Post by bigfan on Oct 22, 2017 0:40:44 GMT
The capacity crowd is abuzz in that special way it only can be when a title match is about to unfold. And given the two combatants, the needle spikes even higher on the excitement meter.
“Haunted” by the Pogues pumps from the arena’s PA system as Moira Kane tears open the curtain and stalks out, raising her arms to encourage the raucous cheers of her fans. Having only so recently possessed one-half of the tag titles (with her sister Maeve, of course), Moira is keen on experiencing the feel of ten pounds of leather and gold around her taut waist once again.
The Galwegian is decked out in a two-piece of green so dark, it almost seems black, with a gold embossed shamrock on her right buttock, and gold lamé ankle boots. She struts down the aisleway with such a cocky swagger, it blatantly suggests she isn’t the least bit worried about her opponent this evening, nor questioning the odds of her winning.
She slaps a few of the many outstretched hands, and blows a kiss to one supporter who holds aloft a sign which reads, TONIGHT IT BECOMES THE IRISH-CONTINENTAL BELT! Passing the Spanish language annouoncers' table at ringside, she climbs the steps up to the ring apron, then slips between the ropes.
“Introducing first, standing five feet six inches tall, and weighing in at one-hundred and thirty-two pounds, from Galway, Ireland, she is a favored daughter of the Emerald Isle, MOIRRRRA KAAAAAAANE!” The Irishwoman throws her arms in the air to bask in the cheers as she struts around the ring, awaiting her opponent.
MORIA KANE:
After a moment, "Oh No Not You Again" by The Heavy starts up on the sound system and Trisha Belle comes out at the top of the ramp, the Intercontinental Title strapped around her waist.
"And her opponent tonight, your FAWN Intercontinental Champion! The Minnesota Mauler! TRISHA BELLLLLLE!"
TRISHA BELLE:
The crowd is divided on the champ, about a third of the FAWNattics boo loudly, but Belle has a growing section of the crowd cheering her on as she walks confidently to the ring. Trisha even sees a few signs in the crowd showing support for the Minnesota Mauler. Belle makes a point to wink at the fan holding a sign reading "The Belle tolls for thee, Moira."
The champ takes the belt off, throwing it over her shoulder, rolls into the ring and poses, wearing her still fairly new wrestling attire, a dark wine colored one piece with a deep neckline that plunges to Trisha's navel, a purely decorative belt around her waist.
Trisha points to the title slung over her shoulder, "You think you can take this from me?" she asks Moira, "You think you have what it takes to take this belt tonight?" Belle stares down the Kane sister intensely.
Moira walks right up to Trisha, refusing to back down as their eye contact never breaks. "You're damn right I do!" she matches Belle's intensity. The only thing that stops the match from kicking off right then and there is the ref separating the two to their corners as he takes the IC title and presents it to the crowd before setting it aside with the timekeeper. "We'll see." Trisha replies calmly. "We'll see."
The bell clangs and the two beauties push out of their respective corners. They circle the ring, each exhibiting a practiced air of slightly arrogant nonchalance, but beneath that veneer their muscles coiled and ready to unleash.
As the distance between them grows steadily closer, their eyes narrow. Suddenly each lunges for a lock up, and the two combatants each attempt to muscle the other back. But the result is a stalemate, as neither is able to overpower the other. So, Kane suddenly shifts tactics, grasping Trisha's left wrist for an armbar.
But the Minnesotan Maiden swiftly reverses, and now it's the Irishwoman's turn to slap at her own shoulder to try and numb the ache a bit. Yet, after a few more moments of this, Moira twists herself and converts the hold into a hammerlock on Belle. The IC Champ grits her teeth and contemplates her next maneuver. Both wrestler know these opening moves are just a means of testing the other, and that the real wrestling hasn't begun yet. But that's about to change.
Sure enough, after a moment or two in the hammerlock, Trisha begins to squirm to find a way out of it. She shifts and tries to turn out of the hold, but Moira is too seasoned to allow that and holds tight. Then Trisha tries to reach over her shoulder to get at the Galwegian's hair or eyes. Again, Kane is too smart for that and easily dodges the Minnesotan's clawing.
