Post by alyadmirer on Jan 14, 2016 0:46:12 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen,” our resident Man in the Penguin Suit begins, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Sheffield, England in the United Kingdom…”
That’s enough of a clue for several fans to leap to their feet, cheering wildly.
“She stands five feet eight inches tall and tips the scales tonight at one hundred and forty-five pounds. She is one-half of the former FAWN Tag Team champions… Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… CAAASSSSSSIIIEEE HOOOPPPKKKIIINNNSSS!!!!!”
CASSIE HOPKINS:
The house absolutely erupts as the Chemical Brothers' "Galvanize" plays over the sound system. And it only gets louder when Cassie Hopkins enters the arena.
”GALVANIZE”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xu3FTEmN-eg
The buxom blonde Briton stands clad in her standard singles ring togs: a hot pink one piece that defined the term "plunging neckline", starting wide at the shoulders at finally converging juuuust above her navel, at the top of a black diamond pattern. White pads and boots complete the ensemble. Reaching the ring after a long march, and after receiving several supportive slaps on the shoulder and high fives from the fans, she hops onto the apron. Slipping through the ropes and into the ring, she takes a few moments to stretch in her corner, soaking in the applause.
Honestly, to this point Cassie’s tenure in FAWN could be summed up as a Tale of Two Careers. As one half of the British Bombshells, she had formed with her best friend Shea London one of the premiere tag team tandems the company had ever seen. But while the Sensational One was a legend for both her singles AND her tag work, Hopkins had not been able to replicate that tag success in the singles division.
However, as a former Battling Ring Angels champion, she knew she had the skill to do so. It was just a matter of time, with no reason being that a run toward Eisenberg or VanBuren might even begin tonight...
With the powerpacked blonde Amazon set and ready in the ring, Britain’s biggest bombshell ready to blow up, the FAWNatics bubble to a boil when "Exotic” by Amara herself courses through the arena. The crowd lets loose with an earsplitting cascade of boos. The curtains part, revealing a bevy of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. Four of the men carry an ornate bed, where a veiled figure lies. The fans jeer vociferously at the exotic woman on this curious conveyance, even a thousand veils unable to hide the occupant from their disdain, the assembled realizing the despicable creature carried by her consorts.
"EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NUWatch With Me
The catcalls and whistles only grow as the slow-moving parade moves toward the squared circle. The copper-skinned beauty writhes on her cushioned platform feeding herself from a cluster of grapes. Below, the men’s gaze never leaves the ring, seemingly oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, raven-haired beauty above.
The PA sputters to life, heralding the arrival of the Bollywood Bombshell.
"And her opponent... standing 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighing in at 134 pounds from Cawnpore , India ...Amara Singh."
AMARA SINGH:
The spectacle halts, having reached its destination. The men lower the ornate bed so it is even with the apron and the Singh gracefully slides from bedside to ringside. The tawny-skinned beauty faces the crowd, proceeding to dance seductively, expertly sliding from her robes and revealing the curvy form beneath.
The striptease draws a round of rabid applause within the jeers. Singh looses her veil, pearly sneer falling upon the crowd. She turns and slides through the ropes, a stunning and dangerous attraction from the subcontinent who, while not making a lot of noise since her return to the organization, surely could make some tonight.
Amara is clad in an ornately designed, gold bra and matching gold and pink harem pants, jewels glittering from bracelets on her wrists, her feet bare. Her raven tresses fall down her back in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. She does one last twirl for the crowd before taking center stage, staring a hole through Shea’s renowned original partner.
The Sheffield Stunner swings her arms back and forth across her chest as she marches out of her corner, working herself loose as the bell sounds. Satisfied she was now sufficiently limber, Cassie's arms now rise as she circles her foe, elbows bent, fingers waving as she seems intent on looking for the opportunity to lock up. Only instead, Hopkins draws to a halt, raising her right hand higher, inviting the Bollywood Bombshell to join her in a Test of Strength.
Amara scoffs at the sight, shaking her head softly. She steps directly for the babyfaced blonde, raising her right hand to link it within the wriggling fingers of Hopkins. Singh laces her digits with those of Cassie then does likewise with the other set. In the blink of an eye, she twists her arms down, forcing Cassie's to lower with her, wrists now overturned, the locked hands in front of each woman's thighs, the vicious beauty from the subcontinent trying to twist her foe's hands off at those misdirected wrist joints.
As the blonde Briton's arms are force southward, the rest of her rises upward, thanks to the jolt of pain that lifts Cassie up onto her tiptoes. Hopkins' eyes snap shut as she draws in a hiss of a gasp, her legs beginning to tremble... but the Sheffield Stunner refuses to sink to her knees. And, after a few moments, Cassie's arms begin to push back against Amara's, hands moving from in front of thighs to flanking each woman's hips. Hopkins then sends a boot toward Singh's left forearm, hoping to break the Bollywood beauty's grasp--and, if she could manage that, follow up with a quick kick to the midsection.
Hopkins' shoe leather and the thrusting long leg behind it frees one of the blonde's arms, Singh grimacing with her grip broken. And the look on those exotic features goes wide-eyed, lips curling into a breathy 'O', when Cassie drives another thumping boot into the bronze midriff of the Bollywood Bombshell, Amara doubling in pain in front of the British version.
Hopkins takes advantage of her opponent's suddenly breathless state to shirk her other hand loose from Amara's grasp. Cassie then stoops and threads an arm through the thighs of Amara, scooping the Indian beauty off her feet and up across the blonde's impressive chest. But she doesn't stay there long, Cassie depositing the Bollywood Bombshell to the mat with a powerful slam. The Sheffield Stunner then turns and charges toward the near ropes, opposite Singh's noggin. Now, it was Hopkins' partner who was known as the high flyer, so it's little surprise when Cassie's offense off the rebound is a bit on the vanilla side, the blonde hoping into the air in order to drop a knee to Amara's forehead.
But vanilla is the favorite flavor in the world and Cassie's direct approach proves a favorite of the fans as she DRIVES the point of her bony joint into cranium of Alia Saad's partner in crime. Singh spasms after the solid impact, her legs flying high into the air. The dusky beauty covers her face with both hands, cursing in Hindi at the Stunner as she rolls to her chest. Pushing to her knees and one palm, the opposite still pressed against her aching braincase, Amara crawls toward the ropes on a tripod of limbs, apparently looking for a trip outside and a reboot of this battle.
And she NEARLY gets there, until a pair of hands snatch her ankles. When Cassie gives those gams a sharp tug backward, Amara is sent tumbling over to her back as she finds herself dragged back toward the center of the ring. "Don't know WHERE you think you were going," Hopkins mutters. "I haven't even broken a sweat yet, and you're trying to run away?"
Instead of waiting for an answer, the British Bombshell attempts to push her Bollywood counterpart over to her stomach, intending to step over and settle into a crouch, adding a little New England to the international mix with a Boston crab.
Amara is forced to her chest, but before Hopkins can rotate into a reverse standing straddle and use the ankles to torture Singh's spinal column, Amara rolls through to her back, pulls in her legs and pistons them forward, breaking the blonde's grip. The Indian grappler kips to her feet, immediately paying for it as the surging Stunner nearly knocks Amara for a full loop with a clothesline straight from South Yorkshire. Snatching up the ankles of the dazed, dark-haired beauty, Cassie flips and rotates into the Crab and settles into the agony-inducing crouch. Amara yelps to life, pulling at her raven locks to spread the pain, but as the arch of her backbone grows, it becomes impossible. The ref asks if Singh wants to give but she spits out at a 'no' and claws at the canvas, wincing as she tries to pull herself and the big blonde toward the cables.
"Still don't know where you think you're goin'," Hopkins grunts, trying to shift her weight a little lower, hoping to dissuade Amara's advance with a little increased pressure. But while Singh howls in anguish, she keeps crawling. It would be a matter of mere moments before she reached the ropes, so the blonde Brit tries to throw her a curve by breaking the hold on her own. Spinning back around to face the Bollywood Bombshell as Singh pushes up to all fours, Cassie bends down and reaches her arms underneath Amara's midsection. Locking her arms together, the Sheffield Stunner starts to muscle her opponent aloft, hoping to wow the crowd with a German suplex of the deadlift variety.
