Post by alyadmirer on Apr 7, 2017 3:23:00 GMT
Golden State Colosseum, Sacramento, California…
Honey Harris let the curtain fall back into place, allowing herself a deep breath as she nervously swung her arms and rolls her shoulders.
It’s not that she was new to the business—she’d been doing this for close to 10 years. She WAS new to working in the United States, this being her first trip to work across the Atlantic after making a name for herself and collecting several title belts across Europe. To be perfectly honest, she would have been happy spending the rest of career claiming victories in places like London, Paris, Hamburg or Madrid. But when FAWN comes calling…
It wasn’t just that FAWN had become the biggest, most successful exclusively women’s wrestling company in the world. But for any British woman of her generation working in this business, FAWN resided in a very special corner of her heart. The opportunity to earn a contract to work in the company that boasted the greatest woman wrestler in her country’s history (in Honey’s oh so humble opinion) as its first champion… the company where Sammie Sinclair had entrenched herself as one of the most beloved stars in the world…
Honey had done some of her training in Rick Sinclair’s school, for Pete’s sake.
She took another deep breath, just before the announcer’s voice drifted to her ears. “Ladies and gentlemen…”
Almost inaudibly, Harris sighed to herself, “Hooo-leeee shiiiizz…”
***
Meanwhile, the announcer continues. “… the following ‘Proving Ground’ contest is scheduled for one fall, with a 15 minute time limit. The winner of this match will secure for herself a FAWN contract…”
That announcement sparks something of an excited murmur throughout the Sacramento audience. While the company had been sure to include enough established stars on this card to draw business, it definitely appears the crowd is looking forward to getting the first look at some new blood…
… or would that be fresh meat?
“Introducing first,” says the announcer, “hailing from Reading, Berkshire in the United Kingdom. She stands five feet five inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty-three pounds. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to… HOOONNNEEEYYY HAAARRRRRRIIISSS!!!!!”
HONEY HARRIS:
“BEST YOU EVER”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lN_Lxfeed9A
As the first chords of Michelle Branch’s “Best You Ever” begin to pulse over the sound system, Honey grabs the edges of the curtain on both sides and BURSTS through the fabric, into the open. The young, blonde British spitfire skips to a halt on one foot, her left knee raised as she pumps her right fist to the crowd. “C’MON, LET’S GO!!!!!” Harris bellows, a bright smile gracing her youthful features—and while the crowd may not know her particularly well yet, their first instinct tells them that this is a woman worth cheering for.
Honey makes her way toward the ring at a brisk pace, but not going so fast that she bypasses slapping any offered hand or occasionally pausing for an embrace. The closer she gets to the ring, the louder it seems that the crowd cheers, as they gain more of an opportunity to take her in. The FAWN hopeful’s well-shaped legs are bared, a hint of gold bikini style bottoms (with black trim) just visible beneath the hem a gold tee. Upon the front read the words “SWEET AS” in black type, directly above an illustration of a pot of honey. On the back, below the words “BUT WITH A” is a cartoon bee abdomen—complete with stinger. At ringside, one particular fan captures Honey’s attention: a girl in her early teens, proudly sporting a Shea London t-shirt. “Nice shirt,” Harris grins when she reaches that suddenly blushing spectator. “Shea fan, are we?”
“You have NOOOOO idea,” the girl replies. “I wanna BE her…”
“Know the feeling,” Honey responds with a small nod, then removes her tee to reveal a gold with black trim top to match her bottoms. “Here’s hoping we both get our wish, eh?” the blonde Brit says, handing her shirt to the newly minted Honey Harris fan before turning and springing onto the apron. After wiping her boots, Harris slips through the ropes and mounts the second rope, tapping her fist to her heart twice before blowing a kiss to the full house.
***
Only moments after Honey had entered the arena, her opponent for the evening had taken the British lass’ place behind the curtains, where she had watched Harris make her entrance with a sense of smug satisfaction.
It was almost TOO perfect, Kira Koslova mused…
For the last two years, the lightweight divisions of Europe had effectively been dominated by these two women—and yet, somehow, their paths had yet to cross. Either Koslova would arrive in a company mere weeks or months after Honey had departed, or vice versa. The number of European promoters who would sell their firstborn for the right to book a match between these two was probably close to triple digits. And yet, the Dream Match from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean would instead take place in sunny California, the heart of Western capitalist decadence and decay.
Which would make Kira’s crushing of that simpering blonde’s spirit all the more delicious.
***
“And her opponent,” the announcer continues, “hailing from Saint Petersburg, Russia… She stands five feet five inches tall, and weighs in tonight at one hundred and twenty-two pounds… Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for… KIIIRRRAAA KOOOSSSLLLOOOVVVAAA!!!!!”
KIRA KOSLOVA:
”THE SKY OF SLAVS”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsbT5N_V97c
The unfamiliar strains of Alisa’s “The Sky of Slavs” immediately spawns a round of jeers from the audience, even if 99.463% of them do not even approach fluency in Russian or comprehend their meaning. The jeers only grow louder when Kira Koslova emerges onto the ramp, shall we say significantly overdressed for combat in a FAWN wrestling ring: a full length grey fur coat, which only left visible her hands and a tiny sliver of shin above her gold wrestling boots. Meanwhile, a white wool hat rests atop crimson locks. At first, the Russian not-so-cold warrior remains stationed at the top of the stage, arms folded across her chest, a withering glare directed toward the ring, and the woman inside it…
Finally, Kira starts toward the ring, neither noticing the rabble nor reacting to the insults and invective directed her way. Only once she reaches the ring do her eyes drift away from Honey, the blonde lightweight apparently no longer worthy of her focus or attention as she moves to claim her corner. Once there, Koslova allows her coat to fall from her shoulders, the fur garment puddling at her feet to reveal the Russian beauty In a fairly simple red one piece. Though it does an excellent job of flattering the redhead’s form, there’s really only one unusual aspect of the suit—namely, a cut out pattern displaying a portion of Kira’s bronzed, toned abdomen, the cutout (perhaps unsurprisingly) in the form of the hammer and sickle.
The official calls both competitors to mid-ring, and takes one final opportunity to go over the stakes of the contest, the regulations it would be fought under and his expectations for the match. Harris listens intently, occasionally nodding along, but Kira hardly seems to register his words. The referee orders the two ladies back to their corners, but before complying, Honey offers her hand to the redhead. “May the best woman…?” she asks, waiting for a response to the invitation.
Kira drops her gaze to that open hand, but never makes any move to reciprocate the gesture. Her only response to the offer comes in the form of a muttered word:
“Suka.”
With that, Koslova turns and retreats to her corner. Honey didn’t need to know Russian to understand that she had just been insulted. But she shrugs It off as she heads back to her corner. Koslova didn’t have to like her, the blonde thought, but by the end of the night, the Russian WOULD respect her.
DING! DING! DING!
Harris and Koslova shoot out of their respective corners. While neither woman moves with particularly different speed or urgency than the other, the blonde’s movements still seem more energized than her opponent’s more measured advance. Meeting in the center of the ring, Honey and Kira lock up, jostling for control...
… until Honey manages to trap Kira in a tight hammerlock, wrenching the redhead’s arm up against her back. “Hey, look at that,” Honey grins, her voice just a little higher than a whisper against Koslova’s ear. “Round one to me, I’d say, wouldn’t yoooooooooohhhhhh…”
Round one MAY have gone to the blonde Brit, but it proves a short round before Kira manages to extricate herself from the hammerlock. With Honey still trying to figure out how her opponent had escaped, Kira wraps an arm around Harris’ neck, ensnaring Honey in a tight side headlock. “Typical western bludnitsa,” the redhead hisses. “All talk and bluster. Your lungs are mighty. But your spine… nonexistent.”
