netflix has The Horror of Dracula.”
The Scandalous brunette turned to leave, but Mina hung back for a moment. Catching Adelaide’s eye, she mouthed, “Save me a little, would you?”
Brewster smiled and bore down, forcing a soft, low moan into her undercarriage. “No promises.” she replied quietly.
Mina smiled nastily. Those were her favourite kind.