DEADLIFT GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRxLoEnjmC0
The blonde's limbs encircle the copper-skinned midriff of the spiteful Bollywood beauty. No lightweight Amara, the powerhouse of FAWN's most celebrated tag team still manages to lift Amara off the deck from square one. Singh's arms windmill, her face stricken in fear as she's raised higher, higher and finally up and over she's sent, ingloriously THUMPING into the canvas via a perfect German suplex. The back of her skull bangs into the deck and Amara remains folded in a matchbook even with Cassie having released this suplex. Hopkins turns to see Amara's cheeks pointed to the rafters and scrambles to her, pressing down on the back of Amara's knees for the...
ONE...
TWO...
... and Singh flops to the side to save herself from an embarrassing ending of a one-sided British beatdown.
The FAWNatics might groan, but Cassie Hopkins knows better. Anyone who actually belonged in this company should have the wherewithal to be able to withstand that move... even if she had NAILED the deadlift German, in her own humble estimation. Climbing to her feet, the voluptuous blonde again grabs Amara by the ankles, pulling Singh over to her back as she drags her toward the center of the ring once more. Arriving at their destination, Hopkins drops one ankle, then begins to step around the other, preparing to go to work on Amara's gams by locking in a figure four.
But as she floats over her foe, Amara seemingly unable to end this queen-sized version of a London Run, Singh plants bare foot to bum and shoves Cassie off before she can knot the Indian's legs. Hopkins stumbles several steps before regaining her balance and Singh uses the seconds to rise. Still unsteady, Amara nevertheless launches a literal toe kick toward the 'V' of Cassie's lower than low-cut pink gear. Unfortunately, Hopkins has another answer, catching the limb before it can gut her. Cass shakes her head, liftiing Amara's lithe leg higher still. But the the Bollywood beauty launches off her still planted sole and swings her opposite leg high and hard toward Cassie's temple, hoping to plant it into the Brit's braincase with an enziguri kick.
One would think a bare foot would not make quite the same impact as a booted one, but it's hard to saying that not only seeing the effect Amara's kick has on her powerful blonde foe, but also simply HEARING the "THWACK!' of foot striking temple. Almost instantly, Cassie's fingers uncoil from around Singh's ankle, the British beauty's arms falling to her side as her head whips in the direction of the blow. The rest of Hopkins soon follows suit, the Sheffield Stunner pitching forward and crashing to her chest. As effective as the enziguri had been, though, it's NOT a knockout punch... err, kick... considering a groaning Cassie begins to push her way up to all fours. Alas, it proves a false start, her limbs giving way and sending her spilling to the deck a second time.
With Hopkins flat to the deck, Amara quickly moves to a standing forward-facing straddle and slips her arms under those of the Brit. She tugs Cassie back to hands and knees, mounting her English filly, resting with a now seated straddle of Cassie's midriff. The Indian beauty sends her arms circling in front of the babyfaced blonde, hoping to connect them in front of Hopkins' chin to test Cassie's neck and back with a crossface grip, apparently setting a goal of wearing down the blonde Amazon and giving her a long ride through Bollywood to show from where the real Bombshells come.
It's truly amazing, and a testament to how dangerous the Bollywood Bombshell is, that Amara is able to take a match where she had, frankly, been dominated to start, and turn things toward humiliating her opponent--and doing so with such seeming effortlessness. The pressure on Cassie's neck, not to mention a pair of heels digging into the soft flesh just above her hips, compel the Sheffield Stunner to start crawling forward, pretty much in spite of herself. With each stride from all fours, Hopkins' head tries to twist away from Singh's grasp, the former tag champ struggling to buck the Asian beauty out of her saddle, the FAWNatics roughly evenly split between tried to encourage Cassie and reigning scorn down on Amara.
But naturally, this is more than an attempt to bring shame to Hopkins. With each foot the British Bombshell traverses, with each attempt to knock Singh off balance, and with each second spent supporting Amara's one hundred and thirty four pounds in addition to her own, Cassie's arms and legs grow weaker. And as the voluptuous blonde is steered toward her second lap around the ring by the crossface, it would only be a matter of time before they failed her--so long as Amara remained where she was.
But Singh grows impatient, Hopkins showing more sturdiness than Amara wants to admit. Breaking her grip, she clatters forearms in from each side, thwapping right-left-right-left. Still. Cassie won't be flattened to the deck. Indeed, with her bridle removed, the blonde Amazon is able to shake Amara off, Singh quickly rolling up to her feet as Cassie struggles to get there. The Indian meets Hopkins as she rises, dipping her right arm between the tanned and seemingly endless stems of Hopkins. She scoops Cassie up onto her right shoulder, making a show of lifting the bigger woman and striding in a shortened circle around the ring before getting ready to plow Hopkins back into the thinly-covered plywood with a running powerslam.
As stubborn as the Sheffield Stunner had proven, however, her time spent serving as Amara's personal camel has taken a toll. As Singh charges across the ring, Cassie's legs kick at the air, but the writhing beauty can neither throw off Singh's balance or figure a way out of the back door. Instead, the curvy blonde is sent plummeting to the canvas with authority, the Bollywood Bombshell not trailing her opponent much for strength, even in the slight difference in their size. Hopkins lets out a groan as her back meets the mat, her spine forced to arch... which effectively pushes her chest up into Amara's frame as her foe CRASHING down on top of her, effectively using the canvas to make the British blonde a Cassie sandwich. The mewling Hopkins' bosom strains against her top, the pride of Sheffield momentarily rendered all but breathless underneath Amara Singh.
The Bollywood Bombshell covers in a crossbody for...
ONE...
TWO...
... before Cassie shoves Singh off, and rather forcefully, the raven-haired grappler ending on her haunches, a look of frustrated surprise as she gazes down at Hopkins. A FAWN tag legend as glittering as Shea London is not to be trifled with, even in singles comp, and Amara seems to realize as she's quick to her feet and to get on the move. Singh hits the ropes and surges toward the splayed blonde, leaping into a forearm smash to Cassie's chest when the Brit starts to rise. Her foe replanted to the deck, Amara is up and off for another rebound off the cables, and this time delivers a piercing elbow smash to the cleft of Cassie's considerable bosom. As Hopkins writhes, Amara is up again, this time taking a 180 out of the opposite strands and sprinting to the spreadeagled Stunner, leaping high into the air, big copper-skinned legs extended over the throat and chest of the Englishwoman as Singh drops from the sky.
Some would call Cassie's chest an impossible to miss target... and, sure enough, Amara doesn't. Her well-shaped stem SLAMS down into yielding breast tissue, momentarily pressing those mammaries a little more flat against her sternum. That takes care of Hopkins' lungs, forcing the blonde to gasp out just about all of the oxygen her lungs had been able to reclaim following the powerslam and those two well-placed elbows. Singh's SECOND leg, meanwhile, deals a vicious setback to the Sheffield Stunner's efforts to draw breath back in, Cassie's windpipe collapsed for an instant by the weight and the force of Amara's thigh. The Bollywood Bombshell's leg drops might not have been sensational, but as Hopkins rolls over to her hip, wide eyed and reaching a hand to her throat, its effectiveness is undeniable.
Singh eschews the pinning attempt. Instead, she rises to one knee and grinds the opposite into Cassie's forehead, apparently out of nothing more than spite. With Hopkins, a former BRA wrestler perhaps reminding Amara relatively unsuccessful sister, Parminder, who also plied her trade in that organization, Singh seems to take special delight in causing the blonde pain. Finally, she relents and draws Cassie to her feet. The Stunner is slack but manages to keep her feet beneath her, which might not be a good thing when Amara slinks in behind the wobbly blonde. Singh slips her right arm around Cassie's throat with a backhand grip and slowly starts to bend the babyfaced beauty into a perilous bridge, hoping to catch the former FAWN Co-Wrestler of the Year in a dragon sleeper.
By the time enough awareness returns to Hopkins to put up a defense, it's too late, as Amara's fingers lace together behind the British blonde's back. In many ways, the dragon sleeper is a more insidious hold than the traditional variety. The basic sleeper, after all, merely cuts off the flow of blood and oxygen to the brain. It's devastating, sure, but it's not exactly painful--certainly not AS painful as having your spine forced back at a most unnatural angle, Cassie's size advantage for the moment working against her. Then, add onto that anguish the hold driving you ever closer to unconsciousness, and it became a most perilous position to be in. The Sheffield Stunner's arms flail out in front of her, fingers spread wide and curled, the Brit desperately hoping to be able to find one of the ropes with her mits--but unable to truly guide those efforts by sight, her present view confined mostly to the overhead lights and Amara's arm--another wickedly efficient aspect of this maneuver. Hopkins can only hope luck is on her side, especially as the first quaking sensations begin to radiate up and down her luscious legs...