“We’ll… just… see… about that…” Harris grunts, her legs churning to force her foe back toward the ropes. Once Kira hits the cables, Honey uses the boost from those rubber coated steel bands to push herself clear of the headlock, and to launch Koslova racing toward the far ropes. Marching out to mid-ring, the British beauty ducks down, ready to launch the redheaded Russian toward the rafters with a backdrop…
… but perhaps the blonde tips her hand a little too soon. Planting her hands against Honey’s back, Kira leapfrogs the intended backdrop and carries on toward the ropes. The crowd isn’t discouraged for long, however, as Honey demonstrates an answer of her own when Koslova rebounds toward her, dropping to the canvas and using a drop toe hold to send the Russian plummeting to the deck. Kira barely manages to get her hands in a position to break some of the fall, but that provides Harris with the opening she needs to shuffle up alongside and secure her own side headlock on the groaning Kira.
“Want to keep running your mouth?” Honey asks, giving Kira’s noggin a rough crank. “Want me to keep proving you wrong?”
Koslova doesn’t bother with an answer, instead focusing her effort and pushing herself up off the canvas—and, in turn, forcing Honey back up to her feet. Not that that did anything in itself to free the redhead from the side headlock, but it did at least allow Kira to wrap her arms around the Briton’s waist. “As empty as your head is,” Koslova mutters, “this may not hurt. But…” With that, the Russian redhead pops her hips and propels Harris off her feet, launching the blonde airborne as Kira straightens up with an improvised belly to back suplex…
… only the recipient of the maneuver happens to be one of the more graceful talents in the game today. And instead of being dropped on her head and shoulders, Honey manages to rotate her frame enough to stick the landing. With Koslova none the wiser to her opponent’s escape, Kira’s eyes grow wide as Harris wraps her arms around the redhead’s waist and drives her toward the ropes. It’s not hard for Koslova to surmise what her foe has in mind, and her arms start to rise to grab hold of the top rope. But Honey rocks backward a little quicker than the Russian thought her capable, and she is rolled to her shoulders. The referee starts to slide into position to administer the count…
… but Harris has something in mind, other than the traditional O’Connor Roll. Instead of settling into place atop Kira’s thighs, she rises to her feet, hauling the Russian up as well. Breaking her embrace on Koslova’s midsection, the Brit’s arms rise upward, slipping underneath Kira’s as she secures a full nelson. In the next instant, Honey pops her hips and bridges backward, DRIVING Koslova’s head and shoulders into the canvas with a dragon suplex that connects with enough force to draw an impressed gasp from the crowd.
O’CONNOR ROLL DRAGON SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QxLePoYGao
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Koslova bucks loose.
The redheaded Russian scrambles back to her feet quickly… but not quickly enough, Honey meeting her with a dropkick that catches Kira flush in the chest. Again, the combatants race back to verticality, and again Harris wins the race, launching a second dropkick which this time catches Kira just under the chin. There’s no race back this time, the Brit making it there uncontested and yanking Koslova up off the deck. Snatching a wrist, Honey sets her feet and whips the redhead toward the ropes, leaping into the air to launch a THIRD dropkick…
… and it would have put Kira flat on her back, had she not latched her arms around the top rope. Instead, denied her intended victim’s body to absorb some of the force of the dropkick, Honey crashes to the mat hard, the back of head smacking against the harsh canvas. The crowd groans in disappointment for their newfound heroine’s misfortune, but those groans quickly transition to boos as, instead of pressing her advantage, Koslova remains content to rest against the cables and watch as Honey struggles to collect her marbles and rise up…
… and as Harris starts to straighten, Kira EXPLODES off the ropes, charging her foe. Zeroing in, the redhead executes a swift 360-degree spin as she raises her right arm, before damn near decapitating the blonde British upstart with a MASSIVE discus lariat.
DISCUS LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JAptFiLAVE
The speed with which Kira Koslova returns to her feet is staggering, but again, there appears surprisingly little urgency to her movement despite that speed. It’s just swift and efficient, no wasted motion as she pulls the dazed Honey up via a handful of hair. As the woozy Brit struggles for clarity, Kira underhooks her arms. And with that same level of brutal efficiency, the redheaded assassin rips Harris off her feet and DRIVES the blonde’s back into the canvas with a butterfly suplex.
BUTTERFLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Ajjp5D63YQ
The impact launches a howling Honey up to a seat, but again, the reeling blonde is given little time to recover. Another helping of hair allows Koslova to tug Harris up, after which the Russian turns toward the near corner and laces an arm around her neck. Kira sprints toward the corner, dragging Honey along for the ride. Taking flight, Koslova lands in a seated position on the middle rope, but Honey’s touchdown is far less comfy, her face SLAMMING into the middle buckle from Kira’s bulldog.
BULLDOG INTO TURNBUCKLE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhIIQ65-QFU
Only now does the redhead appear content to pause, Kira remaining perched on the second rope, basking in the jeers as Harris slumps to her hip and sags against the cables. Sliding out to the apron, Koslova presses a boot against Honey’s left shoulder, forcing the blonde down until her shoulderblades rest atop the bottom rope. Then, holding the top rope for balance, the Russian steps up, first the sole of her left boot and then the right coming to reside on Honey’s face! The Brit’s arms and legs thrash and flail as she cries out, Kira bouncing her weight atop Harris’ mug, the boos of the audience growing even louder as the official orders her off.
Koslova replies with a simple, “Nyet.”
ROPE ASSISTED DOUBLE FOOT PRESS TO HEAD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRp3iGprLAA
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
While Kira might not have possessed much inclination toward mercy, she had even less desire to forfeit her opportunity to join FAWN via disqualification. For that reason, and that reason alone, the redhead dismounts Honey’s features. Reaching back into the ring, she pulls the Brit up to her knees, turning Harris to face the ropes before pulling the blonde’s upper body through the gap between the middle and top ropes. “British shlyukha think you know legdrops,” the redhead hisses. “Let me show you legdrop…” Securing another two-fisted grip on the uppermost cable, Koslova vaults into the air, twisting her frame and extending her shapely legs in front of her. When gravity asserts itself, the back of Kira’s thigh crashes against Honey’s upper back, both driving the British beauty’s sternum into the rubber coated steel and lifting Harris off her knees, sending the back of her calves smacking into the top rope. Again, gravity makes its wishes known, this time by pulling Honey out of the ring and sending her crashing to the floor, when the blonde’s glistening body puddles into a jellied heap.
ROPE HUNG APRON SLINGSHOT LEGDROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdZWT4yXMvI
“Vverkh,” Kira barks, forcing Honey to obey the command with one more handful of hair. Dragging the blonde closer to the security barrier, Koslova turns her adversary’s back toward the steel before shifting herself alongside, slipping an arm around the Brit’s neck at the same time as she hooks Harris’ calf with her own leg. In the blink of an eye, the Russian beauty throws her weight into full reverse, her Russian leg sweep sending Honey’s upper back SLAMMING into the merciless steel of the guardrail.
RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP INTO BARRICADE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=q2-drYSXFk4
Honey collapses to the cold concrete floor, her hands reaching up to clutch the back of her neck, her feet kicking at the air as Koslova rises with cold assurance. “Vverkh,” the redhead orders again, hairhauling the mewling Brit to her feet with one hand and grabbing a handful of waistband with the other. Roughly, Kira guides her foe back to the ring. With no regard for the fabric of Honey’s briefs increasingly slipping between her cheeks, Koslova stuffs Harris back into the ring before climbing up onto the apron, where…
… she waits.
A nervous murmur runs through the audience, unaccustomed as they’ve been tonight to watching the Russian take her time. Still, they exhort Honey to climb to her feet, and to get back in the match. Honey obliges them, though with difficulty, her legs possessing a slight quiver as she starts to straighten up. Alas, that seems to serve as Kira’s cue, the redhead rocking backward before propelling herself to a perch on the top rope. From there, Koslova sails into the ring, launching a dropkick that zeroes in on the Brit’s left kneecap.
SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK TO KNEE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1zMHXp5b6Q
“AAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Honey cries out, clutching at her throbbing knee as she falls to the mat. Kira immediately rolls the blonde to her back, yanking Honey’s massaging hands away from her traumatized knee before hooking that leg as she applies the cover…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Harris gets a shoulder up.
