Post by bigfan on Apr 17, 2017 3:04:12 GMT
After the ring had been cleared of the previous match’s wreckage, the audience began to buzz with anticipation for the final tournament match that would decide FAWN’s Rookie of the Year. The arena speaker system started crackling to life, but before the announcer could utter a single syllable, Yoona Park came out onto the entrance ramp, gestured for him to zip his lips, and demanded a microphone from a nearby technician.
YOONA PARK
Her girlfriend had not appreciated her antics during her match against Babe Babcock earlier in the evening, and unseen by anyone else, the two of them had gotten into a brief spat backstage. The argument had cooled just as quickly as it had flared, but Yoona was nevertheless feeling guilty for potentially distracting Camille before an important match. To make up for it, Park decided to put her oratory skills to rare positive use by cutting a promo on behalf of her less loquacious girlfriend.
“Good evening, FAWNatics,” Yoona said into her microphone, drawing a modest pop from the crowd. “Now all of you are expecting to see the grand finale of the Rookie of the Year tournament. Camille Cosworth versus Anna Sharpe! Paragon versus Disgrace! Girl of Tomorrow versus Shit-Lick Ass-Muncher!”
The arena rumbled with the low-pitched sound of laughter, which Park let play out for a few seconds before resuming her monologue.
“What you’re really about to see, however, is the culmination of an epic romance. A tale of love triumphing against all odds. Allow me to set the mood by reading a letter written by our heroine…”
Yoona pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it, took a deep breath, and started reading out loud, pretending as if there were actually something written on the blank sheet.
“‘To my first love,
You are the most beautiful thing I’ll ever see. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I sleep every night thinking of another tomorrow with you, and I spend every day making myself better for you. You complete me, and push me to heights I’ve never been. I only hope that someday I can do for you a fraction of what you’ve done for me.
It isn’t always easy --’”
Park’s voice faltered, the very fake letter nevertheless eliciting some very real emotion. Not used to seeing the normally brash and boisterous Korean get choked up, the FAWNatics sat in an eerie silence that was equal parts confusion and reverence. Yoona drew in a long, sniffling breath through her nose, sighed it out through her mouth, and found her composure again.
“‘It isn't always easy. There are days that are filled with tears. There are moments when I hurt in ways I never thought possible. There are forces which would pull us apart. There are those who say that I'm not good enough for you.
And in my darkest moments, I believe them.
But still I persevere. You give me strength. You give me purpose. In a world of cynics, you fill my heart with joy and wonder.
I could live a hundred lifetimes as a hundred different people in a hundred different places, and yet I would always find my way to you, because a life without you is no life at all.’”
Yoona paused her speech and looked around the arena. Her words had clearly moved the fans, and there was no shortage of people rubbing at the corners of their eyes. Husbands, wives, boyfriends, and girlfriends all clung to each other, and there was even a young man furiously scribbling down every word out of Park’s mouth, presumably to recite to his paramour at some later time.
“‘So here’s to you, my first love…’” Yoona continued. “‘...wrestling.'”
The FAWNatics needed a second or two to process the sudden twist in the coda, and then they got to their feet and roared to life just as Park finished, “‘Yours forever, Camille.’”
“Through those curtains is one of you!” Yoona shouted into her microphone as she pointed behind her. “One who shares your love and your passion for this world! One who has dedicated her life to this craft! One who still remembers sitting in those seats as a fan! So tell me, who do you stand with?!”
“COSWORTH!” replied the crowd.
“Who’s your Rookie of the Year?!”
“COSWORTH!”
“WHO’S THE MOTHERFUCKING GREATEST ON THIS NIGHT, AND ON ALL NIGHTS TO COME?!”
“COSWORTH! COSWORTH! COSWORTH!” the fans called, over and over again.
Hearing her name chanted was Camille’s cue to enter, so she parted the curtains and stepped out onto the entrance ramp, her expression frozen with incredulous disbelief. The fans’ response was so overwhelming that she couldn’t think of anything to do except to embrace her girlfriend from behind.
CAMILLE COSWORTH
“‘Whom do you stand with,’” Cosworth whispered, correcting Park’s grammar from just a minute earlier.
“Babe, you’re such --”
“I know, I know… a huge doofus,” Camille interrupted.
“A huge fucking doofus,” Yoona added for emphasis. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Holy crap, that was incredible. How do you ad-lib something like that on the spot?!”
“All I had to do was think about you, and the words came naturally.”
Camille’s world suddenly got blurry as her eyes misted over, and she drew the embrace tighter while surreptitiously wiping her face on Yoona’s shoulder. Cosworth took her girlfriend’s left hand in her right, and the couple strolled to the ring together accompanied not by Camille’s bombastic entrance music, but by the crowd’s chanting of her name. Once they were ringside, Park pressed their foreheads together, a wordless expression of unity, and then she stood on the floor as Cosworth leapt into the ring and awaited her opponent.
In back, Anna and Caity heard both Yoona's unorthodox intro and also the crowd's reaction to it. “I can do that for you,” Mason scowled. She was wearing championship gold top and bottom, back to cleavage-baring and butt-hugging, the layered look she’d debuted for Anna’s match with Estrina very much a one-off. “That slut isn't the only one who knows how to bullshit.”
The match had been promoted not only as the culmination of the Rookie Tournament but also on the contrast between the two participating pairings. As the ones typically on the unflattering end of the comparison Sharpe and Mason had gotten increasingly tired of it, Anna’s attitude toward Camille having shifted from gratitude at sparing her from experiencing one of the weirder members of the FAWN menagerie up close, to a hearty disdain for the Girl of Tomorrow’s hypocritical morality play of a career. Likewise Caity had found Yoona’s humor significantly less amusing once she’d become the target for it.
“Why would I want you to copy that cunt?” Anna snatched her girl’s hand lest Caity reach for a live mic. “She probably calls herself a socialist but she has no problem depriving a man of his job.”
And so Sharpe began her walk to the ring the traditional way, with an introduction from the announcer to to accompany her music, though the poor guy’s voice was drowned out before the third word by the crowd’s disapproval. Still Anna was used to that by now – Estrina’s crippled heroine vibe had meant it was the same in her last match, while Sammain’s utter assholishness had not mattered a jot when it came to the fans’ adoration. The Brit might have looked inconspicuous in her black tank and yoga shorts, but she’d effectively captured the Florida public’s ill-will.
ANNA SHARPE
CAITY MASON
Reaching ringside, she rolled under the bottom rope and was quickly to her feet. After a few seconds of internal debate, Caity Mason turned left, avoiding an early confrontation with Park to station herself on the opposite side of the floor.
With what was essentially a title on the line and the combustible mix of personalities present in and around the ring, FAWN’s head referee Nick Castle had been tapped to officiate the proceedings. He had predictably come up empty when he examined Camille for weapons during Anna’s walk to the ring, and his inspection of Sharpe similarly yielded nothing, although Yoona appeared to disagree.
“You missed the stick up her ass!” Park called from the floor, firing the first shot of the match just as the opening bell sounded.
Anna scowled at the remark which only seemed to amuse the Korean, and then she engaged her opponent in a mutual circling of the ring, each wrestler sizing up the other. The tale of the tape was virtually identical, with the blonde Brit being perhaps a fraction of an inch taller than her brown-haired American foe, but that similarity in stature belied just how radically different they were in physicality.
Cosworth was blessed with an unprecedented blend of speed, power, and acrobatic aptitude that allowed her to blow away her opponents with an arsenal of maneuvers that boggled minds and defied physics. Sharpe was a wholly different breed of athletic freak endowed with limitless stamina, an inexorable, inexhaustible perpetual motion machine that seemed to get stronger and stronger as matches wore on. Both the experts and the oddsmakers had deemed it a match of equals yet opposites, and the fighters seemed to sense it too as they cautiously probed for openings in each other’s defenses.
“What you did to Estrina wasn't right,” Camille said in a low, serious voice as she continued to circle. “You could have seriously hurt that poor woman.”
“Spare me your sanctimonious bullsh--”
“Oh my FUCKING God!” Yoona screeched as she pounded both fists into the apron in frustration over the lack of action. “Stop prancing around and just hit her in the fucking face already!”
The advice was surely meant for Camille, although it was Anna who seemed to take it to heart as she stormed in with a looping overhand Haymaker aimed at the brunette’s jaw. The blow harmlessly whiffed when Cosworth leaned backwards, but her dodge meant that she had ceded momentum to the hard-charging Brit.
Sharpe was quick to follow up by clasping Camille around the shoulders, and then she thrust her right knee forward and up. She made contact this time, although she wished she hadn’t when her opponent leapt up just as she was striking, planted a foot on her rising knee, and pushed off into a front somersault directly over her head. Cosworth grabbed the baffled Brit around the chin just as she was halfway through the rotation, and then she laid out on her back at the end of her tumble to slam Anna’s head and neck into the mat with a Front Flip Neckbreaker.
FRONT FLIP NECKBREAKER
m.youtube.com/watch?v=zygcKJ9cMNE
Still holding onto the blonde’s head after the impact, Camille rolled the both of them onto their stomachs and rose to her feet, dragging her opponent along with a Front Facelock. As soon as she had solid footing, she grabbed a handful of black yoga shorts and effortlessly hoisted Sharpe into an upright and upside down position that had everyone in the building anticipating a Vertical Suplex. Cosworth apparently had something else in mind, however, and she suddenly released both of her grips to gasps from the crowd. For a brief, dizzying moment, Anna was in freefall, and then Camille’s arms looped around her waist and drove her down the rest of the way with a Powerbomb.
VERTICAL SUPLEX POWERBOMB / ORANGE CRUSH
m.youtube.com/watch?v=9t0oFWON8GI
The audience exploded into cheers, although their enthusiasm was immediately dampened when Sharpe showed her resilience first by remaining conscious, and then by rolling onto her stomach to prevent a pin and crawling to a corner to regroup. She had never been tossed around in such a fashion before, not even in her grueling war with Autumn Sammain, and she found it to be a disorienting and unsatisfying experience, to say the least. Making matters worse was Cosworth’s obnoxious girlfriend chirping in her ear from just a few feet away.
“Did you seriously think you had a fucking chance when you barely got past that crippled midget?!” Yoona asked incredulously. “Haven’t you learned anything from your pathetic shitshow of a tennis career? A professional loser like you couldn’t even win a goddamned game of Connect Four with a five move headstart!”
“Don’t listen to that skank, Anna!” Caity shouted from the other side of the ring. “Focus and try to --”
“Go eat a bag of dicks and drown yourself in bleach, Mason!” Park snapped back. “You’re so fucking irrelevant that you don’t even have a Wikipedia page! If I type ‘Caity Mason’ into Google, it asks me if I had meant ‘sad sack of shit’ instead!”
The FAWNatics roared with delight at Yoona’s special brand of verbal abuse, which in Sharpe’s mind only further cemented their status as hypocrites. She redoubled her resolve to win the match and the tournament, if for nothing else than to spite the boorish crowd. With Castle signalling the end of her five-count breather in the corner, Anna stalked to the center of the ring with hands held up high and fingers curled, beckoning her opponent forward for a Test of Strength.
Camille obliged without hesitation, clasping her hands against Sharpe’s and interlocking their fingers. It turned out to be a ruse though, and the Brit capitalized by slamming a Headbutt directly into her opponent’s face. Cosworth started to stagger backwards, but the blonde’s grips on her hands prevented her from getting very far, and Anna repeated her Headbutt two, three, four more times before the skull-rattling impacts started to take a toll on herself as well.
The brunette still clearly took the worst of the exchange, however, and she crumpled to the mat in a daze as soon as Sharpe released her. Meanwhile, Anna shook off the dizziness fogging her own brain and promptly took control of both of the American’s ankles. Holding the captured limbs in a V, she stepped through with her own leg and crossed Camille’s ankles in preparation for an early application of her signature Sharpeshooter with an extra E.
“Bal!” Yoona called while urgently slapping the mat. “Bal bal bal!”
No one else in or around the ring understood what Park was prattling on about, but in their time together Cosworth had gained a rudimentary grasp of her girlfriend’s native language, and she quickly figured out that the Korean word for “foot” was Yoona telling her how to counter Sharpe’s hold. Just before Anna could turn her onto her stomach and lock in the Sharpeshooter, Camille reached down and grabbed the ankle of Sharpe’s leg which was scissored between her own, and then she gave a forceful yank while twisting her hips.