The questing hand finds purchase, Cassie proving to be both lucky and good as her fingers tickle the ropes. She isn't even able to grab on tightly, but a friendly and quick ref's decision gives the blonde the break for which she's praying. A frustrated Amara scoffs at the striped-shirt and pays Hopkins for her anger at the official. The Indian beauty releases her sleeper grip but swings the arm up and over Cassie's arched frame, sending the shiver down into Cassie's chest, driving the Bombshell to her backside. Hopkins winces while putting a white-knuckle wrap around the bottom rope. Amara huffs off in a march to the opposite side of the ring. But making it there, she turns on a drahma and sprints at Cassie, lifting a knee as she closes to drive the point into Cassie's chin.
But as Singh starts to send her knee flying toward what might have very well been a knock out impact with Cassie's jaw, the Sheffield Stunner throws herself down to the left, rolling clear charging Bollywood Bombshell. The ropes halt Amara's momentum, the impact with the taut, rubber coated steel stinging, but not doing much damage to the Indian beauty--but Singh DOES need a moment to work her leg out of the ropes. And that moment's hesitation as the brunette draws away from the strands provides the risen Hopkins the opening she needs. As Amara backs toward her, before Singh can turn around, Cassie reaches her arms around her opponent, her hands moving to lock together in front of Amara's navel and secure a bearhug from behind.
The arms of the battling Brit wrap tightly, drawing a breathy gasp from the subcontinent grappler. Energized, Cassie tightens her noose around the coppery midriff of the Bollywood battler. With a loud grunt, she manages to get Amara's boots off the canvas, immediately doubling the intensity of the embrace. Singh tries to reach over her shoulders to find some piece of the Englishwoman to attack, but another pulse widens the dark exotic eyes of the Indian, Singh's chest working like a bellows to get some air in, but Hopkins' patented power not allowing it as the noise from the crowd grows in intensity.
Having quelled the rebellion for the time being, Cassie now acts to prevent an escape by retreating toward mid-ring--all the while her pythons work to crush the fight out of the Bollywood Bombshell. At the center of the ring, the Sheffield Stunner breaks her grasp and instead moves to take Amara's wrist, lining the exotic beauty up with the corner before her, off her left shoulder. Setting her feet, Hopkins launches Singh toward the corner with a mighty whip, the Bollywood Bombshell only just managing to turn her back into the buckles before striking home. And as Amara's arms spill over the top rope, Cassie charges toward her, arm extended for a wicked running clothesline--which she had every intention of transitioning into a beautiful bulldog out of the corner.
CORNER CLOTHESLINE & BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFXpKuSVSsQ
Hopkins' right arm crashes like lead across the chest of the Indian beauty, the clothesline clearly rocking the senses and body of the Bollywood battler. Alia Saad's exotic teammate staggers out of the corner drunkenly, her footfalls weaving her in serpentine fashion toward the middle of the ring. But before she can get there, a racing Hopkins closes from behind. Grabbing Amara's head as she sprints by, Cassie quickly launches, sitting out as she THUMPS against the mat on her well-padded backside while Singh is treated to a canvas sandwich, her face and chest colliding with the deck in emphatic fashion.
Hopkins doesn't waste any time turning and shoveling the Bollywood Bombshell over to her back. Draping herself across Amara's chest, Cassie hooks the outside leg and scores the...
ONE...
TWO...
... but NO to the THREE, Singh kicking out and instinctively rolling to her hip. The Sheffield Stunner doesn't bother arguing with the ref about the speed of his count, nor does she allow Amara to KEEP rolling. Instead, the British blonde's legs begin to slip around Singh's noggin, Cassie hoping to trap her opponent in a tight headscissors and grind the Bollywood Bombshell down just a little more.
Not entirely sure where she is, Amara saves herself out of instinct and little more. She seems unaware as Cassie maneuvers her Amazonian frame in the six of the Indian. The Brit's thighs close around beautiful coppery cheeks and temples, snapping shut before Singh can move to safety. And when the blonde's powerful stems lock at the ankles and she sends a pulse through her legs, a loud and worried groan emerges from amidst the scissors. Amara is able to slide up to a seat, but can't seem to manage more as the Sheffield Stunner continues to pour pressure upon her foe's braincase. The little of Singh's face that is in view is turning rosy, Cassie absently playing with a handful of raven locks before giving them a healthy tug that draws a yelp from the Empress. Streeetching her legs in front of her, the Bollywood Bombshell knows the ropes might be her only way out of this mess.
And fortunately for Amara, her legs are very nearly as long as her opponent's, which allows the Bollywood Bombshell to hook both ankles around the bottom rope. "Alright, Cass," the official orders, "break it."
Sighing ever so slightly in disgust, the Sheffield Stunner complies, climbing to her feet before pulling Singh up as well with a handful of hair. Bodying into the Bollywood Bombshell, Cassie takes a wrist and sends Singh on her way with an Irish whip, marching out to mid-ring to meet her prey on the rebound. And as Amara hurtles toward her, Hopkins readies herself to scoop her foe up and deliver a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker.
TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fshq_oSLAsI
Still feeling a bit woozy from the results of the head scissors, Amara wobbles in her forced sprint to the opposite ropes. The Indian grappler rebounds toward the stationed Cassie. Hopkins leaves no room to pass and Singh is collected in the powerful arms of the tag legend. The FAWN veteran seems to lift Singh as if a feather. She spins the copper-skinned beauty in her considerable grasp and sends Amara plummeting to bended knee when the Stunner genuflects. The blonde surely nearly breaks Singh's spine in half from the sound of the collision and Amara. One Bombshell on the knee of another, Singh is flaccid and Cassie shoves her off roughly, Amara ending in a spreadeagle below Hopkins as the crowd roars to its feet.
It's likely that Cassie could have registered at least close to a three of she opted for a cover now, but the Sheffield Stunner does not. Instead, she pushes up from her knee, then scrapes the glistening form of the Bollywood Bombshell off the canvas as well. Again, Hopkins launches the brunette toward the ropes with an Irish whip, but this time, the British Bombshell holds her ground, her only shift in positioning a dip into an expectant crouch as the Amara's back hits the cables. When the ropes propel Singh back toward her, Hopkins would be ready to scoop Amara off her feet, pivot and DRIVE her to the mat with a ring-rocking spinebuster.
SPINEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-RcSahbrjE
Amara hits the ropes and rebounds back from whence she'd come. Apparently thinking she's Lily Burlingame or Domi Daly, Singh tries to leap over the waiting and towering blonde, only proceeding to serve herself up on a platter. Cassie snatches her out of the air on the way up. Securing her, Hopkins pivots and DRIVES Amara's spine into the deck with violent force. The Indian beauty bounces an inch off the canvas and settles into a flaccid spreadeagle. The crowd pops the top off with Cassie on one knee between the limp legs of the Exotic Empress. Moving forward, the Brit collects both limbs behind the knees and rolls up Singh into a matchbook beneath her, the demolished Amara folded atop her shoulders for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOO!
Amara spasms to life and slides a shoulder up, if barely, flopping to her side.
Again, Cassie doesn't argue--her spinebuster had always been a prelude, anyone. Climbing to her feet, the Sheffield Stunner pounds a fist to her bosom--a gesture which leads the fans to believe that the curvy blonde feels she has victory in her grasp. Leaning forward, Hopkins uses Amara's raven tresses to hairhaul the Bollywood Bombshell up to stooped feet. Rather than straighten her opponent up, Cassie instead thrusts the Indian beauty's head between her thighs, clamping down with a tight standing headscissors. And as Cassie begins to hoist Singh toward her shoulders, the FAWNatics rise in anticipation of Hopkins' Union Jacked powerbomb... only Cassie has something else in mind.
As well as her powerbomb had served her in the past, the Sheffield Stunner had spent most of the time following her loss to Erika Eisenberg working not on her current finisher or adding a new one, but instead on refining her previously signature Rule Brittania. If Cassie could get her foe into position, maybe it would mark the beginning of a march toward a new reign for the pride of Sheffield?
RULE BRITTANIA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpbSpHr-WOc
And up the ragdolled Singh is sent, Hopkins tossing her up then over, the blonde's arms rising to lock with those of Singh as the raven-haired grappler somersaults into place. Alas for the Brit's fans, it seems the maneuver could use a bit more seasoning as Amara shakes her way loose on the flyover, Cassie unable to lay down her Rule. Instead, Amara lands on her feet, back to back with the blonde. Reacting out of instinct, Singh reaches over her shoulder for a two-hand grip around Cassie's chin, hoping to find it and yank the back of Hopkins' head and neck across a shoulder, sit out, and turn the momentum of this match in an instant.
