Post by bigfan on Aug 7, 2017 0:39:30 GMT
The FAWNatics put their lungs to the test when Iggy and Charlie belt a thoroughly ‘Vanilla’ set of chords throughout the arena, the crowd well aware of the approaching ‘Chill’.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-zpOMYRi0w )
With ‘Fancy’ blaring over the speakers, the one and, thank god, only Pleasant Valley Pariah strides to the middle of the stage as if she owns the place.
Kylie Sanders, with her ever present, black Louis Vuitton clutch in hand, wears a black one-piece, black leather belt around her midriff, black lace covering her shoulders and upper arms, the Iowan in her signature LV garb. She finishes things with black boots and pads.
(http://i.imgur.com/77i57hQ.jpg )
Behind her, on the FAWNtron, ‘‘VANILLA CHILL IN DA HOUSE BYTCHES!’ appears in ten-foot high, gold letters. And quickly on either shoulder is Chill’s crew. The African-American dazzler Jasmine Washington is on one side and the manager of both women, Demetria Andrews, on the other.
The leader of Hot&Bothered shows Sanders off like her most precious possession and each Nubian beauty raises a wrist of the former fan favorite, the boos falling like rain from a cloudburst.
Vanilla Chill smirks at the Orlando lowlifes as the three women head down the ramp and aisle together, staring, pointing and talking shyt about everyone and everything.
Reaching the squared circle, Kylie Sanders dabs both women, the Hawkeye sharing a beaming smile with her new compatriots. The elfin blonde turns a much sterner gaze to the multitudes heaping their disdain and tossing less than complimentary remarks at the turncoat and her allies.
Kylie Sanders:
Jasmine Washington:
Demetria Andrews:
Sanders heads up the steps, leaving her manager and J-Dogg to huddle on the outside, Washington dressed in a tiny black hoodie, (black version of the following: i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/biggerb/Jasmine-clothing.jpg~original ), the grappler snapping her head back to clear the hood from her cranium and shoulder-length ebony locks. Beneath Jazzy wears camo boy-cut trunks (http://s2.photobucket.com/user/biggerb/media/Jasmine-clothing%20below.jpg.html ) which accentuate her bootylicious backside.
Andrews charms in a skin tight red cocktail dress and pumps, lips scarlet, hair a coppery hue.
As Sanders enters, the ring announcer picks up his cue.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. First, from da space where Da Man ain’t got no place…standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in at 113 pounds…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders!”
Mid-ring, Sanders, stick already in hand, waves at the crowd to shut the hell up. They only turn up the volume of their hatred. Ky shouts over the top.
“So I believe I damn well showed Da Man what I do with his little nobody wenches,” Kylie shouts. “Skylar Mitchell? I mean c’mon. You better pick someone better tonight boss lady or I’m gonna take out my frustration, know what I’m sayin’?”
Sanders drops the microphone with a sneer. She strides to her corner to meet up with her homegirls and find out who would be in for a long one tonight.
As the assembled fans continue to boo their hearts out, Bianca Simpson nervously bounces on the balls of her feet just on the other side of the curtain at the top of the entrance ramp. Kylie Sanders had been a stepping stone for a great many FAWN superstars, and to share a ring with the former Pleasant Valley Princess was surely a precursor of great things to come for the young blonde. Regardless of the fact that she had yet to notch a win, Bianca feels good about her chances. For once, she would have the advantage in physicality, at least according to the tale of the tape. Unlike her previous outing where she found herself overwhelmed and squashed by the speed, strength, and ferocity of Dayna Ezra, Simpson is both taller and heavier than her opponent, however slight those margins might be.
Moreover, she had done her due diligence and extensively scouted Vanilla Chill by typing ‘Kylie Sanders’ into Google. Like Bianca herself, Kylie’s early career had gotten off to a rocky start as well, and the rookie figures that if Sanders had been a chewtoy back when she was at the peak of her athleticism in her early 20’s, then surely the woman now in the ring -- the holder of the ignominious record of having the most losses in a career -- is even more of a pushover after the ravages of age had dulled her skills.
Most importantly, Simpson had made great progress in her training, at least in her own mind. She could now make it through the first thirty minutes of Anna Sharpe’s three hour cardio workout without vomiting or passing out, and her trainer had paid her a lofty compliment just a couple of days ago by comparing her to a pair of dominant champions, saying that she was blessed with the raw power of Lily Burlingame and the high-flying acumen of Pandora.
“Alright, B… you got this! You got this!” Bianca says to herself as she pumps a fist. “Eye of the tiger! EYE OF THE TIGER!”
”And introducing her opponent… from Ithaca, New York… coming in at five foot six and one hundred twenty pounds… Bianca Simpson!”
It’s Katy Perry’s Roar rather than Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger that pumps through the arena speakers, but Simpson doesn’t mind as she leaps through the curtain and strikes a heroic pose, chest proudly stuck out with both fists propped on her hips. If for nothing else than to get on Kylie’s nerves, the FAWNatics give Bianca a raucous standing ovation, imploring her to beat the odds and put Vanilla Chill on ice.
Bianca Simpson:
Feeling better about herself than ever before, Simpson rears back and delivers a high pitched “WOOO!” that’s returned a thousand-fold by the assembled audience. Exuding confidence despite the fact that she’s facing down all three members of Hot & Bothered by her lonesome, she strides down the entranceway dressed in her red one-piece with white boots and pads. Kylie, Jasmine, and Demetria laugh at her derisively as she takes a lap around the ring to exchange high-fives with the fans, but even that doesn’t dampen her spirit.
Bianca squares up with the side of the ring, then she flexes her knees and jumps, attempting to leap onto the apron directly from the floor. It’s a valiant effort, though she doesn’t quite make the four foot leap, painfully banging her shins on the hard edge of the apron before landing unsteadily back on the floor.
“It’s a work in progress,” she reassures a cadre of fans in the front row before she enters in a more conventional way by sliding under the bottom rope.
She does her best to tune out the taunting of her opponent’s compatriots as the referee checks her gear, and then she punches a fist overhead just as the bell rings, drawing another pop from the crowd.
“Bring it, Kylie!” Bianca shouts at her foe. “I’m gonna beat your ass just like everyone else did!”
A confused Sanders moves toward her fellow blonde, Bianca maybe 15 years her junior.
“At least I know who Skylar Mitchell is,” Kylie informs. “Who in the holy hell are you? And why are you asking to leave on a stretcher?”
The Pleasant Valley Pariah settles mid-ring and waits for Bianca to back up her talk. A rhythmic clap develops courtesy the fans and the support gives Simpson the impetus to charge FAWN’s most infamous traitor. The women come together in a collar-and-elbow and Bianca stands her ground, working her leverage effectively, the blondes tugging and pulling for an advantage until Sanders pivots slightly and sticks a raised knee DEEP into Bianca’s solar plexus.
The youngster’s eyes bulge. Her grip loosens enough for Kylie to control a wrist and dipsy-do under the captured arm, securing a hammerlock. Chill presses her body tight to Simpson’s, Bianca’s folded arm between them.
“Don’t be talkin’ shyt ya know nuthin’ about, brat,” the hateful Hawkeye whispers. “I’m still here when none of those losers are.”
The monologue gives Bianca a chance to collect the pained butterflies in her stomach and use them to whip her free arm behind her and clunk an elbow into Kylie’s temple. Sanders’ grasp on Simpson’s wrist falls away. The platinum blonde staggers a few steps before regaining her balance and moving back toward her opponent.
“Just because you stayed,” the rookie responds, “doesn’t mean you should have.”
Sanders smirks and turns toward her corner, shaking her head at J-Dogg. Suddenly, she spins and lands an echoing bytch slap across Bianca’s face. A shocked Simpson rubs at her reddening cheek. She stares into the grinning visage of the former World Champion AND RETURNS THE FAVOR, slapping the taste from Kylie’s mouth, drawing a roar from the former members of the Corps.
“Da Man ain’t gonna be able to put you back together,” a furious Kylie growls. She closes her hand tight and fires, thunking a fist into Bianca’s jaw. But after the swivel of her head, Simpson fires a salvo right back that jolts Sanders at least as hard.
The fistfight is on, first Kylie, then Bianca, both loading, firing and connecting, the crowd cheering for each of the youngster’s impacts while booing the Fawn Original’s until…
Bianca blocks one of Kylie’s shots and NAILS Sanders with a second in a row. Kylie shows the effects of a two-spot but quickly launches again, only to have this fist picked off by a blocking left arm. Bianca CONNECTS again for a trifecta and Sanders takes a knee, if only for a split-second.
Clearly concerned but unwilling to admit the hint of a problem, Sanders rises and brings a right from across the ring. This time Bianca ducks under instead of blocking and, with Ky off-balance from the swing and miss, the rookie’s free to sink a quick left into the flat tummy of the veteran, drawing a guttural gurgle from the platinum blonde.
In no position to throw a right, a grimacing Sanders swabs a left back toward Bianca’s chin, but Simpson continues to show some boxing chops, weaving out of the way and responding with an overhand right that CRUNCHES into Kylie’s left cheek and sends her pinwheeling to the deck.