“Khorosho,” Koslova purrs. “I’d rather hear you beg than just lie down.” The Russian lightweight rolls her opponent over to her stomach before climbing to her feet. Kira’s boots don’t remain on the canvas for long, as she climbs onto the back of Honey’s thighs. After she hooks the blonde’s boots against her calves, Koslova leans forward, slapping at Harris’ flanks. The crowd attempts to will Honey’s arms to remain on the mat, but the human body simply doesn’t work that way. One well-placed strike sends Honey’s arms spasming into the air, easy prey for Kira to snatch her wrists. Her nemesis now fully ensnared, Koslova rocks to her back, hoisting the British stunner up toward the ceiling and into the Romero special.
ROMERO SPECIAL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LbYPYkInoE
“AWWWWWWWWWGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!” Honey wails, unable to deny giving voice to the agony SCREAMING from her knees and her arm sockets. Seemingly fueled by her opponent’s torment, Kira gives Harris’ wrists a series of sharp tugs while flexing her legs. The official drops to one knee beside them, but before he can even pose the question, Honey starts shaking her head, sending her dangling golden locks flying.
“BEG!” Koslova demands. “PROSIT! Profess yourself to be the pathetic Western SVIN’YA you are!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” Harris cries out, her eyes clenched shut against the pain. “NEEEEEEEVVVVVAAAAAHHHHHHHSSSSSHHHHHHAAAAAZZZZZBBBBAAAAAHHHHHTTTTTTT!!!!”
Kira keeps her prey suspended a few seconds longer, but as delightful as Honey’s screams might be, the Russian can feel her own arms and legs beginning to tire from the strain. Determining the Harris would not surrender before the energy expended keeping her in the Romero became counterproductive, Koslova releases her opponent’s wrists and uses a flex of her legs to send the Brit crashing unceremoniously to the deck. The rising redhead hairhauls Honey up, lining the battered blonde up with the far corner before sending Honey racing toward the buckles with an Irish whip. Even before the British starlet’s back can make impact with the buckles, Kira launches into a spring, arm extended, ready to SMASH a running clothesline into Harris’ collarbone…
… which proves to be a mistake. A few strides out, Honey springs onto the middle rope, then launches herself back at the charging redhead, Honey’s butt landing against Kira’s bosom. Harris swings down, her legs straddling Koslova’s torso as she descends, the Brit bringing her hands to the canvas to first break her fall, and then to drive herself BACK into the air. Three quarters of the way up, the British beauty throws her weight between Kira’s legs at full force, which causes her legs to swing up and under the Russian’s arms, the combined force of both efforts sending Koslova flying forward and down, until her face CRASHES into the middle rope.
HONEYCOMB FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvYbM5AEyIE
And just like that, Kira Koslova finds her bell well and truly rung, the Russian’s unfocused eyes blinking rapidly as she rolls over, the middle turnbuckle resting directly between her shoulderblades. Climbing to her feet, Honey takes a very brief moment to wring out some residual ache from her left knee… but it’s a moment that ends the moment she spots the redhead and the position that she’s in. Harris’ eyes begin to widen as she looks up, the same thought that is clearly in the FAWNatics’ mind running through her own as well. And the fans don’t leave it to chance, vocally encouraging Honey to go for it. Sure enough, Honey retreats to the opposite corner, slapping the top turnbuckle before racing across the ring. Leaping into the air just before she reaches Kira’s parted stems, Harris lands her backside atop Koslova’s chest, grabbing the top rope with both hands. Lifting herself into the air, Honey mashes her booty down onto Kira’s sternum, time and time again, each impact leading the crowd a little louder and dropping the redhead a little deeper into the corner.
Dismounting her busted bronco, Honey grabs Koslova by the ankles and drags her away from the corner. She then drops forward, folding the Russian assassin in half as her hands land above Kira’s shoulders, the matchbook pin secured for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kira bucks free.
Rather than argue, Harris scrambles to her feet and pulls Kira up to hers as well. Taking a page out of her opponent’s book from early, the blonde beauty underhooks Koslova’s arms and pops her hips, executing an impressive butterfly suplex—only in her case, rather than release the underhook, Honey rolls through, taking a seat atop Koslova’s lap as she wrenches on the Russian’s trapped arms. It’s a maneuver she calls the Honey Pot, and it had earned Harris more than a handful of submissions back in Europe. But how would it translate across the pond?
HONEY POT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbxnz-9M5SA
“How about it, Kira?” the official asks. “Want me to ring the bell?”
“Nyyyyyyeeeeeeeeaaaaagggghhhhhhhhttttttt!!!!!!!!!” Koslova spits in defiant anguish, wagging an extended finger in the referee’s direction.
“Really?” Honey asks, leaning back and ramping up the torque on the Honey Pot. “Sure you don’t wanna rethink your answer?”
“Gyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhh,” Kira groans. “Eat [I}der’mo, suka.[/I]
“Okay, I’m not ENTIRELY sure what you just said,” Honey scowls, “but I’m pretty sure it was rude.”
Releasing the Honey Pot, Harris pulls Koslova up and whips her toward the far corner. The blonde Brit doesn’t repeat her opponent’s mistake from earlier, watching Kira’s charge all the way through to her back crashing into the buckles. Only once the redhead’s arms spill over the top rope and her head droops toward her chest does Honey launch into a tumbling run. As she comes out of her final flip, the aspiring FAWN star swings a back elbow toward Koslova’s sternum…
… or at least, where Kira’s sternum SHOULD have been, had the Russian not rolled out of the way. Which leaves only leather padded turnbuckle to absorb the blow. Honey cries out as she stumbles forward, shaking out her wing… but she doesn’t get far. Slipping her upper body through the gap between the middle and top rope, Kira drops into a handstand. Her legs, meanwhile, slip underneath Harris’ arms. Once the Brit’s upper limbs had been secured, Koslova gathers up the lower ones, hooking Honey’s feet under her arms and trapping the blonde in the tarantula.
TARANTULA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFQhOLHntY4
It was an excruciating hold, for sure, but its effectiveness was limited by the fact that both attacker and recipient found themselves in the ropes. As such, the official promptly demands a break, and when one isn’t forthcoming, he starts his count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
Kira lets her go, allowing Honey to stagger away from the cables, the blonde managing a stride and a half before she collapses to her knees. A swift kick to the back of the head from Koslova sends Harris plummeting the rest of the way to the canvas, her hands landing in front of her just in time to absorb some of the impact. Acting quickly, Kira crosses her opponent’s leg, pressing her shin against the Brit’s to hold them in place as she gathers up and pulls back on Honey’s arms. As the blonde’s upper body is elevated, the cold hearted Russian beauty places her sole against the back of the head. The audience barely has time to start pleading on Honey’s behalf before the redhead DRIVES her weight down, slamming Honey’s mug into the mat with a vicious curb stomp. Shoveling the Brit to her back, Kira administers the cover, hooking the leg and scoring the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Honey gets a shoulder up.
For the first time tonight, a flicker of anger passes across Kira’s face as she pushes back to her feet. Sending Harris flopping to her stomach with a nudge of her boot, Koslova again crosses her foe’s legs and scoops up her arms. Only this time, after violently stomping Honey’s angelic features into the canvas, the Russian isn’t satisfied. She instead pulls up on Harris’ wrists, stomping down a SECOND time…
… and then pulls her up AGAIN, Honey’s blue eyes dulled even before Kira tops off a trifecta of curb stomps, the final parting blow leaving the British sensation face down and spasming at Kira’s feet. Again, Koslova rolls the blonde over to her back. This time, she doesn’t bother hooking a leg, instead pressing one palm atop Honey’s gulping tummy and pressing her other palm roughly against Harris’ cheek, turning the Brit’s head as the official slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Again, Harris gets a shoulder up.
Kira’s hands curl into tightly clinched fists as she climbs to her feet, white indentations left in her palms as her fingers begin to relax. Yanking a glazed-eyed Honey up to her knees, the redheaded Russian snarls, “Tipichnyy.”
SLAP!
Koslova’s palm BLASTS Honey’s cheek, the British blonde’s fair skin already beginning to redden almost immediately. “Never know when you’re beaten…”
SLAAAP!