Fortunately for Amara, her aim is spot on, her hands slipping deftly underneath Cassie's jaw. Muscle memory guides the Exotic Empress the rest of the way, and much to quickly for Hopkins to react against. Singh drops to her butt, the voluptuous Hopkins brought down with her swiftly and harshly, the back of the blonde's neck SLAMMING down across Amara's shoulder. It might not have been as flashy or as devastating as Cassie's Rule Brittania, but the effect is similar, the British Bombshell sent tumbling to the mat, face down, both hands flying up to check the condition of her spinal column.
Next to her lies Amara, in little shape to take advantage. The official hovers over them in a worried stance. Finally, he starts the count on both women. At seven, the duo seem motivated to movement and the pair slowly rise together, reaching vertical at 'NINE', much to the delight of the crowd, who want anything but a draw. Exotic Indian and brawling Brit turn toward each other and it's Amara who gets the jump, pivoting to throw a backhand blazing chop at the chest of the Stunner, her gurls being very hard to miss.
And miss she does not, Amara's palm meeting Cassie's rack with a resounding 'THWACK!' The British Blonde's eyes snap shut, her lips forming an 'o' as she cries out, her arms briefly folding in an 'X' across her throbbing bosom. But Hopkins brushes away the sting, turning back toward Amara to answer with a forearm that BLASTS into the Bollywood Bombshell's chest, forcing Singh back a half step. Righting herself, though, the Exotic Empress returns fire with another echoing chop... and the Sheffield Stunner replies with another forearm blast! Amara throws another chop... and Cassie lands not one, not two but THREE rapidfire forearm shivers that buckle Singh's stems.
Hopkins takes advantage of Amara's stumble to land a FOURTH forearm shot, this one dropping the brunette to her knees... but that allows the Bollywood Bombshell to SLAM a fist into Cassie's navel, which drops the British blonde to one knee herself. But while downed, Hopkins is not done, and she lands another forearm shot... which Amara answers with one of her own. Back and forth they go, slugging it out, the FAWNatics cheering every shot landed by the Sheffield Stunner and booing the bombs delivered by the Exotic Empress, the fans enraptured... but well aware that the stalemate couldn't last forever.
Finally, the blonde BOOMS a shiver into Amara's chin that nearly sends Singh's thighs folding onto her calves. Amara pinwheels her arms to get herself back in place only for Hopkins to follow with another, the crowd WHOAing as the Indian's arms move like propellors to keep her up again. And just as the third volley is set to finally flatten her, Amara reaches out, her right set of nails flashing and scraping across Cassie's eyes, drawing a loud yelp. After sucking in a large breath, Singh quickly slips her right arm behind the neck of the British Bombshell and slides to the side to give her just enough room to drop thighs on calves on purpose and PLANT Hopkins' skull into the canvas with a kneeling DDT.
Despite her lack of vision, the Sheffield Stunner balls a fist and lets fly, hoping that even blinded, she can judge where Amara's gut resides in close quarters. And maybe she would have been able to, if she hadn't been pulled forward by the Bollywood Bombshell's arm wrapping around her neck. In addition to setting Hopkins up for a DDT, that action changes the trajectory of the blonde's punch, sending it not into yielding belly but somewhat sturdier thigh. Painful, sure, but not enough to keep Singh from throwing her weight back and DRILLING the crown of Cassie's skull into the canvas. The Sheffield Stunner flops over to her back, arms and lays splayed, blinking up at the rafters.
Breathing hard and heavy, Singh pushes up to hands and knees, but passes on the pinning attempt, perhaps knowing she isn't yet in shape to keep the Amazon down. So instead, Singh helps her up, no easy task in itself, though a handful of golden locks helps the effort. Aiming Cassie at the far corner, Singh sends her foe racing to the buckles with a barroom heave and Hopkins spins into the spine-tingling connection. Amara waits a tick, hoping the big girl's stems give out so she can add a little Harem Shake to the party, her subcontinental version of a stinkface.
That tick passes with Cassie remaining... well, semi-upright, arms slung over the top rope and her head drooping toward her own cleavage. Another tick of the clock passes just as uneventfully, so Amara begins thinking of new approaches to take as she starts toward her opponent... at which point, the Sheffield Stunner's gams shimmy, sending the curvaceous blonde plummeting to a seat in the corner.
And with that, Singh's lips form a cruel smile, the Exotic Empress returning to her first course and swiveling away from Hopkins. Draping her arms over the top rope, Amara thrusts her hips backward, forcing her hindquarters against the dazed features of Cassie Hopkins. Singh is able to rest against the buckles, the gyrations of her hips not especially taxing as she seeks to recharge her batteries--but Amara's glutes prove an exceptional drain on the British blonde, depriving her of light and of oxygen. A frantic Hopkins slams her palms into Amara's hips, straining to push the Bollywood Bombshell away, while she still had the strength and consciousness to do so--IF she still possessed the strength to do so, that is...
And she does, but just. Singh lurches forward but it seems almost half of it is Amara deciding to put an end to her Shake. She turns to gaze upon the greasy face of the blonde, delivering some spiteful stomps to her bosom. "I think I might finally get a little attention with this," Singh informs. "And if London can beat Daddy's Lil Bytch. Who knows?" The Indian beauty again 'helps' Cassie to her feet and exchanges positions with the wobbly, sweat-soaked Brit. Amara steps to the bottom rope on either side of the corner and guides a droopy, dizzied Cassie there as well.
Another carefully placed pair of steps puts Singh on the middle strands and a tug of big blonde Englishwoman brings Hopkins to the launch point for Amara to really make some noise in FAWN with her Bollywood Bash on a FAWN icon and 'gateway to Shea?', the X-factor from the middle rope perhaps only a second away.
Left thoroughly stupified by the Harem Shake, it appears that keeping her with some semblance of verticality appears all that Cassie's legs are presently capable of doing--which is more than can be said for Hopkins' arms, which hang limply in front of her as Amara holds her somewhat stooped. Her right arm only just begins to lift upward when the Exotic Empress' feet drive her off the middle rope, the Indian beauty flying past Hopkins, a double helping of hair tugging the Sheffield Stunner around with her as she passes. When Amara begins her descent, her luscious legs part into a wide 'V', providing plenty of room for Cassie to SLAM down in between, face and chest first.
The collision of buxom blonde with the canvas launches Hopkins up to her knees for just a moment--long enough for her glazed-over eyes to meet Singh's before her eyelids flutter shut--before Cassie pitches forward again, one hundred and forty pounds of imported British dead weight left spasming between Amara's gams.
Singh gazes down, perfect pearlies widening. She rolls the gobsmacked Cassie to her back in two quarter-turns of blown-up Brit, Amara proving herself the true Bombshell tonight. With Hopkins in a pitiful spreadeagle and the crowd booing lustily, Amara tugs the back of Cassie's head into her lap and surrounds her noggin in an Indian-style leg scissors, palms pressed to the mat to keep her in place, keeping her foe's shoulders barely off the mat, squeezing her copper-skinned thighs against the temples of the already insensate Hopkins. "I believe you may wish to lift an arm of this pathetic creature and put the win in my column," Amara purrs.
Not needing any further invitation, the official drops to one knee off Cassie's right flank, and gently takes hold of her right wrist. Raising the blonde's arm, he holds it there for the space of a heartbeat before releasing...
It falls ONCE...
As the ref looks to take her wrist again, Amara pushes up against the mat, her face twisting into a slight grimace as she pours a little more (unnecessary) pressure into her scissors...
Cassie's arm falls TWICE...
Singh continues to flex her thighs against Hopkins' skull as the official lifts the blonde's arm once more...
... and Cassie's arm falls THREE TIMES!
"SHE'S OUT!" he shouts, turning and waving toward the timekeeper's table. "IT'S OVER! RING IT!"
Singh lets the assembled wonder if she'll give up her scissors for a few moments before unwrapping her legs. She lets Hopkins spill from in between, pushing the big blonde away with a heaping helping of disdain. The raven-haired grappler rises and raises her arms high, wiping her hands and kicking imaginary dust behind her onto the motionless frame of Hopkins. "It's a brave new world," Singh bellows. "And Alia and I are shaping it into one the likes this pathetic bimbo, her partner and ALL OF YOU are just living in!" With her piece delivered and the wreckage left for janitorial clean up, Amara heads for the exit, victorious.
