Post by alyadmirer on Aug 21, 2015 1:10:17 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen,” begins our friendly neighborhood ring announcer, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a 30 minute time limit... and is for the FAWN Intercontinental championship! Introducing first, hailing from Charlotte, North Carolina, she stands five feet one inch tall, and weighs in this evening at one-hundred and fourteen pounds... ladies and gentlemen, please welcome... SKKKYYYLLLAAARRR MIIITTTCCCHHHEEELLLLLL!!!!!”
Skye Mitchell...
The FAWNatics do just that, turning things up to eleven even as the FAWN Arena’s sound system begins to pump out a not entirely familiar tune. That talent relations had sprung for an individual theme for the Li’lest Mitchell speaks volumes for the hopes they had in her tonight. And even without yet recording a victory in Orlando, young Skylar had already made a considerable impression on the Orlando faithful.
“HOMEGROWN HONEY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIQlZVdCRfI )
The Li’lest Mitchell makes it a point to slap EVERY single hand offered her way--and ESPECIALLY the younger ones--as she lopes down the aisle and toward the ring. Finally, Mitchell dives under the bottom rope, springing to her feet. Skye unzips her hot pink hoodie to reveal a royal purple lycra bikini top and short shorts, with white pads and boots.
(Old school FAWN fans might note the distinct similarity in Skylar’s togs, and the gear warn by her older sister Cynthia at the beginning of her career...)
Settling into her corner, Mitchell takes in a deep breath, hoping to pacify the swarm of butterflies congregating in the pit of her stomach. “You can do this...” the rookie whispers to herself, her bosom displaying her struggles in keeping from hyperventilating.
“You CAN do this...”
JANEL MANNING:
What a difference a Pay-Per-View can make. At Summer Swelter, the Intercontinental Champion was a nervous underdog in her own title match. Still, she came out guns blazin and outlasted the Titanic Twit from Tacoma.
This month she’s a prohibitive favorite, but angry as a bronze medalist. Furious her decision to fatten up on a babe in the woods had led to her IC championship match being placed before one of those ridiculous Erika Eisenberg challenge matches, Janel fumes. On the other side of the curtain, a part-time player/Desert DustDevil or whatever is picking up legacy cheers from the soused Disneyworld concession workers.
Bouncing from one foot to the other, 59 inches of ponytailed blonde tenses when the stirring guitar of The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus’ ‘You Better Pray’ crashes over the arena.
"YOU BETTER PRAY"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_WxsL5q3I4
The diminutive, muscled former gymnast slaps both cheeks, her cue to again defend FAWN’s number two prize given.
In the arena bowl, the disapproval of the assembled rains down even before the once upon a time lightweight champion is in view, the ring announcer’s pronouncement only drawing the decibels higher.
“And…her opponent…AND the reigning Intercontinental Champion, hailing from the hallowed halls of Iowa City, Iowa… standing a full 4 feet 11 inches tall and weighing 117 pounds… The Golden Mite herself…JANEL MANNING!”
The fans are made to wait before the Mite-y One comes into view. The arena falls into darkness. A red spotlight illuminates the stage from the right, before winking out. The process is followed by a white spot from directly overhead, then a blue one from the left. As the sequence begins its second cycle, it provides the outline of a vertically challenged, strapping form and when the house lights rise, the tiny terror of vault, floor, and pommel horse parades down the ramp and aisle.
Riding a wave of success no one could have seen upon her return from a wildly lucrative gymnastics tour of former Olympic champions, Janel had become quite comfortable as champion, the golden faceplate covering her rock-hard abdomen.
Janel’s familiar flaxen ponytail swishes from one side to the other as she moves up the steps. The champ is in a skin-tight, lime green leotard containing a leopard-spot pattern. The spandex has a single solid strap over her left shoulder, a thin trio of small turquoise strips across the opposite number. She sports white wrist and ankle tape, pads and, as always, has her feet bared, white chalk dust on both soles and palms.
Janel flexes her toes on the apron before flinging herself over the top cable without a hint of effort, dropping into a somersault on the inside, before popping gracefully to her feet. The ferocious fireplug paces down the length of the ropes, occasionally deigning to glance at the latest and most certainly not greatest Mitchell. Manning moves to the middle, unstraps her belt and raises it high with her left hand while brushing her right across her flawless abs. She asks for a microphone and plucks one from the air after a toss from a FAWN flunky.
“Bethany. You made a HUGE mistake not placing any appearance by your Intercontinental champion at the top of the card. And behind a non-title punchline like Eisenberg?” the Mite shouts toward the nearest lens. “You are showing a significant mental disconnect that’s not going to play.”
Janel gazes at the cherub-cheeked Skylar.
“As opposed to me, who WILL be playing cat-and-mouse with this adorable Cynthia knockoff.”
The Golden Mite tosses the microphone away and moves to her corner where she more carefully transfers her title belt to a lackey for safekeeping.
Skye FINALLY manages to reign in her breathing around the time the official finishes patting her down for foreign objects. When the inspection of Janel Manning satisfies him that she, too, is clean, the official calls for the bell. The Li'lest Mitchell bounces out of her corner, one nervous, precocious ball of energy as she starts to circle the Golden Mite. Not wanting to betray any trepidation at the task in front of her this evening, Skye wastes NO time in reaching out to lock into a collar and elbow with Manning.
Janel does likewise, or seems to for a split second, only to drive a lightning flash of a toe kick into Mitchell's tummy. The Carolina girl by way of Podunk, New Mexico doubles over breathlessly. Manning greedily tugs the dipped head into a front facelock and wrenches on the neck of her hors d'oerve before Mania. "So I hear you got the recessive marshmallow gene in the family. Soft little pin cushion." Janel spins out of her grip around the brunette, ending with a quickly and successfully applied full nelson. "That's good. FAWN needs fodder too." Janel releases her trapped foe and pats Skylar atop the head like a pet before shoving her forward. The champ smirks at the fans as she motions toward the rookie. "Sad display of the shallow end of the Mitchell gene pool."
She's trying to goad you, a voice says in Skylar's head. Not necessarily the voice of experience, considering how little the rookie actually had, but call it the voice of caution. It's a voice that Skylar fully understands she should listen to... but she doesn't. Livid at being shown up by the two-faced brat, the Li'lest Mitchell lowers her shoulder as she surges forward, intending to tackle the Golden Mite to the canvas.
But the speedy Mite sweeps the charging lamb on by, collecting a shoulder strap and a hipful of trunks as she does. Turning with her foe and using Mitchell's momentum against her, Janel runs Skye toward the buckles like the world's shortest bouncer, planning to use the crown of the brunette's head like a battering ram against the top buckle.
And unlike Skylar's best laid plans so far, Janel's goes off without a hitch. Mitchell's skull meets the thinly padded buckle hard enough to both rattle her teeth and cross her eyes--not that much of the crowd gets to see the latter with her head bowed. Manning's impish smile grows a little wider at the sound of Skye's shuddering groan and the buckling of her legs, so the Golden Mite SLAMS her forehead into the turnbuckle, and again. Once Janel releases her hair, the rookie manages to turn her back to the buckles with a soft moan, Skye's arms flopping over the top rope.
Janel circles to mid-ring with a mock yawn, the crowd not appreciating her playful, carefree attitude. Lining up with her challenger, Manning's ponytail begins to swish as she hustles toward the cornered Mitchell. Closing in, the former gymnast leaps, her bare tootsies landing on Skye's thighs. The blonde's hands wrap around the back of Mitchell's neck as Manning prepares to throw her body into reverse and send the rookie flying with a monkeyflip toss out of the corner.