The maneuver unbalanced Anna and dropped her to the mat, her right leg still trapped in the American’s clutches. Had Cosworth possessed her girlfriend’s skills and temperament she might have done serious damage or perhaps even ended the fight then and there with a myriad of joint locks. As it were, however, she allowed Sharpe to kick free and squirm away unharmed, much to Yoona’s exasperation.
“What the hell, Cam! She doesn't need two knees to be a professional assbag. Stamp on the fucker.”
Back on her feet, Sharpe gave the Korean a sour look before once again lifting her arms and offering Camille a Test of Strength.
“This time we'll do it properly. I promise.”
Cosworth was understandably less cavalier about accepting second time around, so Anna rippled her fingers in invitation.
“No trick. You're not in my league as an athlete, you moralizing arsehole. This is a simple way to prove it.”
Convinced by the explanation of Sharpe's honest intentions, if not the accuracy of her premise, Camille once again joined hands with the Brit and this time there were no Butts, no ifs, only firming muscles, pursed lips, a determined meeting of eyes. Anna let her left foot slide out behind her for support as Cosworth proved stronger than expected in the initial push, regaining equality with a grunt of effort that had them chest to chest, arms outstretched to either side.
Down below, Yoona was nodding approvingly at the curving line of Camille's tensed torso, and so she didn't notice that Caity Mason had made her way round the side of the ring and was standing a few feet away.
“Didn't have you down as a prude, Park. What's so bad about being an ass-muncher?”
“Huh?” It took Yoona a moment to remember that the quote came from her epic intro for Camille, but having done so she shrugged, her eyes not leaving the ring. “They're words, dick breath. I say them and then I forget them.” As if to demonstrate, she raised her voice and yelled, “Hey Sharpe, I can see your legs wobbling from here. You're gassing out, you mouth-breathing slug.”
Unused to being so quickly dismissed, Caity briefly glanced up to confirm that Park was bullshitting. She was. In fact the Test was still going strong, no sign of a wobble in either pair of legs, though Anna had forced Camille onto her toes with an underarm grip while also backing the Girl of Tomorrow into a corner. The air had gone out of the crowd just a little too; the prolonged Test of Strength offered relatively little as a spectacle compared to Camille's usual hi-octane offense.
So far, Anna's part of the plan was going fine.
Mason's should really have been the easier bit. Distracting a nymphomaniac when you looked like Caity and dressed like Caity and had Caity's lack of inhibitions should have been simpler than a Sanders family gathering. The Cali catfighter tried again, fiddling with her top to give an unnecessary boost to her already abundant cleavage.
“You must like bowling, right?” was her next opening effort. “Sliding your fingers deep into those tight holes. You know the 7-10 split? Pretty much impossible shot. Almost never happens. Well I'm the 7-10 split. You see, it's pretty much impossible to have a waist this tiny and tits this big, an ass this round. But here I am.”
In the ring, Cosworth and Sharpe were still joined at the fingers, though now it was the blonde haired Brit getting slightly the worst of it, her face pinched with effort, her right knee bending underneath her.
Yoona finally turned away to look at Caity. The Korean's cheeks were slightly flushed. She licked her lips, swept Caity up and down and opened her mouth.
“Mason, what the FUCK are you babbling about?” she said.
Although that got a good laugh from the fans behind the barrier who had been listening to the exchange, Park's attention was already back on the action in the ring.
Anna's nails weren't long, but all through the Test she'd used what she had to dig at the skin on the back of the brunette's hands, and she'd finally earned a sucked-in breath of pain from her American opponent. “Scratch me back,” she muttered. Her fingers were starting to feel numb and she wondered slightly about the possible consequences for the rest of the match, then decided Cosworth would surely be in the same boat were there to be any.
“Don't need to,” Camille grunted back. The crowd was legitimately flat now. Quiet enough for them to hear each other easily. Anna smiled a mirthless smile.
“I forgot,” she lied. “Little Miss Wrestling's-in-her-blood doesn't cheat, does she.”
Suddenly, Sharpe lowered her shoulders and bulled Camille back into a corner then bodied up, their joined hands trapped between their chests.
“She lets her tame skank do all the cheating for her. She's a fucking hypocrite. A coward.”
Those last two accusations came accompanied by a pair of Kneelifts that took Camille on the inside of her thighs. Her point well and truly made, Anna ripped her hands free of the Test and slapped the brunette hard across the cheek, turning her head.
“Oh no. A limp-wristed slap to the face. How can anyone ever recover from such a devastating attack?” Yoona deadpanned while Castle forced Sharpe to back up in order to get her opponent out of the corner.
Once she was clear of the ropes, Camille rubbed the lingering stiffness out of her fingers and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. Much to her chagrin, the fans were still deflated after the extended Test of Strength had sapped their enthusiasm, but Cosworth happened to have the perfect cure for their ennui. Approaching the Brit with a couple of measured steps, she swung her left leg out and around in a waist level Roundhouse Kick. Sharpe easily stepped out of range of the telegraphed blow, only to lunge forward again when the whiffed kick left Camille turned around backwards.
She discovered that it was a feint, however, when Cosworth launched into a twisting leap that ended with a second Roundhouse Kick, one that was higher, faster, and much better disguised. Anna couldn’t dodge after already committing to her lunge, and the best she could do was raise her right arm and partially block the 540 Kick just moments before Camille’s left foot slammed into the side of her head.
540 KICK
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUgWCj30pKM
Even with most of the force absorbed through her arm, the impact still left Sharpe shaken and stumbling. Anna’s temporary discombobulation left her vulnerable and Cosworth took advantage by leaping at her feet first, planting both heels into her chest, and pushing off into a backflip.
DROPSAULT
www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2ELlZUT4QI
The recoil from the Dropsault sent the Brit crashing into a set of turnbuckles, though she rebounded from the corner still on her feet. She wouldn’t stay upright for long, however, when Camille exploded into a Spear directly after sticking the landing on her Dropsault. Cosworth drove her right shoulder into the midriff of her counterpart from across the Atlantic and slammed Anna back into the corner. The twin collisions of shoulder-to-gut and then spine-to-turnbuckle finally took Sharpe’s legs out from under her as she slumped to a seat on the mat with one arm hooked over the bottom rope.
“STOMP ON HER HEAD! STOMP ON HER HEAD!” Park demanded over the suddenly raucous crowd, their excitement reignited by Camille landing a trio of big moves in a span of maybe five seconds.
Cosworth, however, relented on the assault and retreated to the center of the ring, voluntarily giving her opponent a rope break. Caity sighed in relief, and then she quickly made her way over to the opposite corner to provide Anna with some moral support. Meanwhile Yoona elected to stay put and shout her verbal barbs so that everyone could hear.
“You’re a smelly pirate hooker, Sharpe! Why don't you go back to your home on Whore Island?! You’re out of your fucking league here!”
Anna was still recovering, so it fell on Caity to retort, “Oh, you’re one to talk --”
“Shut your syphilitic dick-trap, Mason!” Yoona immediately snapped back. “This isn't a semen chugging contest, so get your worthless ass out of here!”
“Wow Yoona… let’s, uhh, let’s turn it down a notch,” Camille softly pleaded with her girlfriend. “Remember, we’re the good guys here…”
“Cam, after that intro I gave you, you could eat a live puppy in the middle of the ring and still be the biggest babyface on the planet. So relax, babe. I know what I’m doing. The fans love it when fucktards like those two take any kind of abuse, so go Winston her Churchill and leave the rest to me.”
“...’Winston her Churchill?’” Cosworth scoffed with a playfully raised eyebrow, before turning back towards Anna who had fought her way upright.
“Cut me some slack,” Yoona grumbled indignantly. “It’s not easy coming up with all these lines on the fly.”
Park’s volley of insults only served to stoke Sharpe’s ire. Having adequately recovered in the corner, she stormed out with fists flying at her fellow rookie. Camille managed to slap away a couple of Left Jabs and then tilted her head to the side to get out of the way of a Right Cross. Her hair was not so lucky though, when Anna’s clenched fist suddenly transformed into a claw and snatched a handful of her ponytail as it trailed behind her head.
Cosworth yelped when her opponent gave her hair a hard yank, but her complaint was cut short when Sharpe slammed a Forearm Smash across her face. Still keeping the brunette’s ponytail wrapped around her right hand, Anna used her left arm to repeat the Forearm Smash one, two, three times before Nick Castle forced her to relinquish the hair hold under threat of disqualification. With her opponent wobbling but still upright, Sharpe spun around in a tight circle to build momentum and then slammed her outstretched right arm across Cosworth’s neck to level her with a vicious Discus Clothesline.
DISCUS CLOTHESLINE
m.youtube.com/watch?v=HX8ccPRxd2M
“Kick her ass, baby!” Caity encouraged from ringside.
“‘Kick her ass?!’” Park snorted derisively. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Mason, what the fuck are you even doing here?! It's the goddamn tournament finals and the best you can come up with is ‘Kick her ass?!’ I've seen better trash talk from a fucking fortune cookie! Other than being that weaboo’s toilet seat, is there anything you don't fail at?!”
Meanwhile in the ring, Anna hauled her opponent up onto her shoulder before depositing Camille back to the deck with a simple yet forceful Scoop Slam. Cosworth bounced off the mat with a groan and rolled to her stomach, only for the Brit to once more drag her upright, slip an arm between her thighs, scoop her up, and slam her down again.
“I can do this all day, you twat, because I'm a real athlete, not some one-trick poser,” Anna spat as she pulled Camille upright in preparation for a third consecutive Scoop Slam. This time, however, Cosworth blocked the attempt by hooking her own arm around Sharpe’s thigh.
The sudden counter left Anna unbalanced for just a beat or two, and that was all the opportunity Camille needed to scoop her off her feet in a reversal of fortune. Rather than slam Sharpe back down, however, Cosworth held her opponent across her chest even as Anna fitfully kicked and flailed.
“You're a real boring athlete,” Camille retorted with a light chuckle. “Good thing my moves are cool enough for the both of us.”
With that said, she flexed her knees and launched into a backflip, seemingly not encumbered by the weight of the woman she held in her arms. Cosworth came up just shy of a full rotation, landing on her chest rather than her feet in order to pancake Sharpe underneath her with a breathtaking Moonsault Powerslam.
MOONSAULT POWERSLAM
m.youtube.com/watch?v=aL65G7XYV0E
All at once, the crowd roared, Caity screamed, Yoona smirked, and Camille hooked a leg for the first pin attempt of the match. Castle was on the mat in the blink of an eye, and he counted out…
ONE!
TWO!
THRNOOO!
...as the resilient Brit shrugged a shoulder off the mat to break the pin, much to the disappointment of the FAWNatics. Cosworth didn’t seem all that displeased, however, as she calmly hauled Anna upright by an arm and gripped the blonde’s shoulders.
“Anna, I really hope you don’t get airsick…”
Camille scrunched up, planted both feet in Anna’s abdomen, rolled onto her back, and pushed up and out with her legs. For just about anyone else, it would have been a run-of-the-mill Monkey Flip, but a combination of genetics and years of plyometric training had endowed Cosworth with rocket-powered legs that launched Sharpe ridiculously high into the air.
MONKEY FLIP
m.youtube.com/watch?v=dWlX46WUky0
Sent into a flailing, graceless flight, Anna flipped head-over-heels in midair and landed on the top rope gut-first before bouncing off the springy steel cable and crashing to the floor outside the ring. Having already kipped up to her feet even before the Brit made contact with the thinly padded cement, Camille loped to a corner with two easy strides and then mounted the top turnbuckle with a third.
The entire arena gasped in anticipation of whatever daredevil maneuver Cosworth might unleash from her perch eight feet above her fallen opponent. It turned out to be a deflating anti-climax, however, when Mason ran to Sharpe’s side and perhaps unwittingly put herself in the line of fire. Unable to hit Anna without also hitting Caity, Camille hesitated for a second or two as she stood in the high rent district, then she shook her head in exasperation and hopped down to the mat.
“Get her back in the ring, Caity,” she called over her shoulder while she retreated back to the opposite corner where Yoona was gaping at her in disbelief from atop the apron.
