Post by bigfan on May 7, 2017 2:02:52 GMT
After the Intercontinental title match the Spring Break Fans cry out as the entire arena goes black. It’s several long moments before any like other than the flicker of cell phones in the crowd appear. Red beams shoot across the arena in the dark and a red light grows from the FAWNatron.
POP!
The lights come back up and gone is Erika Eisenberg and in the Ring is Crimson DAWN.
CRIMSON DAWN:
With the so-called superhero ready in the ring, the catchy groove of "Exotic” by Priyanka Chopra and Pitbull hits the speakers. The FAWNatics turn as one in surprise. Did this mean Crimson Dawn was from Europe and not the good ole USA? Or was this a non-title affair? Either way, the fans give the Eurasian titleholder what they feel she deserves, those packing the house letting loose with a deafening round of jeers and catcalls toward the expected entrance of the Golden Empress.
The curtains part, revealing a set of musclebound men, clad in gold loin clothes and sandals. The FAWN Universe immediately lets everyone know how much they despise the despicable champion.
The behemoths carry an ornate bed, where upon the Bollywood Bombshell lies. As the ‘exotic’ grappler is carried toward the ring on the curious conveyance, the FAWNatics batter her with boos.
The copper-skinned beauty, gold around her waist, writhes on her cushioned platform to the sound of the catchy beat. Below, the men’s gaze never leaves the ring, seemingly oblivious to the outstretched hands of the fans and the movements of the bronzed, raven-haired beauty above.
The announcer heralds the arrival of India’s greatest export after stuttering for a moment realizing he hasn’t introduced Crimson. But considering no one knew her exact dimensions or place of birth, was that really his fault.
"And her opponent...standing 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighing in at 133 pounds from Cawnpore , India ...the FAWN Eurasian Champion…Amara Singh."
AMARA SINGH:
The spectacle halts, having reached its destination. The men lower the ornate bed so it is even with the apron and Singh gracefully slides from bedside to ringside. The champ faces the crowd, proceeding to dance seductively to the remainder of PeeCee and the feat’ing Pitbull. Singh slides from beneath a sparkling gold robe and reveals the curvy form beneath.
The momentary striptease draws a round of rabid applause within the jeers, Singh dropping a pearly sneer upon the peasants. She turns and moves through the ropes, keeping a watchful eye on the refugee from Halloween.
Amara is clad in an ornately designed, gold bra and matching gold and red, lacy harem pants, her feet bare. Her raven tresses fall down to just past her shoulders in wild waves, dark copper skin glowing under the lights. Singh does one last twirl for the crowd before taking center stage. She unbuckles her belt and raises it high, beaming. In her opposite palm is a microphone.
“Though it’s unclear from where this psychotic peasant comes,” Amara hisses. “In this ring, you will be considered eligible for my belt if only because, before the night is through, you will feel the sting of defeat and will kiss my feet in proper subservience.”
Singh smirks at the “superhero”. It’s hard to get a read from the stoic masked marvel.
Amara turns and strides to her corner where she hands the ‘stick’ and her gold-and-leather prize to a FAWN flunky for safekeeping. She returns her attention to the challenger and motions the official to begin her defense.
Crimson stares back, stoic, as her arrogant opponent steps towards the corner. "I assure you, this will not happen tonight" The crowd pops at the hero's defiance as Amara sneers back towards her. The ref signals the bell and both wrestlers begin circling out. Both combatants come to the center of the ring, hands up, circling and looking for an opening.
Crimson moves in fast, hands up, and both women lock up in the center of the ring. Crimson pushes hard, digging her boots into the canvas. She suddenly slides her body, lifting her right arm up and behind the back of Amara's head, beginning to pull her foe in for a side headlock. Bringing Singh in, squeezing the side of her head, she pulses her biceps. The crowd cheers as she twists her hip, trying to toss her down to the canvas.
The masked superheroine sends the champ flipping over her hip, Amara landing with a meaty THUD, her tailbone spiked into the canvas. Singh yips in pain, grasping at her ass with both hands while Crimson steps back and plants a soccer kick into the spine of the Golden Empress. Amara’s back curves forward, her flawless features scrunching.