It's little secret that Janel Manning's gams are among the most feared in FAWN, but their strength is versatile. And right now, their power is used to LAUNCH the Li'lest Mitchell high into the air, Skylar sailing over the tumbling Golden Mite and crashing HARD to the mat on her back. "GYYYYAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!" the rookie cries out, rolling to her left hip with an arched spine. Spilling over, Skye starts to roll toward the ropes, hoping to buy herself a little respite--and a chance to actually get her head back into the game.
Manning kips to her feet and sidles toward the splayed Mitchell, but decides to let her roam outside the ring. Backing away from the exiting Desert Diva, Janel crow hops toward the opposite cables as a frazzled Skylar gathers her wits on the floor below. The champ isn't in the mood for waiting apparently, as she rebounds and sprints at full speed toward her challenger. The Golden Mite launches between the top and middle ropes, grabbing the middle cable as she somersaults through with a Tope Con Giro, aiming her backflipping booty at the head and chest of Skylar.
TOPE CON GIRO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=omC0omhMjgc
Everything is faster in the major leagues, and that apparently applies to the champions as well. The warning cries of the crowd prompt Skye to look up, but that's ALL the Li'lest Mitchell has time to do before lime green spandex clad tush catches her in the face. Both diminutive beauties tumble to the concrete floor, Skylar's bosom absorbing its own encounter with Janel's backside as she lands atop her challenger before bouncing away. The FAWNatics respond with a smattering of impressed applause for the Golden Mite's acrobatics--but a loud chorus of jeers for her attitude. Meanwhile, Mitchell mewls softly as she attempts to roll over and push up to her hands and knees...
Janel sinks her nails into Skylar's mop and pulls up her head, Manning showing off her trophy to the front row. "Cute as a button," the champ beams. "Less useful than one, though." The former gymnast rips Mitchell up the rest of the way and leans her against the metal railing, Skylar's back to the audience. "Let's see how good you are with a little basic gymnastics." Manning backtracks to the ring's edge then surges forward with right arm drawn, ready to clothesline Mitchell into a backflip over the barricade to land amongst all her eager supporters.
But lest the evening look like it was about to become a complete steamrolling for the youngster, Skye manages to dip her head and slip out to the side, underneath Janel's intended scythe. Give the Intercontinental champion credit--she quickly manages to bring that arm down, using both hands to grasp the guardrail rather than allowing her swing-and-a-miss to send her tumbling into the stands the way she had meant to send Mitchell. Just as quickly, the Golden Mite starts to turn--but with an eye toward FINALLY establishing some offense tonight, Mitchell is already pivoting to send a high kick (relatively speaking) toward Manning's noggin.
The Hawkeye State's second FAWN titleholder shows some bad timing in this instance. The blonde turns her head toward Mitchell's shooting boot. But the Mite shows an uncanny ability to overcome the rookie's efforts. On instinct, Manning drops to her muscular derriere and the leaping kick swings harmlessly over the champion. Harmless to Janel at least, for Skylar lifts her plant leg slightly off the floor to get the required height in her kicking stem and the momentum sends her center over the steel pole at the top of the barrier.
The crowd GROANS in unison when Skye land crotch first on the barricade, riding the metal like a very slender and painful mount. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Mitchell sags as she whimpers, her hands grasping the pole to push her way up when Janel makes sure she stays on for the full eight seconds, thrusting her back down with hands on either shoulder of her foe. A chuckling Janel steps back after the rack attack. "Is this what you were trying to do?" Manning gets more on her vault as she aims a thrust kick at Skylar's jaw.
Janel's tootsie snaps Mitchell's head back... and accomplishes the task that her arm had been unable to do, sending Skylar off the beam and into the laps of about three lucky ringside fans. Unprepared for getting this up close and personal with a future FAWN star, the force of Skye's impact with his legs very nearly causes him to lose his grip on his beverage. He recovers--but not before some of it spills onto the rookie's face and hair as she rolls from their laps and drops to the floor. On the other side of the railing, Janel Manning turns back to the ring, the referee's count having reached "SEVEN!" And the Golden Mite hops onto the apron, rolling JUUUUST to the other side of the bottom rope--and dramatically pausing there, leaving the FAWNatics to wonder whether she would stay in the ring or return to her new toy on the outside.
With her perfect pearlies wide and beaming, the champ quickly rolls out and returns to the barrier, reaching over to thrust her delving digits into Mitchell's mane. "Sorry boys. She's mine. You can be her shoulders to cry on after." Manning tugs her challenger into a tight front facelock and suplexes Cynthia's kid sister up and over, Skylar landing hard and heavy on her spine. As the brunette howls, her back arching, a delighted Mite again kips to her feet and shares a high five with someone, perhaps a wayward fellow Iowan in the wiles of Orlando. Kicking Skylar to the curb, or in this case the apron, Manning plucks the Lil'est and weakest Mitchell off the deck and stuffs her under the bottom rope, Skylar rolling several feet in. Instead of following behind, Janel heads up the nearest corner and gazes over the wreckage before launching in a graceful backflip, ready to deliver an early coupe de grace with her Shooting Star Elbow Drop.
SHOOTING STAR ELBOW DROP @ 00:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hb5edjH0TXM
The Golden Mite launches herself to the heavens, gaining an elevation few outside of Manchester could dream of, but the fluidity of her flight is second to none. Alas, Manning's funny bone meets an anything but humorous fate when it SLAMS into thinly padded plywood, Skylar having used Janel's hangtime to roll to safety. The ex-gymnast bounces up to her knees, whimpering as she shakes out her throbbing elbow, while Mitchell does her best to scamper up to her feet. Marching over to the kneeling champ (with an admittedly unsteady gait) the auburn haired youngster pulls Janel up before setting her feet...
... but Skye's Irish whip winds up reversed, the rookie sent sprinting toward the far corner. Manning starts to race in after her, but instead of turning into the collision, the Li'lest Mitchell grabs the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle, lifting herself into the air and swinging her feet back, hoping to catch Manning's head between her calves--and, if she could, send Janel's mug into a painful collision with the middle turnbuckle.
Skylar's legs clamp down around the chipmunk cheeks of the champion, Janel's hands immediately rising to pry the startled blonde free. But this time Mitchell is too fast for the Mite and she swings her legs down, in turn forcing Manning's face into the buckle with a thudding crash. Janel ends with her features pressed against the covering, legs stretched out behind her. Skye takes the opportunity to hop into a headstand on the top buckle and sweep her boots back down THUMPING them into the back of Janel's skull for one hell of a doubleplay on the brat's braincase.
The renewed cheers of the FAWNatics serve to give the Li'lest Mitchell a little renewed strength, Skylar grabbing a handful of hair and yanking the Golden Mite up to her feet. Spinning Janel around, the Carolina Cutie shoves Manning back into the buckles, then unloads with a pair of forearm shivers to the blonde's chest. Snatching another helping of hair--two handfuls this time--Skye mares the wicked pixie out of the corner, Janel landing with a 'THWUMP' on her rump and letting out a small howl. Mitchell then steps back into the corner Manning had vacated before taking off toward her seated prey, aiming to dive over the champ's right shoulder, catch her by the locks, and use a neck snap to send Janel's face into the canvas.