“Cam, what the fuck are you doing?!” the Korean seethed. “Why didn't you squash those shitheads?!”
Camille shook her head, then lifted up her bangs to reveal the small, white scar on her left brow.
“Caity… She… The way she used her body to shield someone she cared about… I -- I saw us down there.”
After several seconds of tense silence, Park seemed to relent. She simply rolled her eyes and scoffed as she dropped back down to the floor, offering no rebuke to what Cosworth said.
“Thanks,” Anna muttered, as Caity helped her to her feet. “But we are nothing like them, okay? NOTHING.”
“Well yeah, I don't stink of kimchee and you know how to fight without spinning round so much you make the audience want to throw up.”
Mason gave her girl an encouraging slap on the ass before Anna rolled back under the bottom rope, glad to have put off having to DTR in such a fraught moment.
On her feet quickly in spite of the assortment of aches delivered by Camille's various flips and throws, Anna didn't avail herself of the opportunity to thank Cosworth for showing mercy. In fact she was thinking how the brunette's overt sense of fair play kept the ref much too heavily involved – so far Castle had not let Sharpe get away with so much as a quick hair grab before threatening the bell.
Facing each other, the two rookies quickly moved closer and locked up with paired grunts center ring.
“You want me to shed a tear for your little sob story, bitch,” Sharpe growled, getting low and starting to push Camille back. “I'd rather give you a matching scar.”
“The only thing I need from you is three seconds of your time, Anna,” came the surprisingly pert reply.
Once Camille's back hit the ropes Anna disengaged and ducked down, looking to drive her shoulder into Cosworth's gut. But the brunette was too quick for her again, hopping up onto the middle rope and somersaulting from there over the onrushing Brit's lowered back. Spinning round with a frustrated snarl on her face, Anna turned straight into a TERRIFIC Superkick she took flush to the jaw. Briefly knocked loopy, she stumbled backward and looked like entangling herself in the ropes before she finally slid to the canvas, flat on her back.
“Shit!” Caity cupped her hands to her mouth like she was worried about keeping her own teeth in. Save the steady rise and fall of her chest, Anna wasn't moving.
The crowd were, though. Jumping to their feet as Camille boosted herself directly to the top turnbuckle, not even a wobble on landing. She raised her arms to them in acknowledgement of their shared bond, letting the cheers and screams wash over her. But when her eyes flicked to Yoona's, the Korean gestured urgently.
“Stop daydreaming and finish it, Cam,” she said, casting quick glances at the fallen Brit.
Anna was still motionless when Camille took off. The brunette's springy frame powered her to the spectacular height she needed to fit in the rotations for a 630 Senton, thousands of phones held high to try capture the apex. Unfortunately for Cosworth though, the extra air also gave Sharpe the split second of time it took to roll into the corner, leaving Camille to suffer a hard landing.
The THUD shook the ring and brought a groan from every corner of the arena.
Shaking her head to clear it of cobwebs, Anna wasted no time in taking advantage. The American had rolled belly down after the brutal impact and Sharpe crawled the few feet to her moaning frame and drove an axehandle shot into her back, then followed up with a series of Headbutts, eventually stopping to take a rest with her palms splayed possessively on her prey, one on Cosworth's rump and the other between her shoulders.
“You need to get your arse in here and rescue her, Park,” Anna said, casually lifting her right arm, the one that was between Camille's shoulder blades, and driving a vicious elbow into the back of the brunette's head. “Because I'm going to hurt her.”
The Korean's fingers made fists at her sides but she stayed frozen in place. “Cam's got you right where she wants you, you silicon-fucking mouthbreather,” she retorted.
Anna shrugged and curled her fingers ready to apply a Crotch Claw. Now, having wrestled multiple matches with Adelaide Brewster, Camille had experienced the move's unique pain plenty, but it wasn't the sort of thing you got accustomed to. She screamed her way through a four count, sobbing when Sharpe ripped her fingers away and stood up. Working with her customary lack of ceremony Sharpe began the process of locking in her hopefully match-ending finisher by taking Camille's ankles and stepping between them, before crossing them over.
SHARPESHOOTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxunJK04Igk
This time Cosworth didn't possess the alertness to escape. Anna settled into the Sharpeshooter perhaps two feet away from the ropes and immediately turned her head to stare at Yoona Park.
“The Girl of Tomorrow will need your help.”
She curled her tongue contemptuously around Camille's moniker, while the woman herself strained and scrapped in hopes of reaching release.
“Cheat for her,” Sharpe said. “Take the rope and stretch it until she can reach.”
“No!” Camille forestalled her girlfriend with a quavering yell. It took her a few seconds to master herself before she could go on. “I can make it, Yoona. Trust me.” Her outstretched, fluttering fingers were perhaps three inches from the bottom rope when Anna dragged her back toward the center of the mat.
“You deluded bitch, you aren't shit without her help.”
Sharpe punctuated the taunt by pouring more effort into the tortuous hold. She blew a kiss at the watching Korean. Yoona, however, was focused entirely on her girlfriend who was now tearing at her own hair in distress.
“Hey babe, want me to kill them for you?” Park offered with feigned nonchalance, putting referee Nick Castle very much ill at ease.
“Nnnnuuuggghh… n-nooo…” Cosworth groaned as she desperately tried to crawl her way to the ropes once more. “I -- I’ve got this…”
“Alright, Cam. I’ll give you another minute, then I’m gutting the fat one to send a message to the ugly one.”
Neither Anna nor Caity fit either of those two adjectives by any sane standard, but Camille was not interested in finding out who was who. She redoubled her efforts to get to the edge of the ring, digging her fingernails into the canvas and arduously pulling herself forward. Sharpe allowed her to get almost within reach of the ropes, then started dragging her back towards the center of the mat once more, trying to break the brunette’s spirit.
This time, however, Anna got a little too far out of her crouched posture as she started walking back to the middle of the ring. Camille felt the change in pressure on her spine, and realized this was perhaps her only opportunity to escape. Gritting her teeth in preparation for the burst of agony to come, she crunched forward into a ball and then pushed herself through the Brit’s parted legs. At the end of the contortionist maneuver she had learned courtesy of her time at the Hellhole, she ended up stacked on her shoulders in front of a very surprised Anna, and then a quick tug on Sharpe’s ankles sent the blonde toppling to the mat and earned Cosworth her freedom.
Camille quickly barrel rolled to a corner for a five-count breather, and then she used the turnbuckles to help herself upright. She tried to massage the worst of the aches out of her lower back, and then she staggered out to meet her waiting opponent in another Test of Strength. The wear and tear of her failed 630 Senton and her time in the Sharpeshooter were starting to show, however, and what had been a stalemate earlier in the match was now a noticeable advantage for Anna.
“What’s the matter?” Sharpe smirked as she forced her foe backwards. “You’re wearing down already, you self-righteous twat?”
“‘Cunt!’ The proper word is ‘cunt!’” Park immediately shouted. “How is it that you people invented the fucking language and you still can’t speak it correctly?!”
Anna frowned but did not respond to the latest in the Korean’s barrage of verbal barbs, instead focusing her energies on forcing Camille down to one knee. With leverage and gravity working against her, Cosworth knew she was caught in a bad spot that was getting worse by the second, and she had to get out immediately.
Taking a deep breath to gather her reserves, she ripped her hands free of the Test of Strength with a downwards yank. The sudden lack of resistance caused Sharpe to pitch forward, and then Camille planted her hands on the Brit’s midriff and sprung to a stand while hoisting Anna upwards with a mighty grunt of effort. Sharpe was suspended in mid-air high above the mat for a second or two and then Camille followed with a twisting leap, securing a Front Facelock on the blonde, kicking her legs forward, and allowing Sir Issac Newton to complete the Pop-Up Ace Crusher.
POP-UP ACE CRUSHER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRbbFIwRx4c
The high impact maneuver leaves both women laid out, Camille on her back and Anna on her stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, Cosworth realized that there was truth in her opponent’s words. She had needed to use much more effort than usual to launch Sharpe for the Pop-Up and now she was sucking wind, which could only mean that she was starting to lose her top gear in the match. Knowing that she had to end the fight quickly before her conditioning became more of a disadvantage, Camille crawled to her hands and knees and began summoning her deep reserves of awesome to a monumental pop from the crowd.
The heaving shoulders…
...the wheezing hyperventilation...
...the pallor on her skin…
...the way every sinew and vessel stood out in sharp relief…
...all were telltale signs that the next ninety seconds would soon be the stuff of a thousand YouTube highlight videos. Unfortunately for fans of the spectacular, however, Anna had other plans. She too recognized the precursor to Cosworth’s adrenaline rush, and despite the fact that she was still seeing double after the Pop-Up Ace Crusher, she scrambled forward and snapped a desperate kick into the side of her opponent’s rib cage.
Robbed of oxygen before she could enter the mental headspace necessary to push herself into overdrive, Camille collapsed to the mat again. With her Ninety Seconds of Awesome abruptly and violently short-circuited, she curled into a protective ball, although that did nothing to discourage Anna from stomping at her again and again and again and again.
“Don't let her up, baby!” Caity shouted from her spot on the floor.
It was wise albeit obvious advice, as Sharpe had no intention of giving her opponent any breathing room. She figured that keeping Cosworth grounded and winded would neutralize the brunette’s explosive athleticism, and so far that plan seemed to be paying off. When Castle finally forced her to relent after delivering more than a dozen boots to the American’s chest, stomach, and back, Anna pulled Camille up to a kneeling position before dropping down to her own haunches behind her opponent.
“Can’t fly on an empty gas tank, can you?” Sharpe hissed as she wrapped her arms around Camille from behind and squeezed down on a Reverse Bear Hug.
Cosworth was in quite a predicament. Although having her own arms pinned to her sides prevented any risk of direct damage to her ribs, the vise was still severely constricting her chest and limiting her ability to breath. Worse still, her position made it nigh impossible to get her feet planted against the mat, robbing her of the leverage necessary to power out of the hold. All Camille could do was try to outlast her captor’s stamina in applying the Reverse Bear Hug, and given Anna’s impeccable aerobic conditioning, those prospects looked quite dismal.
“BOOORRRRING!” Yoona shouted from the ring apron in an attempt to distract the Brit. “BOOOOORRRRRRING! BOOOOORRRRRING!”
The assembled fans joined in on the chant as Sharpe continued to work her simple yet effective hold well past the one minute mark, but she remained focused on slowly squeezing the fight out of her opponent. Even as her own arms were feeling the burn from the accumulation of lactic acid in her muscles, Anna knew that Camille was in even more dire straits as she could feel the American’s breathing progressively get more shallow and labored. Cosworth still weakly shook her head when Castle asked for her submission, but that seemed to be all the resistance that she could muster at this point.
“WOOOO! You got her, baby! You got her!” Caity cheered from her spot on the floor, earning her a sideways glance and a quick smile from Anna.
Unfortunately for Mason, her jubilation also drew the attention of her counterpart on the other side of the ring, and Park came sauntering over to the Cali catfighter’s side.
“I think we got off to a bad start, Mason,” Yoona whispered as she threw an arm around Caity’s shoulders. “Now that I think about it, Sharpe really should be Rookie of the Year.”
Caity turned her head to shoot a quizzical look at the Korean, scoffed, and then returned her attention to the ring where Camille’s consciousness appeared to be fighting a losing battle against Anna’s Reverse Bear Hug.
“I’m serious!” Park continued despite Mason’s best attempts to ignore her. “Think about it! What does Cam have to gain if she wins? All of this is meaningless to someone of her stature. Win or lose, she’s still gonna love be loved by everyone, she’s still gonna sell a ton of merchandise, and she’s still gonna wrestle five-star matches every time she gets in the ring. By the time she's done and the Girl of Tomorrow becomes the Legend of Yesteryear, this whole fucking tournament will be just an insignificant drop in the ocean of accolades she’ll have earned.”
Yoona gestured to the ring before quietly murmuring in Caity’s ear once more.