That’s enough of a clue for several fans to leap to their feet, cheering wildly.
“She stands five feet eight inches tall and tips the scales tonight at one hundred and forty-five pounds. She is one-half of the former FAWN Tag Team champions… Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… CAAASSSSSSIIIEEE HOOOPPPKKKIIINNNSSS!!!!!”
CASSIE HOPKINS:
The house absolutely erupts as the Chemical Brothers' "Galvanize" plays over the sound system. And it only gets louder when Cassie Hopkins enters the arena.
”GALVANIZE”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xu3FTEmN-eg
The buxom blonde Briton stands clad in her standard singles ring togs: a hot pink one piece that defined the term "plunging neckline", starting wide at the shoulders at finally converging juuuust above her navel, at the top of a black diamond pattern. White pads and boots complete the ensemble. Reaching the ring after a long march, and after receiving several supportive slaps on the shoulder and high fives from the fans, she hops onto the apron. Slipping through the ropes and into the ring, she takes a few moments to stretch in her corner, soaking in the applause.
Honestly, to this point Cassie’s tenure in FAWN could be summed up as a Tale of Two Careers. As one half of the British Bombshells, she had formed with her best friend Shea London one of the premiere tag team tandems the company had ever seen. But while the Sensational One was a legend for both her singles AND her tag work, Hopkins had not been able to replicate that tag success in the singles division.
However, as a former Battling Ring Angels champion, she knew she had the skill to do so. It was just a matter of time, with no reason being that a run toward Eisenberg or VanBuren might even begin tonight...
With the powerpacked blonde Amazon set and ready in the ring, Britain’s biggest bombshell ready to blow up, the FAWNatics bubble to a boil when "Exotic” by Amara herself courses through the arena. The crowd lets loose with an earsplitting cascade of boos. The curtains part, revealing a bevy of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. Four of the men carry an ornate bed, where a veiled figure lies. The fans jeer vociferously at the exotic woman on this curious conveyance, even a thousand veils unable to hide the occupant from their disdain, the assembled realizing the despicable creature carried by her consorts.
"EXOTIC:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPhhZg9v9NUWatch With Me
The catcalls and whistles only grow as the slow-moving parade moves toward the squared circle. The copper-skinned beauty writhes on her cushioned platform feeding herself from a cluster of grapes. Below, the men’s gaze never leaves the ring, seemingly oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, raven-haired beauty above.
The PA sputters to life, heralding the arrival of the Bollywood Bombshell.
"And her opponent... standing 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighing in at 134 pounds from Cawnpore , India ...Amara Singh."
AMARA SINGH:
The spectacle halts, having reached its destination. The men lower the ornate bed so it is even with the apron and the Singh gracefully slides from bedside to ringside. The tawny-skinned beauty faces the crowd, proceeding to dance seductively, expertly sliding from her robes and revealing the curvy form beneath.
The striptease draws a round of rabid applause within the jeers. Singh looses her veil, pearly sneer falling upon the crowd. She turns and slides through the ropes, a stunning and dangerous attraction from the subcontinent who, while not making a lot of noise since her return to the organization, surely could make some tonight.
Amara is clad in an ornately designed, gold bra and matching gold and pink harem pants, jewels glittering from bracelets on her wrists, her feet bare. Her raven tresses fall down her back in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. She does one last twirl for the crowd before taking center stage, staring a hole through Shea’s renowned original partner.
The Sheffield Stunner swings her arms back and forth across her chest as she marches out of her corner, working herself loose as the bell sounds. Satisfied she was now sufficiently limber, Cassie's arms now rise as she circles her foe, elbows bent, fingers waving as she seems intent on looking for the opportunity to lock up. Only instead, Hopkins draws to a halt, raising her right hand higher, inviting the Bollywood Bombshell to join her in a Test of Strength.
Amara scoffs at the sight, shaking her head softly. She steps directly for the babyfaced blonde, raising her right hand to link it within the wriggling fingers of Hopkins. Singh laces her digits with those of Cassie then does likewise with the other set. In the blink of an eye, she twists her arms down, forcing Cassie's to lower with her, wrists now overturned, the locked hands in front of each woman's thighs, the vicious beauty from the subcontinent trying to twist her foe's hands off at those misdirected wrist joints.
As the blonde Briton's arms are force southward, the rest of her rises upward, thanks to the jolt of pain that lifts Cassie up onto her tiptoes. Hopkins' eyes snap shut as she draws in a hiss of a gasp, her legs beginning to tremble... but the Sheffield Stunner refuses to sink to her knees. And, after a few moments, Cassie's arms begin to push back against Amara's, hands moving from in front of thighs to flanking each woman's hips. Hopkins then sends a boot toward Singh's left forearm, hoping to break the Bollywood beauty's grasp--and, if she could manage that, follow up with a quick kick to the midsection.
Hopkins' shoe leather and the thrusting long leg behind it frees one of the blonde's arms, Singh grimacing with her grip broken. And the look on those exotic features goes wide-eyed, lips curling into a breathy 'O', when Cassie drives another thumping boot into the bronze midriff of the Bollywood Bombshell, Amara doubling in pain in front of the British version.
Hopkins takes advantage of her opponent's suddenly breathless state to shirk her other hand loose from Amara's grasp. Cassie then stoops and threads an arm through the thighs of Amara, scooping the Indian beauty off her feet and up across the blonde's impressive chest. But she doesn't stay there long, Cassie depositing the Bollywood Bombshell to the mat with a powerful slam. The Sheffield Stunner then turns and charges toward the near ropes, opposite Singh's noggin. Now, it was Hopkins' partner who was known as the high flyer, so it's little surprise when Cassie's offense off the rebound is a bit on the vanilla side, the blonde hoping into the air in order to drop a knee to Amara's forehead.
But vanilla is the favorite flavor in the world and Cassie's direct approach proves a favorite of the fans as she DRIVES the point of her bony joint into cranium of Alia Saad's partner in crime. Singh spasms after the solid impact, her legs flying high into the air. The dusky beauty covers her face with both hands, cursing in Hindi at the Stunner as she rolls to her chest. Pushing to her knees and one palm, the opposite still pressed against her aching braincase, Amara crawls toward the ropes on a tripod of limbs, apparently looking for a trip outside and a reboot of this battle.
And she NEARLY gets there, until a pair of hands snatch her ankles. When Cassie gives those gams a sharp tug backward, Amara is sent tumbling over to her back as she finds herself dragged back toward the center of the ring. "Don't know WHERE you think you were going," Hopkins mutters. "I haven't even broken a sweat yet, and you're trying to run away?"
Instead of waiting for an answer, the British Bombshell attempts to push her Bollywood counterpart over to her stomach, intending to step over and settle into a crouch, adding a little New England to the international mix with a Boston crab.
Amara is forced to her chest, but before Hopkins can rotate into a reverse standing straddle and use the ankles to torture Singh's spinal column, Amara rolls through to her back, pulls in her legs and pistons them forward, breaking the blonde's grip. The Indian grappler kips to her feet, immediately paying for it as the surging Stunner nearly knocks Amara for a full loop with a clothesline straight from South Yorkshire. Snatching up the ankles of the dazed, dark-haired beauty, Cassie flips and rotates into the Crab and settles into the agony-inducing crouch. Amara yelps to life, pulling at her raven locks to spread the pain, but as the arch of her backbone grows, it becomes impossible. The ref asks if Singh wants to give but she spits out at a 'no' and claws at the canvas, wincing as she tries to pull herself and the big blonde toward the cables.
"Still don't know where you think you're goin'," Hopkins grunts, trying to shift her weight a little lower, hoping to dissuade Amara's advance with a little increased pressure. But while Singh howls in anguish, she keeps crawling. It would be a matter of mere moments before she reached the ropes, so the blonde Brit tries to throw her a curve by breaking the hold on her own. Spinning back around to face the Bollywood Bombshell as Singh pushes up to all fours, Cassie bends down and reaches her arms underneath Amara's midsection. Locking her arms together, the Sheffield Stunner starts to muscle her opponent aloft, hoping to wow the crowd with a German suplex of the deadlift variety.
DEADLIFT GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRxLoEnjmC0
The blonde's limbs encircle the copper-skinned midriff of the spiteful Bollywood beauty. No lightweight Amara, the powerhouse of FAWN's most celebrated tag team still manages to lift Amara off the deck from square one. Singh's arms windmill, her face stricken in fear as she's raised higher, higher and finally up and over she's sent, ingloriously THUMPING into the canvas via a perfect German suplex. The back of her skull bangs into the deck and Amara remains folded in a matchbook even with Cassie having released this suplex. Hopkins turns to see Amara's cheeks pointed to the rafters and scrambles to her, pressing down on the back of Amara's knees for the...