However, when Trisha bucks back, slamming her ass into Moira's abs, she's taken by surprise and gets a bit of the wind knocked out of her sails. Seeing an opportunity, Trisha follows this by backpedaling fast. Moira tries to keep up with Belle, but panics enough to get sandwiched between Trisha and the turnbuckles, once more driving air from her lungs.
And with that, Belle is given enough slack to escape, turning around and throwing three consecutive knees to the blonde's belly to keep her down. The Minnesota Mauler is just about to unleash a series of punches on the cornered Kane sister when the ref steps in to separate the two and allow Moira out of the corner. Trisha throws up her hands and, in a rare instance, listens to the ref as her now huffing opponent gathers herself again.
Trisha may be obeying the rules at the moment...but that's only in order to allow her to seize the upper hand from a more advantageous position mere heartbeats later. As Moria steps out of the corner and shakes her head to clear it, the brunette suddenly lunges, side-stepping the referee and raking her nails across the Irishwoman's eyes. Blinded, Kane shrieks, and offers scant resistance as her opponent grasps her wrist and flings her across the ring with a...irony duly noted...Irish whip. Moira rebounds off of the strands and rushes back toward her adversary, only to be met with a knee to the belly that drives the air from her lungs with a whoosh. Kane doubles over, gasping hard for breath as her legs tremble and threaten to crumple under her.
Pressing her advantage, the IC Champ grabs her hapless challenger by her golden mane and drags her stumbling to the ropes, where she proceeds to drag poor Moira's face across the top cable, drawing screams as the blonde is further blinded. Reaching the corner, Belle roughly shoves Kane's back against the turnbuckles and drapes her arms over the top ropes. She then somewhat seductively licks the palm of her right hand, and with a mischievous grin, lands a chop across her opponent's chest that instantly reddens her alabaster skin, and draws forth a collective "whoooooooo" from the crowd, even as the recipient of the blow gives a long, pained moan.
Having enjoyed that a great deal, Trisha now unleashes a stream of chops, each one cracking like a whip. Now, in comparison to her sister's D-cups, Moira's C's don't always get the attention they deserve. But now, as the bounce wildly with every brutal blow, many fans come to develop a new appreciation for them. It's an honor which the younger Kane, at this particular moment, would prefer to do without.
Finally bringing her onslaught to an end, Trisha grabs the hair of her victim and pulls their faces close together. "The only problem I have tonight, mick," the brunette sneers, "is deciding how I'm going to make you bawl like a baby and submit!"
Belle whips Moira out of the corner, rolling the lass to a seated position facing center ring. The Minnesota Mauler throws a hard knee to Kane's back to keep her down. Moira screams with the impact, but is helpless as Trisha grabs her wrists and pulls back on her victim's arms, the Mick girl's screams escalate as the ref approaches to check on her, but she defiantly shakes her head even while still screaming.
The Mauler pulls back hard a few more times before finally dropping Moira's arms to the mat. Before the blonde can slump over in pain, however , Belle wraps the Kane sister into a sleeper hold. Moira's eyes go wide, her mouth open and gasping for air.
Trisha leans in to whisper in the Irish lass's ear. "And here I thought you'd put up more of a fight, but I guess I might as well have taken a challenge from one of the Jungle girls."
With that, the Minnesotan jerks the blonde's head and neck in the hold as Moira's hands dig and scratch at her forearm, legs kicking frantically at the canvas. Soon though, Trisha's expert and practiced sleeper takes its toll, Moira only letting out slight grunts and coos as she fades fast.
Finally, the Kane sister's arms fall to the canvas, her boots barely shuffling now. The official closes in and checks Moira's arm, lifting and dropping it.
It falls limply to the mat.
ONCE....
TWICE...
Before the ref can raise the Kane sister's hand for a third and final time, ending the match early, Trisha forcefully throws Moira to the mat and stands up, striking a pose to showboat to the crowd before stomping down hard onto the Irish woman to rouse her again, slamming her boot first onto Moira's chest, then again down onto her bell.