“Now Sharpe, on the other hand, she fucking needs this. Because Rookie of the Year is as good as it’s ever gonna get for a no-talent ball of unwashed taint-hair who’s only kept around in order to lose to better women. Even that's being generous. To tell you the truth, horse-faced uggos with misshaped tits and zero charisma like her aren't even fit to be bikini meat for people like me. If she shits her pants and loses here -- and let’s be honest, she always shits her pants in big matches -- then she might as well quit wrestling and start choking down cockmeat sandwiches through a glory hole at some backwater highway rest stop for two bucks a pop. Don't worry though, I’ll make sure she never goes hungry. A lot of my fans are horny frat-bros, and I'm sure they’ll be more than happy to run a train on your girl and provide her with a never-ending supply of --”
Mason had heard enough. She shoved Park away and blistered the Korean’s cheek with a Bitch Slap so fierce that it actually split the skin. Yoona, however, seemed unperturbed despite the thin rivulet of blood running down the side of her face.
“Don't you ever talk like that --”
“Oh, Caity, Caity, Caity… I want you to know that you touched me because I let you touch me,” Park interrupted in a voice loud enough for Anna to hear. “And now you're FUCKED.”
Sharpe craned her head around just in time to see Yoona crush Caity’s windpipe with a savage Throat Punch. Mason’s hands reflexively shot to her neck, which left her unable to defend against the Snap Kick to her groin that followed a split second later. Doubled over and wheezing, Caity was helpless when Park simultaneously slammed a knee into her face and an elbow into the back of her head, the pair of bony joints acting as a hammer and anvil to smash her cranium. Having eaten a quartet of vicious blows in less than three seconds, she crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
Anna sprang into action before Mason’s unconscious body even hit the ground. She immediately abandoned her crushing grip on the nearly-insensate Camille, who instinctively gasped in relief but remained otherwise unaware of what was happening, and then she made a beeline for Park. Had it not been for referee Nick Castle grabbing her by the waist at the last second, Sharpe would have launched herself through the ropes to get at the Korean.
“YOU CRAVEN, CHEAP-SHOTTING TWAT!” Anna roared, showering Park with spittle.
“It was self-defense, dipshit!” Yoona snorted as she gestured to the side of her face. “I was only telling Caity how much my fans would appreciate you, and then she just flew off the handle and struck me! If anything, I’m the victim here! I’m lucky to be alive after such a ruthless attack!”
The tittering, mocking laughs from the FAWNatics only roiled Sharpe even more.
“YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD!” she screamed as she tried to struggle her way out of Castle’s arms to no avail. “I’LL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!”
“Oh please,” Park scoffed with an infuriating roll of her eyes. “Your rage is as impotent and flaccid as Gordy Solis’ micro-dick after a couple of whiskey sours!”
“N -- nuh-uh!” Solis stammered in protest from his spot at the announcer’s table. “It -- it was cold! I had just been swimming!”
Paying Gordy no mind, Yoona continued her taunting.
“Remember when you swore revenge against that Wapanese ninja-wannabe and then ended up tapping out like a bitch? Pepperidge Farm remembers…”
“I’LL MAKE YOU EAT YOUR WORDS, SKANK!” Anna snarled. “YOU’LL --”
“Go fuck yourself with a turkey carver,” Yoona retorted. “You can't do shit to me. Sammain toyed with you then, and Cam is toying with you right now. Your head’s just too fucking far up your own ass to realize you're being played like a damn fiddle!”
The haze of anger suddenly lifted from her mind, and Sharpe realized that Park had been buying time for Cosworth to recover. Turning on her heels and storming away from Nick in an instant, Anna rushed forward to punt her kneeling opponent in the head. That plan came to a screeching halt, however, when Camille raised an arm and caught Sharpe’s ankle in her hand. Cosworth barrel-rolled to the canvas with a forceful twist, hurling the Brit across the ring in the process to cheers from the crowd.
“Impossible…” Anna snarled as she clambered to her feet and found her opponent also upright and staring at her. “You were finished! You --”
“BANKAI.”
The FAWNatics gave a deafening roar just as the arena lights suddenly turned ultraviolet, causing every inch of Camille’s exposed skin to glow blue with a high-tech circuit pattern that had been drawn on with special paint. Cosworth closed the ten foot gap between herself and her opponent in the blink of an eye, and then she leapt clear over the blonde’s head in order to take Sharpe’s back.
Anna didn't even have time to swivel around and reacquire her target before the brunette slipped an arm between her thighs from behind and scooped her into the air one-handed. With the Brit mounted on her left shoulder, Camille pirouetted towards the center of the ring, and then gave Anna a mighty heave off her shoulder just as she dropped to a seat, driving Sharpe’s spine into the deck with a massive Blue Thunder Bomb.
BLUE THUNDER BOMB
m.youtube.com/watch?v=TtkYbROztdo
Against any other foe and Cosworth might have gone for a pin, but instead she tucked Sharpe’s legs under her arms, popped to her feet, and started spinning in place, effortlessly getting Anna airborne for a Giant Swing. Having achieved maximum speed after just a few revolutions, Camille abruptly let go, sending the blonde hurtling towards a set of steel cables.
Anna landed across the springy strands and bounced back miraculously still on her feet, albeit staggering drunkenly. She might have fallen after a couple of steps had Cosworth not looped an arm across her chest to hold her upright. Not that she remained upright for long though, as Camille launched into another backflip and dragged her along for the ride before planting Sharpe headfirst into the mat with a high arcing Moonsault Side Slam that had Jenny Jacobs’ lawyers clamoring for gimmick infringement.
MOONSAULT SIDE SLAM
m.youtube.com/watch?v=6N7UprkIg1U
Castle had already dropped down to the deck in anticipation of the pin, so it surprised him when Cosworth simply rolled through the impact and popped to a stand with Anna’s limp body still in her grasps. With nary a moment’s hesitation, Camille ran for the nearest corner and mounted the top turnbuckle in a single great leap, carrying her opponent with her. The “HOLY SHIT!” chant that had been reverberating through the FAWN arena ever since the Blue Thunder Bomb abruptly fell quiet as twenty thousand people reached for their phones to record whatever death-defying acrobatic move Cosworth was planning to do next.
Camille did nothing, however. Once she had leapt to her perch on the top rope, she saw for the first time Yoona standing over Caity’s unconscious form, and she quickly pieced together what had happened from the moment that Sharpe had abandoned the Bear Hug.
“Yoona… what did you do?!” she demanded, still holding Anna aloft. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
“Don't worry about it, babe. She hit me. I hit her back. You know how it goes,” Park replied with a shrug. “Now hurry up and drop that piece of trash jobber on her head so we can get out of here and grab some food! I'm starving!”
Contrary to her girlfriend’s instructions, Camille simply let go of Anna, letting the blonde topple from the top turnbuckle to the relative safety of the ring.
“Cam, what the fuck --”
“GODDAMN IT, YOONA! I TOLD YOU NOT TO CHEAT FOR ME!” Cosworth shrieked from her spot atop the ropes facing outwards. “UGH! YOU JUST RUINED THIS WHOLE MATCH!”
It was extraordinarily rare for Camille to swear, much less swear at her beloved girlfriend, and the sudden outburst of profanity seemed to shock everyone in the building. Even the lights returned to normal, their preset ninety second timer having run its course.
“Oh my God, you're being so melodramatic,” Park groaned. “It's perfectly legal for me to kick the shit out of Mason! And you sure didn’t seem to mind when I skull-fucked Kylie Sanders and DeUngh in round one!”
“THAT’S DIFFERENT! KYLIE AND DEMETRIA INTERFERED IN THE MATCH FIRST!”
“Oh, really? And what do you call it when Mason got in your way earlier?”
“We. Don't. Take. Hostages!” Camille seethed, ignoring the question and enunciating every single word for emphasis. “Beating up Anna’s girlfriend to distract her is NOT OKAY. We either win clean, or we -- NNNNRRRGGHHH!”
She never got to finish her thought, as Anna had recovered enough to stagger upright and shake the top rope. The unstable footing combined with Camille’s physical exhaustion at the end of her Ninety Seconds of Awesome caused the brunette to lose her balance and fall from her perch, hitting her crotch on the top turnbuckle before slopping down to the canvas.
The groan from the crowd washed over Anna as the dirty blonde pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing. Sometimes local newspapers would print stories about cats that had survived climbing into a dryer and being taken for a spin. After enduring a good two thirds of Camille's minute-and-a-half power surge, Anna felt a whole new level of sympathy for those bedraggled felines.
Still, she was with it enough to recognise this moment as her chance. Praying she wouldn't look too callous when Caity watched the match back, she put her hurting girlfriend out of her mind and pulled Cosworth to her feet with two handfuls of sweaty hair, then scooped her up.
Now Anna was someone who liked to fight with a good dollop of hate in her heart, but after Camille had twice proven her commitment to playing fair, it was difficult to summon the necessary anger toward her. Which might have been a problem. Fortunately, the Girl of Tomorrow didn't walk down the ramp unaccompanied.
“Congratulations.” To Yoona, with Camille's limp body in her arms. “You cost her the biggest match of her life. Cunt. Yes, I know the proper word. But I save it for cunts who deserve it.”
To that point neither Sharpe nor Mason had been able to bait the Korean into so much as a sincere response, but the dressing down from her girlfriend had seemingly left Park distraught. For once, she offered no comeback.
Anna shook her head, itching for a confrontation with the nymphomaniac loudmouth, even if this most definitely wasn't the time. Still, FAWN's typically American attitude to geography meant Anna and Yoona's home countries were linked by a title belt, and Sharpe promised herself that down the line they would fight for it. Then, pursing her lips ahead of the effort, she deposited Camille on the turnbuckle and after a couple of thwapping forearms to keep the brunette's pain levels humming, pulled her down hard by the hair, to dangle by her hooked knees. A Tree of Woe.
“One... Two...” Castle gave Anna no leeway to work in the corner, but she didn't need any. Gripping the top rope to boost herself up off the mat, she straightened her leg and drove her heel down HARD into Camille's chin. Cosworth's head recoiled, skull smashing against the turnbuckle. As she bounced to a halt, still inverted, blood trickled from her mouth. Evidently she had bitten her tongue.
Suddenly the crowd, of their own volition, began to chant her name.
“COSWORTH! COSWORTH! COSWORTH!”
A reprise from the start of the match, as deafeningly loud now as it had been then. Anna felt a stab of jealousy so sharp it seemed real. Pushing it away, she lifted Camille by the hair and slipped into the space she'd created between the American and the turnbuckle.
Once she had Camille unhooked and draped down her back the chants quietened, the fans worried for their avatar. “It wasn't only tonight you fucked up, Park,” Anna called out while she carried Camille into the center of the ring, the words tossed over her shoulder like garbage. “You fucked up the minute you convinced her life was a fairy tale. And she fucked up the minute she didn't slam the door on you.” Sharpe took a deep breath and bent her back, hurling Cosworth face first onto the canvas, the Inverted Alabama Slam leaving the American ass up and motionless.
INVERTED ALABAMA SLAM
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4bIIRGta7Y
Anna's eyes were watering already, blurring the lights as she rolled Camille to her back and hooked a leg. The official's hand slapped the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THRENOOOOO!
Perhaps the roof really did lift off its supports. Just for a second. At any rate it felt like it as the cheering exploded in Anna's ears, such a huge noise for such a tiny movement of Camille's shoulder. Fighting back the panic of a decade of blown leads, lost matches in empty stadia beneath an uncaring sun, Sharpe organized her breathing, pulled Camille off the mat and shoved the American's head roughly between her legs.
Outside the ring, Caity dragged herself groggily to her feet, sprawling across the apron, her nose smudged with blood where Yoona had clocked her. Anna wrapped her arms round Cosworth's belly, grunting as she hoisted the brunette's weight. She took a moment to stare at Park through the sloppy 'v' of Camille's upended legs, before sitting out, the Spike Piledriver doing what it was named for and driving the American's head into the mat.
SPIKE PILEDRIVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Uy331kBPxE
Camille slopped to her back, meaning Sharpe only had to drape herself over her body and wait. Still, it seemed to take forever for the ref to slide into position for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
This time there was no escape, however hard Cosworth's fans strained their eyes for a twitching muscle. Anna rolled away, tearing up as her music started up and the announcer made it official.
“The winner of this match, via pinfall, and thus FAWN's Rookie of the Year…. ANNA SHARPE!”