With both women staggered for completely different reasons, Simpson is a little slow to press her advantage, momentarily looking at her balled right hand with awe. On the canvas, a dumbfounded Kylie butt-scoots back to her corner, using the ropes on either side of the buckles to pull herself up when she gets there.
As Kylie pulls her chin off her chest to find the rookie, a charging, leaping Bianca lands in an avalanche atop the wide-eyed Sanders, sandwiching her foe underneath, between rookie and corner. Simpson bounces gleefully away from the splash and watches as a dazed, chilled Vanilla drunkenly stumbles out of the buckles several steps before taking a header to the canvas to the roar of the delighted FAWNatics.
“Told ya,” Bianca giggles down at the face-down veteran.
From the outside, Jasmine and Demetria slam their palms on the canvas, complaining bitterly about Bianca’s use of brass knuckles. The zebra steps between the rookie and Sanders to confirm there’s nothing on the blonde’s right hand. Finding it metal-free, he moves clear with a shake of his head at the badgering members of Hot&Bothered.
Bianca reaches down to snatch Kylie’s left wrist, effectively using it to tug a wobbly Sanders to her feet. She turns the grip into an Irish whip, sending a dazed Ky on her way. The hateful Hawkeye’s back hits the ropes and she races back at a waiting Simpson who seems unsure what to do with her fast-approaching target.
Bianca pivots and lifts her right foot. And though it’s a sprinting Kylie who provides much of the power in the collision that follows, Bianca knocks the former fan favorite flat with what passes for a superkick when Sanders runs her chin into the sole of Simpson’s boot
Laid out in a spreadeagle, a motionless, glassy-eyed Kylie beckons even the greenest of rookies for a pin attempt by her hapless state. Bianca dives atop the splayed Sanders in a lateral press, hooking Kylie’s far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
The despised Chill shrugs a shoulder off the canvas to a loud groan from the crowd, the fans ready to revel in a huge upset of the traitorous troll.
As Bianca glances hopefully to the official, the man raising two fingers, Ky pushes to all fours and crawls toward her perplexed posse. She gets a few feet toward her destination when Bianca grabs an ankle and ends the platinum blonde’s progress.
“Kicking your ass, Kylie,” Simpson says, twisting Sanders to her backside, Ky propping her upper body with flattened palms on the canvas. “See. I KEEP my word,” she continues.
Bianca releases the grip on Chill’s ankle and reaches toward a wrist and shoulder to reclaim her foe more fully. When she does, Kylie stretches a grasping hand toward her foe’s in return. Grabbing Bianca’s wrist and falling backward, Kylie drags the rookie off her feet and hot-shots Simpson’s throat across the middle rope.
Bianca whiplashes away from the impact, spinning into the deck hard and grasping at her throat after the despicable counter. Kylie rolls in the opposite direction, finding a seat in the H&B corner’s buckles. She receives a pat of encouragement from Jasmine and a scolding from Demetria.
“Get yo ass out dere Chill. Don’t let Wonder Bread treat you so shady.”
Kylie shakes out some cobwebs and uses the ropes as an assist. On her feet, she sees a choking Simpson on all fours and races to her flaxen-haired grappler, punting Bianca in the ribs with a THUMPING boot to the breadbasket.
The quick burst of offense puts Washington and Andrews more at ease, and they demand their sister-in-arms keep pushing her advantage. Vanilla Chill takes their advice to heart and begins laying the boot to the sputtering rookie’s shoulders and back, forcing her to scamper to the corner for safety.
“I’ve been doing this since you were in diapers, kiddo,” Kylie snorts over her shoulder as the referee orders her to back off, allowing Bianca to drag herself upright with the help of the ropes.
“Wow…” Simpson says as she leans against the buckles to catch her breath. “...You must be SO OLD. What was it like in the days before YouTube?”
Kylie’s pixieish features scrunch in anger, and she storms forward to shove her millennial opponent back into the corner before sending Bianca careening across the ring on a diagonal with an Irish Whip. As inexperienced as she may be, Simpson still has the good sense to turn her body before crashing into the buckles to absorb the impact through her back, and this allows her to quickly bring up her boots and turn the tables when an over-aggressive Sanders comes flying at her with an attempt at a Leaping Forearm Smash.
Vanilla Chill smashes her own face into the soles of Bianca’s boots for the second time in the match to the uproarious delight of the FAWNatics, and the veteran once again finds herself flat on her back and gazing at the arena lights through glassy eyes. Meanwhile, Simpson takes the opportunity to climb to the top ropes on slightly shaky legs. The rookie tries to stand to full height before taking flight, but she’s suddenly gripped by a bout of vertigo thanks to the terrifying memory of her nearly disastrous attempt at a Corkscrew 630 Senton last month.
Bianca wisely decides not to push her luck this time, so she steps down to the middle rope before launching into a much more humble Elbow Drop that nevertheless steals Kylie’s breath away. Simpson immediately rolls over into a cover for…
ONE
TWO
...before Sanders kicks out and rolls free. The younger blonde walks after her opponent to try to push the offensive, and unfortunately she seems to have greatly overestimated the effects of her Elbow Drop when Vanilla Chill lunges forward from hands and knees to throw a nasty Chop Block into the side of the rookie’s legs.
Bianca goes down with a howl and rolls onto her stomach, and Kylie quickly scrambles into a reverse straddle of her lower back, facing her boots. Sanders curls her right hand into a C-shape and holds it aloft, prompting many of her erstwhile Kylie Corps to reflexively call back, “FARM HAND.” Much to her displeasure, however, a young man in the front row wearing thick-framed glasses and an ostentatious waxed mustache loudly informs her that Emily West had been working the Hammy Clamp since before it was cool.
“Goddamned hipsters…” Kylie grumbles under her breath as she clamps her claw into the junction of Bianca’s left gluteus and hamstring.
Although Simpson wails and sobs with every spasmodic cramp of her leg, she proves to be more resilient than Sanders had anticipated, and after a minute of the torture with no submission, Vanilla Chill’s reserves of grip strength are exhausted. The veteran blonde releases her Hammy Clamp, shaking the lactic acid out of her fingers as she rises to a stand, and she begins hauling Bianca up by the hair. The task proves to be more challenging than usual thanks to Simpson’s not-quite-functioning left leg, and a frustrated Kylie gives up halfway through the effort with her foe still on one knee.
Instead, Vanilla Chill slaps on a Side Headlock, grinding Bianca’s temples between her bicep and hip and earning a few squeals of pain from the rookie. From there, Kylie kicks out her legs in front and drops to a seat on the deck in order to harshly mash Simpson’s face into the canvas with a textbook Bulldog. The hipster fan once again informs Sanders that her maneuver is but a pale imitation of Shea London’s original, but the Pleasant Valley Turncoat pays him no mind as she rolls the splattered Bianca over and covers for a pin.
ONE
TWO
THRNO!
Simpson shoots a shoulder up off the mat. The FAWNatics applaud her refusal to go quietly into the night, and at the same time they’re pleasantly surprised that Bianca is showing more resilience than she had in her previous outings. Kylie scoffs at their support and gives a sarcastic, mocking round of applause to the younger wrestler before hauling her up. No shortcuts this time as Sanders gets her opponent fully vertical before sending Simpson running for the ropes with another Irish Whip. Once again, however, Bianca shows some wiles by hooking both arms over the uppermost strand to prevent the rebound, thus causing Kylie to land roughly on her backside when she hits nothing but air on a Dropkick aimed at where Simpson should have been.
The arena titters with derisive laughter as Sanders lays on her side and rubs her tailbone, a scornful grimace marring her elfin features. The reversal of fortune also revitalizes Bianca, and she takes a couple of quick steps towards the center of the ring before jumping into the air. She only gets a very modest amount of airtime, though she still manages to tuck her knees to her chest and come down butt-first in a Cannonball that crashes into the side of Kylie’s ribcage. With the air forced from her lungs, Sanders instinctively shifts into survival mode and rolls onto her stomach to prevent a pin.
Bianca doesn’t mind though. She clambers to her feet, winds up a Bolo Punch, and throws it overhead to earn herself another pop from the crowd.
“What’s the matter, Kyyy-leeeee?!” Simpson asks in a taunting, sing-song tone. “Having flashbacks to when Pandora kicked your ass?!”
The rookie flexes in a variety of poses, which accomplishes nothing except to highlight what a far cry her physique is from that of the infamous Beach Colossus. Jasmine and Demetria watch Bianca’s display with disgusted silence, and then turn towards each other in confusion.
“Is -- is Wonder Bread fo’ real right now?!” Washington stammers, her voice half an octave higher than normal due to her disbelief.
The Hot & Bothered manager shakes her head and lightly claps her charge on the shoulder a few times as she sighs, “Forget it, J-Dogg. It’s Cracka Town.”
Meanwhile in the ring, Kylie has managed to make her way to the ropes for a breather.
Sanders pulls her way up and leans against the cables, throwing her arms over the top rope to help keep her body upright. Apparently expecting Simpson to be a pushover from the results of her previous fights, the former fan favorite seems as bewildered at her condition as in pain.