With her tailbone sending throbbing pulses of pain through her sinewy frame, the Mite loses track of her challenger. Hands stuffed under her rump, Manning seems more concerned about massaging and she pays for it. Behind her, the leaping Skylar flips over her shoulder, collecting Janel's noggin along the way. The brunette gracefully SLAMS the champ's face into the canvas between Manning's outstretched if abbreviated legs. Head and upper torso snap back in a whiplash, the blonde ending splayed, arms now wrapping around her head rather than her hands keeping busy squishing her tush.
Having looked every bit the rookie she is in the opening moments, Skylar now displays some veteran savvy, grabbing Janel's ankles and dragging her toward the middle of the ring--away from all ropes--before going for the cover.
ONE...
TWO...
KICKOUT!
The Li'lest Mitchell does her best to keep her disappointment in check, climbing back to bootleather before hairhauling Manning to her feet as well. Taking the blonde's wrist, Skylar uses a HARD Irish whip to send the Intercontinental champ charging toward the buckles--and about as soon as she releases her foe, Mitchell herself turns and races into the ropes off the Golden Mite's left flank. Manning wheels around, allowing her back to take all the impact, which sends her staggering back toward center ring--with Skylar coming up alongside! Leaping into the air, the challenger extends her legs, reaching out her left hand to palm the back of Janel's skull and DRIVE her face into the canvas with a bulldog.
Staggering drunkenly, Manning looking like a coed on the Iowa City Ped Mall at 2AM more than FAWN's IC champ, the former gymnast gets hit by the drive-by from behind. Cloning it up like her sister Cynthia, Skylar races in from Manning's six and wraps a bicep around Janel's noggin. She surges forward a step with the Mite in tow before lifting off, legs extended. Mitchell lands on her bum while tugging Janel down to THUMP Manning's face into the canvas with the crisp, surprisingly powerpacked bulldog. Janel hits with enough force to bounce the blonde up to her knees before she timbers to her side, dazed, confused and, for the first time for the FAWNatics, downright vulnerable.
Vulnerable though she might be, Skylar doesn't go for the pin. Instead, she peels Janel off the deck and leads her into the nearest corner. What follows is no wrestling clinic: Mitchell first sends Manning's face into the leather of the top turnbuckle once... twice... and thrice. Then, after turning the Golden Mite around, she alternates between slamming closed fists into the former gymnast's forehead and driving forearms into her sternum, Skye finally able to vent some of her earlier frustration through sheer force. When her barrage starts to force Janel to slump, Skye starts kicking and, ultimately, stomping at Manning's chest, until the champ is left seated in the corner. Looking up to the crowd, a beaming Mitchell shouts, "AND NOW, IT'S LIKE MY MOMMA USED TO SAY..."
It takes a moment for Skye to remember that these AREN'T the denizens of the Left Turn, and that the FAWNatics DON'T all know the proper response. So, just this once, Skye answers for them. Wheeling around, Skylar thrusts her hips back, preparing to use her glutes to give Janel's features a thorough scrubbing, the Li'lest Mitchell shouting, "KISS MY GRITS!"
Her pert little backside is stuffed into Manning's face and the challenger swabs the features of the former gymnast roughly. Janel's hands move to the brunette's thighs and she tries to shove Cynthia's sister away, but it's no use. With no leverage, Manning can't stop Skylar from scrubbing to her heart's content, forcing the ponytailed blonde to feast on Carolina derierre for a dozen long seconds. Only then does Mitchell pull her 'grits' out of the champion's mug and turn to review the greasy-faced Manning, head lolling to one side, sour look on her face.
Grabbing Janel by the ankles, Skylar drags the (with apologies to LaKeisha and Kendra) bootyshocked blonde out of the corner before flipping over her prone form, attempting a jackknife pin that scores her the...
ONE...
TWO...
THNOOOOOOO!!!!!
Manning's fists fly upward, slapping into Mitchell's sides, not TOO hard--but hard enough to break her bridge. Gritting her teeth as she returns to her feet, the Li'lest Mitchell circles to the Golden Mite's tootsies, and once again claims Janel's ankles. Lifting Manning's muscular stems, the rookie prepares to show off a little "Old School" prowess by locking the champ in a Boston crab...
As Skye tries to step over her foe and roll Manning to her chest to secure the Crab, Janel throws her muscles in the opposite direction, wildly scrambling to keep from being turned. It's met with stubborn resistance from Mitchell until the torque created by the strength of Manning's muscular legs sends Skye stumbling away, the brunette losing her grip on the IC champion. Manning scrambles to her feet determined to turn the growing tide for the Desert Diva. She rotates to face the dark-haired rookie and eats a spinning heel kick to the jaw that decks the champ. The back of Janel's head THUMPS into the canvas with enough force she bounces to a seated position, eyes glazed.
And a short, swift kick to the chest sends the Golden Mite from her tush to flat on her back, arms and legs splayed, Janel left seeing stars as she blinks up at the lights. Mitchell passes up the opportunity for a cover, instead making her way to the ropes and slipping through them. The rookie rallies the FAWNatics with one LOUD slap of the top turnbuckle, and then begins her ascent into the high rent district. Reaching the summit, she finds Janel still in a delightfully senseless starfish, so the Li'lest Mitchell takes a fleeting half second to steady herself, then vaults toward the skies, ready to get a little froggy.
The crowd waits with baited breath, from the smell of it fish guts, knowing the rookie might be pressing her luck after the moment's hesitation. But Mitchell commits, rising high into the Orlando sky. Her frame scrunches tight in a tuck as Skylar reaches her zenith. The Carolina cutie plummets as her body springs open wide and discovers...a chiseled set of abs. The splash finds and makes its mark, crashing down across Janel's sinewy midriff. Manning jackknifes under the attack with a groaning burst of breath, her eyes buggy, no amount of muscular armor stopping Mitchell's crisp amphibian avalanche. Janel wilts to horizontal where Skylar remains across her in a perpendicular pin for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOO!
Skye is bucked off the (still) reigning Intercontinental champion... but it's by a narrow enough margin that the auburn haired youngster turns her exceedingly round eyes hopefully toward the referee. It's a hard man that can be unmoved by Mitchell's expression, but he reluctantly shakes his head.
"Sorry, Skylar. Just two."
The Li'lest Mitchell sits for a moment alongside her splattered foe, a pout on her face--but also a twinkle in those stunning eyes. Rising, the kid from the Desert shuffles away from Manning, creating a little space before sinking into a small crouch as the Golden Mite finally starts to pick herself up. Doing her best to position herself in Janel's blind spot, Skylar starts to stomp her right boot, loading up, waking for Manning to turn so that she can send her Greetings from Charlotte.
Manning rolls to her side, hugging her tummy and gagging, her ponytail dragging on the canvas. She spasms her way up to a seat and finds the official with wary eyes but he holds up the same two for Manning as he did for Mitchell. Feeling no hands or warm breath, Janel shakes her noggin, trying to overplay her loss of bearings when it's her wind with which she's struggling. As she rises and turns, her reflexes are at the ready and she deftly dodges her head from the sights of the missile-like boot. Catching Skylar's leg at the ankle, she raises it high and throws it in the opposite direction from which it came. Skye follows in a pirouette that leads to a dip and scoop from the champion. Janel vaults and spins Skylar toward her shoulders, hoping to injure the spinal column of the challenger and bring a halt to her rampage with a Delphin Backbreaker.