She lay there, her forearms over her face, derision and disapproval surely raging across the sold-out arena. She truly didn't hear it.
She had won.
YOUR FAWN 2016 ROY OF THE YEAR: ANNA SHARPE!
![]()
YOONA PARK
Her girlfriend had not appreciated her antics during her match against Babe Babcock earlier in the evening, and unseen by anyone else, the two of them had gotten into a brief spat backstage. The argument had cooled just as quickly as it had flared, but Yoona was nevertheless feeling guilty for potentially distracting Camille before an important match. To make up for it, Park decided to put her oratory skills to rare positive use by cutting a promo on behalf of her less loquacious girlfriend.
“Good evening, FAWNatics,” Yoona said into her microphone, drawing a modest pop from the crowd. “Now all of you are expecting to see the grand finale of the Rookie of the Year tournament. Camille Cosworth versus Anna Sharpe! Paragon versus Disgrace! Girl of Tomorrow versus Shit-Lick Ass-Muncher!”
The arena rumbled with the low-pitched sound of laughter, which Park let play out for a few seconds before resuming her monologue.
“What you’re really about to see, however, is the culmination of an epic romance. A tale of love triumphing against all odds. Allow me to set the mood by reading a letter written by our heroine…”
Yoona pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it, took a deep breath, and started reading out loud, pretending as if there were actually something written on the blank sheet.
“‘To my first love,
You are the most beautiful thing I’ll ever see. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I sleep every night thinking of another tomorrow with you, and I spend every day making myself better for you. You complete me, and push me to heights I’ve never been. I only hope that someday I can do for you a fraction of what you’ve done for me.
It isn’t always easy --’”
Park’s voice faltered, the very fake letter nevertheless eliciting some very real emotion. Not used to seeing the normally brash and boisterous Korean get choked up, the FAWNatics sat in an eerie silence that was equal parts confusion and reverence. Yoona drew in a long, sniffling breath through her nose, sighed it out through her mouth, and found her composure again.
“‘It isn't always easy. There are days that are filled with tears. There are moments when I hurt in ways I never thought possible. There are forces which would pull us apart. There are those who say that I'm not good enough for you.
And in my darkest moments, I believe them.
But still I persevere. You give me strength. You give me purpose. In a world of cynics, you fill my heart with joy and wonder.
I could live a hundred lifetimes as a hundred different people in a hundred different places, and yet I would always find my way to you, because a life without you is no life at all.’”
Yoona paused her speech and looked around the arena. Her words had clearly moved the fans, and there was no shortage of people rubbing at the corners of their eyes. Husbands, wives, boyfriends, and girlfriends all clung to each other, and there was even a young man furiously scribbling down every word out of Park’s mouth, presumably to recite to his paramour at some later time.
“‘So here’s to you, my first love…’” Yoona continued. “‘...wrestling.'”
The FAWNatics needed a second or two to process the sudden twist in the coda, and then they got to their feet and roared to life just as Park finished, “‘Yours forever, Camille.’”
“Through those curtains is one of you!” Yoona shouted into her microphone as she pointed behind her. “One who shares your love and your passion for this world! One who has dedicated her life to this craft! One who still remembers sitting in those seats as a fan! So tell me, who do you stand with?!”
“COSWORTH!” replied the crowd.
“Who’s your Rookie of the Year?!”
“COSWORTH!”
“WHO’S THE MOTHERFUCKING GREATEST ON THIS NIGHT, AND ON ALL NIGHTS TO COME?!”
“COSWORTH! COSWORTH! COSWORTH!” the fans called, over and over again.
Hearing her name chanted was Camille’s cue to enter, so she parted the curtains and stepped out onto the entrance ramp, her expression frozen with incredulous disbelief. The fans’ response was so overwhelming that she couldn’t think of anything to do except to embrace her girlfriend from behind.
CAMILLE COSWORTH
“‘Whom do you stand with,’” Cosworth whispered, correcting Park’s grammar from just a minute earlier.
“Babe, you’re such --”
“I know, I know… a huge doofus,” Camille interrupted.
“A huge fucking doofus,” Yoona added for emphasis. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Holy crap, that was incredible. How do you ad-lib something like that on the spot?!”
“All I had to do was think about you, and the words came naturally.”
Camille’s world suddenly got blurry as her eyes misted over, and she drew the embrace tighter while surreptitiously wiping her face on Yoona’s shoulder. Cosworth took her girlfriend’s left hand in her right, and the couple strolled to the ring together accompanied not by Camille’s bombastic entrance music, but by the crowd’s chanting of her name. Once they were ringside, Park pressed their foreheads together, a wordless expression of unity, and then she stood on the floor as Cosworth leapt into the ring and awaited her opponent.
In back, Anna and Caity heard both Yoona's unorthodox intro and also the crowd's reaction to it. “I can do that for you,” Mason scowled. She was wearing championship gold top and bottom, back to cleavage-baring and butt-hugging, the layered look she’d debuted for Anna’s match with Estrina very much a one-off. “That slut isn't the only one who knows how to bullshit.”
The match had been promoted not only as the culmination of the Rookie Tournament but also on the contrast between the two participating pairings. As the ones typically on the unflattering end of the comparison Sharpe and Mason had gotten increasingly tired of it, Anna’s attitude toward Camille having shifted from gratitude at sparing her from experiencing one of the weirder members of the FAWN menagerie up close, to a hearty disdain for the Girl of Tomorrow’s hypocritical morality play of a career. Likewise Caity had found Yoona’s humor significantly less amusing once she’d become the target for it.
“Why would I want you to copy that cunt?” Anna snatched her girl’s hand lest Caity reach for a live mic. “She probably calls herself a socialist but she has no problem depriving a man of his job.”
And so Sharpe began her walk to the ring the traditional way, with an introduction from the announcer to to accompany her music, though the poor guy’s voice was drowned out before the third word by the crowd’s disapproval. Still Anna was used to that by now – Estrina’s crippled heroine vibe had meant it was the same in her last match, while Sammain’s utter assholishness had not mattered a jot when it came to the fans’ adoration. The Brit might have looked inconspicuous in her black tank and yoga shorts, but she’d effectively captured the Florida public’s ill-will.
ANNA SHARPE
CAITY MASON
Reaching ringside, she rolled under the bottom rope and was quickly to her feet. After a few seconds of internal debate, Caity Mason turned left, avoiding an early confrontation with Park to station herself on the opposite side of the floor.
With what was essentially a title on the line and the combustible mix of personalities present in and around the ring, FAWN’s head referee Nick Castle had been tapped to officiate the proceedings. He had predictably come up empty when he examined Camille for weapons during Anna’s walk to the ring, and his inspection of Sharpe similarly yielded nothing, although Yoona appeared to disagree.
“You missed the stick up her ass!” Park called from the floor, firing the first shot of the match just as the opening bell sounded.
Anna scowled at the remark which only seemed to amuse the Korean, and then she engaged her opponent in a mutual circling of the ring, each wrestler sizing up the other. The tale of the tape was virtually identical, with the blonde Brit being perhaps a fraction of an inch taller than her brown-haired American foe, but that similarity in stature belied just how radically different they were in physicality.
Cosworth was blessed with an unprecedented blend of speed, power, and acrobatic aptitude that allowed her to blow away her opponents with an arsenal of maneuvers that boggled minds and defied physics. Sharpe was a wholly different breed of athletic freak endowed with limitless stamina, an inexorable, inexhaustible perpetual motion machine that seemed to get stronger and stronger as matches wore on. Both the experts and the oddsmakers had deemed it a match of equals yet opposites, and the fighters seemed to sense it too as they cautiously probed for openings in each other’s defenses.
“What you did to Estrina wasn't right,” Camille said in a low, serious voice as she continued to circle. “You could have seriously hurt that poor woman.”
“Spare me your sanctimonious bullsh--”
“Oh my FUCKING God!” Yoona screeched as she pounded both fists into the apron in frustration over the lack of action. “Stop prancing around and just hit her in the fucking face already!”
The advice was surely meant for Camille, although it was Anna who seemed to take it to heart as she stormed in with a looping overhand Haymaker aimed at the brunette’s jaw. The blow harmlessly whiffed when Cosworth leaned backwards, but her dodge meant that she had ceded momentum to the hard-charging Brit.
Sharpe was quick to follow up by clasping Camille around the shoulders, and then she thrust her right knee forward and up. She made contact this time, although she wished she hadn’t when her opponent leapt up just as she was striking, planted a foot on her rising knee, and pushed off into a front somersault directly over her head. Cosworth grabbed the baffled Brit around the chin just as she was halfway through the rotation, and then she laid out on her back at the end of her tumble to slam Anna’s head and neck into the mat with a Front Flip Neckbreaker.
FRONT FLIP NECKBREAKER
m.youtube.com/watch?v=zygcKJ9cMNE
Still holding onto the blonde’s head after the impact, Camille rolled the both of them onto their stomachs and rose to her feet, dragging her opponent along with a Front Facelock. As soon as she had solid footing, she grabbed a handful of black yoga shorts and effortlessly hoisted Sharpe into an upright and upside down position that had everyone in the building anticipating a Vertical Suplex. Cosworth apparently had something else in mind, however, and she suddenly released both of her grips to gasps from the crowd. For a brief, dizzying moment, Anna was in freefall, and then Camille’s arms looped around her waist and drove her down the rest of the way with a Powerbomb.
VERTICAL SUPLEX POWERBOMB / ORANGE CRUSH
m.youtube.com/watch?v=9t0oFWON8GI
The audience exploded into cheers, although their enthusiasm was immediately dampened when Sharpe showed her resilience first by remaining conscious, and then by rolling onto her stomach to prevent a pin and crawling to a corner to regroup. She had never been tossed around in such a fashion before, not even in her grueling war with Autumn Sammain, and she found it to be a disorienting and unsatisfying experience, to say the least. Making matters worse was Cosworth’s obnoxious girlfriend chirping in her ear from just a few feet away.
“Did you seriously think you had a fucking chance when you barely got past that crippled midget?!” Yoona asked incredulously. “Haven’t you learned anything from your pathetic shitshow of a tennis career? A professional loser like you couldn’t even win a goddamned game of Connect Four with a five move headstart!”
“Don’t listen to that skank, Anna!” Caity shouted from the other side of the ring. “Focus and try to --”
“Go eat a bag of dicks and drown yourself in bleach, Mason!” Park snapped back. “You’re so fucking irrelevant that you don’t even have a Wikipedia page! If I type ‘Caity Mason’ into Google, it asks me if I had meant ‘sad sack of shit’ instead!”
The FAWNatics roared with delight at Yoona’s special brand of verbal abuse, which in Sharpe’s mind only further cemented their status as hypocrites. She redoubled her resolve to win the match and the tournament, if for nothing else than to spite the boorish crowd. With Castle signalling the end of her five-count breather in the corner, Anna stalked to the center of the ring with hands held up high and fingers curled, beckoning her opponent forward for a Test of Strength.
Camille obliged without hesitation, clasping her hands against Sharpe’s and interlocking their fingers. It turned out to be a ruse though, and the Brit capitalized by slamming a Headbutt directly into her opponent’s face. Cosworth started to stagger backwards, but the blonde’s grips on her hands prevented her from getting very far, and Anna repeated her Headbutt two, three, four more times before the skull-rattling impacts started to take a toll on herself as well.
The brunette still clearly took the worst of the exchange, however, and she crumpled to the mat in a daze as soon as Sharpe released her. Meanwhile, Anna shook off the dizziness fogging her own brain and promptly took control of both of the American’s ankles. Holding the captured limbs in a V, she stepped through with her own leg and crossed Camille’s ankles in preparation for an early application of her signature Sharpeshooter with an extra E.
“Bal!” Yoona called while urgently slapping the mat. “Bal bal bal!”
No one else in or around the ring understood what Park was prattling on about, but in their time together Cosworth had gained a rudimentary grasp of her girlfriend’s native language, and she quickly figured out that the Korean word for “foot” was Yoona telling her how to counter Sharpe’s hold. Just before Anna could turn her onto her stomach and lock in the Sharpeshooter, Camille reached down and grabbed the ankle of Sharpe’s leg which was scissored between her own, and then she gave a forceful yank while twisting her hips.