“You need a little,” Demetria looks for the right words for a moment while craning her head toward Sanders, “<I>pitching in</I> to make a sandwich outta Wonder Bread?”
The platinum blonde pixie cut shakes atop the FAWN original’s head and she grunts out a ‘no’ before pushing off from the strands.
“I got this,” the hated Hawkeye assures.
That Da Man’s woman had a little more game than Ky thought was one thing. That she thought she could play with Chill and walk away was something else entirely. Yet there she stands in the middle and beckons Kylie forward, getting every last person in the arena behind her.
Bianca’s unexpected pluck combines with the hatred for Kylie to create an impressive volume as Kylie and Simpson’s bodies bang together, ending in a collar-and-elbow tie-up.
Sanders shits her frame, trying to gain leverage on the slightly bigger blonde, but the success Simpson’s had so far seems to have helped not only Bianca’s confidence but her ability. The rookie counters each tug and twist from Sanders into a stalemate that brings huffs of frustration from the veteran.
Finally, Ky is able to pivot, looping her right arm around Bianca’s left. She hip-tosses Simpson to a landing on her tailbone and delivers a follow-up soccer kick to the base of Bianca’s spine.
No longer playing, Kylie wraps her arms around the head of the wincing rookie and drags Simpson to her boot soles. Yanked to vertical, Bianca responds with a rough shove that sends Sanders backpedaling into the ropes behind her. Kylie uses the momentum to her advantage, racing back at the rookie and sliding on her knees as she reaches her foe, dipping under a crude clothesline from Simpson and delivering a delving gut punch to the wannabe’s midriff.
Left doubled and gasping, Bianca manages little response when Ky pops to her feet, dips her head between Simpson’s thighs and lifts Bianca off her feet, the youngster draped over Kylie’s left shoulder until the hated Hawkeye drops to her backside and sends Bianca CRASHING face and chest first into the deck, courtesy the Iowa Waterwheel.
Iowa Waterwheel (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L78bbjcEtWw )
The crowd groans at the impact and the result, Simpson motionless for a second or two as Kylie sits next to her foe with a smirk of satisfaction. Bianca stirs and Jasmine convinces Chill she needs to get frosty with Wonder Bread.
Ky rises to her feet and shovels her fellow blonde to her back with a boot wedged underneath the rookie’s ribs. With Simpson in place Sanders goes airborne, folding her legs as she launches and landing a double stomp to Bianca’s midriff. Simpson jackknifes around the contact, her eyes bugging and she chokes through some grinding of boot leather to spandex.
When Sanders steps off there’s a moment or two of filling lungs, but the air is quickly expunged when Kylie hops into the air one more and mushroom stomps the rookie’s pert bosom, flattening the flesh against her breast bone. The pitiful yip of pain from her foe persuades the traitorous troll to twist her soles into Simpson’s gurls, etching Bianca’s face with pain, the blonde biting her lower lip to deny Vanilla Chill the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.
Happy with how she’s ended the hope of both her inexperienced opposition and the FAWNatics, Sanders steps off her “platform”, ending in a forward-facing, standing straddle of Simpson’s belly. Taking an instant to decide, Kylie chooses a little gluteal payback for the rookie and sits out, her ass dropping as deadweight into Bianca’s abdomen, forcing out every bit of oxygen. Ky lies her extended legs over Simpson’s shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Bianca rolls to her side, sending Sanders tumbling off her throne. As the Ithaca native pushes determinedly to hands and knees, unwilling to give into the odds against her, a frustrated Kylie shrugs at the H&B corner.
“Jus’ Chill her Out some more,” J-Dogg says, nodding confidently in the Iowan’s direction. “Bytch got a little fight, but she gonna know her place soon enough.”
While FAWN’s version of Benedict Arnold receives advice from her Hot&Bothered partner, the rookie struggles back toward vertical. Kylie finds her half up and assists Bianca the rest of the way to her feet and then some. The platinum blonde dips a shoulder and slips an arm between the legs of her foe, popping Simpson up to a fireman’s carry position.
Knowing full well where this can lead, that being the renamed Chilly Valley Driver, the rookie squirms frantically for her freedom. Perhaps convincing the veteran she can’t quite go for a finisher, Sanders starts to pirouette with Bianca still in place atop her shoulders. As she gains momentum and centrifugal force, it’s clear Sanders is going old school on the newbie, twirling Bianca in an airplane spin.
Kylie gets a full ten rotations before slowing slightly and launching Simpson off her shoulders. Bianca continues through another half-turn on the way down and SLAMS into the deck chest-down. The blonde slops onto her back in a spreadeagle, staring blankly at the rafters of the arena. Next to her, Kylie slows to a stop and staggers drunkenly, Demetria and Jasmine imploring her to go for the pin and the win.
The trip had taken a fair piece of Sanders’ balance and she fights to keep her trek to her downed foe a straight one. After a few seconds of serpentine maneuvering, Kylie drops across Bianca in a crossbody, hooking Simpson’s far leg when she settles atop her foe for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Simpson’s body clenches and she kicks a shoulder off the canvas a few inches from the third slap striking. Even in her dizzied state, Kylie knows an injustice and she scrambles up, barely keeping her feet beneath her. She leans into the zebra for help and gives him an earful.
“There ain’t no way you didn’t see three. Da Man ain’t gonna be able to bring a ten-count down to two,” Kylie informs, pushing the official away from her. She wobbles but regains her balance and composure and returns to Simpson, who’s propping on her elbows but has otherwise made little progress in reaching her feet.
Sanders surrounds the noggin of the reeling blonde with both hands and tugs her foe up.
“Time to put another ‘L’ in your record book, loser,” Kylie growls as she dips a shoulder and sends an arm between the thighs of the unsteady wannabe.
Ky ‘hups’ the ragdolled rookie back onto her shoulders in another fireman’s carry, this trip likely to be a much shorter and emphatic one. But when Bianca is sent up, she almost immediately shifts her weight and finds an escape route back down to the canvas.
With her boots finding the mat behind Sanders, Bianca, seemingly working on instinct, laces both hands in a cup under Kylie’s chin and leaps into a tuck tight to Sanders’ shoulderblades. Hauling back, she lands on the canvas and blows the lungs out of her foe.
Lungblower
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKyrNcjcmLc )
The platinum blonde crumples off the bended knees, pooling onto her side, groaning. As the crowd erupts with excitement, Bianca lies next to Sanders on her back not more than a couple feet away, but momentarily unable to take advantage.
As the crowd takes up a chant of “BEE…AHN…KUH”, Simpson shows some life, rolling to her chest and pushing to all fours. Seeing a blasted Kylie trying to get to her feet gives the rookie a second wind and she quickly shoves to vertical.
Watching a glassy-eyed Kylie wobbling her way to fully upright, the rookie takes off for the ropes and rebounds back toward Vanilla Chill at close to full speed, she dips a shoulder and PLOWS into Kylie’s midriff, folding Chill’s body up with a brutal spear.
Bianca decks the hated Hawkeye like an all-pro free safety and ends on all fours in a straddle of the starfished Sanders, the crop-topped platinum blonde motionless beneath her.
With Simpson seemingly at a loss, many in the front row become temporary managers with a loud shout of “PIN HER!”
Bianca drops her body atop Kylie in a full-body connection, nose to nose, chest to chest, Bianca’s palms pinning Kylie’s wrists to the canvas wide from her frame for the…
ONE…
TWO…
As she had done so many times before, the Hawkeye taps into her talent for absorbing punishment and she rolls a shoulder off the mat to deny Simpson a historic first win. Bianca seems both disappointed and at a loss for what to do next as she rises to a stand over the fallen Kylie. She had managed more offense in this match than arguably all of her previous matches combined and yet Sanders still refused to stay down after eating her best shots, so Simpson turns to the crowd for help.
“Hey guys, what should I do next?” she asks the FAWNatics.
“FACE SIT!” someone offers, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.
Bianca doesn’t like the idea. She gives the fan a silent, scolding glare and shakes her head disapprovingly.
“REVERSE FACE SIT!” another person helpfully suggests.
“Oh my God, you guys are such perverts!” Simpson huffs as she hauls Kylie upright by an arm.
Having declined the salacious advice from the audience, she elects to slip an arm between her opponent’s thighs in order to scoop the Hawkeye up for a Body Slam. It becomes readily apparent that Bianca is no weight room warrior, however, when she struggles to lift the diminutive Kylie onto her shoulder. Her efforts stall out when Sanders is at chest level, and despite her grunting and groaning, Simpson can manage no further vertical progress. Vanilla Chill starts squirming in an attempt to get free of Bianca’s grasps, but instead all she accomplishes is causing the rookie to lose her balance. Simpson drops to one knee and smashes her posted thigh into the side of Sanders’ chest, treating the FAWN veteran to an inadvertent but still effective Rib Breaker.
RIB BREAKER
m.youtube.com/watch?v=cy_1GFphh4c
Kylie squawks in protest as she rolls off Bianca’s leg and rolls onto her stomach, arms swaddled protectively against her rib cage. Meanwhile, Bianca does an admirable job of hiding her own surprise in light of her effectiveness, and for once she follows with a move that's within her capabilities as she threads her thighs around Sanders’ head and neck, clamping down on a Side Headscissors.