DELPHIN BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DsuY4pSNLvA
Before the challenger can react, Skye finds herself yanked from her feet and up onto the shoulder of a spinning Golden Mite. And Janel KEEPS revolving, not bothering to stop as her left hand rises to claim Mitchell's thighs. Only nearing the end of her second revolution does the diminutive blonde switch directions--namely, going DOWN, dropping to her knees. The shock of the ex-gymnast's landing travels through HER body and into Skylar's, the challenger letting out a high pitched howl as she tumbles clear of Janel's shoulders. Hitting the mat with a damp thud, Skye groans as she rolls away from her opponent, toward the center of the ring, the Li'lest Mitchell coming to a halt on her belly and reaching her left hand toward the small of her back.
Manning stays on her knees, unmoving, not even to reach forward for a pinning attempt. She remains on her haunches drawing in deep breaths for several seconds until she sinks her nails into the scalp of the brunette and together they rise, Skylar's legs far more rubbery. Janel tugs the challenger's noggin between her thighs and clamps down while simultaneously collecting a pair of underhooks on the rookie's arms. From there, Janel starts to squat and lean back, hoping to tumble backwards to her back and draw Skylar down with her. If she could manage it, she'd have her legs inside those of Mitchell and brutally work each set of limbs while having the captured challenger in her lap, the little patootie's pert bootie pointed to the rafters.
IRON BUTTERFLY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtlnYqY7ZdI
When Janel secures Skylar's arm in the double underhook, more than a couple of FAWNatics suspect the Golden Mite might be considering taking a page from a different Mitchell's book. In the end, for Skye, that might have been preferable. Practically the moment Manning's rump meets the mat, her ankles hook her opponent's so that, when the compact powerhouse falls to her back, all four of Skylar's limbs are under her control, with the back of the Li'lest Mitchell's head pressed tight against Janel's crotch, forcing her noggin forward uncomfortably. As much of a strain as there is on her neck, it PALES in comparison to the agony that starts to rip through her hamstrings when the Golden Mite stretches her stems in opposing directions.
Utterly helpless, it's only a matter of moments before Skylar is rendered a shrieking wreck, but her cries of agony are interspersed with the occasion shout of, "NOOOOO... NOOOOOOAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"
The champ works the rookie like a part-time job, making her squeal more than once after Skye's brave refusal to give in. Finally outlasting Manning's signature Iron Butterfly, Skylar is tossed aside and curdles into a ball of quivering Desert Diva. Meanwhile, Janel rolls to all fours and pushes to her feet, shaking out her weary limbs. The abbreviated muscular stems are not so tired she can't manage a stomp or two to the balled Mitchell. Tugging the deflated and aching FAWN legacy to her feet, Janel snatches a wrist and aims her foe at the far buckles. She starts to send Skylar off with an Irish Whip before the Carolina cutie reverses and sends Manning racing to the corner, turning into a nasty collision. As Janel staggers toward the approaching Skye, Mitchell dips to scoop the champ off her feet and draws her up only for Janel to try an use her momentum to swing around Skylar and latch onto her signature tilt-a-whirl octopus.
TILT-A-WHIRL OCTOPUS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1AAFsLqXZU
Manning manages to latch her powerful thighs around Skye's skull--and it only takes one short squeeeeeeeeze to temporarily paralyze the rookie, allowing the Golden Mite to snatch her opponent's right wing and slap on an armbar. It was unfair, really. Janel's gams were strong enough that they didn't need any assistance, but the second front of her assault has the Li'lest Mitchell whimpering in no time. And yet... Her cries transitioning into a determined groan, Skylar forces her way back to her full height, straightening up--until another pulse of Manning's thighs sends her doubling over once more. Adding a crank of the rookie's arm for good measure, another devastating SQUEEEEEEEEEEZE from her headscissors buckles Skylar's legs, sending the Li'lest Mitchell crashing to her knees.
"Skylar?" the official asks.
Mitchell doesn't respond, slumping until her forehead comes to rest against the canvas.
"You there, Skye?" the ref asks again. "Had enough?"
Again, silence...
... but just as the zebra starts to turn toward the timekeeper's table, there's a faint moan of, "... nuuuuuuuuuoooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"
Immediately untying the knotted challenger, a frustrated Manning drops to the soles of her bare feet behind the battered but still stubborn Mitchell. Instead of using her foe's long dark locks to rise, this time Manning collects both wrists and draws Skye's arms across each other in front of the throat of Mitchell. Forcing the rookie up, Janel tightens her noose and, not giving the wilting Desert Diva an opportunity to show just how contrary she can be. Manning leaps, tucking into a ball behind the challenger, pressing her knees into Skylar's shoulderblades, hoping to rip Mitchell off her moorings and deliver one-half of her Perfect Ten, the lungblower to be followed by a straightjacket camel clutch.
PERFECT TEN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0xBW3wZGOM
It's not the most impressive vault in Janel's career--but it didn't need to be, when her opponent only stood a couple of inches taller than her. Driving her knees into Skye's back, the Golden Mite gives Mitchell's wrists a savage yank as she throws her weight backward. Skylar's shapely legs fly out from under her as Manning pitches backward, the Desert Diva's lungs well and truly blown when Janel hits the deck. The Li'lest Mitchell bounces off of her opponent's knees... but Janel doesn't release her wrists. Instead, she guides the auburn haired cutie to her stomach, settling into a straddle of Mitchell's lower back before REEEEEEEEEFING back on Skye's wings with all her might.
The challenger's eyes bulge the moment her arms are drawn tight across her own throat, her feet kicking at the mat in frantic desperation. There's nowhere to go. There's nothing to do. And with the Golden Mite controlling her wrists, there's nothing to slap. Her only two choices are to surrender to unconsciousness or cry out a submission. Neither option is particularly attractive, but the rookie tries to brace herself against both the pain and the asphyxiation, hoping to at least deny Janel the satisfaction of a surrender... The Golden Mite suddenly BRIDGES back, the crown of her skull practically touching the mat between Skylar's parted thighs, the Li'lest Mitchell's upper body bent backward in what had to be a damn near spine snapping arch.
"STTTTAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Skye screams, unable to silence herself, tears beginning to pour down her apple cheeks. Then, in a much quieter, faltering voice, she whimpers, "i.... i.... i giiiiiivvvveee!!!!!!!"
Under different circumstances, for instance if Mitchell had been the pushover she should have, Janel might've continued applying her Perfect Ten until Skylar screams her surrender or the official threatens disqualification, whichever came first. But considering the fight she's been through to keep her crown, Manning's happy with a submission both she and the zebra can hear. The man jumps to his feet, calling for the bell, and the Mite releases, letting Mitchell upper torso fly forward while the champ relaxes with a loud sigh, lounging atop the back of the defeated rookie.
The claxon call comes and quickly behind it the ring announcer makes things official. "Your winner and STILL Intercontinental Champion...JANEL MANNING!"
The dripping Janel uses the limp, face down Mitchell as a base to push to her feet. She scoops and rolls the wincing, mewling Mitchell with a bare foot and roughly thumps the other down on the cleft of Skylar's pert bosom. "You're lucky," Janel huffs,"I've got better things to do than humiliate a minor leaguer."
Bent at the waist, Janel tells the official to throw the gold over a shoulder as she draws in a couple more deep breaths. Finally, she straightens to the jeers of the crowd and raises the belt high. Looking down on Skylar, Janel zeroes in on the huge doleful eyes of the rookie. "You're as good as your sister, sisters, which is to say not NEARLY as good as me. Best stay in the New Mexico scrub. I'll send your sisters to you."