The maneuver unbalanced Anna and dropped her to the mat, her right leg still trapped in the American’s clutches. Had Cosworth possessed her girlfriend’s skills and temperament she might have done serious damage or perhaps even ended the fight then and there with a myriad of joint locks. As it were, however, she allowed Sharpe to kick free and squirm away unharmed, much to Yoona’s exasperation.
“What the hell, Cam! She doesn't need two knees to be a professional assbag. Stamp on the fucker.”
Back on her feet, Sharpe gave the Korean a sour look before once again lifting her arms and offering Camille a Test of Strength.
“This time we'll do it properly. I promise.”
Cosworth was understandably less cavalier about accepting second time around, so Anna rippled her fingers in invitation.
“No trick. You're not in my league as an athlete, you moralizing arsehole. This is a simple way to prove it.”
Convinced by the explanation of Sharpe's honest intentions, if not the accuracy of her premise, Camille once again joined hands with the Brit and this time there were no Butts, no ifs, only firming muscles, pursed lips, a determined meeting of eyes. Anna let her left foot slide out behind her for support as Cosworth proved stronger than expected in the initial push, regaining equality with a grunt of effort that had them chest to chest, arms outstretched to either side.
Down below, Yoona was nodding approvingly at the curving line of Camille's tensed torso, and so she didn't notice that Caity Mason had made her way round the side of the ring and was standing a few feet away.
“Didn't have you down as a prude, Park. What's so bad about being an ass-muncher?”
“Huh?” It took Yoona a moment to remember that the quote came from her epic intro for Camille, but having done so she shrugged, her eyes not leaving the ring. “They're words, dick breath. I say them and then I forget them.” As if to demonstrate, she raised her voice and yelled, “Hey Sharpe, I can see your legs wobbling from here. You're gassing out, you mouth-breathing slug.”
Unused to being so quickly dismissed, Caity briefly glanced up to confirm that Park was bullshitting. She was. In fact the Test was still going strong, no sign of a wobble in either pair of legs, though Anna had forced Camille onto her toes with an underarm grip while also backing the Girl of Tomorrow into a corner. The air had gone out of the crowd just a little too; the prolonged Test of Strength offered relatively little as a spectacle compared to Camille's usual hi-octane offense.
So far, Anna's part of the plan was going fine.
Mason's should really have been the easier bit. Distracting a nymphomaniac when you looked like Caity and dressed like Caity and had Caity's lack of inhibitions should have been simpler than a Sanders family gathering. The Cali catfighter tried again, fiddling with her top to give an unnecessary boost to her already abundant cleavage.
“You must like bowling, right?” was her next opening effort. “Sliding your fingers deep into those tight holes. You know the 7-10 split? Pretty much impossible shot. Almost never happens. Well I'm the 7-10 split. You see, it's pretty much impossible to have a waist this tiny and tits this big, an ass this round. But here I am.”
In the ring, Cosworth and Sharpe were still joined at the fingers, though now it was the blonde haired Brit getting slightly the worst of it, her face pinched with effort, her right knee bending underneath her.
Yoona finally turned away to look at Caity. The Korean's cheeks were slightly flushed. She licked her lips, swept Caity up and down and opened her mouth.
“Mason, what the FUCK are you babbling about?” she said.
Although that got a good laugh from the fans behind the barrier who had been listening to the exchange, Park's attention was already back on the action in the ring.
Anna's nails weren't long, but all through the Test she'd used what she had to dig at the skin on the back of the brunette's hands, and she'd finally earned a sucked-in breath of pain from her American opponent. “Scratch me back,” she muttered. Her fingers were starting to feel numb and she wondered slightly about the possible consequences for the rest of the match, then decided Cosworth would surely be in the same boat were there to be any.
“Don't need to,” Camille grunted back. The crowd was legitimately flat now. Quiet enough for them to hear each other easily. Anna smiled a mirthless smile.
“I forgot,” she lied. “Little Miss Wrestling's-in-her-blood doesn't cheat, does she.”
Suddenly, Sharpe lowered her shoulders and bulled Camille back into a corner then bodied up, their joined hands trapped between their chests.
“She lets her tame skank do all the cheating for her. She's a fucking hypocrite. A coward.”
Those last two accusations came accompanied by a pair of Kneelifts that took Camille on the inside of her thighs. Her point well and truly made, Anna ripped her hands free of the Test and slapped the brunette hard across the cheek, turning her head.
“Oh no. A limp-wristed slap to the face. How can anyone ever recover from such a devastating attack?” Yoona deadpanned while Castle forced Sharpe to back up in order to get her opponent out of the corner.
Once she was clear of the ropes, Camille rubbed the lingering stiffness out of her fingers and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. Much to her chagrin, the fans were still deflated after the extended Test of Strength had sapped their enthusiasm, but Cosworth happened to have the perfect cure for their ennui. Approaching the Brit with a couple of measured steps, she swung her left leg out and around in a waist level Roundhouse Kick. Sharpe easily stepped out of range of the telegraphed blow, only to lunge forward again when the whiffed kick left Camille turned around backwards.
She discovered that it was a feint, however, when Cosworth launched into a twisting leap that ended with a second Roundhouse Kick, one that was higher, faster, and much better disguised. Anna couldn’t dodge after already committing to her lunge, and the best she could do was raise her right arm and partially block the 540 Kick just moments before Camille’s left foot slammed into the side of her head.
540 KICK
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUgWCj30pKM
Even with most of the force absorbed through her arm, the impact still left Sharpe shaken and stumbling. Anna’s temporary discombobulation left her vulnerable and Cosworth took advantage by leaping at her feet first, planting both heels into her chest, and pushing off into a backflip.
DROPSAULT
www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2ELlZUT4QI
The recoil from the Dropsault sent the Brit crashing into a set of turnbuckles, though she rebounded from the corner still on her feet. She wouldn’t stay upright for long, however, when Camille exploded into a Spear directly after sticking the landing on her Dropsault. Cosworth drove her right shoulder into the midriff of her counterpart from across the Atlantic and slammed Anna back into the corner. The twin collisions of shoulder-to-gut and then spine-to-turnbuckle finally took Sharpe’s legs out from under her as she slumped to a seat on the mat with one arm hooked over the bottom rope.
“STOMP ON HER HEAD! STOMP ON HER HEAD!” Park demanded over the suddenly raucous crowd, their excitement reignited by Camille landing a trio of big moves in a span of maybe five seconds.
Cosworth, however, relented on the assault and retreated to the center of the ring, voluntarily giving her opponent a rope break. Caity sighed in relief, and then she quickly made her way over to the opposite corner to provide Anna with some moral support. Meanwhile Yoona elected to stay put and shout her verbal barbs so that everyone could hear.
“You’re a smelly pirate hooker, Sharpe! Why don't you go back to your home on Whore Island?! You’re out of your fucking league here!”
Anna was still recovering, so it fell on Caity to retort, “Oh, you’re one to talk --”
“Shut your syphilitic dick-trap, Mason!” Yoona immediately snapped back. “This isn't a semen chugging contest, so get your worthless ass out of here!”
“Wow Yoona… let’s, uhh, let’s turn it down a notch,” Camille softly pleaded with her girlfriend. “Remember, we’re the good guys here…”
“Cam, after that intro I gave you, you could eat a live puppy in the middle of the ring and still be the biggest babyface on the planet. So relax, babe. I know what I’m doing. The fans love it when fucktards like those two take any kind of abuse, so go Winston her Churchill and leave the rest to me.”
“...’Winston her Churchill?’” Cosworth scoffed with a playfully raised eyebrow, before turning back towards Anna who had fought her way upright.
“Cut me some slack,” Yoona grumbled indignantly. “It’s not easy coming up with all these lines on the fly.”
Park’s volley of insults only served to stoke Sharpe’s ire. Having adequately recovered in the corner, she stormed out with fists flying at her fellow rookie. Camille managed to slap away a couple of Left Jabs and then tilted her head to the side to get out of the way of a Right Cross. Her hair was not so lucky though, when Anna’s clenched fist suddenly transformed into a claw and snatched a handful of her ponytail as it trailed behind her head.
Cosworth yelped when her opponent gave her hair a hard yank, but her complaint was cut short when Sharpe slammed a Forearm Smash across her face. Still keeping the brunette’s ponytail wrapped around her right hand, Anna used her left arm to repeat the Forearm Smash one, two, three times before Nick Castle forced her to relinquish the hair hold under threat of disqualification. With her opponent wobbling but still upright, Sharpe spun around in a tight circle to build momentum and then slammed her outstretched right arm across Cosworth’s neck to level her with a vicious Discus Clothesline.
DISCUS CLOTHESLINE
m.youtube.com/watch?v=HX8ccPRxd2M
“Kick her ass, baby!” Caity encouraged from ringside.
“‘Kick her ass?!’” Park snorted derisively. “Jesus Fucking Christ, Mason, what the fuck are you even doing here?! It's the goddamn tournament finals and the best you can come up with is ‘Kick her ass?!’ I've seen better trash talk from a fucking fortune cookie! Other than being that weaboo’s toilet seat, is there anything you don't fail at?!”
Meanwhile in the ring, Anna hauled her opponent up onto her shoulder before depositing Camille back to the deck with a simple yet forceful Scoop Slam. Cosworth bounced off the mat with a groan and rolled to her stomach, only for the Brit to once more drag her upright, slip an arm between her thighs, scoop her up, and slam her down again.
“I can do this all day, you twat, because I'm a real athlete, not some one-trick poser,” Anna spat as she pulled Camille upright in preparation for a third consecutive Scoop Slam. This time, however, Cosworth blocked the attempt by hooking her own arm around Sharpe’s thigh.
The sudden counter left Anna unbalanced for just a beat or two, and that was all the opportunity Camille needed to scoop her off her feet in a reversal of fortune. Rather than slam Sharpe back down, however, Cosworth held her opponent across her chest even as Anna fitfully kicked and flailed.
“You're a real boring athlete,” Camille retorted with a light chuckle. “Good thing my moves are cool enough for the both of us.”
With that said, she flexed her knees and launched into a backflip, seemingly not encumbered by the weight of the woman she held in her arms. Cosworth came up just shy of a full rotation, landing on her chest rather than her feet in order to pancake Sharpe underneath her with a breathtaking Moonsault Powerslam.
MOONSAULT POWERSLAM
m.youtube.com/watch?v=aL65G7XYV0E
All at once, the crowd roared, Caity screamed, Yoona smirked, and Camille hooked a leg for the first pin attempt of the match. Castle was on the mat in the blink of an eye, and he counted out…
ONE!
TWO!
THRNOOO!
...as the resilient Brit shrugged a shoulder off the mat to break the pin, much to the disappointment of the FAWNatics. Cosworth didn’t seem all that displeased, however, as she calmly hauled Anna upright by an arm and gripped the blonde’s shoulders.
“Anna, I really hope you don’t get airsick…”
Camille scrunched up, planted both feet in Anna’s abdomen, rolled onto her back, and pushed up and out with her legs. For just about anyone else, it would have been a run-of-the-mill Monkey Flip, but a combination of genetics and years of plyometric training had endowed Cosworth with rocket-powered legs that launched Sharpe ridiculously high into the air.
MONKEY FLIP
m.youtube.com/watch?v=dWlX46WUky0
Sent into a flailing, graceless flight, Anna flipped head-over-heels in midair and landed on the top rope gut-first before bouncing off the springy steel cable and crashing to the floor outside the ring. Having already kipped up to her feet even before the Brit made contact with the thinly padded cement, Camille loped to a corner with two easy strides and then mounted the top turnbuckle with a third.
The entire arena gasped in anticipation of whatever daredevil maneuver Cosworth might unleash from her perch eight feet above her fallen opponent. It turned out to be a deflating anti-climax, however, when Mason ran to Sharpe’s side and perhaps unwittingly put herself in the line of fire. Unable to hit Anna without also hitting Caity, Camille hesitated for a second or two as she stood in the high rent district, then she shook her head in exasperation and hopped down to the mat.
“Get her back in the ring, Caity,” she called over her shoulder while she retreated back to the opposite corner where Yoona was gaping at her in disbelief from atop the apron.
“Cam, what the fuck are you doing?!” the Korean seethed. “Why didn't you squash those shitheads?!”