Amara tries butt-scooting from under the hovering Crimson, but the caped crusader ends her slow advance almost instantly. The fan favorite clamps on to a wrist and shoulder and tugs Singh to her feet. Pulled to vertical, Amara tosses an elbow behind her, hoping to slam to point into Crimson’s temple. The superheroine ducks the effort and uses Amara’s lack of balance to take her off her feet again, this time shifting her backwards and dropping her to the deck with a mat-rattling side suplex.
The crowd goes wild as Crimson lands the suplex. Arching her back, still holding Amara's side she tries to push the champion's shoulders to the canvas, lifting the other woman's hips up in the air on Crimson's chest, but it's too early and the champ easily kicks out, before the ref can get into position. Crimson pushes to her feet, nodding back at her opponent and slapping her own shoulders to pump herself up as she begins circling once more. Both women on their feet, circling. The superheroine once again goes for a lock up but this time is met with a bare foot to the abs, knocking the wind from her doubling her over and backing her up.
"You had your fun," Singh hisses. "Now the real world comes knocking on your door...or your head." Amara surges forward and delivers a knee to the crown of Crimson's dipped cranium. The masked blonde flies backward, landing on her back and somersaulting to her chest. Familiar grin emerging, Singh approaches and stomps a bare foot onto Crimson's fingers, the superheroine yelping as she pulls her hand close. A chuckling champion sinks her digits into Crimson's locks and pulls her up, ready to run her toward the corner and stuff her between the top and middle buckles at breakneck speed.
Crimson milks the pain in her gloved fingers a little more than she actually feels to try to distract her opponent. As She's pulled up, she tries to time herself as she feels herself pulled forward. Gritting her teeth as they get closer, she lets herself go limp and thrusts her right leg back towards Amara's shin, trying to trip the champ up and send her into the turnbuckle in her place.
On the way to the superheroine's flight into the ringpost, the blonde uses her brains and her brawn. A few feet out from the collision, Crimson manages to send a leg strike into one of the Indian grappler's wheels. Singh definitely gets a 'flat tire' as she stumbles her way into a face-first collision with the middle buckle. Her head snaps back violently. She spins and melts to a seat in front of the corner, dazed.
Crimson hits all fours as she launches her opponent forward. Pushing up to her feet she nods and races to the opposite side. Pulling on the top ropes, eyeing the downed champ, she pushes off hard and rushes forward, leaping as she gets close, trying to send her own body into Amara's face and chest.
Whether Amara thinks Crimson is a bird or a plane, she lands atop the wide-eyed champion, her backside thumping into Singh's chest. The masked blonde grabs the ropes on either side and thrusts her rubber-suited booty three...four...FIVE times into the slowly melting Singh, her Bronco Buster leaving the Empress a wreck when Crimson Dawn dismounts at TEN, the crowd roaring.
The crowd roars as Crimson pushes up. Nodding to the crowd as she looks down at the melted empress. Reaching down she grabs her opponent's bare ankles and begins pulling her from the corner to the center of the ring. With her there, she drops herself down and wraps her arm around Amara's leg, lifting it up, trying to roll her up for a pin, the ref sliding in for the count...
...1....
…and Singh kicks her way free. The champ rolls to her side, groaning. She starts to crawl for the sidelines, apparently hoping to sneak underneath and call a time out so she can find a way to cool down FAWN's own avenger.
Crimson sits up and takes a deep breath. Sighing, a little taken off guard as her opponent kicks out. But she accepts it with dignity, knowing she has to be a good example for the FAWNATICS out there. SHe pushes to her feet and sees her opponent slipping out of the ring. She pushes up and rushes to the opposite ropes. Leaning back she launches herself forward and drops into a baseball slide, hoping to land her boots against Amara to keep the champ on the defensive.
Having landed on her feet, the champion has the good sense to immediately turn back to the squared circle. Hands on hips, Amara seems to take account of all her early aches and pains, the masked nutcase proving damn frisky. Singh draws in a deep breath and looks up to realize Crimson is bearing down on her. CD slides underneath the bottom cable, her boots barely missing Amara's chest when the Indian beauty slides out of the way. Crimson lands on her feet nimbly, but Amara is ready with a spinning side kick, hoping to plant the sole of her foot into the masked blonde's ribs.
Crimson winces as she misses but then grunts as the wind is knocked from her body by Amara's foot landing hard against her ribs. Stumbling to the side reaching with her gloved hands. She backs up trying to get some distance as she straightens back out.