Manning turns to the nearest lens, clearly still upset her title match is a lead-in to a non-title. "Do better than that, Eisenfreak."
Skye Mitchell...
The FAWNatics do just that, turning things up to eleven even as the FAWN Arena’s sound system begins to pump out a not entirely familiar tune. That talent relations had sprung for an individual theme for the Li’lest Mitchell speaks volumes for the hopes they had in her tonight. And even without yet recording a victory in Orlando, young Skylar had already made a considerable impression on the Orlando faithful.
“HOMEGROWN HONEY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIQlZVdCRfI )
The Li’lest Mitchell makes it a point to slap EVERY single hand offered her way--and ESPECIALLY the younger ones--as she lopes down the aisle and toward the ring. Finally, Mitchell dives under the bottom rope, springing to her feet. Skye unzips her hot pink hoodie to reveal a royal purple lycra bikini top and short shorts, with white pads and boots.
(Old school FAWN fans might note the distinct similarity in Skylar’s togs, and the gear warn by her older sister Cynthia at the beginning of her career...)
Settling into her corner, Mitchell takes in a deep breath, hoping to pacify the swarm of butterflies congregating in the pit of her stomach. “You can do this...” the rookie whispers to herself, her bosom displaying her struggles in keeping from hyperventilating.
“You CAN do this...”
JANEL MANNING:
What a difference a Pay-Per-View can make. At Summer Swelter, the Intercontinental Champion was a nervous underdog in her own title match. Still, she came out guns blazin and outlasted the Titanic Twit from Tacoma.
This month she’s a prohibitive favorite, but angry as a bronze medalist. Furious her decision to fatten up on a babe in the woods had led to her IC championship match being placed before one of those ridiculous Erika Eisenberg challenge matches, Janel fumes. On the other side of the curtain, a part-time player/Desert DustDevil or whatever is picking up legacy cheers from the soused Disneyworld concession workers.
Bouncing from one foot to the other, 59 inches of ponytailed blonde tenses when the stirring guitar of The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus’ ‘You Better Pray’ crashes over the arena.
"YOU BETTER PRAY"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_WxsL5q3I4
The diminutive, muscled former gymnast slaps both cheeks, her cue to again defend FAWN’s number two prize given.
In the arena bowl, the disapproval of the assembled rains down even before the once upon a time lightweight champion is in view, the ring announcer’s pronouncement only drawing the decibels higher.
“And…her opponent…AND the reigning Intercontinental Champion, hailing from the hallowed halls of Iowa City, Iowa… standing a full 4 feet 11 inches tall and weighing 117 pounds… The Golden Mite herself…JANEL MANNING!”
The fans are made to wait before the Mite-y One comes into view. The arena falls into darkness. A red spotlight illuminates the stage from the right, before winking out. The process is followed by a white spot from directly overhead, then a blue one from the left. As the sequence begins its second cycle, it provides the outline of a vertically challenged, strapping form and when the house lights rise, the tiny terror of vault, floor, and pommel horse parades down the ramp and aisle.
Riding a wave of success no one could have seen upon her return from a wildly lucrative gymnastics tour of former Olympic champions, Janel had become quite comfortable as champion, the golden faceplate covering her rock-hard abdomen.
Janel’s familiar flaxen ponytail swishes from one side to the other as she moves up the steps. The champ is in a skin-tight, lime green leotard containing a leopard-spot pattern. The spandex has a single solid strap over her left shoulder, a thin trio of small turquoise strips across the opposite number. She sports white wrist and ankle tape, pads and, as always, has her feet bared, white chalk dust on both soles and palms.
Janel flexes her toes on the apron before flinging herself over the top cable without a hint of effort, dropping into a somersault on the inside, before popping gracefully to her feet. The ferocious fireplug paces down the length of the ropes, occasionally deigning to glance at the latest and most certainly not greatest Mitchell. Manning moves to the middle, unstraps her belt and raises it high with her left hand while brushing her right across her flawless abs. She asks for a microphone and plucks one from the air after a toss from a FAWN flunky.
“Bethany. You made a HUGE mistake not placing any appearance by your Intercontinental champion at the top of the card. And behind a non-title punchline like Eisenberg?” the Mite shouts toward the nearest lens. “You are showing a significant mental disconnect that’s not going to play.”
Janel gazes at the cherub-cheeked Skylar.
“As opposed to me, who WILL be playing cat-and-mouse with this adorable Cynthia knockoff.”
The Golden Mite tosses the microphone away and moves to her corner where she more carefully transfers her title belt to a lackey for safekeeping.
Skye FINALLY manages to reign in her breathing around the time the official finishes patting her down for foreign objects. When the inspection of Janel Manning satisfies him that she, too, is clean, the official calls for the bell. The Li'lest Mitchell bounces out of her corner, one nervous, precocious ball of energy as she starts to circle the Golden Mite. Not wanting to betray any trepidation at the task in front of her this evening, Skye wastes NO time in reaching out to lock into a collar and elbow with Manning.
Janel does likewise, or seems to for a split second, only to drive a lightning flash of a toe kick into Mitchell's tummy. The Carolina girl by way of Podunk, New Mexico doubles over breathlessly. Manning greedily tugs the dipped head into a front facelock and wrenches on the neck of her hors d'oerve before Mania. "So I hear you got the recessive marshmallow gene in the family. Soft little pin cushion." Janel spins out of her grip around the brunette, ending with a quickly and successfully applied full nelson. "That's good. FAWN needs fodder too." Janel releases her trapped foe and pats Skylar atop the head like a pet before shoving her forward. The champ smirks at the fans as she motions toward the rookie. "Sad display of the shallow end of the Mitchell gene pool."
She's trying to goad you, a voice says in Skylar's head. Not necessarily the voice of experience, considering how little the rookie actually had, but call it the voice of caution. It's a voice that Skylar fully understands she should listen to... but she doesn't. Livid at being shown up by the two-faced brat, the Li'lest Mitchell lowers her shoulder as she surges forward, intending to tackle the Golden Mite to the canvas.
But the speedy Mite sweeps the charging lamb on by, collecting a shoulder strap and a hipful of trunks as she does. Turning with her foe and using Mitchell's momentum against her, Janel runs Skye toward the buckles like the world's shortest bouncer, planning to use the crown of the brunette's head like a battering ram against the top buckle.
And unlike Skylar's best laid plans so far, Janel's goes off without a hitch. Mitchell's skull meets the thinly padded buckle hard enough to both rattle her teeth and cross her eyes--not that much of the crowd gets to see the latter with her head bowed. Manning's impish smile grows a little wider at the sound of Skye's shuddering groan and the buckling of her legs, so the Golden Mite SLAMS her forehead into the turnbuckle, and again. Once Janel releases her hair, the rookie manages to turn her back to the buckles with a soft moan, Skye's arms flopping over the top rope.
Janel circles to mid-ring with a mock yawn, the crowd not appreciating her playful, carefree attitude. Lining up with her challenger, Manning's ponytail begins to swish as she hustles toward the cornered Mitchell. Closing in, the former gymnast leaps, her bare tootsies landing on Skye's thighs. The blonde's hands wrap around the back of Mitchell's neck as Manning prepares to throw her body into reverse and send the rookie flying with a monkeyflip toss out of the corner.