Again, Kira’s hand blisters Harris’ cheek. But that would be the least of her indignations. Demonstrating the full extent of her respect (or lack thereof) for the British lightweight, Koslova spits directly into the blonde’s face. The crowd threatens to blow the roof off the building as the redhead hairhauls her opponent up, saliva still dribbling down the left side of Honey’s nose as Kira pivots and, maintaining a handful of hair, rushes toward the near ropes. Jumping onto the middle cable, Koslova springboards back, falling to her knees and SLAMMING Harris’ face into the unforgiving canvas with a savage facebuster that sends Honey flopping bonelessly to her back, starfished and motionless.
SPRINGBOARD KNEELING FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9Fm2mN_Nzw
Crawling over to her devastated adversary, Kira again administers the cover, this time mindful to hook a leg…
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AGAIN, Honey raises a shoulder.
“STAY DOWN, UBLYUDOK!!!” the Russian redhead screams, her face nearly matching her locks thanks to her rage. Dragging the jellied Briton up to unsteady gams, Kira locks an arm around her foe’s neck, her free hand claiming a handful of Honey’s waistband…
… but Honey’s leg snakes around Koslova’s, the sweat soaked blonde rocking back and pulling the Russian down, rolling her into a tight small package!
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Kira kicks free.
Harris tumbles to her back, spread-eagled, chest heaving. Kira rolls up to her knees, the abrupt small package having transformed the Russian’s expression from furious to fearful. But the sight of two raised fingers from the referee helps to ease some of her terror… and restore some of her anger. Crawling over to Honey’s prone form, the redhead pulls her nemesis up to her knees. But a forceful forearm doesn’t allow the Brit to stay there long, sending Honey once again to her back while remaining on her knees. To her credit, the groaning Brit forces herself back up, and answers Kira’s fire with a forearm of her own that smashes into Koslova’s chest, rocking her back—but not nearly as far.
Righting herself, Kira answers with not one but TWO forearm smashes to the chest. While neither sends Honey all the way back to the mat the way the first one had, they still leave the gorgeous blonde swaying for a moment before she can summon the strength to launch a forearm of her own. Harris’ blow meets Kira’s chest, but only slightly knocks the redhead backward before she slams another two forearms into Honey’s chest, and adds a THIRD forearm shot that connects with the Brit’s jaw, which appears to leave Honey seeing cartoon birdies twittering above her head as she rocks from side to side.
With Harris sufficiently pacified, Koslova rises, yanking her opponent up with a handful of hair. Sending the rubber-legged Brit hurtling toward the ropes with an Irish whip, Kira raises her arm, ready to decapitate the blonde with a massive clothesline…
… which Honey not only manages to duck, but somehow, she manages to hook the intended scythe as she passes under. Even more remarkably, Honey’s legs—which just a second ago had only just been up to the task of carrying her toward the ropes—now direct her airborne, the blonde’s feet swinging up toward the rafter as she drifts over Kira’s back. When Harris lands on her feet, she has forced Kira double, the Russian secured in a standing headscissors. Wrapping her arms around the Russian’s midsection, Honey lets out a loud moan as she summons all the strength at her disposal to hoist Kira off her feet. It’s unlikely that the blonde could KEEP her aloft for long, but she only needs to just long enough to drop to her knees and SPIKE Kira’s skull with her floatover kneeling piledriver.
RUNNING FLOATOVER KNEELING PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNkBn1UxzJ4
Koslova spills over to her back, spread-eagled… which proves a lucky break for Honey, as she has BARELY enough remaining reserves to direct her descent so that she lands draped across the redhead’s chest. Unable to even reach for and hook a leg, as the referee slides into position for the count, Harris can only mumble, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease…”
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kira kicks loose, sending Honey tumbling off her and over onto her stomach.
For several moments, both women remain motionless on the canvas. With a spot on the FAWN roster on the line, the official is hesitant to count BOTH women out, but he soon has little choice but to start counting…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!”
Honey lets out a low moan, but otherwise remains motionless.
“FOUR!!!!
FIVE!!!!!”
A groaning Koslova battles her way to a seated position, head bowed, hands clutching the back of her neck.
“SIX!!!!!!
SEVEN!!!!!!!”
Kira struggles to her feet, a groan running through the audience as she regains verticality.
“EIGHT!!!!!!!!”
Even though Honey had demonstrated little evidence of being able to answer the count, Koslova marches over to her and yanks the Brit up with a handful of golden locks. “If you refuse to let me beat you,” the Russian redhead threatens, bullying her foe into the near corner, “then I will END you.” Taking a wrist, Kira whips Honey across the ring, and takes off after her just as soon as she lets go. The first sign of trouble comes when Harris doesn’t turn her back into the collision with the buckles, but that could simply have been the result of a lack of any remaining awareness or energy…
… but the blonde Brit DOES have the energy to jump onto the bottom rope. Not impressive hops, certainly, but as Kira lowers a shoulder to ram into Harris’ kidney region, Honey takes hold of the top rope and kicks her legs into the air. Koslova manages to avoid disaster by applying the breaks before her momentum sends her shoulder shooting through the buckles and into the ringpost, and that sense of relief almost blinds the redhead to the sensation of Honey’s knees settling against her back. Transitioning her hands from the top rope to Kira’s shoulders, Honey throws all one hundred and twenty-three of her pounds backward, as hard as she can, ripping the Russian from her moorings and connecting with a stunning slingshot lungblower.
CORNER SLINGSHOT LUNGBLOWER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFF4eOoC1oA
Harris bounces up to her knees, where she manages a couple of strides forward before slumping against the ropes. She needed to rest…
… but she couldn’t rest.
She knew that…
Kira no doubt knew that, depending on how much of her senses remained following the lungblower…
And the FAWNatics knew it, which leads them to start stomping and clapping, hopeful that the young blonde Briton could draw from the energy the way another of her countrywomen had been known to for years…
Honey begins to nod in time with the crowd’s efforts, using the ropes to pull herself up to her feet. Glancing over her shoulder, she spots Kira has regained her footing as well, though she struggles to right herself. Pushing away from the ropes, Harris sprints toward her opponent, extending her hands as she takes flight. Grabbing the back of Koslova’s noggin, Harris draws her knees up as she sails by, and when she plummets to the canvas, the blonde pulls Kira’s face down into a vicious collision with her knees, courtesy of the Honey Trap.
HONEY TRAP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AszkGgipGKA
And suddenly, the once-exhausted Honey is a font of energy, the blonde springing back to her feet and bouncing into the near corner. Climbing onto the middle buckle, she beckons Koslova to rise with a wave of her hands… and when the redhead does, Harris launches herself toward Kira, drawing her knees up toward her chest and slamming them into Kira’s shoulders. Her weight drives the Russian to the canvas, and the impact propels Honey into a forward roll that takes the British stunner into the opposite corner from the one she had just departed. Slipping through the ropes and onto the apron, Harris leaps to the top turnbuckle, drawing an impressed gasp from the FAWNatics…
… but what follows is TRULY jaw-dropping. From her perch on the top turnbuckle, Honey again takes flight. Pulling her knees up toward her chest, Harris rotates 630 degrees through the air, her descent landing when her back SLAMS down across Koslova’s midsection! Even more stunning to the crowd, as Honey’s feet touch down on the canvas, the British star rises back to her feet, seemingly all in the same fluid motion!
READING RAINBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ce3owZ3_29M
Pivoting on her heel, Harris throws herself down atop her adversary, gathering up not one but TWO legs and cradling them tight, raising Koslova’s taut tush into the sky as the referee slides into position…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!!!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
As the bell sounds and the house erupts, Honey discards Kira’s stems, rolling to a seat. Her eyes are already welling with emotion as she plunges her fingers into her flaxen mane. Gently, the official takes her right wrist, but he waits for a sign of acknowledgment from the British import before he raises her hand in triumph.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer declares, “your winner of the match, and recipient of a new FAWN contract… HOOONNNEEEYYY HAAARRRRRRIIISSS!!!!!”
By the time she reaches her feet, the tears are flowing freely—and the downpour only intensifies once the crowd begins to chant, “HUN-NY! HUN-NY! HUN-NY!” Harris brings both hands to her mouth and blows a kiss to her new fans, and the fans of her new employers. She then taps her fist twice against her heart, nodding as she tries—unsuccessfully—to choke back the sobs of euphoria. The referee gives Harris an encouraging pat on the back.