ONE...
TWO...
... and Singh flops to the side to save herself from an embarrassing ending of a one-sided British beatdown.
The FAWNatics might groan, but Cassie Hopkins knows better. Anyone who actually belonged in this company should have the wherewithal to be able to withstand that move... even if she had NAILED the deadlift German, in her own humble estimation. Climbing to her feet, the voluptuous blonde again grabs Amara by the ankles, pulling Singh over to her back as she drags her toward the center of the ring once more. Arriving at their destination, Hopkins drops one ankle, then begins to step around the other, preparing to go to work on Amara's gams by locking in a figure four.
But as she floats over her foe, Amara seemingly unable to end this queen-sized version of a London Run, Singh plants bare foot to bum and shoves Cassie off before she can knot the Indian's legs. Hopkins stumbles several steps before regaining her balance and Singh uses the seconds to rise. Still unsteady, Amara nevertheless launches a literal toe kick toward the 'V' of Cassie's lower than low-cut pink gear. Unfortunately, Hopkins has another answer, catching the limb before it can gut her. Cass shakes her head, liftiing Amara's lithe leg higher still. But the the Bollywood beauty launches off her still planted sole and swings her opposite leg high and hard toward Cassie's temple, hoping to plant it into the Brit's braincase with an enziguri kick.
One would think a bare foot would not make quite the same impact as a booted one, but it's hard to saying that not only seeing the effect Amara's kick has on her powerful blonde foe, but also simply HEARING the "THWACK!' of foot striking temple. Almost instantly, Cassie's fingers uncoil from around Singh's ankle, the British beauty's arms falling to her side as her head whips in the direction of the blow. The rest of Hopkins soon follows suit, the Sheffield Stunner pitching forward and crashing to her chest. As effective as the enziguri had been, though, it's NOT a knockout punch... err, kick... considering a groaning Cassie begins to push her way up to all fours. Alas, it proves a false start, her limbs giving way and sending her spilling to the deck a second time.
With Hopkins flat to the deck, Amara quickly moves to a standing forward-facing straddle and slips her arms under those of the Brit. She tugs Cassie back to hands and knees, mounting her English filly, resting with a now seated straddle of Cassie's midriff. The Indian beauty sends her arms circling in front of the babyfaced blonde, hoping to connect them in front of Hopkins' chin to test Cassie's neck and back with a crossface grip, apparently setting a goal of wearing down the blonde Amazon and giving her a long ride through Bollywood to show from where the real Bombshells come.
It's truly amazing, and a testament to how dangerous the Bollywood Bombshell is, that Amara is able to take a match where she had, frankly, been dominated to start, and turn things toward humiliating her opponent--and doing so with such seeming effortlessness. The pressure on Cassie's neck, not to mention a pair of heels digging into the soft flesh just above her hips, compel the Sheffield Stunner to start crawling forward, pretty much in spite of herself. With each stride from all fours, Hopkins' head tries to twist away from Singh's grasp, the former tag champ struggling to buck the Asian beauty out of her saddle, the FAWNatics roughly evenly split between tried to encourage Cassie and reigning scorn down on Amara.
But naturally, this is more than an attempt to bring shame to Hopkins. With each foot the British Bombshell traverses, with each attempt to knock Singh off balance, and with each second spent supporting Amara's one hundred and thirty four pounds in addition to her own, Cassie's arms and legs grow weaker. And as the voluptuous blonde is steered toward her second lap around the ring by the crossface, it would only be a matter of time before they failed her--so long as Amara remained where she was.
But Singh grows impatient, Hopkins showing more sturdiness than Amara wants to admit. Breaking her grip, she clatters forearms in from each side, thwapping right-left-right-left. Still. Cassie won't be flattened to the deck. Indeed, with her bridle removed, the blonde Amazon is able to shake Amara off, Singh quickly rolling up to her feet as Cassie struggles to get there. The Indian meets Hopkins as she rises, dipping her right arm between the tanned and seemingly endless stems of Hopkins. She scoops Cassie up onto her right shoulder, making a show of lifting the bigger woman and striding in a shortened circle around the ring before getting ready to plow Hopkins back into the thinly-covered plywood with a running powerslam.
As stubborn as the Sheffield Stunner had proven, however, her time spent serving as Amara's personal camel has taken a toll. As Singh charges across the ring, Cassie's legs kick at the air, but the writhing beauty can neither throw off Singh's balance or figure a way out of the back door. Instead, the curvy blonde is sent plummeting to the canvas with authority, the Bollywood Bombshell not trailing her opponent much for strength, even in the slight difference in their size. Hopkins lets out a groan as her back meets the mat, her spine forced to arch... which effectively pushes her chest up into Amara's frame as her foe CRASHING down on top of her, effectively using the canvas to make the British blonde a Cassie sandwich. The mewling Hopkins' bosom strains against her top, the pride of Sheffield momentarily rendered all but breathless underneath Amara Singh.
The Bollywood Bombshell covers in a crossbody for...
ONE...
TWO...
... before Cassie shoves Singh off, and rather forcefully, the raven-haired grappler ending on her haunches, a look of frustrated surprise as she gazes down at Hopkins. A FAWN tag legend as glittering as Shea London is not to be trifled with, even in singles comp, and Amara seems to realize as she's quick to her feet and to get on the move. Singh hits the ropes and surges toward the splayed blonde, leaping into a forearm smash to Cassie's chest when the Brit starts to rise. Her foe replanted to the deck, Amara is up and off for another rebound off the cables, and this time delivers a piercing elbow smash to the cleft of Cassie's considerable bosom. As Hopkins writhes, Amara is up again, this time taking a 180 out of the opposite strands and sprinting to the spreadeagled Stunner, leaping high into the air, big copper-skinned legs extended over the throat and chest of the Englishwoman as Singh drops from the sky.
Some would call Cassie's chest an impossible to miss target... and, sure enough, Amara doesn't. Her well-shaped stem SLAMS down into yielding breast tissue, momentarily pressing those mammaries a little more flat against her sternum. That takes care of Hopkins' lungs, forcing the blonde to gasp out just about all of the oxygen her lungs had been able to reclaim following the powerslam and those two well-placed elbows. Singh's SECOND leg, meanwhile, deals a vicious setback to the Sheffield Stunner's efforts to draw breath back in, Cassie's windpipe collapsed for an instant by the weight and the force of Amara's thigh. The Bollywood Bombshell's leg drops might not have been sensational, but as Hopkins rolls over to her hip, wide eyed and reaching a hand to her throat, its effectiveness is undeniable.
Singh eschews the pinning attempt. Instead, she rises to one knee and grinds the opposite into Cassie's forehead, apparently out of nothing more than spite. With Hopkins, a former BRA wrestler perhaps reminding Amara relatively unsuccessful sister, Parminder, who also plied her trade in that organization, Singh seems to take special delight in causing the blonde pain. Finally, she relents and draws Cassie to her feet. The Stunner is slack but manages to keep her feet beneath her, which might not be a good thing when Amara slinks in behind the wobbly blonde. Singh slips her right arm around Cassie's throat with a backhand grip and slowly starts to bend the babyfaced beauty into a perilous bridge, hoping to catch the former FAWN Co-Wrestler of the Year in a dragon sleeper.
By the time enough awareness returns to Hopkins to put up a defense, it's too late, as Amara's fingers lace together behind the British blonde's back. In many ways, the dragon sleeper is a more insidious hold than the traditional variety. The basic sleeper, after all, merely cuts off the flow of blood and oxygen to the brain. It's devastating, sure, but it's not exactly painful--certainly not AS painful as having your spine forced back at a most unnatural angle, Cassie's size advantage for the moment working against her. Then, add onto that anguish the hold driving you ever closer to unconsciousness, and it became a most perilous position to be in. The Sheffield Stunner's arms flail out in front of her, fingers spread wide and curled, the Brit desperately hoping to be able to find one of the ropes with her mits--but unable to truly guide those efforts by sight, her present view confined mostly to the overhead lights and Amara's arm--another wickedly efficient aspect of this maneuver. Hopkins can only hope luck is on her side, especially as the first quaking sensations begin to radiate up and down her luscious legs...