It's little secret that Janel Manning's gams are among the most feared in FAWN, but their strength is versatile. And right now, their power is used to LAUNCH the Li'lest Mitchell high into the air, Skylar sailing over the tumbling Golden Mite and crashing HARD to the mat on her back. "GYYYYAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!" the rookie cries out, rolling to her left hip with an arched spine. Spilling over, Skye starts to roll toward the ropes, hoping to buy herself a little respite--and a chance to actually get her head back into the game.
Manning kips to her feet and sidles toward the splayed Mitchell, but decides to let her roam outside the ring. Backing away from the exiting Desert Diva, Janel crow hops toward the opposite cables as a frazzled Skylar gathers her wits on the floor below. The champ isn't in the mood for waiting apparently, as she rebounds and sprints at full speed toward her challenger. The Golden Mite launches between the top and middle ropes, grabbing the middle cable as she somersaults through with a Tope Con Giro, aiming her backflipping booty at the head and chest of Skylar.
TOPE CON GIRO:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=omC0omhMjgc
Everything is faster in the major leagues, and that apparently applies to the champions as well. The warning cries of the crowd prompt Skye to look up, but that's ALL the Li'lest Mitchell has time to do before lime green spandex clad tush catches her in the face. Both diminutive beauties tumble to the concrete floor, Skylar's bosom absorbing its own encounter with Janel's backside as she lands atop her challenger before bouncing away. The FAWNatics respond with a smattering of impressed applause for the Golden Mite's acrobatics--but a loud chorus of jeers for her attitude. Meanwhile, Mitchell mewls softly as she attempts to roll over and push up to her hands and knees...
Janel sinks her nails into Skylar's mop and pulls up her head, Manning showing off her trophy to the front row. "Cute as a button," the champ beams. "Less useful than one, though." The former gymnast rips Mitchell up the rest of the way and leans her against the metal railing, Skylar's back to the audience. "Let's see how good you are with a little basic gymnastics." Manning backtracks to the ring's edge then surges forward with right arm drawn, ready to clothesline Mitchell into a backflip over the barricade to land amongst all her eager supporters.
But lest the evening look like it was about to become a complete steamrolling for the youngster, Skye manages to dip her head and slip out to the side, underneath Janel's intended scythe. Give the Intercontinental champion credit--she quickly manages to bring that arm down, using both hands to grasp the guardrail rather than allowing her swing-and-a-miss to send her tumbling into the stands the way she had meant to send Mitchell. Just as quickly, the Golden Mite starts to turn--but with an eye toward FINALLY establishing some offense tonight, Mitchell is already pivoting to send a high kick (relatively speaking) toward Manning's noggin.
The Hawkeye State's second FAWN titleholder shows some bad timing in this instance. The blonde turns her head toward Mitchell's shooting boot. But the Mite shows an uncanny ability to overcome the rookie's efforts. On instinct, Manning drops to her muscular derriere and the leaping kick swings harmlessly over the champion. Harmless to Janel at least, for Skylar lifts her plant leg slightly off the floor to get the required height in her kicking stem and the momentum sends her center over the steel pole at the top of the barrier.
The crowd GROANS in unison when Skye land crotch first on the barricade, riding the metal like a very slender and painful mount. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Mitchell sags as she whimpers, her hands grasping the pole to push her way up when Janel makes sure she stays on for the full eight seconds, thrusting her back down with hands on either shoulder of her foe. A chuckling Janel steps back after the rack attack. "Is this what you were trying to do?" Manning gets more on her vault as she aims a thrust kick at Skylar's jaw.
Janel's tootsie snaps Mitchell's head back... and accomplishes the task that her arm had been unable to do, sending Skylar off the beam and into the laps of about three lucky ringside fans. Unprepared for getting this up close and personal with a future FAWN star, the force of Skye's impact with his legs very nearly causes him to lose his grip on his beverage. He recovers--but not before some of it spills onto the rookie's face and hair as she rolls from their laps and drops to the floor. On the other side of the railing, Janel Manning turns back to the ring, the referee's count having reached "SEVEN!" And the Golden Mite hops onto the apron, rolling JUUUUST to the other side of the bottom rope--and dramatically pausing there, leaving the FAWNatics to wonder whether she would stay in the ring or return to her new toy on the outside.
With her perfect pearlies wide and beaming, the champ quickly rolls out and returns to the barrier, reaching over to thrust her delving digits into Mitchell's mane. "Sorry boys. She's mine. You can be her shoulders to cry on after." Manning tugs her challenger into a tight front facelock and suplexes Cynthia's kid sister up and over, Skylar landing hard and heavy on her spine. As the brunette howls, her back arching, a delighted Mite again kips to her feet and shares a high five with someone, perhaps a wayward fellow Iowan in the wiles of Orlando. Kicking Skylar to the curb, or in this case the apron, Manning plucks the Lil'est and weakest Mitchell off the deck and stuffs her under the bottom rope, Skylar rolling several feet in. Instead of following behind, Janel heads up the nearest corner and gazes over the wreckage before launching in a graceful backflip, ready to deliver an early coupe de grace with her Shooting Star Elbow Drop.
SHOOTING STAR ELBOW DROP @ 00:30
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hb5edjH0TXM
The Golden Mite launches herself to the heavens, gaining an elevation few outside of Manchester could dream of, but the fluidity of her flight is second to none. Alas, Manning's funny bone meets an anything but humorous fate when it SLAMS into thinly padded plywood, Skylar having used Janel's hangtime to roll to safety. The ex-gymnast bounces up to her knees, whimpering as she shakes out her throbbing elbow, while Mitchell does her best to scamper up to her feet. Marching over to the kneeling champ (with an admittedly unsteady gait) the auburn haired youngster pulls Janel up before setting her feet...
... but Skye's Irish whip winds up reversed, the rookie sent sprinting toward the far corner. Manning starts to race in after her, but instead of turning into the collision, the Li'lest Mitchell grabs the top rope on either side of the turnbuckle, lifting herself into the air and swinging her feet back, hoping to catch Manning's head between her calves--and, if she could, send Janel's mug into a painful collision with the middle turnbuckle.
Skylar's legs clamp down around the chipmunk cheeks of the champion, Janel's hands immediately rising to pry the startled blonde free. But this time Mitchell is too fast for the Mite and she swings her legs down, in turn forcing Manning's face into the buckle with a thudding crash. Janel ends with her features pressed against the covering, legs stretched out behind her. Skye takes the opportunity to hop into a headstand on the top buckle and sweep her boots back down THUMPING them into the back of Janel's skull for one hell of a doubleplay on the brat's braincase.
The renewed cheers of the FAWNatics serve to give the Li'lest Mitchell a little renewed strength, Skylar grabbing a handful of hair and yanking the Golden Mite up to her feet. Spinning Janel around, the Carolina Cutie shoves Manning back into the buckles, then unloads with a pair of forearm shivers to the blonde's chest. Snatching another helping of hair--two handfuls this time--Skye mares the wicked pixie out of the corner, Janel landing with a 'THWUMP' on her rump and letting out a small howl. Mitchell then steps back into the corner Manning had vacated before taking off toward her seated prey, aiming to dive over the champ's right shoulder, catch her by the locks, and use a neck snap to send Janel's face into the canvas.
With her tailbone sending throbbing pulses of pain through her sinewy frame, the Mite loses track of her challenger. Hands stuffed under her rump, Manning seems more concerned about massaging and she pays for it. Behind her, the leaping Skylar flips over her shoulder, collecting Janel's noggin along the way. The brunette gracefully SLAMS the champ's face into the canvas between Manning's outstretched if abbreviated legs. Head and upper torso snap back in a whiplash, the blonde ending splayed, arms now wrapping around her head rather than her hands keeping busy squishing her tush.
