Post by jackflash on Oct 31, 2015 20:41:11 GMT
The Riuil Kanes (Maeve & Moira Kane)
Footsteps echo through the now nearly deserted hallways of the FAWN training facility, as Maeve and Moira Kane make their way back to the lockerroom for a sorely-needed immersion into the whirlpool to wipe away some of the aches that wrack their bodies. Tonight had been a particularly grueling workout session between the sisters, all part of their ceaseless desire to stay at their very peak. Both felt they should have had much less trouble with America’s Sweethearts at FAWNAMANIA, so for the past week its been a regimen of double sessions.
Opening the door and stepping in, Maeve flips the light switch…but nothing happens. Instead, the room remains bathed in utter darkness. “Strewth,” the Irishwoman sighs. “Must be a fuse.”
But a moment later, the Stygian darkness is pierced by a single spotlight aimed directly at the sisters, as two figures lunge at them, their details obscured by the light. In the barest of instants when their eyes can decipher and communicate what they are seeing to their brains, the Kanes take in a confusing sight. Are they being charged by a pair of…giant orange leprechauns?
Before they can ponder than any further, their confusion turns to alarm as the mysterious figures throw a powdery substance from their hands, and the fine particles fill the eyes of the Irish blondes, blinding them. In the rush of chaos, their senses of smell inform them of a familiar aroma, but they can’t bare the time needed to place it, as both Kanes cry out from stinging backhand slaps across their faces, which send them stumbling backward.
Still blinded, the Riuil Kanes instinctively strike battle stances. But denied their sight, they lack the defenses to halt their attackers’ onslaught. A kick to the lower belly doubles Maeve over, while a finger thrust to the windpipe leaves Moira gasping and gurgling.
Scandalous (Lucy Harker & Mina Murray)
Amid all of the bedlam, one burning question is answered. The all-too-familiar sneers of Lucy Harker and Mina Murray stab the eardrums of the embattled Irish lasses. Each are dressed as sexy leprechauns, but with nary a swatch of green. Instead, their costumes are wholly orange. “Mina dear,” Harker purrs, “I told you what ingrates they would be. Here we went and acquired such expensive pumpkin spice for them, but do they thank us?” In a voice fairly dripping with condescension, Murray replies, “What’s worse, they haven’t even complimented us on our costumes, even though they were the inspiration.”
“Quite so,” retorts Lucy. “Of course, the color represents the real Irish, not those useless drunkards who clad themselves in green, like algae.” “And speaking of useless…” Mina adds with an unmistakable tinge of malice in her tone. She finishes her sentence not with further words, but with physical action, roughly pushing the still blinded and wheezing Moira’s back to the lockerroom wall, and drilling a fist deep into her belly, causing the Irish blonde to emit a gasping grunt. Meanwhile, fingers rubbing at her eyes, trying to clear them of the burning powdered spice, Maeve growls, “Harker…Murray…ye’ve just signed yer death warrUUUHHHNNNNNN!” The redhead’s threat is cut short from a kneelift to the lower abdomen, courtesy of Lucy.
Had the Kanes been in possession of their sight at the moment, even they might be impressed by the garb of their assailants. As has been stated, they are indeed costumed as orange-clad leprechauns…but no wee fairy of the ol’ sod so attired themselves with a frilly micro-skirt, lace panties, and fishnet stockings with garters (the accompanying stiletto heels had been removed and placed to the side for the duration. After all, safety first…no sense turning an ankle).
Taking a handful of the panting Maeve’s hair at the scalp, Harker yanks her head up and back, and leans in close to hiss, “You Irish invented Halloween, but as usual, it’s up to Mina and I to improve upon it and prove ourselves your superiors. Honestly, this is getting tiresome…almost.” She punctuates her derision by slamming the side of Kane’s head into a nearby steel locker.
Things progress thusly for the hapless Irish lasses, still half-blinded and disoriented in addition to the exhaustion they brought with them from their workout, as their tormentors take a sinister delight in bullying them, shoving the Kanes to and for betwixt damaging knees to the bellies and fists to the faces. Maeve and Moira make valiant efforts to strike back, throwing wild fists, but they hit nothing but air as Harker and Murray deftly side-step.
Finally, grabbing the hair of their victims, Lucy and Mina slam the foreheads of the sisters together, badly stunning them. The Kanes stand there, swaying on uncertain legs, their eyes still squinting from the spice powder. Standing behind each of them is a Scandalous lass, who give each Irishwoman a little shove, causing them both to stumble forward and bump into one another. Despite their state of stupor, the Kanes still possess their battle instincts, and almost automatically, they ball their fists and blindly begin swinging at this “threat” in front of them. Standing aside, Lucy and Mina laugh themselves silly watching Maeve and Moira mistakenly hammer away at each other.
Despite the pounding, neither sister falls, but ultimately their leaden arms hang limply at their sides, they slackened jaws and low moans betraying the fact that they are very nearly finished. It is then at their tormentors walk up to them, grab them by the shoulders and turn the Kanes to face them. Stepping back, Lucy menacingly purrs, “Trick or treat…” and Mina completes the sentence with “…smell my feet!” And with that, Scandalous unleash matching superkicks, the balls of their stockinged feet nailing the chins of their targets with pinpoint precision. Maeve and Moira sail backward until their backs smash into the lockers, and then their bodies, leaving trails of sweat, slide downward until they’re sitting on the floor, both reduced to complete unconsciousness.
“You know,” Mina says matter-of-factly, “we really ought to leave them a treat.” “My thought exactly,” Lucy replies, handing her partner a gumball. They both pop the confectionaries into their mouths and chew until they’re suitably reduced to sticky wads. Then, taking the gum out of their mouths, they mash the candies into the hair of their helpless nemeses. “There,” Harker comments, “that ought to satisfy the little beggars. I’d say they won’t be getting that out of their rat nest hair at least until Thanksgiving.” “Do they have Thanksgiving in Ireland?” Murray queries. “Darling,” Lucy responds, “every day out of Ireland is Thanksgiving day to the likes of them.”
One final touch: Scandalous had thoughtfully carved two large pumpkins into Jack-O-Lanterns (the Jack-O-Lantern having been originated in Ireland, of course), with holes in the bottom of each. They retrieve them from where they had earlier left them, and then place each pumpkin over the head of a slumbering Kane as the final indignity.
“There,” says Mina smugly. “That ought to be a suitably frightening tableau for the midnight cleaning crew to discover. If they’re smart, they’ll snap a few pictures to sell to TMZ.” “Now then,” replies Lucy with a satisfied smile, “I believe we have a party to go to.” Putting their shoes back on, they merrily stroll arm in arm out of the lockerroom, heels clicking, leaving the devastated Kanes like flotsam in their wake.