Within a few seconds, Vanilla Chill is looking more like Strawberry Sorbet as her face flushes from the squeeze, and the hostile crowd is quick to demand that she “TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!” Their hopes are dashed, however, when Kylie squirms forward and wraps a hand around the bottom rope, a task that had been made easier thanks to Bianca neglecting to reposition her foe in the middle of the ring. The referee calls for a break and Simpson obliges without working the count, lest she be seen as anything other than a consummate babyface.
“Get yo’ shit together!” Demetria commands as she pounds a fist into the apron. “You makin’ dat cracka-ass thot look like a world-beater out dere!”
Sanders doesn't appear to register her manager’s words as she gulps down mouthfuls of precious, precious air while sitting with her back leaned up against the ropes. On the other side of the ring, Bianca repeatedly stomps her right foot against the deck while clapping her hands overhead. The fans quickly join in on the percussive beat, and then Simpson takes off in a run, aiming a low flying Yakuza Kick at Kylie’s face.
Unfortunately for the rookie, a good idea ten seconds ago turns out to be a terrible idea in the present. The time spent rallying the crowd has allowed Sanders to regain her senses, and she rolls out of the way before Simpson can make contact. Bianca’s right leg slips through the gap between the cables as she stumbles, and the bottom rope splits her thighs and twangs against her groin when she falls into a set of front splits that are well beyond the limits of her flexibility.
Jasmine and Demetria cackle with delight at the mewling Simpson, and Kylie allows herself a triumphant smirk. She climbs to boot leather and steps both feet onto the bottom rope, holding onto the top rope for support. Bianca feebly pleads for the other blonde to not do what she obviously intends to do, but Vanilla Chill’s heart is as frosty as her moniker. The Hawkeye repeatedly hops up and down, every jounce of the steel cable sending a vile bolt of agony through Simpson’s nethers. Finally, the referee’s five-count forces Kylie to back off, and a sobbing Bianca slops to the mat with her hands clasped over her groin.
Sanders takes a seat on Simpson’s chest, grabs her hair to give her head a few brain-rattling shakes, and snarls, “Bitch, you think I stuck around this long losing to the likes of you?”
She doesn't give the younger wrestler a chance to answer before slamming a fist into her forehead. Deciding she liked the way that felt and looking to get some measure of satisfaction for getting out-boxed earlier, Kylie gives her knuckles a kiss before repeatedly hammering away. Instead of counting off each blow, however, the fans greet her with a chant of “TROLL… TROLL… TROLL…” which flusters Vanilla Chill to no end.
“Shut up! SHUT UP!” Sanders screams after she abandons her assault after just a couple of blows, opting instead to stomp to the edge of the ring to inform the malcontent fans that she is and always will be FAWN’s one true queen.
The other two members of Hot & Bothered demand that Kylie get back on task, succeeding only after a dozen or so seconds. With a hateful scowl on her face, Sanders begins pulling Bianca upright with two handfuls of hair, but the break in the action has allowed Simpson to get a second wind. She fires a short, stubby punch into the Iowan’s corn-basket, driving out Kylie’s breath with a loud OOF.
The FAWNatics applaud this sudden turn of events, and their cheers energize the rookie, allowing her to scramble around and wrap her arms around Sanders’ midsection in a tight Rear Waistlock.
“Suplex City, bitch,” Bianca whispers into Kylie’s ear as she pops her hips and arcs backwards for a German Suplex.
Unfortunately for the young blonde, she does not lift her quarry high enough, and as a result she lands on her own head and neck at the conclusion of her bridging maneuver. Spared the brunt of the impact, Kylie tumbles off to the side, and much to the audience’s disappointment, she seems to have made the trip to Suplex City largely unharmed. The same cannot be said for Bianca, who is left groaning on the mat with her arms wrapped around the back of her head.
The crop-topped, platinum blonde rolls to her side and checks her status. Not exactly a Wendy Smith-like effort by Simpson and Ky quickly realizes she’s OK. A look at her counterpart and Sanders is inspired to push up and re-take control of this troublesome noob. She grabs Bianca by her flaxen mane and drags the rookie to a kneeling position.
“You can raise your game, girl. But it’s still nowhere near mine,” Kylie assures.
Bianca lurches forward, swinging an arm behind one of the hated Hawkeye’s ankles and trips Sanders, Simpson quickly rolling the veteran into a small package for the incredible upset at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Kylie kicks out of her bundle and scrambles to her feet, catching Bianca’s chin with a boot before Simpson can fully join her.
Sanders spins to the ref who holds his thumb and forefinger about an inch a part. Flustered, Kylie turns back to a splayed Bianca and jumps into a double stomp of Bianca’s breasts.
“Gawd damn it,” Kylie bleats, heart beating a mile a minute from the near-disaster. “Clearly, you are not understanding.”
Stepping off Simpson’s chest, Kylie corrals the blonde’s head with both hands and draws Bianca to her feet. She tugs the rookie’s braincase into a side headlock and takes off for the far corner with her foe in tow.
The Pleasant Valley Pariah races up the corner and pistons her legs when reaching the top to turn both herself and her cargo in a 180. She sits out, sending Bianca’s forehead into the deck with a springboard bulldog. As Simpson flops to her back from the impact, Kylie sits next to her opponent looking more relieved than happy.
She drapes an arm leisurely over Simpson for the…
ONE…
TWO…
And Bianca pushes the limb off, breaking the lazy pin.
“C’mon Chill,” Jasmine calls from the sidelines. “I want to do some clubbin’ tonight.”
Kylie nods and tugs a slack Bianca to her feet as she rises. The FAWN original dips and slips an arm through Simpson’s stems. Sanders ‘hups’ the rookie across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry and holds the softly squirming blonde for effect for a second or two before unleashing her Chilly Valley Driver.
Chilly Valley Driver
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFD5dEtKJqY )
The impact seems to deliver an electric charge through Bianca, as she shudders to a stop after the collision, ending motionless in a spreadeagle. A weary Sanders moves to her foe’s side and presses one palm on Simpson’s chest the other on her crotch for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
As Demetria and Jasmine share a high five and make their way up the ring steps, a tried smile emerges on the glistening face of Vanilla Chill, FAWN’s infamous traitor having finally put Bianca on ice. She uses Simpson to do a couple pushups then shoves off the demolished blonde and into the arms of her congratulating cohorts.
The ring announcer gives everyone the bad news.
“Your winner…via pinfall…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders!”
Demetria and Jasmine playfully push Kylie back and forth between each other before each takes a wrist and raises it high to the cacophony of boos filling the arena.
Jasmine looks down at the splayed blonde.
“You done been chilled, bytch.”
Demetria and J-Dogg let loose Ky’s arms and move to Simpson.
“Yeah Dogg,” the manager adds. “But she done made herself a nuisance and that ain’t right.”
The women “help” a barely aware Bianca to her feet, one on either side, and draw her back to the ropes. Andrews directs Kylie to the opposite cables.
“Send Felicia packin’, Chill,” the manager says.
“Anything for my homegirls,” a smirking Kylie responds.
But Sanders barely gets the words out of her mouth when a fireplug of a woman leaps over the barricade behind her, slides under the ropes and grabs a startled Kylie with a waistlock.
The dirty blonde locks and the vertically-challenged, pit bull appearance makes it obvious to long-time FAWNatics who’s administering another drive-by on her fellow FAWN original.
As the shock the Killer Imp would pull such a maneuver with them so close, Demetria and Jasmine are stunned into immobility. Chrissy Daniel, however, is not.
Chrissy Daniel:
She rips a terrified Sanders off the canvas, lifting her high enough Kylie’s waist is on the same level as Chrissy’s head and sits out, DESTROYING Kylie with a wicked, off-the-cuff Implosion (Muscular Bomb).
Implosion
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KydDVYc1uig )
With Jasmine giving up her grip on Bianca to race across the ring, Chrissy tosses the KOd Kylie’s limp legs aside and slides out of the ring just before the cavalry arrives. A steaming J-Dogg stares lasers at the retreating Daniel.
“When she wakes up,” Chrissy calls to Chill’s partner. “Tell her I’m taking her down at Mania and taking her place. Time for <B>her</B> to sit on the end of the bench.”
A speechless Jasmine drops to one knee next to her slobberknocked partner, lightly tapping on Kylie’s cheek to rouse her, as Chrissy enjoys some rare cheers while taking her leave.
Across the ring, a recovering Bianca spins on the distracted Demetria and lays out, SLAMMING Andrews into the deck face and chest-first with a Reverse STO.
Reverse STO
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aT_XQeAn-Q )
Demetria rolls to her back, hands flying to her features, her boots pattering against the canvas as Bianca pushes under the ropes and drops her boot soles to the floor.
The crowd roars its approval but Simpson seems more concerned about evacuating ringside before the full force of Hot&Bothered is back in play than enjoying her harrowing escape.