Camille shook her head, then lifted up her bangs to reveal the small, white scar on her left brow.
“Caity… She… The way she used her body to shield someone she cared about… I -- I saw us down there.”
After several seconds of tense silence, Park seemed to relent. She simply rolled her eyes and scoffed as she dropped back down to the floor, offering no rebuke to what Cosworth said.
“Thanks,” Anna muttered, as Caity helped her to her feet. “But we are nothing like them, okay? NOTHING.”
“Well yeah, I don't stink of kimchee and you know how to fight without spinning round so much you make the audience want to throw up.”
Mason gave her girl an encouraging slap on the ass before Anna rolled back under the bottom rope, glad to have put off having to DTR in such a fraught moment.
On her feet quickly in spite of the assortment of aches delivered by Camille's various flips and throws, Anna didn't avail herself of the opportunity to thank Cosworth for showing mercy. In fact she was thinking how the brunette's overt sense of fair play kept the ref much too heavily involved – so far Castle had not let Sharpe get away with so much as a quick hair grab before threatening the bell.
Facing each other, the two rookies quickly moved closer and locked up with paired grunts center ring.
“You want me to shed a tear for your little sob story, bitch,” Sharpe growled, getting low and starting to push Camille back. “I'd rather give you a matching scar.”
“The only thing I need from you is three seconds of your time, Anna,” came the surprisingly pert reply.
Once Camille's back hit the ropes Anna disengaged and ducked down, looking to drive her shoulder into Cosworth's gut. But the brunette was too quick for her again, hopping up onto the middle rope and somersaulting from there over the onrushing Brit's lowered back. Spinning round with a frustrated snarl on her face, Anna turned straight into a TERRIFIC Superkick she took flush to the jaw. Briefly knocked loopy, she stumbled backward and looked like entangling herself in the ropes before she finally slid to the canvas, flat on her back.
“Shit!” Caity cupped her hands to her mouth like she was worried about keeping her own teeth in. Save the steady rise and fall of her chest, Anna wasn't moving.
The crowd were, though. Jumping to their feet as Camille boosted herself directly to the top turnbuckle, not even a wobble on landing. She raised her arms to them in acknowledgement of their shared bond, letting the cheers and screams wash over her. But when her eyes flicked to Yoona's, the Korean gestured urgently.
“Stop daydreaming and finish it, Cam,” she said, casting quick glances at the fallen Brit.
Anna was still motionless when Camille took off. The brunette's springy frame powered her to the spectacular height she needed to fit in the rotations for a 630 Senton, thousands of phones held high to try capture the apex. Unfortunately for Cosworth though, the extra air also gave Sharpe the split second of time it took to roll into the corner, leaving Camille to suffer a hard landing.
The THUD shook the ring and brought a groan from every corner of the arena.
Shaking her head to clear it of cobwebs, Anna wasted no time in taking advantage. The American had rolled belly down after the brutal impact and Sharpe crawled the few feet to her moaning frame and drove an axehandle shot into her back, then followed up with a series of Headbutts, eventually stopping to take a rest with her palms splayed possessively on her prey, one on Cosworth's rump and the other between her shoulders.
“You need to get your arse in here and rescue her, Park,” Anna said, casually lifting her right arm, the one that was between Camille's shoulder blades, and driving a vicious elbow into the back of the brunette's head. “Because I'm going to hurt her.”
The Korean's fingers made fists at her sides but she stayed frozen in place. “Cam's got you right where she wants you, you silicon-fucking mouthbreather,” she retorted.
Anna shrugged and curled her fingers ready to apply a Crotch Claw. Now, having wrestled multiple matches with Adelaide Brewster, Camille had experienced the move's unique pain plenty, but it wasn't the sort of thing you got accustomed to. She screamed her way through a four count, sobbing when Sharpe ripped her fingers away and stood up. Working with her customary lack of ceremony Sharpe began the process of locking in her hopefully match-ending finisher by taking Camille's ankles and stepping between them, before crossing them over.
SHARPESHOOTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxunJK04Igk
This time Cosworth didn't possess the alertness to escape. Anna settled into the Sharpeshooter perhaps two feet away from the ropes and immediately turned her head to stare at Yoona Park.
“The Girl of Tomorrow will need your help.”
She curled her tongue contemptuously around Camille's moniker, while the woman herself strained and scrapped in hopes of reaching release.
“Cheat for her,” Sharpe said. “Take the rope and stretch it until she can reach.”
“No!” Camille forestalled her girlfriend with a quavering yell. It took her a few seconds to master herself before she could go on. “I can make it, Yoona. Trust me.” Her outstretched, fluttering fingers were perhaps three inches from the bottom rope when Anna dragged her back toward the center of the mat.
“You deluded bitch, you aren't shit without her help.”
Sharpe punctuated the taunt by pouring more effort into the tortuous hold. She blew a kiss at the watching Korean. Yoona, however, was focused entirely on her girlfriend who was now tearing at her own hair in distress.
“Hey babe, want me to kill them for you?” Park offered with feigned nonchalance, putting referee Nick Castle very much ill at ease.
“Nnnnuuuggghh… n-nooo…” Cosworth groaned as she desperately tried to crawl her way to the ropes once more. “I -- I’ve got this…”
“Alright, Cam. I’ll give you another minute, then I’m gutting the fat one to send a message to the ugly one.”
Neither Anna nor Caity fit either of those two adjectives by any sane standard, but Camille was not interested in finding out who was who. She redoubled her efforts to get to the edge of the ring, digging her fingernails into the canvas and arduously pulling herself forward. Sharpe allowed her to get almost within reach of the ropes, then started dragging her back towards the center of the mat once more, trying to break the brunette’s spirit.
This time, however, Anna got a little too far out of her crouched posture as she started walking back to the middle of the ring. Camille felt the change in pressure on her spine, and realized this was perhaps her only opportunity to escape. Gritting her teeth in preparation for the burst of agony to come, she crunched forward into a ball and then pushed herself through the Brit’s parted legs. At the end of the contortionist maneuver she had learned courtesy of her time at the Hellhole, she ended up stacked on her shoulders in front of a very surprised Anna, and then a quick tug on Sharpe’s ankles sent the blonde toppling to the mat and earned Cosworth her freedom.
Camille quickly barrel rolled to a corner for a five-count breather, and then she used the turnbuckles to help herself upright. She tried to massage the worst of the aches out of her lower back, and then she staggered out to meet her waiting opponent in another Test of Strength. The wear and tear of her failed 630 Senton and her time in the Sharpeshooter were starting to show, however, and what had been a stalemate earlier in the match was now a noticeable advantage for Anna.
“What’s the matter?” Sharpe smirked as she forced her foe backwards. “You’re wearing down already, you self-righteous twat?”
“‘Cunt!’ The proper word is ‘cunt!’” Park immediately shouted. “How is it that you people invented the fucking language and you still can’t speak it correctly?!”
Anna frowned but did not respond to the latest in the Korean’s barrage of verbal barbs, instead focusing her energies on forcing Camille down to one knee. With leverage and gravity working against her, Cosworth knew she was caught in a bad spot that was getting worse by the second, and she had to get out immediately.
Taking a deep breath to gather her reserves, she ripped her hands free of the Test of Strength with a downwards yank. The sudden lack of resistance caused Sharpe to pitch forward, and then Camille planted her hands on the Brit’s midriff and sprung to a stand while hoisting Anna upwards with a mighty grunt of effort. Sharpe was suspended in mid-air high above the mat for a second or two and then Camille followed with a twisting leap, securing a Front Facelock on the blonde, kicking her legs forward, and allowing Sir Issac Newton to complete the Pop-Up Ace Crusher.
POP-UP ACE CRUSHER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRbbFIwRx4c
The high impact maneuver leaves both women laid out, Camille on her back and Anna on her stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, Cosworth realized that there was truth in her opponent’s words. She had needed to use much more effort than usual to launch Sharpe for the Pop-Up and now she was sucking wind, which could only mean that she was starting to lose her top gear in the match. Knowing that she had to end the fight quickly before her conditioning became more of a disadvantage, Camille crawled to her hands and knees and began summoning her deep reserves of awesome to a monumental pop from the crowd.
The heaving shoulders…
...the wheezing hyperventilation...
...the pallor on her skin…
...the way every sinew and vessel stood out in sharp relief…
...all were telltale signs that the next ninety seconds would soon be the stuff of a thousand YouTube highlight videos. Unfortunately for fans of the spectacular, however, Anna had other plans. She too recognized the precursor to Cosworth’s adrenaline rush, and despite the fact that she was still seeing double after the Pop-Up Ace Crusher, she scrambled forward and snapped a desperate kick into the side of her opponent’s rib cage.
Robbed of oxygen before she could enter the mental headspace necessary to push herself into overdrive, Camille collapsed to the mat again. With her Ninety Seconds of Awesome abruptly and violently short-circuited, she curled into a protective ball, although that did nothing to discourage Anna from stomping at her again and again and again and again.
“Don't let her up, baby!” Caity shouted from her spot on the floor.
It was wise albeit obvious advice, as Sharpe had no intention of giving her opponent any breathing room. She figured that keeping Cosworth grounded and winded would neutralize the brunette’s explosive athleticism, and so far that plan seemed to be paying off. When Castle finally forced her to relent after delivering more than a dozen boots to the American’s chest, stomach, and back, Anna pulled Camille up to a kneeling position before dropping down to her own haunches behind her opponent.
“Can’t fly on an empty gas tank, can you?” Sharpe hissed as she wrapped her arms around Camille from behind and squeezed down on a Reverse Bear Hug.
Cosworth was in quite a predicament. Although having her own arms pinned to her sides prevented any risk of direct damage to her ribs, the vise was still severely constricting her chest and limiting her ability to breath. Worse still, her position made it nigh impossible to get her feet planted against the mat, robbing her of the leverage necessary to power out of the hold. All Camille could do was try to outlast her captor’s stamina in applying the Reverse Bear Hug, and given Anna’s impeccable aerobic conditioning, those prospects looked quite dismal.
“BOOORRRRING!” Yoona shouted from the ring apron in an attempt to distract the Brit. “BOOOOORRRRRRING! BOOOOORRRRRING!”
The assembled fans joined in on the chant as Sharpe continued to work her simple yet effective hold well past the one minute mark, but she remained focused on slowly squeezing the fight out of her opponent. Even as her own arms were feeling the burn from the accumulation of lactic acid in her muscles, Anna knew that Camille was in even more dire straits as she could feel the American’s breathing progressively get more shallow and labored. Cosworth still weakly shook her head when Castle asked for her submission, but that seemed to be all the resistance that she could muster at this point.
“WOOOO! You got her, baby! You got her!” Caity cheered from her spot on the floor, earning her a sideways glance and a quick smile from Anna.
Unfortunately for Mason, her jubilation also drew the attention of her counterpart on the other side of the ring, and Park came sauntering over to the Cali catfighter’s side.
“I think we got off to a bad start, Mason,” Yoona whispered as she threw an arm around Caity’s shoulders. “Now that I think about it, Sharpe really should be Rookie of the Year.”
Caity turned her head to shoot a quizzical look at the Korean, scoffed, and then returned her attention to the ring where Camille’s consciousness appeared to be fighting a losing battle against Anna’s Reverse Bear Hug.
“I’m serious!” Park continued despite Mason’s best attempts to ignore her. “Think about it! What does Cam have to gain if she wins? All of this is meaningless to someone of her stature. Win or lose, she’s still gonna love be loved by everyone, she’s still gonna sell a ton of merchandise, and she’s still gonna wrestle five-star matches every time she gets in the ring. By the time she's done and the Girl of Tomorrow becomes the Legend of Yesteryear, this whole fucking tournament will be just an insignificant drop in the ocean of accolades she’ll have earned.”
Yoona gestured to the ring before quietly murmuring in Caity’s ear once more.