Having looked every bit the rookie she is in the opening moments, Skylar now displays some veteran savvy, grabbing Janel's ankles and dragging her toward the middle of the ring--away from all ropes--before going for the cover.
ONE...
TWO...
KICKOUT!
The Li'lest Mitchell does her best to keep her disappointment in check, climbing back to bootleather before hairhauling Manning to her feet as well. Taking the blonde's wrist, Skylar uses a HARD Irish whip to send the Intercontinental champ charging toward the buckles--and about as soon as she releases her foe, Mitchell herself turns and races into the ropes off the Golden Mite's left flank. Manning wheels around, allowing her back to take all the impact, which sends her staggering back toward center ring--with Skylar coming up alongside! Leaping into the air, the challenger extends her legs, reaching out her left hand to palm the back of Janel's skull and DRIVE her face into the canvas with a bulldog.
Staggering drunkenly, Manning looking like a coed on the Iowa City Ped Mall at 2AM more than FAWN's IC champ, the former gymnast gets hit by the drive-by from behind. Cloning it up like her sister Cynthia, Skylar races in from Manning's six and wraps a bicep around Janel's noggin. She surges forward a step with the Mite in tow before lifting off, legs extended. Mitchell lands on her bum while tugging Janel down to THUMP Manning's face into the canvas with the crisp, surprisingly powerpacked bulldog. Janel hits with enough force to bounce the blonde up to her knees before she timbers to her side, dazed, confused and, for the first time for the FAWNatics, downright vulnerable.
Vulnerable though she might be, Skylar doesn't go for the pin. Instead, she peels Janel off the deck and leads her into the nearest corner. What follows is no wrestling clinic: Mitchell first sends Manning's face into the leather of the top turnbuckle once... twice... and thrice. Then, after turning the Golden Mite around, she alternates between slamming closed fists into the former gymnast's forehead and driving forearms into her sternum, Skye finally able to vent some of her earlier frustration through sheer force. When her barrage starts to force Janel to slump, Skye starts kicking and, ultimately, stomping at Manning's chest, until the champ is left seated in the corner. Looking up to the crowd, a beaming Mitchell shouts, "AND NOW, IT'S LIKE MY MOMMA USED TO SAY..."
It takes a moment for Skye to remember that these AREN'T the denizens of the Left Turn, and that the FAWNatics DON'T all know the proper response. So, just this once, Skye answers for them. Wheeling around, Skylar thrusts her hips back, preparing to use her glutes to give Janel's features a thorough scrubbing, the Li'lest Mitchell shouting, "KISS MY GRITS!"
Her pert little backside is stuffed into Manning's face and the challenger swabs the features of the former gymnast roughly. Janel's hands move to the brunette's thighs and she tries to shove Cynthia's sister away, but it's no use. With no leverage, Manning can't stop Skylar from scrubbing to her heart's content, forcing the ponytailed blonde to feast on Carolina derierre for a dozen long seconds. Only then does Mitchell pull her 'grits' out of the champion's mug and turn to review the greasy-faced Manning, head lolling to one side, sour look on her face.
Grabbing Janel by the ankles, Skylar drags the (with apologies to LaKeisha and Kendra) bootyshocked blonde out of the corner before flipping over her prone form, attempting a jackknife pin that scores her the...
ONE...
TWO...
THNOOOOOOO!!!!!
Manning's fists fly upward, slapping into Mitchell's sides, not TOO hard--but hard enough to break her bridge. Gritting her teeth as she returns to her feet, the Li'lest Mitchell circles to the Golden Mite's tootsies, and once again claims Janel's ankles. Lifting Manning's muscular stems, the rookie prepares to show off a little "Old School" prowess by locking the champ in a Boston crab...
As Skye tries to step over her foe and roll Manning to her chest to secure the Crab, Janel throws her muscles in the opposite direction, wildly scrambling to keep from being turned. It's met with stubborn resistance from Mitchell until the torque created by the strength of Manning's muscular legs sends Skye stumbling away, the brunette losing her grip on the IC champion. Manning scrambles to her feet determined to turn the growing tide for the Desert Diva. She rotates to face the dark-haired rookie and eats a spinning heel kick to the jaw that decks the champ. The back of Janel's head THUMPS into the canvas with enough force she bounces to a seated position, eyes glazed.
And a short, swift kick to the chest sends the Golden Mite from her tush to flat on her back, arms and legs splayed, Janel left seeing stars as she blinks up at the lights. Mitchell passes up the opportunity for a cover, instead making her way to the ropes and slipping through them. The rookie rallies the FAWNatics with one LOUD slap of the top turnbuckle, and then begins her ascent into the high rent district. Reaching the summit, she finds Janel still in a delightfully senseless starfish, so the Li'lest Mitchell takes a fleeting half second to steady herself, then vaults toward the skies, ready to get a little froggy.
The crowd waits with baited breath, from the smell of it fish guts, knowing the rookie might be pressing her luck after the moment's hesitation. But Mitchell commits, rising high into the Orlando sky. Her frame scrunches tight in a tuck as Skylar reaches her zenith. The Carolina cutie plummets as her body springs open wide and discovers...a chiseled set of abs. The splash finds and makes its mark, crashing down across Janel's sinewy midriff. Manning jackknifes under the attack with a groaning burst of breath, her eyes buggy, no amount of muscular armor stopping Mitchell's crisp amphibian avalanche. Janel wilts to horizontal where Skylar remains across her in a perpendicular pin for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOO!
Skye is bucked off the (still) reigning Intercontinental champion... but it's by a narrow enough margin that the auburn haired youngster turns her exceedingly round eyes hopefully toward the referee. It's a hard man that can be unmoved by Mitchell's expression, but he reluctantly shakes his head.
"Sorry, Skylar. Just two."
The Li'lest Mitchell sits for a moment alongside her splattered foe, a pout on her face--but also a twinkle in those stunning eyes. Rising, the kid from the Desert shuffles away from Manning, creating a little space before sinking into a small crouch as the Golden Mite finally starts to pick herself up. Doing her best to position herself in Janel's blind spot, Skylar starts to stomp her right boot, loading up, waking for Manning to turn so that she can send her Greetings from Charlotte.
Manning rolls to her side, hugging her tummy and gagging, her ponytail dragging on the canvas. She spasms her way up to a seat and finds the official with wary eyes but he holds up the same two for Manning as he did for Mitchell. Feeling no hands or warm breath, Janel shakes her noggin, trying to overplay her loss of bearings when it's her wind with which she's struggling. As she rises and turns, her reflexes are at the ready and she deftly dodges her head from the sights of the missile-like boot. Catching Skylar's leg at the ankle, she raises it high and throws it in the opposite direction from which it came. Skye follows in a pirouette that leads to a dip and scoop from the champion. Janel vaults and spins Skylar toward her shoulders, hoping to injure the spinal column of the challenger and bring a halt to her rampage with a Delphin Backbreaker.