In the ring, it’s hardly a legendary celebration with Andrews pushing to hands and knees and shaking her skull while Jasmine tends to a glassy-eyed Kylie, but there’s certainly fuel aplenty to make Sanders hot and bothered for the biggest show of the year.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-zpOMYRi0w )
With ‘Fancy’ blaring over the speakers, the one and, thank god, only Pleasant Valley Pariah strides to the middle of the stage as if she owns the place.
Kylie Sanders, with her ever present, black Louis Vuitton clutch in hand, wears a black one-piece, black leather belt around her midriff, black lace covering her shoulders and upper arms, the Iowan in her signature LV garb. She finishes things with black boots and pads.
(http://i.imgur.com/77i57hQ.jpg )
Behind her, on the FAWNtron, ‘‘VANILLA CHILL IN DA HOUSE BYTCHES!’ appears in ten-foot high, gold letters. And quickly on either shoulder is Chill’s crew. The African-American dazzler Jasmine Washington is on one side and the manager of both women, Demetria Andrews, on the other.
The leader of Hot&Bothered shows Sanders off like her most precious possession and each Nubian beauty raises a wrist of the former fan favorite, the boos falling like rain from a cloudburst.
Vanilla Chill smirks at the Orlando lowlifes as the three women head down the ramp and aisle together, staring, pointing and talking shyt about everyone and everything.
Reaching the squared circle, Kylie Sanders dabs both women, the Hawkeye sharing a beaming smile with her new compatriots. The elfin blonde turns a much sterner gaze to the multitudes heaping their disdain and tossing less than complimentary remarks at the turncoat and her allies.
Kylie Sanders:
Jasmine Washington:
Demetria Andrews:
Sanders heads up the steps, leaving her manager and J-Dogg to huddle on the outside, Washington dressed in a tiny black hoodie, (black version of the following: i2.photobucket.com/albums/y32/biggerb/Jasmine-clothing.jpg~original ), the grappler snapping her head back to clear the hood from her cranium and shoulder-length ebony locks. Beneath Jazzy wears camo boy-cut trunks (http://s2.photobucket.com/user/biggerb/media/Jasmine-clothing%20below.jpg.html ) which accentuate her bootylicious backside.
Andrews charms in a skin tight red cocktail dress and pumps, lips scarlet, hair a coppery hue.
As Sanders enters, the ring announcer picks up his cue.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 20-minute time limit. First, from da space where Da Man ain’t got no place…standing five feet four inches tall and weighing in at 113 pounds…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders!”
Mid-ring, Sanders, stick already in hand, waves at the crowd to shut the hell up. They only turn up the volume of their hatred. Ky shouts over the top.
“So I believe I damn well showed Da Man what I do with his little nobody wenches,” Kylie shouts. “Skylar Mitchell? I mean c’mon. You better pick someone better tonight boss lady or I’m gonna take out my frustration, know what I’m sayin’?”
Sanders drops the microphone with a sneer. She strides to her corner to meet up with her homegirls and find out who would be in for a long one tonight.
As the assembled fans continue to boo their hearts out, Bianca Simpson nervously bounces on the balls of her feet just on the other side of the curtain at the top of the entrance ramp. Kylie Sanders had been a stepping stone for a great many FAWN superstars, and to share a ring with the former Pleasant Valley Princess was surely a precursor of great things to come for the young blonde. Regardless of the fact that she had yet to notch a win, Bianca feels good about her chances. For once, she would have the advantage in physicality, at least according to the tale of the tape. Unlike her previous outing where she found herself overwhelmed and squashed by the speed, strength, and ferocity of Dayna Ezra, Simpson is both taller and heavier than her opponent, however slight those margins might be.
Moreover, she had done her due diligence and extensively scouted Vanilla Chill by typing ‘Kylie Sanders’ into Google. Like Bianca herself, Kylie’s early career had gotten off to a rocky start as well, and the rookie figures that if Sanders had been a chewtoy back when she was at the peak of her athleticism in her early 20’s, then surely the woman now in the ring -- the holder of the ignominious record of having the most losses in a career -- is even more of a pushover after the ravages of age had dulled her skills.
Most importantly, Simpson had made great progress in her training, at least in her own mind. She could now make it through the first thirty minutes of Anna Sharpe’s three hour cardio workout without vomiting or passing out, and her trainer had paid her a lofty compliment just a couple of days ago by comparing her to a pair of dominant champions, saying that she was blessed with the raw power of Lily Burlingame and the high-flying acumen of Pandora.
“Alright, B… you got this! You got this!” Bianca says to herself as she pumps a fist. “Eye of the tiger! EYE OF THE TIGER!”
”And introducing her opponent… from Ithaca, New York… coming in at five foot six and one hundred twenty pounds… Bianca Simpson!”
It’s Katy Perry’s Roar rather than Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger that pumps through the arena speakers, but Simpson doesn’t mind as she leaps through the curtain and strikes a heroic pose, chest proudly stuck out with both fists propped on her hips. If for nothing else than to get on Kylie’s nerves, the FAWNatics give Bianca a raucous standing ovation, imploring her to beat the odds and put Vanilla Chill on ice.
Bianca Simpson:
Feeling better about herself than ever before, Simpson rears back and delivers a high pitched “WOOO!” that’s returned a thousand-fold by the assembled audience. Exuding confidence despite the fact that she’s facing down all three members of Hot & Bothered by her lonesome, she strides down the entranceway dressed in her red one-piece with white boots and pads. Kylie, Jasmine, and Demetria laugh at her derisively as she takes a lap around the ring to exchange high-fives with the fans, but even that doesn’t dampen her spirit.
Bianca squares up with the side of the ring, then she flexes her knees and jumps, attempting to leap onto the apron directly from the floor. It’s a valiant effort, though she doesn’t quite make the four foot leap, painfully banging her shins on the hard edge of the apron before landing unsteadily back on the floor.
“It’s a work in progress,” she reassures a cadre of fans in the front row before she enters in a more conventional way by sliding under the bottom rope.
She does her best to tune out the taunting of her opponent’s compatriots as the referee checks her gear, and then she punches a fist overhead just as the bell rings, drawing another pop from the crowd.
“Bring it, Kylie!” Bianca shouts at her foe. “I’m gonna beat your ass just like everyone else did!”
A confused Sanders moves toward her fellow blonde, Bianca maybe 15 years her junior.
“At least I know who Skylar Mitchell is,” Kylie informs. “Who in the holy hell are you? And why are you asking to leave on a stretcher?”
The Pleasant Valley Pariah settles mid-ring and waits for Bianca to back up her talk. A rhythmic clap develops courtesy the fans and the support gives Simpson the impetus to charge FAWN’s most infamous traitor. The women come together in a collar-and-elbow and Bianca stands her ground, working her leverage effectively, the blondes tugging and pulling for an advantage until Sanders pivots slightly and sticks a raised knee DEEP into Bianca’s solar plexus.
The youngster’s eyes bulge. Her grip loosens enough for Kylie to control a wrist and dipsy-do under the captured arm, securing a hammerlock. Chill presses her body tight to Simpson’s, Bianca’s folded arm between them.
“Don’t be talkin’ shyt ya know nuthin’ about, brat,” the hateful Hawkeye whispers. “I’m still here when none of those losers are.”
The monologue gives Bianca a chance to collect the pained butterflies in her stomach and use them to whip her free arm behind her and clunk an elbow into Kylie’s temple. Sanders’ grasp on Simpson’s wrist falls away. The platinum blonde staggers a few steps before regaining her balance and moving back toward her opponent.
“Just because you stayed,” the rookie responds, “doesn’t mean you should have.”
Sanders smirks and turns toward her corner, shaking her head at J-Dogg. Suddenly, she spins and lands an echoing bytch slap across Bianca’s face. A shocked Simpson rubs at her reddening cheek. She stares into the grinning visage of the former World Champion AND RETURNS THE FAVOR, slapping the taste from Kylie’s mouth, drawing a roar from the former members of the Corps.
“Da Man ain’t gonna be able to put you back together,” a furious Kylie growls. She closes her hand tight and fires, thunking a fist into Bianca’s jaw. But after the swivel of her head, Simpson fires a salvo right back that jolts Sanders at least as hard.
The fistfight is on, first Kylie, then Bianca, both loading, firing and connecting, the crowd cheering for each of the youngster’s impacts while booing the Fawn Original’s until…
Bianca blocks one of Kylie’s shots and NAILS Sanders with a second in a row. Kylie shows the effects of a two-spot but quickly launches again, only to have this fist picked off by a blocking left arm. Bianca CONNECTS again for a trifecta and Sanders takes a knee, if only for a split-second.
Clearly concerned but unwilling to admit the hint of a problem, Sanders rises and brings a right from across the ring. This time Bianca ducks under instead of blocking and, with Ky off-balance from the swing and miss, the rookie’s free to sink a quick left into the flat tummy of the veteran, drawing a guttural gurgle from the platinum blonde.
In no position to throw a right, a grimacing Sanders swabs a left back toward Bianca’s chin, but Simpson continues to show some boxing chops, weaving out of the way and responding with an overhand right that CRUNCHES into Kylie’s left cheek and sends her pinwheeling to the deck.