Not in the greatest of shape, Amara nevertheless chases after Crimson. Catching her from behind, she sinks her nails into the heroine's golden locks and tugs her in a u-turn to eat a faceful of forearm smash. Crimson is rocked backward and, while she's somewhat dazed, Singh trades her grip in for one around CD's wrist. Pointing her foe toward the distant steel barrier, Amara loads Crimson up for an Irish Whip down the length of the ring, hoping to send her crashing into the divider. "Let's see if you're made of steel or if steel breaks you in half."
Crimson's a bit dazed from the forearm as she's launched forward. "UNGH!" the wind rushing out of her once more as the barricade lands hard against her midsection, knocking the wind from her. She slides down the barricade in front of the fans, as they boo the champion. Landing on her knees, her arms wrapped around her abs.
A delighted Empress sashays to the downed less-than-superheroine. "I guess we know what you are now," Singh purrs. "A super-loser." Noticing the count growing, Amara grabs a shoulder and wrist and hauls the hurting Crimson to her feet. She guides the masked one to the apron's edge and draws back her foe's noggin, ready to slam her face into the deck.
Crimson grunts and groans as she's hauled up, her ribs aching a bit as she's guided. Her hair pulled back, just when she's about to launch forward, she puts her hands up aiming them for the apron to catch herself. Trying to send a kick back towards Amara's knee before trying to pull herself up on the apron.
Crimson's masked face never makes it to the thinly-sheathed plywood, her hands acting as a brake to stop the impact. Singh starts to draw back her noggin again for another try when the heroine delivers a blind mule kick to the champ's knee. Amara yelps in pain and is forced to genuflect on the cement floor. Meanwhile, a freed Crimson climbs to the outside of the ring, hovering over the grappler from the subcontinent.
The ref continues to count, up to seven now. Crimson looks as though she wants to attack, but knows she can't win via count out. She reaches down for her opponent's hair and starts to pull her up into the ring, hoping that Amara doesn't want to lose at all...
Amara howls, complaining about Crimson's grip on her ebony locks. In order to not lose a handful, she rises and joins the superheroine on the apron. Singh takes a swipe at the masked blonde but comes up empty. With the back of the Empress to the cables, Crimson returns the attempted favor and succeeds, crushing a scythe-like clothesline across the champ's chest, sending Amara backflipping over the strands and crashing into the squared circle.
The crowd going wild as the ref stops the count, but he doesn't back up fast enough as Amara crashes hard into him during her flip. Crimson doesn't notice until she's slid back through the ropes and sees both downed bodies. She closes her eyes and puts her hand to her head, irritated at herself. She could have imagined this from her partner Azul Aurora but cannot believe she herself has done this. She shakes her head and decides to focus on her opponent making her way over to grab Amara's shoulder to pull her back up.
Whether she realized she'd careened into the zebra or not, Singh takes advantage of the confusion. When Crimson starts to pull the Eurasian titleholder up, Amara pokes a thumb in the eye of the blonde, Crimson's mask not providing any protection. CD shrieks as she stumbles away rubbing at her mauled peeper, slightly shifting her mask to get at it, some in the audience trying to see if they can catch a glimpse of a clue to Crimson's identity. Amara seems unconcerned about that and more what she can do to hurt the peasant. As Crimson slowly turns back toward Singh, the champ sees her chance, charging at the fan favorite and lifting a big boot, or in Amara's case, a big copper-skinned right foot aimed directly at the chin of the challenger.
The foot lands hard against Crimson in a super kick. The superheroine's head rocking back on the neck before she collapses to her back, spread eagle. Laying there, groaning, her right gloved hand coming up to her chin to rub the pain out.
Amara skids to a stop next to the gobsmacked superheroine and lands a follow-up stomp to her foe's midriff, forcing Crimson into a jackknife around the impact. CD groans from the impaling foot as she melts to horizontal. But Singh is far from done, leaping into the air above the splayed masked marvel, her knee extended, aiming the bony joint at Crimson's catsuit-covered chest.
The wind rushes from Crimson's body, unable to suck more in as "UNGH!" The knees drive the air right back out. Tremendous pain in her breasts as the bony knees of her opponent dig in. She tries to roll to her side, groaning. Dazed from the sudden onslaught of the villainous opponent.