DELPHIN BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DsuY4pSNLvA
Before the challenger can react, Skye finds herself yanked from her feet and up onto the shoulder of a spinning Golden Mite. And Janel KEEPS revolving, not bothering to stop as her left hand rises to claim Mitchell's thighs. Only nearing the end of her second revolution does the diminutive blonde switch directions--namely, going DOWN, dropping to her knees. The shock of the ex-gymnast's landing travels through HER body and into Skylar's, the challenger letting out a high pitched howl as she tumbles clear of Janel's shoulders. Hitting the mat with a damp thud, Skye groans as she rolls away from her opponent, toward the center of the ring, the Li'lest Mitchell coming to a halt on her belly and reaching her left hand toward the small of her back.
Manning stays on her knees, unmoving, not even to reach forward for a pinning attempt. She remains on her haunches drawing in deep breaths for several seconds until she sinks her nails into the scalp of the brunette and together they rise, Skylar's legs far more rubbery. Janel tugs the challenger's noggin between her thighs and clamps down while simultaneously collecting a pair of underhooks on the rookie's arms. From there, Janel starts to squat and lean back, hoping to tumble backwards to her back and draw Skylar down with her. If she could manage it, she'd have her legs inside those of Mitchell and brutally work each set of limbs while having the captured challenger in her lap, the little patootie's pert bootie pointed to the rafters.
IRON BUTTERFLY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtlnYqY7ZdI
When Janel secures Skylar's arm in the double underhook, more than a couple of FAWNatics suspect the Golden Mite might be considering taking a page from a different Mitchell's book. In the end, for Skye, that might have been preferable. Practically the moment Manning's rump meets the mat, her ankles hook her opponent's so that, when the compact powerhouse falls to her back, all four of Skylar's limbs are under her control, with the back of the Li'lest Mitchell's head pressed tight against Janel's crotch, forcing her noggin forward uncomfortably. As much of a strain as there is on her neck, it PALES in comparison to the agony that starts to rip through her hamstrings when the Golden Mite stretches her stems in opposing directions.
Utterly helpless, it's only a matter of moments before Skylar is rendered a shrieking wreck, but her cries of agony are interspersed with the occasion shout of, "NOOOOO... NOOOOOOAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"
The champ works the rookie like a part-time job, making her squeal more than once after Skye's brave refusal to give in. Finally outlasting Manning's signature Iron Butterfly, Skylar is tossed aside and curdles into a ball of quivering Desert Diva. Meanwhile, Janel rolls to all fours and pushes to her feet, shaking out her weary limbs. The abbreviated muscular stems are not so tired she can't manage a stomp or two to the balled Mitchell. Tugging the deflated and aching FAWN legacy to her feet, Janel snatches a wrist and aims her foe at the far buckles. She starts to send Skylar off with an Irish Whip before the Carolina cutie reverses and sends Manning racing to the corner, turning into a nasty collision. As Janel staggers toward the approaching Skye, Mitchell dips to scoop the champ off her feet and draws her up only for Janel to try an use her momentum to swing around Skylar and latch onto her signature tilt-a-whirl octopus.
TILT-A-WHIRL OCTOPUS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1AAFsLqXZU
Manning manages to latch her powerful thighs around Skye's skull--and it only takes one short squeeeeeeeeze to temporarily paralyze the rookie, allowing the Golden Mite to snatch her opponent's right wing and slap on an armbar. It was unfair, really. Janel's gams were strong enough that they didn't need any assistance, but the second front of her assault has the Li'lest Mitchell whimpering in no time. And yet... Her cries transitioning into a determined groan, Skylar forces her way back to her full height, straightening up--until another pulse of Manning's thighs sends her doubling over once more. Adding a crank of the rookie's arm for good measure, another devastating SQUEEEEEEEEEEZE from her headscissors buckles Skylar's legs, sending the Li'lest Mitchell crashing to her knees.
"Skylar?" the official asks.
Mitchell doesn't respond, slumping until her forehead comes to rest against the canvas.
"You there, Skye?" the ref asks again. "Had enough?"
Again, silence...
... but just as the zebra starts to turn toward the timekeeper's table, there's a faint moan of, "... nuuuuuuuuuoooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"
Immediately untying the knotted challenger, a frustrated Manning drops to the soles of her bare feet behind the battered but still stubborn Mitchell. Instead of using her foe's long dark locks to rise, this time Manning collects both wrists and draws Skye's arms across each other in front of the throat of Mitchell. Forcing the rookie up, Janel tightens her noose and, not giving the wilting Desert Diva an opportunity to show just how contrary she can be. Manning leaps, tucking into a ball behind the challenger, pressing her knees into Skylar's shoulderblades, hoping to rip Mitchell off her moorings and deliver one-half of her Perfect Ten, the lungblower to be followed by a straightjacket camel clutch.
PERFECT TEN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0xBW3wZGOM
It's not the most impressive vault in Janel's career--but it didn't need to be, when her opponent only stood a couple of inches taller than her. Driving her knees into Skye's back, the Golden Mite gives Mitchell's wrists a savage yank as she throws her weight backward. Skylar's shapely legs fly out from under her as Manning pitches backward, the Desert Diva's lungs well and truly blown when Janel hits the deck. The Li'lest Mitchell bounces off of her opponent's knees... but Janel doesn't release her wrists. Instead, she guides the auburn haired cutie to her stomach, settling into a straddle of Mitchell's lower back before REEEEEEEEEFING back on Skye's wings with all her might.
The challenger's eyes bulge the moment her arms are drawn tight across her own throat, her feet kicking at the mat in frantic desperation. There's nowhere to go. There's nothing to do. And with the Golden Mite controlling her wrists, there's nothing to slap. Her only two choices are to surrender to unconsciousness or cry out a submission. Neither option is particularly attractive, but the rookie tries to brace herself against both the pain and the asphyxiation, hoping to at least deny Janel the satisfaction of a surrender... The Golden Mite suddenly BRIDGES back, the crown of her skull practically touching the mat between Skylar's parted thighs, the Li'lest Mitchell's upper body bent backward in what had to be a damn near spine snapping arch.
"STTTTAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Skye screams, unable to silence herself, tears beginning to pour down her apple cheeks. Then, in a much quieter, faltering voice, she whimpers, "i.... i.... i giiiiiivvvveee!!!!!!!"
Under different circumstances, for instance if Mitchell had been the pushover she should have, Janel might've continued applying her Perfect Ten until Skylar screams her surrender or the official threatens disqualification, whichever came first. But considering the fight she's been through to keep her crown, Manning's happy with a submission both she and the zebra can hear. The man jumps to his feet, calling for the bell, and the Mite releases, letting Mitchell upper torso fly forward while the champ relaxes with a loud sigh, lounging atop the back of the defeated rookie.
The claxon call comes and quickly behind it the ring announcer makes things official. "Your winner and STILL Intercontinental Champion...JANEL MANNING!"
The dripping Janel uses the limp, face down Mitchell as a base to push to her feet. She scoops and rolls the wincing, mewling Mitchell with a bare foot and roughly thumps the other down on the cleft of Skylar's pert bosom. "You're lucky," Janel huffs,"I've got better things to do than humiliate a minor leaguer."
Bent at the waist, Janel tells the official to throw the gold over a shoulder as she draws in a couple more deep breaths. Finally, she straightens to the jeers of the crowd and raises the belt high. Looking down on Skylar, Janel zeroes in on the huge doleful eyes of the rookie. "You're as good as your sister, sisters, which is to say not NEARLY as good as me. Best stay in the New Mexico scrub. I'll send your sisters to you."
Manning turns to the nearest lens, clearly still upset her title match is a lead-in to a non-title. "Do better than that, Eisenfreak."