With both women staggered for completely different reasons, Simpson is a little slow to press her advantage, momentarily looking at her balled right hand with awe. On the canvas, a dumbfounded Kylie butt-scoots back to her corner, using the ropes on either side of the buckles to pull herself up when she gets there.
As Kylie pulls her chin off her chest to find the rookie, a charging, leaping Bianca lands in an avalanche atop the wide-eyed Sanders, sandwiching her foe underneath, between rookie and corner. Simpson bounces gleefully away from the splash and watches as a dazed, chilled Vanilla drunkenly stumbles out of the buckles several steps before taking a header to the canvas to the roar of the delighted FAWNatics.
“Told ya,” Bianca giggles down at the face-down veteran.
From the outside, Jasmine and Demetria slam their palms on the canvas, complaining bitterly about Bianca’s use of brass knuckles. The zebra steps between the rookie and Sanders to confirm there’s nothing on the blonde’s right hand. Finding it metal-free, he moves clear with a shake of his head at the badgering members of Hot&Bothered.
Bianca reaches down to snatch Kylie’s left wrist, effectively using it to tug a wobbly Sanders to her feet. She turns the grip into an Irish whip, sending a dazed Ky on her way. The hateful Hawkeye’s back hits the ropes and she races back at a waiting Simpson who seems unsure what to do with her fast-approaching target.
Bianca pivots and lifts her right foot. And though it’s a sprinting Kylie who provides much of the power in the collision that follows, Bianca knocks the former fan favorite flat with what passes for a superkick when Sanders runs her chin into the sole of Simpson’s boot
Laid out in a spreadeagle, a motionless, glassy-eyed Kylie beckons even the greenest of rookies for a pin attempt by her hapless state. Bianca dives atop the splayed Sanders in a lateral press, hooking Kylie’s far leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
The despised Chill shrugs a shoulder off the canvas to a loud groan from the crowd, the fans ready to revel in a huge upset of the traitorous troll.
As Bianca glances hopefully to the official, the man raising two fingers, Ky pushes to all fours and crawls toward her perplexed posse. She gets a few feet toward her destination when Bianca grabs an ankle and ends the platinum blonde’s progress.
“Kicking your ass, Kylie,” Simpson says, twisting Sanders to her backside, Ky propping her upper body with flattened palms on the canvas. “See. I KEEP my word,” she continues.
Bianca releases the grip on Chill’s ankle and reaches toward a wrist and shoulder to reclaim her foe more fully. When she does, Kylie stretches a grasping hand toward her foe’s in return. Grabbing Bianca’s wrist and falling backward, Kylie drags the rookie off her feet and hot-shots Simpson’s throat across the middle rope.
Bianca whiplashes away from the impact, spinning into the deck hard and grasping at her throat after the despicable counter. Kylie rolls in the opposite direction, finding a seat in the H&B corner’s buckles. She receives a pat of encouragement from Jasmine and a scolding from Demetria.
“Get yo ass out dere Chill. Don’t let Wonder Bread treat you so shady.”
Kylie shakes out some cobwebs and uses the ropes as an assist. On her feet, she sees a choking Simpson on all fours and races to her flaxen-haired grappler, punting Bianca in the ribs with a THUMPING boot to the breadbasket.
The quick burst of offense puts Washington and Andrews more at ease, and they demand their sister-in-arms keep pushing her advantage. Vanilla Chill takes their advice to heart and begins laying the boot to the sputtering rookie’s shoulders and back, forcing her to scamper to the corner for safety.
“I’ve been doing this since you were in diapers, kiddo,” Kylie snorts over her shoulder as the referee orders her to back off, allowing Bianca to drag herself upright with the help of the ropes.
“Wow…” Simpson says as she leans against the buckles to catch her breath. “...You must be SO OLD. What was it like in the days before YouTube?”
Kylie’s pixieish features scrunch in anger, and she storms forward to shove her millennial opponent back into the corner before sending Bianca careening across the ring on a diagonal with an Irish Whip. As inexperienced as she may be, Simpson still has the good sense to turn her body before crashing into the buckles to absorb the impact through her back, and this allows her to quickly bring up her boots and turn the tables when an over-aggressive Sanders comes flying at her with an attempt at a Leaping Forearm Smash.
Vanilla Chill smashes her own face into the soles of Bianca’s boots for the second time in the match to the uproarious delight of the FAWNatics, and the veteran once again finds herself flat on her back and gazing at the arena lights through glassy eyes. Meanwhile, Simpson takes the opportunity to climb to the top ropes on slightly shaky legs. The rookie tries to stand to full height before taking flight, but she’s suddenly gripped by a bout of vertigo thanks to the terrifying memory of her nearly disastrous attempt at a Corkscrew 630 Senton last month.
Bianca wisely decides not to push her luck this time, so she steps down to the middle rope before launching into a much more humble Elbow Drop that nevertheless steals Kylie’s breath away. Simpson immediately rolls over into a cover for…
ONE
TWO
...before Sanders kicks out and rolls free. The younger blonde walks after her opponent to try to push the offensive, and unfortunately she seems to have greatly overestimated the effects of her Elbow Drop when Vanilla Chill lunges forward from hands and knees to throw a nasty Chop Block into the side of the rookie’s legs.
Bianca goes down with a howl and rolls onto her stomach, and Kylie quickly scrambles into a reverse straddle of her lower back, facing her boots. Sanders curls her right hand into a C-shape and holds it aloft, prompting many of her erstwhile Kylie Corps to reflexively call back, “FARM HAND.” Much to her displeasure, however, a young man in the front row wearing thick-framed glasses and an ostentatious waxed mustache loudly informs her that Emily West had been working the Hammy Clamp since before it was cool.
“Goddamned hipsters…” Kylie grumbles under her breath as she clamps her claw into the junction of Bianca’s left gluteus and hamstring.
Although Simpson wails and sobs with every spasmodic cramp of her leg, she proves to be more resilient than Sanders had anticipated, and after a minute of the torture with no submission, Vanilla Chill’s reserves of grip strength are exhausted. The veteran blonde releases her Hammy Clamp, shaking the lactic acid out of her fingers as she rises to a stand, and she begins hauling Bianca up by the hair. The task proves to be more challenging than usual thanks to Simpson’s not-quite-functioning left leg, and a frustrated Kylie gives up halfway through the effort with her foe still on one knee.
Instead, Vanilla Chill slaps on a Side Headlock, grinding Bianca’s temples between her bicep and hip and earning a few squeals of pain from the rookie. From there, Kylie kicks out her legs in front and drops to a seat on the deck in order to harshly mash Simpson’s face into the canvas with a textbook Bulldog. The hipster fan once again informs Sanders that her maneuver is but a pale imitation of Shea London’s original, but the Pleasant Valley Turncoat pays him no mind as she rolls the splattered Bianca over and covers for a pin.
ONE
TWO
THRNO!
Simpson shoots a shoulder up off the mat. The FAWNatics applaud her refusal to go quietly into the night, and at the same time they’re pleasantly surprised that Bianca is showing more resilience than she had in her previous outings. Kylie scoffs at their support and gives a sarcastic, mocking round of applause to the younger wrestler before hauling her up. No shortcuts this time as Sanders gets her opponent fully vertical before sending Simpson running for the ropes with another Irish Whip. Once again, however, Bianca shows some wiles by hooking both arms over the uppermost strand to prevent the rebound, thus causing Kylie to land roughly on her backside when she hits nothing but air on a Dropkick aimed at where Simpson should have been.
The arena titters with derisive laughter as Sanders lays on her side and rubs her tailbone, a scornful grimace marring her elfin features. The reversal of fortune also revitalizes Bianca, and she takes a couple of quick steps towards the center of the ring before jumping into the air. She only gets a very modest amount of airtime, though she still manages to tuck her knees to her chest and come down butt-first in a Cannonball that crashes into the side of Kylie’s ribcage. With the air forced from her lungs, Sanders instinctively shifts into survival mode and rolls onto her stomach to prevent a pin.
Bianca doesn’t mind though. She clambers to her feet, winds up a Bolo Punch, and throws it overhead to earn herself another pop from the crowd.
“What’s the matter, Kyyy-leeeee?!” Simpson asks in a taunting, sing-song tone. “Having flashbacks to when Pandora kicked your ass?!”
The rookie flexes in a variety of poses, which accomplishes nothing except to highlight what a far cry her physique is from that of the infamous Beach Colossus. Jasmine and Demetria watch Bianca’s display with disgusted silence, and then turn towards each other in confusion.
“Is -- is Wonder Bread fo’ real right now?!” Washington stammers, her voice half an octave higher than normal due to her disbelief.
The Hot & Bothered manager shakes her head and lightly claps her charge on the shoulder a few times as she sighs, “Forget it, J-Dogg. It’s Cracka Town.”
Meanwhile in the ring, Kylie has managed to make her way to the ropes for a breather.
Sanders pulls her way up and leans against the cables, throwing her arms over the top rope to help keep her body upright. Apparently expecting Simpson to be a pushover from the results of her previous fights, the former fan favorite seems as bewildered at her condition as in pain.
“You need a little,” Demetria looks for the right words for a moment while craning her head toward Sanders, “<I>pitching in</I> to make a sandwich outta Wonder Bread?”