Amara disdainfully places her palm on Crimson's features and pie-faces the superheroine, shoving the head of her challenger. She rises and turns to the crowd. "You honestly thought this wannabe could dethrone an Empress?" The FAWNatics start a 'yes' chant that only infuriates the champion. "Shut your...I said shut your..." The noise only grows. Finally, Singh turns her attention back to the rising Dawn. She 'helps' Crimson to her feet and starts to scoop an arm between the blonde's legs, planning to lift and deposit the masked marvel off her shoulder and back to the mat with a resounding body slam.
Crimson's dazed from the kick, stomp knee drop combo as her face is pushed to the side. Groaning as she feels her opponent reach between her legs trying to lift. The next thing she knows, "UNGH!" her back slams hard to the canvas. She arches off the canvas and reaches behind her rolling to her side in pain, reaching back to rub the small of her back in pain.
Looking down with a sneer, Amara adds "Yeah. That's what I thought!" Singh lifts off and lands a legdrop across Crimson's throat. The superheroine spasms at impact, her legs flying high. But the draped limbs of the Empress remain across her foe's upper body, pinning the challenger's shoulders to the canvas for ONE...
The ref finally shaking off the impact from before has crawled over and begins the count. Crimson trapped beneath Amara's leg, gagging and groaning. But she still has fight in her. Wrenching her body to the lift and throwing her right gloved hand in the air to break the count after "two!"
The Indian beauty is less than thrilled at being denied. Scrambling to Crimson's side, she pounds a set of punches into the blonde's midriff, drawing groans of protest from the battered Dawn. Having punished the superheroine, Amara tugs Crimson up with her by a wrist and flings her foe to the far corner with an Irish Whip. Quickly following behind Crimson's collision, the copper-skinned grappler sprints after her challenger. From several feet out, she lifts off, leaping toward a Bolly Splash, hoping to land in an avalanche atop the reeling heroine and keep Crimson on the ropes, literally and figuratively.
The masked superheroine is trying to keep her head in the game but the Bollywood Beauty is relentless. Just as Crimson turns to take the impact of the buckles to her back "OOOOOOOF!" Amara slams into her, driving the wind right back out of her. As Amara peels herself from the wrecked form of Crimson, Dawn slumps to the bottom rope, her arms draped over the middle ropes, dazed and seeing stars.
Amara steps a few feet back from the wreckage she'd wrought and, seeing Crimson laid low, has a dastardly idea. Turning her back to the splayed, masked blonde, she backs dat ass up, lowering it to the level of the superheroine's face. With a pelvic thrust, she stuffs her Bolly booty into Crimson's mask and the rest of her foe's face, swabbing the challenger's features with a stinkface, she aptly calls the Harem Shake. Crimson sputters and pushes at Amara's thighs, her face buried beneath Indian ass, nose tucked tightly between Singh's cheeks. ""Still believe in live-action comics?" Amara shouts to the silenced crowd.
Crimson groans, coughing, her head filled with fog, as her opponent's ass rocks back and forth on her face. Kicking her boots on the canvas as she struggles. Her gloved hands coming to Amara's ass to try to shove her off.
Mustering a 'superheave', Crimson pushes Amara off, Singh stumbling away a few steps before regaining her balance. Upset at her fun being brought to a premature end, she motions the masked marvel to get up under her own power and come out of the corner for next beating.
Crimson's hair is a bit matted with sweat at this point. She pulls herself up on the ropes and starts coming out towards the center. Both hands up, taking a bit of a "drunken master"stance as she circles once more.
Singh can hardly believe her eyes. First, this nutcase thinks she's a member of the Justice League and now she's the Karate Kid. "Playtime's over," Amara informs, trailing after the circling blonde. Taking swipes at Crimson's face with balled fists, the challenger skillfully evades,leaving the champion finding nothing but thin air. Frustrated, Singh finally charges the masked marvel, trying to tackle her to the deck and go to work.
Crimson evades the punches before pushing forward, hands up trying to lock up but "UNGH!" Amara's shoulder rams hard into the Superheroine's abs, knocking the wind from her. Crimson tries to stay up, back pedalling but the Empress gets her off her feet. Trying hard, Crimon tries to roll as they fall, looking to position herself on top.