The questing hand finds purchase, Cassie proving to be both lucky and good as her fingers tickle the ropes. She isn't even able to grab on tightly, but a friendly and quick ref's decision gives the blonde the break for which she's praying. A frustrated Amara scoffs at the striped-shirt and pays Hopkins for her anger at the official. The Indian beauty releases her sleeper grip but swings the arm up and over Cassie's arched frame, sending the shiver down into Cassie's chest, driving the Bombshell to her backside. Hopkins winces while putting a white-knuckle wrap around the bottom rope. Amara huffs off in a march to the opposite side of the ring. But making it there, she turns on a drahma and sprints at Cassie, lifting a knee as she closes to drive the point into Cassie's chin.
But as Singh starts to send her knee flying toward what might have very well been a knock out impact with Cassie's jaw, the Sheffield Stunner throws herself down to the left, rolling clear charging Bollywood Bombshell. The ropes halt Amara's momentum, the impact with the taut, rubber coated steel stinging, but not doing much damage to the Indian beauty--but Singh DOES need a moment to work her leg out of the ropes. And that moment's hesitation as the brunette draws away from the strands provides the risen Hopkins the opening she needs. As Amara backs toward her, before Singh can turn around, Cassie reaches her arms around her opponent, her hands moving to lock together in front of Amara's navel and secure a bearhug from behind.
The arms of the battling Brit wrap tightly, drawing a breathy gasp from the subcontinent grappler. Energized, Cassie tightens her noose around the coppery midriff of the Bollywood battler. With a loud grunt, she manages to get Amara's boots off the canvas, immediately doubling the intensity of the embrace. Singh tries to reach over her shoulders to find some piece of the Englishwoman to attack, but another pulse widens the dark exotic eyes of the Indian, Singh's chest working like a bellows to get some air in, but Hopkins' patented power not allowing it as the noise from the crowd grows in intensity.
Having quelled the rebellion for the time being, Cassie now acts to prevent an escape by retreating toward mid-ring--all the while her pythons work to crush the fight out of the Bollywood Bombshell. At the center of the ring, the Sheffield Stunner breaks her grasp and instead moves to take Amara's wrist, lining the exotic beauty up with the corner before her, off her left shoulder. Setting her feet, Hopkins launches Singh toward the corner with a mighty whip, the Bollywood Bombshell only just managing to turn her back into the buckles before striking home. And as Amara's arms spill over the top rope, Cassie charges toward her, arm extended for a wicked running clothesline--which she had every intention of transitioning into a beautiful bulldog out of the corner.
CORNER CLOTHESLINE & BULLDOG:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFXpKuSVSsQ
Hopkins' right arm crashes like lead across the chest of the Indian beauty, the clothesline clearly rocking the senses and body of the Bollywood battler. Alia Saad's exotic teammate staggers out of the corner drunkenly, her footfalls weaving her in serpentine fashion toward the middle of the ring. But before she can get there, a racing Hopkins closes from behind. Grabbing Amara's head as she sprints by, Cassie quickly launches, sitting out as she THUMPS against the mat on her well-padded backside while Singh is treated to a canvas sandwich, her face and chest colliding with the deck in emphatic fashion.
Hopkins doesn't waste any time turning and shoveling the Bollywood Bombshell over to her back. Draping herself across Amara's chest, Cassie hooks the outside leg and scores the...
ONE...
TWO...
... but NO to the THREE, Singh kicking out and instinctively rolling to her hip. The Sheffield Stunner doesn't bother arguing with the ref about the speed of his count, nor does she allow Amara to KEEP rolling. Instead, the British blonde's legs begin to slip around Singh's noggin, Cassie hoping to trap her opponent in a tight headscissors and grind the Bollywood Bombshell down just a little more.
Not entirely sure where she is, Amara saves herself out of instinct and little more. She seems unaware as Cassie maneuvers her Amazonian frame in the six of the Indian. The Brit's thighs close around beautiful coppery cheeks and temples, snapping shut before Singh can move to safety. And when the blonde's powerful stems lock at the ankles and she sends a pulse through her legs, a loud and worried groan emerges from amidst the scissors. Amara is able to slide up to a seat, but can't seem to manage more as the Sheffield Stunner continues to pour pressure upon her foe's braincase. The little of Singh's face that is in view is turning rosy, Cassie absently playing with a handful of raven locks before giving them a healthy tug that draws a yelp from the Empress. Streeetching her legs in front of her, the Bollywood Bombshell knows the ropes might be her only way out of this mess.
And fortunately for Amara, her legs are very nearly as long as her opponent's, which allows the Bollywood Bombshell to hook both ankles around the bottom rope. "Alright, Cass," the official orders, "break it."
Sighing ever so slightly in disgust, the Sheffield Stunner complies, climbing to her feet before pulling Singh up as well with a handful of hair. Bodying into the Bollywood Bombshell, Cassie takes a wrist and sends Singh on her way with an Irish whip, marching out to mid-ring to meet her prey on the rebound. And as Amara hurtles toward her, Hopkins readies herself to scoop her foe up and deliver a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker.
TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fshq_oSLAsI
Still feeling a bit woozy from the results of the head scissors, Amara wobbles in her forced sprint to the opposite ropes. The Indian grappler rebounds toward the stationed Cassie. Hopkins leaves no room to pass and Singh is collected in the powerful arms of the tag legend. The FAWN veteran seems to lift Singh as if a feather. She spins the copper-skinned beauty in her considerable grasp and sends Amara plummeting to bended knee when the Stunner genuflects. The blonde surely nearly breaks Singh's spine in half from the sound of the collision and Amara. One Bombshell on the knee of another, Singh is flaccid and Cassie shoves her off roughly, Amara ending in a spreadeagle below Hopkins as the crowd roars to its feet.
It's likely that Cassie could have registered at least close to a three of she opted for a cover now, but the Sheffield Stunner does not. Instead, she pushes up from her knee, then scrapes the glistening form of the Bollywood Bombshell off the canvas as well. Again, Hopkins launches the brunette toward the ropes with an Irish whip, but this time, the British Bombshell holds her ground, her only shift in positioning a dip into an expectant crouch as the Amara's back hits the cables. When the ropes propel Singh back toward her, Hopkins would be ready to scoop Amara off her feet, pivot and DRIVE her to the mat with a ring-rocking spinebuster.
SPINEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0-RcSahbrjE
Amara hits the ropes and rebounds back from whence she'd come. Apparently thinking she's Lily Burlingame or Domi Daly, Singh tries to leap over the waiting and towering blonde, only proceeding to serve herself up on a platter. Cassie snatches her out of the air on the way up. Securing her, Hopkins pivots and DRIVES Amara's spine into the deck with violent force. The Indian beauty bounces an inch off the canvas and settles into a flaccid spreadeagle. The crowd pops the top off with Cassie on one knee between the limp legs of the Exotic Empress. Moving forward, the Brit collects both limbs behind the knees and rolls up Singh into a matchbook beneath her, the demolished Amara folded atop her shoulders for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOO!
Amara spasms to life and slides a shoulder up, if barely, flopping to her side.
Again, Cassie doesn't argue--her spinebuster had always been a prelude, anyone. Climbing to her feet, the Sheffield Stunner pounds a fist to her bosom--a gesture which leads the fans to believe that the curvy blonde feels she has victory in her grasp. Leaning forward, Hopkins uses Amara's raven tresses to hairhaul the Bollywood Bombshell up to stooped feet. Rather than straighten her opponent up, Cassie instead thrusts the Indian beauty's head between her thighs, clamping down with a tight standing headscissors. And as Cassie begins to hoist Singh toward her shoulders, the FAWNatics rise in anticipation of Hopkins' Union Jacked powerbomb... only Cassie has something else in mind.
As well as her powerbomb had served her in the past, the Sheffield Stunner had spent most of the time following her loss to Erika Eisenberg working not on her current finisher or adding a new one, but instead on refining her previously signature Rule Brittania. If Cassie could get her foe into position, maybe it would mark the beginning of a march toward a new reign for the pride of Sheffield?
RULE BRITTANIA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpbSpHr-WOc
And up the ragdolled Singh is sent, Hopkins tossing her up then over, the blonde's arms rising to lock with those of Singh as the raven-haired grappler somersaults into place. Alas for the Brit's fans, it seems the maneuver could use a bit more seasoning as Amara shakes her way loose on the flyover, Cassie unable to lay down her Rule. Instead, Amara lands on her feet, back to back with the blonde. Reacting out of instinct, Singh reaches over her shoulder for a two-hand grip around Cassie's chin, hoping to find it and yank the back of Hopkins' head and neck across a shoulder, sit out, and turn the momentum of this match in an instant.