“Welcome to FAWN, kid.”
Honey Harris let the curtain fall back into place, allowing herself a deep breath as she nervously swung her arms and rolls her shoulders.
It’s not that she was new to the business—she’d been doing this for close to 10 years. She WAS new to working in the United States, this being her first trip to work across the Atlantic after making a name for herself and collecting several title belts across Europe. To be perfectly honest, she would have been happy spending the rest of career claiming victories in places like London, Paris, Hamburg or Madrid. But when FAWN comes calling…
It wasn’t just that FAWN had become the biggest, most successful exclusively women’s wrestling company in the world. But for any British woman of her generation working in this business, FAWN resided in a very special corner of her heart. The opportunity to earn a contract to work in the company that boasted the greatest woman wrestler in her country’s history (in Honey’s oh so humble opinion) as its first champion… the company where Sammie Sinclair had entrenched herself as one of the most beloved stars in the world…
Honey had done some of her training in Rick Sinclair’s school, for Pete’s sake.
She took another deep breath, just before the announcer’s voice drifted to her ears. “Ladies and gentlemen…”
Almost inaudibly, Harris sighed to herself, “Hooo-leeee shiiiizz…”
***
Meanwhile, the announcer continues. “… the following ‘Proving Ground’ contest is scheduled for one fall, with a 15 minute time limit. The winner of this match will secure for herself a FAWN contract…”
That announcement sparks something of an excited murmur throughout the Sacramento audience. While the company had been sure to include enough established stars on this card to draw business, it definitely appears the crowd is looking forward to getting the first look at some new blood…
… or would that be fresh meat?
“Introducing first,” says the announcer, “hailing from Reading, Berkshire in the United Kingdom. She stands five feet five inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty-three pounds. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to… HOOONNNEEEYYY HAAARRRRRRIIISSS!!!!!”
HONEY HARRIS:
“BEST YOU EVER”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lN_Lxfeed9A
As the first chords of Michelle Branch’s “Best You Ever” begin to pulse over the sound system, Honey grabs the edges of the curtain on both sides and BURSTS through the fabric, into the open. The young, blonde British spitfire skips to a halt on one foot, her left knee raised as she pumps her right fist to the crowd. “C’MON, LET’S GO!!!!!” Harris bellows, a bright smile gracing her youthful features—and while the crowd may not know her particularly well yet, their first instinct tells them that this is a woman worth cheering for.
Honey makes her way toward the ring at a brisk pace, but not going so fast that she bypasses slapping any offered hand or occasionally pausing for an embrace. The closer she gets to the ring, the louder it seems that the crowd cheers, as they gain more of an opportunity to take her in. The FAWN hopeful’s well-shaped legs are bared, a hint of gold bikini style bottoms (with black trim) just visible beneath the hem a gold tee. Upon the front read the words “SWEET AS” in black type, directly above an illustration of a pot of honey. On the back, below the words “BUT WITH A” is a cartoon bee abdomen—complete with stinger. At ringside, one particular fan captures Honey’s attention: a girl in her early teens, proudly sporting a Shea London t-shirt. “Nice shirt,” Harris grins when she reaches that suddenly blushing spectator. “Shea fan, are we?”
“You have NOOOOO idea,” the girl replies. “I wanna BE her…”
“Know the feeling,” Honey responds with a small nod, then removes her tee to reveal a gold with black trim top to match her bottoms. “Here’s hoping we both get our wish, eh?” the blonde Brit says, handing her shirt to the newly minted Honey Harris fan before turning and springing onto the apron. After wiping her boots, Harris slips through the ropes and mounts the second rope, tapping her fist to her heart twice before blowing a kiss to the full house.
***
Only moments after Honey had entered the arena, her opponent for the evening had taken the British lass’ place behind the curtains, where she had watched Harris make her entrance with a sense of smug satisfaction.
It was almost TOO perfect, Kira Koslova mused…
For the last two years, the lightweight divisions of Europe had effectively been dominated by these two women—and yet, somehow, their paths had yet to cross. Either Koslova would arrive in a company mere weeks or months after Honey had departed, or vice versa. The number of European promoters who would sell their firstborn for the right to book a match between these two was probably close to triple digits. And yet, the Dream Match from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean would instead take place in sunny California, the heart of Western capitalist decadence and decay.
Which would make Kira’s crushing of that simpering blonde’s spirit all the more delicious.
***
“And her opponent,” the announcer continues, “hailing from Saint Petersburg, Russia… She stands five feet five inches tall, and weighs in tonight at one hundred and twenty-two pounds… Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for… KIIIRRRAAA KOOOSSSLLLOOOVVVAAA!!!!!”
KIRA KOSLOVA:
”THE SKY OF SLAVS”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsbT5N_V97c
The unfamiliar strains of Alisa’s “The Sky of Slavs” immediately spawns a round of jeers from the audience, even if 99.463% of them do not even approach fluency in Russian or comprehend their meaning. The jeers only grow louder when Kira Koslova emerges onto the ramp, shall we say significantly overdressed for combat in a FAWN wrestling ring: a full length grey fur coat, which only left visible her hands and a tiny sliver of shin above her gold wrestling boots. Meanwhile, a white wool hat rests atop crimson locks. At first, the Russian not-so-cold warrior remains stationed at the top of the stage, arms folded across her chest, a withering glare directed toward the ring, and the woman inside it…
Finally, Kira starts toward the ring, neither noticing the rabble nor reacting to the insults and invective directed her way. Only once she reaches the ring do her eyes drift away from Honey, the blonde lightweight apparently no longer worthy of her focus or attention as she moves to claim her corner. Once there, Koslova allows her coat to fall from her shoulders, the fur garment puddling at her feet to reveal the Russian beauty In a fairly simple red one piece. Though it does an excellent job of flattering the redhead’s form, there’s really only one unusual aspect of the suit—namely, a cut out pattern displaying a portion of Kira’s bronzed, toned abdomen, the cutout (perhaps unsurprisingly) in the form of the hammer and sickle.
The official calls both competitors to mid-ring, and takes one final opportunity to go over the stakes of the contest, the regulations it would be fought under and his expectations for the match. Harris listens intently, occasionally nodding along, but Kira hardly seems to register his words. The referee orders the two ladies back to their corners, but before complying, Honey offers her hand to the redhead. “May the best woman…?” she asks, waiting for a response to the invitation.
Kira drops her gaze to that open hand, but never makes any move to reciprocate the gesture. Her only response to the offer comes in the form of a muttered word:
“Suka.”
With that, Koslova turns and retreats to her corner. Honey didn’t need to know Russian to understand that she had just been insulted. But she shrugs It off as she heads back to her corner. Koslova didn’t have to like her, the blonde thought, but by the end of the night, the Russian WOULD respect her.
DING! DING! DING!
Harris and Koslova shoot out of their respective corners. While neither woman moves with particularly different speed or urgency than the other, the blonde’s movements still seem more energized than her opponent’s more measured advance. Meeting in the center of the ring, Honey and Kira lock up, jostling for control...
… until Honey manages to trap Kira in a tight hammerlock, wrenching the redhead’s arm up against her back. “Hey, look at that,” Honey grins, her voice just a little higher than a whisper against Koslova’s ear. “Round one to me, I’d say, wouldn’t yoooooooooohhhhhh…”
Round one MAY have gone to the blonde Brit, but it proves a short round before Kira manages to extricate herself from the hammerlock. With Honey still trying to figure out how her opponent had escaped, Kira wraps an arm around Harris’ neck, ensnaring Honey in a tight side headlock. “Typical western bludnitsa,” the redhead hisses. “All talk and bluster. Your lungs are mighty. But your spine… nonexistent.”
“We’ll… just… see… about that…” Harris grunts, her legs churning to force her foe back toward the ropes. Once Kira hits the cables, Honey uses the boost from those rubber coated steel bands to push herself clear of the headlock, and to launch Koslova racing toward the far ropes. Marching out to mid-ring, the British beauty ducks down, ready to launch the redheaded Russian toward the rafters with a backdrop…
… but perhaps the blonde tips her hand a little too soon. Planting her hands against Honey’s back, Kira leapfrogs the intended backdrop and carries on toward the ropes. The crowd isn’t discouraged for long, however, as Honey demonstrates an answer of her own when Koslova rebounds toward her, dropping to the canvas and using a drop toe hold to send the Russian plummeting to the deck. Kira barely manages to get her hands in a position to break some of the fall, but that provides Harris with the opening she needs to shuffle up alongside and secure her own side headlock on the groaning Kira.