The platinum blonde pixie cut shakes atop the FAWN original’s head and she grunts out a ‘no’ before pushing off from the strands.
“I got this,” the hated Hawkeye assures.
That Da Man’s woman had a little more game than Ky thought was one thing. That she thought she could play with Chill and walk away was something else entirely. Yet there she stands in the middle and beckons Kylie forward, getting every last person in the arena behind her.
Bianca’s unexpected pluck combines with the hatred for Kylie to create an impressive volume as Kylie and Simpson’s bodies bang together, ending in a collar-and-elbow tie-up.
Sanders shits her frame, trying to gain leverage on the slightly bigger blonde, but the success Simpson’s had so far seems to have helped not only Bianca’s confidence but her ability. The rookie counters each tug and twist from Sanders into a stalemate that brings huffs of frustration from the veteran.
Finally, Ky is able to pivot, looping her right arm around Bianca’s left. She hip-tosses Simpson to a landing on her tailbone and delivers a follow-up soccer kick to the base of Bianca’s spine.
No longer playing, Kylie wraps her arms around the head of the wincing rookie and drags Simpson to her boot soles. Yanked to vertical, Bianca responds with a rough shove that sends Sanders backpedaling into the ropes behind her. Kylie uses the momentum to her advantage, racing back at the rookie and sliding on her knees as she reaches her foe, dipping under a crude clothesline from Simpson and delivering a delving gut punch to the wannabe’s midriff.
Left doubled and gasping, Bianca manages little response when Ky pops to her feet, dips her head between Simpson’s thighs and lifts Bianca off her feet, the youngster draped over Kylie’s left shoulder until the hated Hawkeye drops to her backside and sends Bianca CRASHING face and chest first into the deck, courtesy the Iowa Waterwheel.
Iowa Waterwheel (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L78bbjcEtWw )
The crowd groans at the impact and the result, Simpson motionless for a second or two as Kylie sits next to her foe with a smirk of satisfaction. Bianca stirs and Jasmine convinces Chill she needs to get frosty with Wonder Bread.
Ky rises to her feet and shovels her fellow blonde to her back with a boot wedged underneath the rookie’s ribs. With Simpson in place Sanders goes airborne, folding her legs as she launches and landing a double stomp to Bianca’s midriff. Simpson jackknifes around the contact, her eyes bugging and she chokes through some grinding of boot leather to spandex.
When Sanders steps off there’s a moment or two of filling lungs, but the air is quickly expunged when Kylie hops into the air one more and mushroom stomps the rookie’s pert bosom, flattening the flesh against her breast bone. The pitiful yip of pain from her foe persuades the traitorous troll to twist her soles into Simpson’s gurls, etching Bianca’s face with pain, the blonde biting her lower lip to deny Vanilla Chill the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.
Happy with how she’s ended the hope of both her inexperienced opposition and the FAWNatics, Sanders steps off her “platform”, ending in a forward-facing, standing straddle of Simpson’s belly. Taking an instant to decide, Kylie chooses a little gluteal payback for the rookie and sits out, her ass dropping as deadweight into Bianca’s abdomen, forcing out every bit of oxygen. Ky lies her extended legs over Simpson’s shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Bianca rolls to her side, sending Sanders tumbling off her throne. As the Ithaca native pushes determinedly to hands and knees, unwilling to give into the odds against her, a frustrated Kylie shrugs at the H&B corner.
“Jus’ Chill her Out some more,” J-Dogg says, nodding confidently in the Iowan’s direction. “Bytch got a little fight, but she gonna know her place soon enough.”
While FAWN’s version of Benedict Arnold receives advice from her Hot&Bothered partner, the rookie struggles back toward vertical. Kylie finds her half up and assists Bianca the rest of the way to her feet and then some. The platinum blonde dips a shoulder and slips an arm between the legs of her foe, popping Simpson up to a fireman’s carry position.
Knowing full well where this can lead, that being the renamed Chilly Valley Driver, the rookie squirms frantically for her freedom. Perhaps convincing the veteran she can’t quite go for a finisher, Sanders starts to pirouette with Bianca still in place atop her shoulders. As she gains momentum and centrifugal force, it’s clear Sanders is going old school on the newbie, twirling Bianca in an airplane spin.
Kylie gets a full ten rotations before slowing slightly and launching Simpson off her shoulders. Bianca continues through another half-turn on the way down and SLAMS into the deck chest-down. The blonde slops onto her back in a spreadeagle, staring blankly at the rafters of the arena. Next to her, Kylie slows to a stop and staggers drunkenly, Demetria and Jasmine imploring her to go for the pin and the win.
The trip had taken a fair piece of Sanders’ balance and she fights to keep her trek to her downed foe a straight one. After a few seconds of serpentine maneuvering, Kylie drops across Bianca in a crossbody, hooking Simpson’s far leg when she settles atop her foe for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Simpson’s body clenches and she kicks a shoulder off the canvas a few inches from the third slap striking. Even in her dizzied state, Kylie knows an injustice and she scrambles up, barely keeping her feet beneath her. She leans into the zebra for help and gives him an earful.
“There ain’t no way you didn’t see three. Da Man ain’t gonna be able to bring a ten-count down to two,” Kylie informs, pushing the official away from her. She wobbles but regains her balance and composure and returns to Simpson, who’s propping on her elbows but has otherwise made little progress in reaching her feet.
Sanders surrounds the noggin of the reeling blonde with both hands and tugs her foe up.
“Time to put another ‘L’ in your record book, loser,” Kylie growls as she dips a shoulder and sends an arm between the thighs of the unsteady wannabe.
Ky ‘hups’ the ragdolled rookie back onto her shoulders in another fireman’s carry, this trip likely to be a much shorter and emphatic one. But when Bianca is sent up, she almost immediately shifts her weight and finds an escape route back down to the canvas.
With her boots finding the mat behind Sanders, Bianca, seemingly working on instinct, laces both hands in a cup under Kylie’s chin and leaps into a tuck tight to Sanders’ shoulderblades. Hauling back, she lands on the canvas and blows the lungs out of her foe.
Lungblower
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKyrNcjcmLc )
The platinum blonde crumples off the bended knees, pooling onto her side, groaning. As the crowd erupts with excitement, Bianca lies next to Sanders on her back not more than a couple feet away, but momentarily unable to take advantage.
As the crowd takes up a chant of “BEE…AHN…KUH”, Simpson shows some life, rolling to her chest and pushing to all fours. Seeing a blasted Kylie trying to get to her feet gives the rookie a second wind and she quickly shoves to vertical.
Watching a glassy-eyed Kylie wobbling her way to fully upright, the rookie takes off for the ropes and rebounds back toward Vanilla Chill at close to full speed, she dips a shoulder and PLOWS into Kylie’s midriff, folding Chill’s body up with a brutal spear.
Bianca decks the hated Hawkeye like an all-pro free safety and ends on all fours in a straddle of the starfished Sanders, the crop-topped platinum blonde motionless beneath her.
With Simpson seemingly at a loss, many in the front row become temporary managers with a loud shout of “PIN HER!”
Bianca drops her body atop Kylie in a full-body connection, nose to nose, chest to chest, Bianca’s palms pinning Kylie’s wrists to the canvas wide from her frame for the…
ONE…
TWO…
As she had done so many times before, the Hawkeye taps into her talent for absorbing punishment and she rolls a shoulder off the mat to deny Simpson a historic first win. Bianca seems both disappointed and at a loss for what to do next as she rises to a stand over the fallen Kylie. She had managed more offense in this match than arguably all of her previous matches combined and yet Sanders still refused to stay down after eating her best shots, so Simpson turns to the crowd for help.
“Hey guys, what should I do next?” she asks the FAWNatics.
“FACE SIT!” someone offers, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.
Bianca doesn’t like the idea. She gives the fan a silent, scolding glare and shakes her head disapprovingly.
“REVERSE FACE SIT!” another person helpfully suggests.
“Oh my God, you guys are such perverts!” Simpson huffs as she hauls Kylie upright by an arm.
Having declined the salacious advice from the audience, she elects to slip an arm between her opponent’s thighs in order to scoop the Hawkeye up for a Body Slam. It becomes readily apparent that Bianca is no weight room warrior, however, when she struggles to lift the diminutive Kylie onto her shoulder. Her efforts stall out when Sanders is at chest level, and despite her grunting and groaning, Simpson can manage no further vertical progress. Vanilla Chill starts squirming in an attempt to get free of Bianca’s grasps, but instead all she accomplishes is causing the rookie to lose her balance. Simpson drops to one knee and smashes her posted thigh into the side of Sanders’ chest, treating the FAWN veteran to an inadvertent but still effective Rib Breaker.
RIB BREAKER
m.youtube.com/watch?v=cy_1GFphh4c
Kylie squawks in protest as she rolls off Bianca’s leg and rolls onto her stomach, arms swaddled protectively against her rib cage. Meanwhile, Bianca does an admirable job of hiding her own surprise in light of her effectiveness, and for once she follows with a move that's within her capabilities as she threads her thighs around Sanders’ head and neck, clamping down on a Side Headscissors.