Linked together, champ and challenger rotate through several shifts of top and bottom. The superheroine make the final 180, ending on top of the dizzied titleholder. Amara, her dark eyes spinning, tries to buck off the masked blonde, but Crimson keeps her mount, lifting her backside and thrusting it into Amara's midriff, forcing a loud grunt from the breathless champ.
Crimson is catching her breath as she drives it out of Amara. Her hands on top of Amara's wrists as she holds the Empress down. "stay down and accept justice" She releases Amara's right hand and drops herself down, trying to send her left forearm for Amara's forehead looking to daze her opponent.
Singh struggles to break free of Crimson's dual grips, CD getting a one-count before Amara throws a shoulder up. The champion doesn't heed the would-be crimefighter's words, refusing to give up her title to the heroine. Crimson lets loose one of her handholds and peppers a blistering left cross into Amara's forehead, rocking the champ's head to the side. When Singh's gaze returns, there's a hint of a glaze across the dark peepers.
Crimson stares down. Seeing her opponent dazed, the superheroine pushes to her feet. Turning her back to Amara, she bends her knees, jumping into the air, going for a backflip here. Aiming her own black clad abs, as she comes down, right for Amara's bared abs.
Singh barely seems to notice Crimson leave her for a split second. The masked blonde rises next to the fallen champion, offering her six to Amara. It's a dangerous game, but Crimson wins when she's able to backflip into a SPLASH across the copper-skinned tummy of the Golden Empress. Amara's body jackknifes around the crushing heroine, the exotic Singh pancaked underneath. She melts back to the canvas for the pin and the ONE...TWO... Amara shoves a shoulder up to save her reign.
Crimson grits her teeth as the crowd boos, but cheers on Crimson. She slaps the canvas, frustrated. Pushing to her feet with Amara still down she makes her way to the corner and starts to climb. Making her way to the top rope as the crowd cheers, knowing she's going to go for her finisher The Crimson Tide
.
.
The splattered Singh lies flat on her back, glued to the deck, ready for the superheroine to pancake her into the canvas and show the cheering throngs know once and for all, good will always overcome evil. Crimson launches into her majestic moonsault, the masked marvel backflipping toward the finish of the vilianous Empress. But the champion from the subcontinent has another nding in mind, pulling up her legs into a tuck and leaving the blonde heroine to gut herself on landing across Singh's knees. Crimson rolls away, gagging and gasping, holding her tummy while Amara slowly recovers a few feet away. Taking her sweet time, Amara makes her feet and staggers to the mewling, writhing Crimson. "You're mine. Cosplaytime is over." The Indian lifts a bare foot, ready to stomp the pit of Crimson's stomach.
The stomp is nearly a low blow as it slams hard into the recovering Crimson's already injured lower abs. Coughing and gagging, kicking her boots against the canvas as she bucks her hips, flopping like a fish out of water until she lands on her side. Groaning, her arms wrapped around her midsection.
Amara, hands on her knees, gives herself a second or two of recovery time, then throws her long ebony locks off her forehead and over a shoulder, ready to tear apart the would-be Avenger. The Indian grappler reaches down and corrals Crimson by the noggin, dragging her up to vertical, CD leaning against Singh to keep her feet. Amara draws the blonde's arms away from her midriff then pushes her foe back a step or two so she can use Crimson's tummy as a target, flipping left and right jabs into her belly, the superheroine groaning as they accumulate. "Ready for some kyptonite," Amara growls, before dropping to a knee in front of a wobbly Crimson and swinging an uppercut toward the juncture of her foe's thighs.
Crimson grunts and groans with each punch. Dazed from the impacts to her stomach. Stumbling back as Amara makes sure to keep her opponent breathless. Coughing when suddenly her eyes grow wide behind her mask. Her mouth forms an "O" but no sound erupts. The pain too much for her to make a sound as she crumbles to her knees, her gloved hands between her legs as the crowd boos the low blow.
Amara, feeling much better, hops to her feet and spurs on the FAWNatic hatred, lifting her arms then pointing and laughing at the penitent and deflated masked marvel. The Eurasian champ scoops her arms under Crimson's and plucks her foe off the canvas. The superheroine is left bent at the waist and gasping, hands buried in her aching crotch. A gleeful Singh pulls Crimson's head between her bronzed thighs, and doubles over CD's lowered back. The Indian beauty wraps her arms round Crimson's midriff and readies herself to vault the blonde in a front flip up her body, hoping to catch the challenger on her shoulders and deposit her with a signature PowerBollyBomb that might send her foe through the mat.