“Want to keep running your mouth?” Honey asks, giving Kira’s noggin a rough crank. “Want me to keep proving you wrong?”
Koslova doesn’t bother with an answer, instead focusing her effort and pushing herself up off the canvas—and, in turn, forcing Honey back up to her feet. Not that that did anything in itself to free the redhead from the side headlock, but it did at least allow Kira to wrap her arms around the Briton’s waist. “As empty as your head is,” Koslova mutters, “this may not hurt. But…” With that, the Russian redhead pops her hips and propels Harris off her feet, launching the blonde airborne as Kira straightens up with an improvised belly to back suplex…
… only the recipient of the maneuver happens to be one of the more graceful talents in the game today. And instead of being dropped on her head and shoulders, Honey manages to rotate her frame enough to stick the landing. With Koslova none the wiser to her opponent’s escape, Kira’s eyes grow wide as Harris wraps her arms around the redhead’s waist and drives her toward the ropes. It’s not hard for Koslova to surmise what her foe has in mind, and her arms start to rise to grab hold of the top rope. But Honey rocks backward a little quicker than the Russian thought her capable, and she is rolled to her shoulders. The referee starts to slide into position to administer the count…
… but Harris has something in mind, other than the traditional O’Connor Roll. Instead of settling into place atop Kira’s thighs, she rises to her feet, hauling the Russian up as well. Breaking her embrace on Koslova’s midsection, the Brit’s arms rise upward, slipping underneath Kira’s as she secures a full nelson. In the next instant, Honey pops her hips and bridges backward, DRIVING Koslova’s head and shoulders into the canvas with a dragon suplex that connects with enough force to draw an impressed gasp from the crowd.
O’CONNOR ROLL DRAGON SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QxLePoYGao
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Koslova bucks loose.
The redheaded Russian scrambles back to her feet quickly… but not quickly enough, Honey meeting her with a dropkick that catches Kira flush in the chest. Again, the combatants race back to verticality, and again Harris wins the race, launching a second dropkick which this time catches Kira just under the chin. There’s no race back this time, the Brit making it there uncontested and yanking Koslova up off the deck. Snatching a wrist, Honey sets her feet and whips the redhead toward the ropes, leaping into the air to launch a THIRD dropkick…
… and it would have put Kira flat on her back, had she not latched her arms around the top rope. Instead, denied her intended victim’s body to absorb some of the force of the dropkick, Honey crashes to the mat hard, the back of head smacking against the harsh canvas. The crowd groans in disappointment for their newfound heroine’s misfortune, but those groans quickly transition to boos as, instead of pressing her advantage, Koslova remains content to rest against the cables and watch as Honey struggles to collect her marbles and rise up…
… and as Harris starts to straighten, Kira EXPLODES off the ropes, charging her foe. Zeroing in, the redhead executes a swift 360-degree spin as she raises her right arm, before damn near decapitating the blonde British upstart with a MASSIVE discus lariat.
DISCUS LARIAT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JAptFiLAVE
The speed with which Kira Koslova returns to her feet is staggering, but again, there appears surprisingly little urgency to her movement despite that speed. It’s just swift and efficient, no wasted motion as she pulls the dazed Honey up via a handful of hair. As the woozy Brit struggles for clarity, Kira underhooks her arms. And with that same level of brutal efficiency, the redheaded assassin rips Harris off her feet and DRIVES the blonde’s back into the canvas with a butterfly suplex.
BUTTERFLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Ajjp5D63YQ
The impact launches a howling Honey up to a seat, but again, the reeling blonde is given little time to recover. Another helping of hair allows Koslova to tug Harris up, after which the Russian turns toward the near corner and laces an arm around her neck. Kira sprints toward the corner, dragging Honey along for the ride. Taking flight, Koslova lands in a seated position on the middle rope, but Honey’s touchdown is far less comfy, her face SLAMMING into the middle buckle from Kira’s bulldog.
BULLDOG INTO TURNBUCKLE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhIIQ65-QFU
Only now does the redhead appear content to pause, Kira remaining perched on the second rope, basking in the jeers as Harris slumps to her hip and sags against the cables. Sliding out to the apron, Koslova presses a boot against Honey’s left shoulder, forcing the blonde down until her shoulderblades rest atop the bottom rope. Then, holding the top rope for balance, the Russian steps up, first the sole of her left boot and then the right coming to reside on Honey’s face! The Brit’s arms and legs thrash and flail as she cries out, Kira bouncing her weight atop Harris’ mug, the boos of the audience growing even louder as the official orders her off.
Koslova replies with a simple, “Nyet.”
ROPE ASSISTED DOUBLE FOOT PRESS TO HEAD:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRp3iGprLAA
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
While Kira might not have possessed much inclination toward mercy, she had even less desire to forfeit her opportunity to join FAWN via disqualification. For that reason, and that reason alone, the redhead dismounts Honey’s features. Reaching back into the ring, she pulls the Brit up to her knees, turning Harris to face the ropes before pulling the blonde’s upper body through the gap between the middle and top ropes. “British shlyukha think you know legdrops,” the redhead hisses. “Let me show you legdrop…” Securing another two-fisted grip on the uppermost cable, Koslova vaults into the air, twisting her frame and extending her shapely legs in front of her. When gravity asserts itself, the back of Kira’s thigh crashes against Honey’s upper back, both driving the British beauty’s sternum into the rubber coated steel and lifting Harris off her knees, sending the back of her calves smacking into the top rope. Again, gravity makes its wishes known, this time by pulling Honey out of the ring and sending her crashing to the floor, when the blonde’s glistening body puddles into a jellied heap.
ROPE HUNG APRON SLINGSHOT LEGDROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdZWT4yXMvI
“Vverkh,” Kira barks, forcing Honey to obey the command with one more handful of hair. Dragging the blonde closer to the security barrier, Koslova turns her adversary’s back toward the steel before shifting herself alongside, slipping an arm around the Brit’s neck at the same time as she hooks Harris’ calf with her own leg. In the blink of an eye, the Russian beauty throws her weight into full reverse, her Russian leg sweep sending Honey’s upper back SLAMMING into the merciless steel of the guardrail.
RUSSIAN LEG SWEEP INTO BARRICADE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=q2-drYSXFk4
Honey collapses to the cold concrete floor, her hands reaching up to clutch the back of her neck, her feet kicking at the air as Koslova rises with cold assurance. “Vverkh,” the redhead orders again, hairhauling the mewling Brit to her feet with one hand and grabbing a handful of waistband with the other. Roughly, Kira guides her foe back to the ring. With no regard for the fabric of Honey’s briefs increasingly slipping between her cheeks, Koslova stuffs Harris back into the ring before climbing up onto the apron, where…
… she waits.
A nervous murmur runs through the audience, unaccustomed as they’ve been tonight to watching the Russian take her time. Still, they exhort Honey to climb to her feet, and to get back in the match. Honey obliges them, though with difficulty, her legs possessing a slight quiver as she starts to straighten up. Alas, that seems to serve as Kira’s cue, the redhead rocking backward before propelling herself to a perch on the top rope. From there, Koslova sails into the ring, launching a dropkick that zeroes in on the Brit’s left kneecap.
SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK TO KNEE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1zMHXp5b6Q
“AAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Honey cries out, clutching at her throbbing knee as she falls to the mat. Kira immediately rolls the blonde to her back, yanking Honey’s massaging hands away from her traumatized knee before hooking that leg as she applies the cover…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Harris gets a shoulder up.