Within a few seconds, Vanilla Chill is looking more like Strawberry Sorbet as her face flushes from the squeeze, and the hostile crowd is quick to demand that she “TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!” Their hopes are dashed, however, when Kylie squirms forward and wraps a hand around the bottom rope, a task that had been made easier thanks to Bianca neglecting to reposition her foe in the middle of the ring. The referee calls for a break and Simpson obliges without working the count, lest she be seen as anything other than a consummate babyface.
“Get yo’ shit together!” Demetria commands as she pounds a fist into the apron. “You makin’ dat cracka-ass thot look like a world-beater out dere!”
Sanders doesn't appear to register her manager’s words as she gulps down mouthfuls of precious, precious air while sitting with her back leaned up against the ropes. On the other side of the ring, Bianca repeatedly stomps her right foot against the deck while clapping her hands overhead. The fans quickly join in on the percussive beat, and then Simpson takes off in a run, aiming a low flying Yakuza Kick at Kylie’s face.
Unfortunately for the rookie, a good idea ten seconds ago turns out to be a terrible idea in the present. The time spent rallying the crowd has allowed Sanders to regain her senses, and she rolls out of the way before Simpson can make contact. Bianca’s right leg slips through the gap between the cables as she stumbles, and the bottom rope splits her thighs and twangs against her groin when she falls into a set of front splits that are well beyond the limits of her flexibility.
Jasmine and Demetria cackle with delight at the mewling Simpson, and Kylie allows herself a triumphant smirk. She climbs to boot leather and steps both feet onto the bottom rope, holding onto the top rope for support. Bianca feebly pleads for the other blonde to not do what she obviously intends to do, but Vanilla Chill’s heart is as frosty as her moniker. The Hawkeye repeatedly hops up and down, every jounce of the steel cable sending a vile bolt of agony through Simpson’s nethers. Finally, the referee’s five-count forces Kylie to back off, and a sobbing Bianca slops to the mat with her hands clasped over her groin.
Sanders takes a seat on Simpson’s chest, grabs her hair to give her head a few brain-rattling shakes, and snarls, “Bitch, you think I stuck around this long losing to the likes of you?”
She doesn't give the younger wrestler a chance to answer before slamming a fist into her forehead. Deciding she liked the way that felt and looking to get some measure of satisfaction for getting out-boxed earlier, Kylie gives her knuckles a kiss before repeatedly hammering away. Instead of counting off each blow, however, the fans greet her with a chant of “TROLL… TROLL… TROLL…” which flusters Vanilla Chill to no end.
“Shut up! SHUT UP!” Sanders screams after she abandons her assault after just a couple of blows, opting instead to stomp to the edge of the ring to inform the malcontent fans that she is and always will be FAWN’s one true queen.
The other two members of Hot & Bothered demand that Kylie get back on task, succeeding only after a dozen or so seconds. With a hateful scowl on her face, Sanders begins pulling Bianca upright with two handfuls of hair, but the break in the action has allowed Simpson to get a second wind. She fires a short, stubby punch into the Iowan’s corn-basket, driving out Kylie’s breath with a loud OOF.
The FAWNatics applaud this sudden turn of events, and their cheers energize the rookie, allowing her to scramble around and wrap her arms around Sanders’ midsection in a tight Rear Waistlock.
“Suplex City, bitch,” Bianca whispers into Kylie’s ear as she pops her hips and arcs backwards for a German Suplex.
Unfortunately for the young blonde, she does not lift her quarry high enough, and as a result she lands on her own head and neck at the conclusion of her bridging maneuver. Spared the brunt of the impact, Kylie tumbles off to the side, and much to the audience’s disappointment, she seems to have made the trip to Suplex City largely unharmed. The same cannot be said for Bianca, who is left groaning on the mat with her arms wrapped around the back of her head.
The crop-topped, platinum blonde rolls to her side and checks her status. Not exactly a Wendy Smith-like effort by Simpson and Ky quickly realizes she’s OK. A look at her counterpart and Sanders is inspired to push up and re-take control of this troublesome noob. She grabs Bianca by her flaxen mane and drags the rookie to a kneeling position.
“You can raise your game, girl. But it’s still nowhere near mine,” Kylie assures.
Bianca lurches forward, swinging an arm behind one of the hated Hawkeye’s ankles and trips Sanders, Simpson quickly rolling the veteran into a small package for the incredible upset at…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Kylie kicks out of her bundle and scrambles to her feet, catching Bianca’s chin with a boot before Simpson can fully join her.
Sanders spins to the ref who holds his thumb and forefinger about an inch a part. Flustered, Kylie turns back to a splayed Bianca and jumps into a double stomp of Bianca’s breasts.
“Gawd damn it,” Kylie bleats, heart beating a mile a minute from the near-disaster. “Clearly, you are not understanding.”
Stepping off Simpson’s chest, Kylie corrals the blonde’s head with both hands and draws Bianca to her feet. She tugs the rookie’s braincase into a side headlock and takes off for the far corner with her foe in tow.
The Pleasant Valley Pariah races up the corner and pistons her legs when reaching the top to turn both herself and her cargo in a 180. She sits out, sending Bianca’s forehead into the deck with a springboard bulldog. As Simpson flops to her back from the impact, Kylie sits next to her opponent looking more relieved than happy.
She drapes an arm leisurely over Simpson for the…
ONE…
TWO…
And Bianca pushes the limb off, breaking the lazy pin.
“C’mon Chill,” Jasmine calls from the sidelines. “I want to do some clubbin’ tonight.”
Kylie nods and tugs a slack Bianca to her feet as she rises. The FAWN original dips and slips an arm through Simpson’s stems. Sanders ‘hups’ the rookie across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry and holds the softly squirming blonde for effect for a second or two before unleashing her Chilly Valley Driver.
Chilly Valley Driver
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFD5dEtKJqY )
The impact seems to deliver an electric charge through Bianca, as she shudders to a stop after the collision, ending motionless in a spreadeagle. A weary Sanders moves to her foe’s side and presses one palm on Simpson’s chest the other on her crotch for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
As Demetria and Jasmine share a high five and make their way up the ring steps, a tried smile emerges on the glistening face of Vanilla Chill, FAWN’s infamous traitor having finally put Bianca on ice. She uses Simpson to do a couple pushups then shoves off the demolished blonde and into the arms of her congratulating cohorts.
The ring announcer gives everyone the bad news.
“Your winner…via pinfall…Vanilla Chill…Kylie Sanders!”
Demetria and Jasmine playfully push Kylie back and forth between each other before each takes a wrist and raises it high to the cacophony of boos filling the arena.
Jasmine looks down at the splayed blonde.
“You done been chilled, bytch.”
Demetria and J-Dogg let loose Ky’s arms and move to Simpson.
“Yeah Dogg,” the manager adds. “But she done made herself a nuisance and that ain’t right.”
The women “help” a barely aware Bianca to her feet, one on either side, and draw her back to the ropes. Andrews directs Kylie to the opposite cables.
“Send Felicia packin’, Chill,” the manager says.
“Anything for my homegirls,” a smirking Kylie responds.
But Sanders barely gets the words out of her mouth when a fireplug of a woman leaps over the barricade behind her, slides under the ropes and grabs a startled Kylie with a waistlock.
The dirty blonde locks and the vertically-challenged, pit bull appearance makes it obvious to long-time FAWNatics who’s administering another drive-by on her fellow FAWN original.
As the shock the Killer Imp would pull such a maneuver with them so close, Demetria and Jasmine are stunned into immobility. Chrissy Daniel, however, is not.
Chrissy Daniel:
She rips a terrified Sanders off the canvas, lifting her high enough Kylie’s waist is on the same level as Chrissy’s head and sits out, DESTROYING Kylie with a wicked, off-the-cuff Implosion (Muscular Bomb).
Implosion
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KydDVYc1uig )
With Jasmine giving up her grip on Bianca to race across the ring, Chrissy tosses the KOd Kylie’s limp legs aside and slides out of the ring just before the cavalry arrives. A steaming J-Dogg stares lasers at the retreating Daniel.
“When she wakes up,” Chrissy calls to Chill’s partner. “Tell her I’m taking her down at Mania and taking her place. Time for <B>her</B> to sit on the end of the bench.”
A speechless Jasmine drops to one knee next to her slobberknocked partner, lightly tapping on Kylie’s cheek to rouse her, as Chrissy enjoys some rare cheers while taking her leave.
Across the ring, a recovering Bianca spins on the distracted Demetria and lays out, SLAMMING Andrews into the deck face and chest-first with a Reverse STO.
Reverse STO
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aT_XQeAn-Q )
Demetria rolls to her back, hands flying to her features, her boots pattering against the canvas as Bianca pushes under the ropes and drops her boot soles to the floor.
The crowd roars its approval but Simpson seems more concerned about evacuating ringside before the full force of Hot&Bothered is back in play than enjoying her harrowing escape.
In the ring, it’s hardly a legendary celebration with Andrews pushing to hands and knees and shaking her skull while Jasmine tends to a glassy-eyed Kylie, but there’s certainly fuel aplenty to make Sanders hot and bothered for the biggest show of the year.