“Now Sharpe, on the other hand, she fucking needs this. Because Rookie of the Year is as good as it’s ever gonna get for a no-talent ball of unwashed taint-hair who’s only kept around in order to lose to better women. Even that's being generous. To tell you the truth, horse-faced uggos with misshaped tits and zero charisma like her aren't even fit to be bikini meat for people like me. If she shits her pants and loses here -- and let’s be honest, she always shits her pants in big matches -- then she might as well quit wrestling and start choking down cockmeat sandwiches through a glory hole at some backwater highway rest stop for two bucks a pop. Don't worry though, I’ll make sure she never goes hungry. A lot of my fans are horny frat-bros, and I'm sure they’ll be more than happy to run a train on your girl and provide her with a never-ending supply of --”
Mason had heard enough. She shoved Park away and blistered the Korean’s cheek with a Bitch Slap so fierce that it actually split the skin. Yoona, however, seemed unperturbed despite the thin rivulet of blood running down the side of her face.
“Don't you ever talk like that --”
“Oh, Caity, Caity, Caity… I want you to know that you touched me because I let you touch me,” Park interrupted in a voice loud enough for Anna to hear. “And now you're FUCKED.”
Sharpe craned her head around just in time to see Yoona crush Caity’s windpipe with a savage Throat Punch. Mason’s hands reflexively shot to her neck, which left her unable to defend against the Snap Kick to her groin that followed a split second later. Doubled over and wheezing, Caity was helpless when Park simultaneously slammed a knee into her face and an elbow into the back of her head, the pair of bony joints acting as a hammer and anvil to smash her cranium. Having eaten a quartet of vicious blows in less than three seconds, she crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
Anna sprang into action before Mason’s unconscious body even hit the ground. She immediately abandoned her crushing grip on the nearly-insensate Camille, who instinctively gasped in relief but remained otherwise unaware of what was happening, and then she made a beeline for Park. Had it not been for referee Nick Castle grabbing her by the waist at the last second, Sharpe would have launched herself through the ropes to get at the Korean.
“YOU CRAVEN, CHEAP-SHOTTING TWAT!” Anna roared, showering Park with spittle.
“It was self-defense, dipshit!” Yoona snorted as she gestured to the side of her face. “I was only telling Caity how much my fans would appreciate you, and then she just flew off the handle and struck me! If anything, I’m the victim here! I’m lucky to be alive after such a ruthless attack!”
The tittering, mocking laughs from the FAWNatics only roiled Sharpe even more.
“YOU’RE DEAD! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD!” she screamed as she tried to struggle her way out of Castle’s arms to no avail. “I’LL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!”
“Oh please,” Park scoffed with an infuriating roll of her eyes. “Your rage is as impotent and flaccid as Gordy Solis’ micro-dick after a couple of whiskey sours!”
“N -- nuh-uh!” Solis stammered in protest from his spot at the announcer’s table. “It -- it was cold! I had just been swimming!”
Paying Gordy no mind, Yoona continued her taunting.
“Remember when you swore revenge against that Wapanese ninja-wannabe and then ended up tapping out like a bitch? Pepperidge Farm remembers…”
“I’LL MAKE YOU EAT YOUR WORDS, SKANK!” Anna snarled. “YOU’LL --”
“Go fuck yourself with a turkey carver,” Yoona retorted. “You can't do shit to me. Sammain toyed with you then, and Cam is toying with you right now. Your head’s just too fucking far up your own ass to realize you're being played like a damn fiddle!”
The haze of anger suddenly lifted from her mind, and Sharpe realized that Park had been buying time for Cosworth to recover. Turning on her heels and storming away from Nick in an instant, Anna rushed forward to punt her kneeling opponent in the head. That plan came to a screeching halt, however, when Camille raised an arm and caught Sharpe’s ankle in her hand. Cosworth barrel-rolled to the canvas with a forceful twist, hurling the Brit across the ring in the process to cheers from the crowd.
“Impossible…” Anna snarled as she clambered to her feet and found her opponent also upright and staring at her. “You were finished! You --”
“BANKAI.”
The FAWNatics gave a deafening roar just as the arena lights suddenly turned ultraviolet, causing every inch of Camille’s exposed skin to glow blue with a high-tech circuit pattern that had been drawn on with special paint. Cosworth closed the ten foot gap between herself and her opponent in the blink of an eye, and then she leapt clear over the blonde’s head in order to take Sharpe’s back.
Anna didn't even have time to swivel around and reacquire her target before the brunette slipped an arm between her thighs from behind and scooped her into the air one-handed. With the Brit mounted on her left shoulder, Camille pirouetted towards the center of the ring, and then gave Anna a mighty heave off her shoulder just as she dropped to a seat, driving Sharpe’s spine into the deck with a massive Blue Thunder Bomb.
BLUE THUNDER BOMB
m.youtube.com/watch?v=TtkYbROztdo
Against any other foe and Cosworth might have gone for a pin, but instead she tucked Sharpe’s legs under her arms, popped to her feet, and started spinning in place, effortlessly getting Anna airborne for a Giant Swing. Having achieved maximum speed after just a few revolutions, Camille abruptly let go, sending the blonde hurtling towards a set of steel cables.
Anna landed across the springy strands and bounced back miraculously still on her feet, albeit staggering drunkenly. She might have fallen after a couple of steps had Cosworth not looped an arm across her chest to hold her upright. Not that she remained upright for long though, as Camille launched into another backflip and dragged her along for the ride before planting Sharpe headfirst into the mat with a high arcing Moonsault Side Slam that had Jenny Jacobs’ lawyers clamoring for gimmick infringement.
MOONSAULT SIDE SLAM
m.youtube.com/watch?v=6N7UprkIg1U
Castle had already dropped down to the deck in anticipation of the pin, so it surprised him when Cosworth simply rolled through the impact and popped to a stand with Anna’s limp body still in her grasps. With nary a moment’s hesitation, Camille ran for the nearest corner and mounted the top turnbuckle in a single great leap, carrying her opponent with her. The “HOLY SHIT!” chant that had been reverberating through the FAWN arena ever since the Blue Thunder Bomb abruptly fell quiet as twenty thousand people reached for their phones to record whatever death-defying acrobatic move Cosworth was planning to do next.
Camille did nothing, however. Once she had leapt to her perch on the top rope, she saw for the first time Yoona standing over Caity’s unconscious form, and she quickly pieced together what had happened from the moment that Sharpe had abandoned the Bear Hug.
“Yoona… what did you do?!” she demanded, still holding Anna aloft. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
“Don't worry about it, babe. She hit me. I hit her back. You know how it goes,” Park replied with a shrug. “Now hurry up and drop that piece of trash jobber on her head so we can get out of here and grab some food! I'm starving!”
Contrary to her girlfriend’s instructions, Camille simply let go of Anna, letting the blonde topple from the top turnbuckle to the relative safety of the ring.
“Cam, what the fuck --”
“GODDAMN IT, YOONA! I TOLD YOU NOT TO CHEAT FOR ME!” Cosworth shrieked from her spot atop the ropes facing outwards. “UGH! YOU JUST RUINED THIS WHOLE MATCH!”
It was extraordinarily rare for Camille to swear, much less swear at her beloved girlfriend, and the sudden outburst of profanity seemed to shock everyone in the building. Even the lights returned to normal, their preset ninety second timer having run its course.
“Oh my God, you're being so melodramatic,” Park groaned. “It's perfectly legal for me to kick the shit out of Mason! And you sure didn’t seem to mind when I skull-fucked Kylie Sanders and DeUngh in round one!”
“THAT’S DIFFERENT! KYLIE AND DEMETRIA INTERFERED IN THE MATCH FIRST!”
“Oh, really? And what do you call it when Mason got in your way earlier?”
“We. Don't. Take. Hostages!” Camille seethed, ignoring the question and enunciating every single word for emphasis. “Beating up Anna’s girlfriend to distract her is NOT OKAY. We either win clean, or we -- NNNNRRRGGHHH!”
She never got to finish her thought, as Anna had recovered enough to stagger upright and shake the top rope. The unstable footing combined with Camille’s physical exhaustion at the end of her Ninety Seconds of Awesome caused the brunette to lose her balance and fall from her perch, hitting her crotch on the top turnbuckle before slopping down to the canvas.
The groan from the crowd washed over Anna as the dirty blonde pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing. Sometimes local newspapers would print stories about cats that had survived climbing into a dryer and being taken for a spin. After enduring a good two thirds of Camille's minute-and-a-half power surge, Anna felt a whole new level of sympathy for those bedraggled felines.
Still, she was with it enough to recognise this moment as her chance. Praying she wouldn't look too callous when Caity watched the match back, she put her hurting girlfriend out of her mind and pulled Cosworth to her feet with two handfuls of sweaty hair, then scooped her up.
Now Anna was someone who liked to fight with a good dollop of hate in her heart, but after Camille had twice proven her commitment to playing fair, it was difficult to summon the necessary anger toward her. Which might have been a problem. Fortunately, the Girl of Tomorrow didn't walk down the ramp unaccompanied.
“Congratulations.” To Yoona, with Camille's limp body in her arms. “You cost her the biggest match of her life. Cunt. Yes, I know the proper word. But I save it for cunts who deserve it.”
To that point neither Sharpe nor Mason had been able to bait the Korean into so much as a sincere response, but the dressing down from her girlfriend had seemingly left Park distraught. For once, she offered no comeback.
Anna shook her head, itching for a confrontation with the nymphomaniac loudmouth, even if this most definitely wasn't the time. Still, FAWN's typically American attitude to geography meant Anna and Yoona's home countries were linked by a title belt, and Sharpe promised herself that down the line they would fight for it. Then, pursing her lips ahead of the effort, she deposited Camille on the turnbuckle and after a couple of thwapping forearms to keep the brunette's pain levels humming, pulled her down hard by the hair, to dangle by her hooked knees. A Tree of Woe.
“One... Two...” Castle gave Anna no leeway to work in the corner, but she didn't need any. Gripping the top rope to boost herself up off the mat, she straightened her leg and drove her heel down HARD into Camille's chin. Cosworth's head recoiled, skull smashing against the turnbuckle. As she bounced to a halt, still inverted, blood trickled from her mouth. Evidently she had bitten her tongue.
Suddenly the crowd, of their own volition, began to chant her name.
“COSWORTH! COSWORTH! COSWORTH!”
A reprise from the start of the match, as deafeningly loud now as it had been then. Anna felt a stab of jealousy so sharp it seemed real. Pushing it away, she lifted Camille by the hair and slipped into the space she'd created between the American and the turnbuckle.
Once she had Camille unhooked and draped down her back the chants quietened, the fans worried for their avatar. “It wasn't only tonight you fucked up, Park,” Anna called out while she carried Camille into the center of the ring, the words tossed over her shoulder like garbage. “You fucked up the minute you convinced her life was a fairy tale. And she fucked up the minute she didn't slam the door on you.” Sharpe took a deep breath and bent her back, hurling Cosworth face first onto the canvas, the Inverted Alabama Slam leaving the American ass up and motionless.
INVERTED ALABAMA SLAM
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4bIIRGta7Y
Anna's eyes were watering already, blurring the lights as she rolled Camille to her back and hooked a leg. The official's hand slapped the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THRENOOOOO!
Perhaps the roof really did lift off its supports. Just for a second. At any rate it felt like it as the cheering exploded in Anna's ears, such a huge noise for such a tiny movement of Camille's shoulder. Fighting back the panic of a decade of blown leads, lost matches in empty stadia beneath an uncaring sun, Sharpe organized her breathing, pulled Camille off the mat and shoved the American's head roughly between her legs.
Outside the ring, Caity dragged herself groggily to her feet, sprawling across the apron, her nose smudged with blood where Yoona had clocked her. Anna wrapped her arms round Cosworth's belly, grunting as she hoisted the brunette's weight. She took a moment to stare at Park through the sloppy 'v' of Camille's upended legs, before sitting out, the Spike Piledriver doing what it was named for and driving the American's head into the mat.
SPIKE PILEDRIVER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Uy331kBPxE
Camille slopped to her back, meaning Sharpe only had to drape herself over her body and wait. Still, it seemed to take forever for the ref to slide into position for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
This time there was no escape, however hard Cosworth's fans strained their eyes for a twitching muscle. Anna rolled away, tearing up as her music started up and the announcer made it official.
“The winner of this match, via pinfall, and thus FAWN's Rookie of the Year…. ANNA SHARPE!”
She lay there, her forearms over her face, derision and disapproval surely raging across the sold-out arena. She truly didn't hear it.
She had won.
YOUR FAWN 2016 ROY OF THE YEAR: ANNA SHARPE!