Fortunately for Amara, her aim is spot on, her hands slipping deftly underneath Cassie's jaw. Muscle memory guides the Exotic Empress the rest of the way, and much to quickly for Hopkins to react against. Singh drops to her butt, the voluptuous Hopkins brought down with her swiftly and harshly, the back of the blonde's neck SLAMMING down across Amara's shoulder. It might not have been as flashy or as devastating as Cassie's Rule Brittania, but the effect is similar, the British Bombshell sent tumbling to the mat, face down, both hands flying up to check the condition of her spinal column.
Next to her lies Amara, in little shape to take advantage. The official hovers over them in a worried stance. Finally, he starts the count on both women. At seven, the duo seem motivated to movement and the pair slowly rise together, reaching vertical at 'NINE', much to the delight of the crowd, who want anything but a draw. Exotic Indian and brawling Brit turn toward each other and it's Amara who gets the jump, pivoting to throw a backhand blazing chop at the chest of the Stunner, her gurls being very hard to miss.
And miss she does not, Amara's palm meeting Cassie's rack with a resounding 'THWACK!' The British Blonde's eyes snap shut, her lips forming an 'o' as she cries out, her arms briefly folding in an 'X' across her throbbing bosom. But Hopkins brushes away the sting, turning back toward Amara to answer with a forearm that BLASTS into the Bollywood Bombshell's chest, forcing Singh back a half step. Righting herself, though, the Exotic Empress returns fire with another echoing chop... and the Sheffield Stunner replies with another forearm blast! Amara throws another chop... and Cassie lands not one, not two but THREE rapidfire forearm shivers that buckle Singh's stems.
Hopkins takes advantage of Amara's stumble to land a FOURTH forearm shot, this one dropping the brunette to her knees... but that allows the Bollywood Bombshell to SLAM a fist into Cassie's navel, which drops the British blonde to one knee herself. But while downed, Hopkins is not done, and she lands another forearm shot... which Amara answers with one of her own. Back and forth they go, slugging it out, the FAWNatics cheering every shot landed by the Sheffield Stunner and booing the bombs delivered by the Exotic Empress, the fans enraptured... but well aware that the stalemate couldn't last forever.
Finally, the blonde BOOMS a shiver into Amara's chin that nearly sends Singh's thighs folding onto her calves. Amara pinwheels her arms to get herself back in place only for Hopkins to follow with another, the crowd WHOAing as the Indian's arms move like propellors to keep her up again. And just as the third volley is set to finally flatten her, Amara reaches out, her right set of nails flashing and scraping across Cassie's eyes, drawing a loud yelp. After sucking in a large breath, Singh quickly slips her right arm behind the neck of the British Bombshell and slides to the side to give her just enough room to drop thighs on calves on purpose and PLANT Hopkins' skull into the canvas with a kneeling DDT.
Despite her lack of vision, the Sheffield Stunner balls a fist and lets fly, hoping that even blinded, she can judge where Amara's gut resides in close quarters. And maybe she would have been able to, if she hadn't been pulled forward by the Bollywood Bombshell's arm wrapping around her neck. In addition to setting Hopkins up for a DDT, that action changes the trajectory of the blonde's punch, sending it not into yielding belly but somewhat sturdier thigh. Painful, sure, but not enough to keep Singh from throwing her weight back and DRILLING the crown of Cassie's skull into the canvas. The Sheffield Stunner flops over to her back, arms and lays splayed, blinking up at the rafters.
Breathing hard and heavy, Singh pushes up to hands and knees, but passes on the pinning attempt, perhaps knowing she isn't yet in shape to keep the Amazon down. So instead, Singh helps her up, no easy task in itself, though a handful of golden locks helps the effort. Aiming Cassie at the far corner, Singh sends her foe racing to the buckles with a barroom heave and Hopkins spins into the spine-tingling connection. Amara waits a tick, hoping the big girl's stems give out so she can add a little Harem Shake to the party, her subcontinental version of a stinkface.
That tick passes with Cassie remaining... well, semi-upright, arms slung over the top rope and her head drooping toward her own cleavage. Another tick of the clock passes just as uneventfully, so Amara begins thinking of new approaches to take as she starts toward her opponent... at which point, the Sheffield Stunner's gams shimmy, sending the curvaceous blonde plummeting to a seat in the corner.
And with that, Singh's lips form a cruel smile, the Exotic Empress returning to her first course and swiveling away from Hopkins. Draping her arms over the top rope, Amara thrusts her hips backward, forcing her hindquarters against the dazed features of Cassie Hopkins. Singh is able to rest against the buckles, the gyrations of her hips not especially taxing as she seeks to recharge her batteries--but Amara's glutes prove an exceptional drain on the British blonde, depriving her of light and of oxygen. A frantic Hopkins slams her palms into Amara's hips, straining to push the Bollywood Bombshell away, while she still had the strength and consciousness to do so--IF she still possessed the strength to do so, that is...
And she does, but just. Singh lurches forward but it seems almost half of it is Amara deciding to put an end to her Shake. She turns to gaze upon the greasy face of the blonde, delivering some spiteful stomps to her bosom. "I think I might finally get a little attention with this," Singh informs. "And if London can beat Daddy's Lil Bytch. Who knows?" The Indian beauty again 'helps' Cassie to her feet and exchanges positions with the wobbly, sweat-soaked Brit. Amara steps to the bottom rope on either side of the corner and guides a droopy, dizzied Cassie there as well.
Another carefully placed pair of steps puts Singh on the middle strands and a tug of big blonde Englishwoman brings Hopkins to the launch point for Amara to really make some noise in FAWN with her Bollywood Bash on a FAWN icon and 'gateway to Shea?', the X-factor from the middle rope perhaps only a second away.
Left thoroughly stupified by the Harem Shake, it appears that keeping her with some semblance of verticality appears all that Cassie's legs are presently capable of doing--which is more than can be said for Hopkins' arms, which hang limply in front of her as Amara holds her somewhat stooped. Her right arm only just begins to lift upward when the Exotic Empress' feet drive her off the middle rope, the Indian beauty flying past Hopkins, a double helping of hair tugging the Sheffield Stunner around with her as she passes. When Amara begins her descent, her luscious legs part into a wide 'V', providing plenty of room for Cassie to SLAM down in between, face and chest first.
The collision of buxom blonde with the canvas launches Hopkins up to her knees for just a moment--long enough for her glazed-over eyes to meet Singh's before her eyelids flutter shut--before Cassie pitches forward again, one hundred and forty pounds of imported British dead weight left spasming between Amara's gams.
Singh gazes down, perfect pearlies widening. She rolls the gobsmacked Cassie to her back in two quarter-turns of blown-up Brit, Amara proving herself the true Bombshell tonight. With Hopkins in a pitiful spreadeagle and the crowd booing lustily, Amara tugs the back of Cassie's head into her lap and surrounds her noggin in an Indian-style leg scissors, palms pressed to the mat to keep her in place, keeping her foe's shoulders barely off the mat, squeezing her copper-skinned thighs against the temples of the already insensate Hopkins. "I believe you may wish to lift an arm of this pathetic creature and put the win in my column," Amara purrs.
Not needing any further invitation, the official drops to one knee off Cassie's right flank, and gently takes hold of her right wrist. Raising the blonde's arm, he holds it there for the space of a heartbeat before releasing...
It falls ONCE...
As the ref looks to take her wrist again, Amara pushes up against the mat, her face twisting into a slight grimace as she pours a little more (unnecessary) pressure into her scissors...
Cassie's arm falls TWICE...
Singh continues to flex her thighs against Hopkins' skull as the official lifts the blonde's arm once more...
... and Cassie's arm falls THREE TIMES!
"SHE'S OUT!" he shouts, turning and waving toward the timekeeper's table. "IT'S OVER! RING IT!"
Singh lets the assembled wonder if she'll give up her scissors for a few moments before unwrapping her legs. She lets Hopkins spill from in between, pushing the big blonde away with a heaping helping of disdain. The raven-haired grappler rises and raises her arms high, wiping her hands and kicking imaginary dust behind her onto the motionless frame of Hopkins. "It's a brave new world," Singh bellows. "And Alia and I are shaping it into one the likes this pathetic bimbo, her partner and ALL OF YOU are just living in!" With her piece delivered and the wreckage left for janitorial clean up, Amara heads for the exit, victorious.