Crimson groans as the Bollywood Beauty lifts her up. The crowd begging her to fight back, but she doubles over. Her black clad abs against the crowd of the Empress's head, her crotch right against Amara's face. Her boots hanging over the shoulders of the back. Laying there, groaning.
Perched precariously, Amara lets the slack masked marvel slump on her shoulders, no doubt anticipating the worst for a couple long seconds before Amara makes it come true. Singh sends Crimson plummeting to the deck, CD landing with a ring-rattling crash. The demolished heroine spreads out in a motionless starfish, lids fluttering in the holes of her mask. A sweat-soaked Singh hovers over the vanquished comic book queen in a standing straddle. Amara lifts her bare right foot and SLAMS it down in a sort of footy 'heart punch' to the cleft of Crimson's bosom. She grinds the foot in between the blonde's breasts and demands the official count.
The heart punch impacts hard, her back lifts off the canvas for half a second before she convulses, Her eyes still fluttering. Not out, but seemingly paralyzed as she lays beneath the Empress's bare sole. Her boots twitching as the ref slides into place. The crowd chanting Crimson's name as the ref slaps the canvas...
..1....
Amara scoffs at the crowd and their useless effort to revive the 'bombed' Crimson. She stares down at the splayed superheroine , sure in her victory as she raises her hands high with the slap of...2...
Crimson lays beneath the foot. Dazed, confused, out of it. She lays beneath her opponent, the crowd booing louder as Amara lifts her heel so that oly her toes are performing the pin...3....
Amara nods knowingly with the third slap, reveling in the mournful silence of the despondent crowd. "Pay homage to your Empress!" she shouts to the assembled. "On your knees and show the proper reverence." A few in the crowd do as they're told. Most jeer the champion with every ounce of energy that remains. Beneath the victor, Crimson's palms wrap around Singh's ankle and try to remove her domineering foot but she's unable when Singh places her sole back down and leans her mass into her front leg. "Surrender your mask to your Empress or you may surrender your career!" The blonde shakes her head warily and Amara moves her foot, trailing it up Crimson's body until she catches the black disguise between her toes, ready to unmask the beaten heroine in a most unseemly and unusual manner.
Crimson groans. Amara's toes tugging at her mask, the superheroine weakly moving her gloved hand up to Amara's ankle. trying to push the foot off, to get it away from her mask. Her chest rising and falling slowly, too weak to really fight.
"Proclaim me, your Empress and I MAY let you keep your secret identity Crimson." Singh starts to peel the mask up millimeter by millimeter. Whether she's unwilling or unsure of what is happening, the heroine does not respond beyond weak mewls and weaker tugs on Singh's ankle. Amara shrugs with an evil smirk and deftly tugs the mask to Crimson's forehead, but in so doing, keeps the sole of her foot planted across the blonde's eyes, maintaining the secret if only momentarily. "You seem unable to speak," Amara says. "Just show your understanding of my position by kissing my foot. I will let that suffice as evidence you know your place."
The crowd boos as Amara looks to humiliate and blackmail the superheroine. Laying beneath her, Crimson's chest rising and falling slowly. She groans into the copper sole of her opponent. The only thing going through her mind is "the mission", to clean up FAWN. She weakly begins to press her lips to the bare, ring dirtied sole of her opponent.
Amara's perfect pearlies go wide and bright, delighting in the humiliation brought upon the despoiled less-than-superheroine. "Good. It's good you understand you are but a peasant to the Empress." Singh demands Crimson more than pucker and peck but French her tender sole, and Crimson's tickling tongue drawing a shiver from the champion. "You may not be a heroine, but you are super," Amara snickers. "You may return your mask." Singh continues to provide cover until Crimson has her covering back in place. The Bollywood Bombshell lifts her foot and SLAMS it down between the blonde's eyes, dead center of the mask, knocking the consciousness from Crimson. Moving imperiously to the ropes, she snatches her belt from a FAWN flunky and strides to a straddle of the motionless Crimson Dawn, lifting her belt high. "This peasant couldn't save you and let me assure you, no one else on either of my continents can."
Very little can be heard over the crowd as it erupts in boos, still loyal to the fallen superheroine even after the humiliation she received tonight. Laying still beneath her opponent, out cold.