“Khorosho,” Koslova purrs. “I’d rather hear you beg than just lie down.” The Russian lightweight rolls her opponent over to her stomach before climbing to her feet. Kira’s boots don’t remain on the canvas for long, as she climbs onto the back of Honey’s thighs. After she hooks the blonde’s boots against her calves, Koslova leans forward, slapping at Harris’ flanks. The crowd attempts to will Honey’s arms to remain on the mat, but the human body simply doesn’t work that way. One well-placed strike sends Honey’s arms spasming into the air, easy prey for Kira to snatch her wrists. Her nemesis now fully ensnared, Koslova rocks to her back, hoisting the British stunner up toward the ceiling and into the Romero special.
ROMERO SPECIAL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LbYPYkInoE
“AWWWWWWWWWGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!” Honey wails, unable to deny giving voice to the agony SCREAMING from her knees and her arm sockets. Seemingly fueled by her opponent’s torment, Kira gives Harris’ wrists a series of sharp tugs while flexing her legs. The official drops to one knee beside them, but before he can even pose the question, Honey starts shaking her head, sending her dangling golden locks flying.
“BEG!” Koslova demands. “PROSIT! Profess yourself to be the pathetic Western SVIN’YA you are!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” Harris cries out, her eyes clenched shut against the pain. “NEEEEEEEVVVVVAAAAAHHHHHHHSSSSSHHHHHHAAAAAZZZZZBBBBAAAAAHHHHHTTTTTTT!!!!”
Kira keeps her prey suspended a few seconds longer, but as delightful as Honey’s screams might be, the Russian can feel her own arms and legs beginning to tire from the strain. Determining the Harris would not surrender before the energy expended keeping her in the Romero became counterproductive, Koslova releases her opponent’s wrists and uses a flex of her legs to send the Brit crashing unceremoniously to the deck. The rising redhead hairhauls Honey up, lining the battered blonde up with the far corner before sending Honey racing toward the buckles with an Irish whip. Even before the British starlet’s back can make impact with the buckles, Kira launches into a spring, arm extended, ready to SMASH a running clothesline into Harris’ collarbone…
… which proves to be a mistake. A few strides out, Honey springs onto the middle rope, then launches herself back at the charging redhead, Honey’s butt landing against Kira’s bosom. Harris swings down, her legs straddling Koslova’s torso as she descends, the Brit bringing her hands to the canvas to first break her fall, and then to drive herself BACK into the air. Three quarters of the way up, the British beauty throws her weight between Kira’s legs at full force, which causes her legs to swing up and under the Russian’s arms, the combined force of both efforts sending Koslova flying forward and down, until her face CRASHES into the middle rope.
HONEYCOMB FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvYbM5AEyIE
And just like that, Kira Koslova finds her bell well and truly rung, the Russian’s unfocused eyes blinking rapidly as she rolls over, the middle turnbuckle resting directly between her shoulderblades. Climbing to her feet, Honey takes a very brief moment to wring out some residual ache from her left knee… but it’s a moment that ends the moment she spots the redhead and the position that she’s in. Harris’ eyes begin to widen as she looks up, the same thought that is clearly in the FAWNatics’ mind running through her own as well. And the fans don’t leave it to chance, vocally encouraging Honey to go for it. Sure enough, Honey retreats to the opposite corner, slapping the top turnbuckle before racing across the ring. Leaping into the air just before she reaches Kira’s parted stems, Harris lands her backside atop Koslova’s chest, grabbing the top rope with both hands. Lifting herself into the air, Honey mashes her booty down onto Kira’s sternum, time and time again, each impact leading the crowd a little louder and dropping the redhead a little deeper into the corner.
Dismounting her busted bronco, Honey grabs Koslova by the ankles and drags her away from the corner. She then drops forward, folding the Russian assassin in half as her hands land above Kira’s shoulders, the matchbook pin secured for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kira bucks free.
Rather than argue, Harris scrambles to her feet and pulls Kira up to hers as well. Taking a page out of her opponent’s book from early, the blonde beauty underhooks Koslova’s arms and pops her hips, executing an impressive butterfly suplex—only in her case, rather than release the underhook, Honey rolls through, taking a seat atop Koslova’s lap as she wrenches on the Russian’s trapped arms. It’s a maneuver she calls the Honey Pot, and it had earned Harris more than a handful of submissions back in Europe. But how would it translate across the pond?
HONEY POT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbxnz-9M5SA
“How about it, Kira?” the official asks. “Want me to ring the bell?”
“Nyyyyyyeeeeeeeeaaaaagggghhhhhhhhttttttt!!!!!!!!!” Koslova spits in defiant anguish, wagging an extended finger in the referee’s direction.
“Really?” Honey asks, leaning back and ramping up the torque on the Honey Pot. “Sure you don’t wanna rethink your answer?”
“Gyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhh,” Kira groans. “Eat [I}der’mo, suka.[/I]
“Okay, I’m not ENTIRELY sure what you just said,” Honey scowls, “but I’m pretty sure it was rude.”
Releasing the Honey Pot, Harris pulls Koslova up and whips her toward the far corner. The blonde Brit doesn’t repeat her opponent’s mistake from earlier, watching Kira’s charge all the way through to her back crashing into the buckles. Only once the redhead’s arms spill over the top rope and her head droops toward her chest does Honey launch into a tumbling run. As she comes out of her final flip, the aspiring FAWN star swings a back elbow toward Koslova’s sternum…
… or at least, where Kira’s sternum SHOULD have been, had the Russian not rolled out of the way. Which leaves only leather padded turnbuckle to absorb the blow. Honey cries out as she stumbles forward, shaking out her wing… but she doesn’t get far. Slipping her upper body through the gap between the middle and top rope, Kira drops into a handstand. Her legs, meanwhile, slip underneath Harris’ arms. Once the Brit’s upper limbs had been secured, Koslova gathers up the lower ones, hooking Honey’s feet under her arms and trapping the blonde in the tarantula.
TARANTULA:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFQhOLHntY4
It was an excruciating hold, for sure, but its effectiveness was limited by the fact that both attacker and recipient found themselves in the ropes. As such, the official promptly demands a break, and when one isn’t forthcoming, he starts his count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
Kira lets her go, allowing Honey to stagger away from the cables, the blonde managing a stride and a half before she collapses to her knees. A swift kick to the back of the head from Koslova sends Harris plummeting the rest of the way to the canvas, her hands landing in front of her just in time to absorb some of the impact. Acting quickly, Kira crosses her opponent’s leg, pressing her shin against the Brit’s to hold them in place as she gathers up and pulls back on Honey’s arms. As the blonde’s upper body is elevated, the cold hearted Russian beauty places her sole against the back of the head. The audience barely has time to start pleading on Honey’s behalf before the redhead DRIVES her weight down, slamming Honey’s mug into the mat with a vicious curb stomp. Shoveling the Brit to her back, Kira administers the cover, hooking the leg and scoring the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Honey gets a shoulder up.
For the first time tonight, a flicker of anger passes across Kira’s face as she pushes back to her feet. Sending Harris flopping to her stomach with a nudge of her boot, Koslova again crosses her foe’s legs and scoops up her arms. Only this time, after violently stomping Honey’s angelic features into the canvas, the Russian isn’t satisfied. She instead pulls up on Harris’ wrists, stomping down a SECOND time…
… and then pulls her up AGAIN, Honey’s blue eyes dulled even before Kira tops off a trifecta of curb stomps, the final parting blow leaving the British sensation face down and spasming at Kira’s feet. Again, Koslova rolls the blonde over to her back. This time, she doesn’t bother hooking a leg, instead pressing one palm atop Honey’s gulping tummy and pressing her other palm roughly against Harris’ cheek, turning the Brit’s head as the official slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Again, Harris gets a shoulder up.
Kira’s hands curl into tightly clinched fists as she climbs to her feet, white indentations left in her palms as her fingers begin to relax. Yanking a glazed-eyed Honey up to her knees, the redheaded Russian snarls, “Tipichnyy.”
SLAP!
Koslova’s palm BLASTS Honey’s cheek, the British blonde’s fair skin already beginning to redden almost immediately. “Never know when you’re beaten…”
SLAAAP!
Again, Kira’s hand blisters Harris’ cheek. But that would be the least of her indignations. Demonstrating the full extent of her respect (or lack thereof) for the British lightweight, Koslova spits directly into the blonde’s face. The crowd threatens to blow the roof off the building as the redhead hairhauls her opponent up, saliva still dribbling down the left side of Honey’s nose as Kira pivots and, maintaining a handful of hair, rushes toward the near ropes. Jumping onto the middle cable, Koslova springboards back, falling to her knees and SLAMMING Harris’ face into the unforgiving canvas with a savage facebuster that sends Honey flopping bonelessly to her back, starfished and motionless.
SPRINGBOARD KNEELING FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9Fm2mN_Nzw
Crawling over to her devastated adversary, Kira again administers the cover, this time mindful to hook a leg…
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AGAIN, Honey raises a shoulder.
“STAY DOWN, UBLYUDOK!!!” the Russian redhead screams, her face nearly matching her locks thanks to her rage. Dragging the jellied Briton up to unsteady gams, Kira locks an arm around her foe’s neck, her free hand claiming a handful of Honey’s waistband…
… but Honey’s leg snakes around Koslova’s, the sweat soaked blonde rocking back and pulling the Russian down, rolling her into a tight small package!
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Kira kicks free.
Harris tumbles to her back, spread-eagled, chest heaving. Kira rolls up to her knees, the abrupt small package having transformed the Russian’s expression from furious to fearful. But the sight of two raised fingers from the referee helps to ease some of her terror… and restore some of her anger. Crawling over to Honey’s prone form, the redhead pulls her nemesis up to her knees. But a forceful forearm doesn’t allow the Brit to stay there long, sending Honey once again to her back while remaining on her knees. To her credit, the groaning Brit forces herself back up, and answers Kira’s fire with a forearm of her own that smashes into Koslova’s chest, rocking her back—but not nearly as far.
Righting herself, Kira answers with not one but TWO forearm smashes to the chest. While neither sends Honey all the way back to the mat the way the first one had, they still leave the gorgeous blonde swaying for a moment before she can summon the strength to launch a forearm of her own. Harris’ blow meets Kira’s chest, but only slightly knocks the redhead backward before she slams another two forearms into Honey’s chest, and adds a THIRD forearm shot that connects with the Brit’s jaw, which appears to leave Honey seeing cartoon birdies twittering above her head as she rocks from side to side.
With Harris sufficiently pacified, Koslova rises, yanking her opponent up with a handful of hair. Sending the rubber-legged Brit hurtling toward the ropes with an Irish whip, Kira raises her arm, ready to decapitate the blonde with a massive clothesline…
… which Honey not only manages to duck, but somehow, she manages to hook the intended scythe as she passes under. Even more remarkably, Honey’s legs—which just a second ago had only just been up to the task of carrying her toward the ropes—now direct her airborne, the blonde’s feet swinging up toward the rafter as she drifts over Kira’s back. When Harris lands on her feet, she has forced Kira double, the Russian secured in a standing headscissors. Wrapping her arms around the Russian’s midsection, Honey lets out a loud moan as she summons all the strength at her disposal to hoist Kira off her feet. It’s unlikely that the blonde could KEEP her aloft for long, but she only needs to just long enough to drop to her knees and SPIKE Kira’s skull with her floatover kneeling piledriver.
RUNNING FLOATOVER KNEELING PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNkBn1UxzJ4
Koslova spills over to her back, spread-eagled… which proves a lucky break for Honey, as she has BARELY enough remaining reserves to direct her descent so that she lands draped across the redhead’s chest. Unable to even reach for and hook a leg, as the referee slides into position for the count, Harris can only mumble, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease…”
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kira kicks loose, sending Honey tumbling off her and over onto her stomach.
For several moments, both women remain motionless on the canvas. With a spot on the FAWN roster on the line, the official is hesitant to count BOTH women out, but he soon has little choice but to start counting…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!”
Honey lets out a low moan, but otherwise remains motionless.
“FOUR!!!!
FIVE!!!!!”
A groaning Koslova battles her way to a seated position, head bowed, hands clutching the back of her neck.
“SIX!!!!!!
SEVEN!!!!!!!”
Kira struggles to her feet, a groan running through the audience as she regains verticality.
“EIGHT!!!!!!!!”
Even though Honey had demonstrated little evidence of being able to answer the count, Koslova marches over to her and yanks the Brit up with a handful of golden locks. “If you refuse to let me beat you,” the Russian redhead threatens, bullying her foe into the near corner, “then I will END you.” Taking a wrist, Kira whips Honey across the ring, and takes off after her just as soon as she lets go. The first sign of trouble comes when Harris doesn’t turn her back into the collision with the buckles, but that could simply have been the result of a lack of any remaining awareness or energy…
… but the blonde Brit DOES have the energy to jump onto the bottom rope. Not impressive hops, certainly, but as Kira lowers a shoulder to ram into Harris’ kidney region, Honey takes hold of the top rope and kicks her legs into the air. Koslova manages to avoid disaster by applying the breaks before her momentum sends her shoulder shooting through the buckles and into the ringpost, and that sense of relief almost blinds the redhead to the sensation of Honey’s knees settling against her back. Transitioning her hands from the top rope to Kira’s shoulders, Honey throws all one hundred and twenty-three of her pounds backward, as hard as she can, ripping the Russian from her moorings and connecting with a stunning slingshot lungblower.
CORNER SLINGSHOT LUNGBLOWER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFF4eOoC1oA
Harris bounces up to her knees, where she manages a couple of strides forward before slumping against the ropes. She needed to rest…
… but she couldn’t rest.
She knew that…
Kira no doubt knew that, depending on how much of her senses remained following the lungblower…
And the FAWNatics knew it, which leads them to start stomping and clapping, hopeful that the young blonde Briton could draw from the energy the way another of her countrywomen had been known to for years…
Honey begins to nod in time with the crowd’s efforts, using the ropes to pull herself up to her feet. Glancing over her shoulder, she spots Kira has regained her footing as well, though she struggles to right herself. Pushing away from the ropes, Harris sprints toward her opponent, extending her hands as she takes flight. Grabbing the back of Koslova’s noggin, Harris draws her knees up as she sails by, and when she plummets to the canvas, the blonde pulls Kira’s face down into a vicious collision with her knees, courtesy of the Honey Trap.
HONEY TRAP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AszkGgipGKA
And suddenly, the once-exhausted Honey is a font of energy, the blonde springing back to her feet and bouncing into the near corner. Climbing onto the middle buckle, she beckons Koslova to rise with a wave of her hands… and when the redhead does, Harris launches herself toward Kira, drawing her knees up toward her chest and slamming them into Kira’s shoulders. Her weight drives the Russian to the canvas, and the impact propels Honey into a forward roll that takes the British stunner into the opposite corner from the one she had just departed. Slipping through the ropes and onto the apron, Harris leaps to the top turnbuckle, drawing an impressed gasp from the FAWNatics…
… but what follows is TRULY jaw-dropping. From her perch on the top turnbuckle, Honey again takes flight. Pulling her knees up toward her chest, Harris rotates 630 degrees through the air, her descent landing when her back SLAMS down across Koslova’s midsection! Even more stunning to the crowd, as Honey’s feet touch down on the canvas, the British star rises back to her feet, seemingly all in the same fluid motion!
READING RAINBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ce3owZ3_29M
Pivoting on her heel, Harris throws herself down atop her adversary, gathering up not one but TWO legs and cradling them tight, raising Koslova’s taut tush into the sky as the referee slides into position…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!!!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
As the bell sounds and the house erupts, Honey discards Kira’s stems, rolling to a seat. Her eyes are already welling with emotion as she plunges her fingers into her flaxen mane. Gently, the official takes her right wrist, but he waits for a sign of acknowledgment from the British import before he raises her hand in triumph.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer declares, “your winner of the match, and recipient of a new FAWN contract… HOOONNNEEEYYY HAAARRRRRRIIISSS!!!!!”
By the time she reaches her feet, the tears are flowing freely—and the downpour only intensifies once the crowd begins to chant, “HUN-NY! HUN-NY! HUN-NY!” Harris brings both hands to her mouth and blows a kiss to her new fans, and the fans of her new employers. She then taps her fist twice against her heart, nodding as she tries—unsuccessfully—to choke back the sobs of euphoria. The referee gives Harris an encouraging pat on the back.
“Welcome to FAWN, kid.”