The blonde's belly seems to fold around the foot, forcing a husky whoosh of breath from her lungs. But as the Minnesotan lifts her legs to deliver yet another savage stomp, Kane manages to reach up and grasp her ankle, giving it a hard twist. Precariously balanced on only one leg, Trisha suddenly finds herself tumbling over to the mat, which she hits with a thud. That buys the Irishwoman the precious seconds she needs to roll across the canvas and under the ropes, dropping somewhat awkwardly to the floor below. She remains there on one knee in a crouch, her whole body heaving as she draws in much-needed oxygen, her alabaster body glistening with sweat.
Finally Moira rises up and starts to pace around the ring, taking full advantage of the referee's desultory twenty count to gather her wits and catch her second wind. And as the zebra nears the completion of his count, Kane climbs back into the ring under the ropes...and promptly slides back out again, necessitating another long count.
Frustrated by this delaying tactic, Belle finally has enough. She pushes past the ref and rushes to the ropes; reaching between the top and middle strand, she manages to grab a good handful of Moira's flaxen mane. The Irish lass shrieks as the Mauler starts to pull her back into the ring by her hair, but suddenly Kane reaches both hands between the ropes, grasps the Trisha's ankles, and gives a hard yank. With a startled yelp, the Mauler finds her legs pulled out from under her, and she lands on her butt. The brunette's hold on her tresses released, Moira pulls her legs far enough under the ropes that she is able to lift Belle's left limb, and them slam it down on the edge of the apron, the hard edge smashing into the back of the IC Champ's knee. Now it's Trisha's turn to shriek in pain, and Kane presses her advantage by now dragging the brunette by her battered leg to the corner of the ring. There, she wraps the gam around the steel ring post, planting her foot against the pole to up the torque as she now yanks the leg sideways, threatening serious damage to the knee.
Flopping onto her back, Trisha's hands rip at her own hair to try and counter the pain, and she can't suppress her screams of anguish. But suddenly it dawns on her that her right leg is still free, and she wildly kicks out with it, blindly landing the sole of her boot to Kane's jaw. The blow forces the blonde to drop her hold and stagger back, rubbing her jaw as she contemplates her next move.
It doesn't take Moira long to decide her next move. She charges Trisha's leg, intent to make the injury even more serious. She grabs the champ's boot as she puts all her strength and weight behind the charge and slams the torqued knee into the corner post, the gam extended to its breaking point.
Trisha howls in pain, then digs the heels of her hands into the canvas as she attempts to drag herself further into the ring to stop Moira's focus on the now surely injured knee. The Minnesotan tenderly bends the joint and tests her weight on it. The once dominant Belle now hobbling with a pronounced limp.
Moira rolls back into the ring after the ref's count reaches 9, now in a much better mood, seeing Trisha in her current state. "Did I over do it, love?" she teases with a sneer. The Irish Lass then swings a high right leg which Trisha catches while still finding her footing. Moira just smiles wider before sending her free foot up and into the side of Trisha's skull.
Belle's eyes stay open, but they glaze over a bit as she slowly teeters then falls back. Moira lands on her hands and knees, turns, then scrambles to cover the Minnesota Mauler, hooking Trisha's bad leg for the pin.
The referee drops down and begins to count, his hand slapping at the canvas each time. "One...two..."
But just as the third and final number reaches his lips, Trisha's battle instincts compel her body to spasm with enough force to lift a shoulder an inch or so above the mat, just enough to break the count. "Foine then," the blonde says in her thick Irish brogue. "We'll do this th' hard way...hard fer ye, that is."
Climbing up off of her opponent, Kane gets to her feet and bends down, filling her hands with generous amounts of chestnut mane, the better to haul the IC Champ up with. Belle gives a sharp shriek as she's painfully pulled up by her hair, but the searing in her scalp has the benefit of shocking her out of her stupor...at least enough for her to formulate an instant response. Thus, even as she's being pulled up, she balls her right fist and swings her arm upward with all of the force she can muster. The blow slams squarely into Moira's groin with an audible thud.
Eyes suddenly widening, Kane releases her handfuls of hair and doubles over, staggering backward knock-kneed, her hands now clutching at her throbbing crotch. "Be...begorah..." she whimpers in a high-pitched voice, then she shuts her eyes tight and bites her lower lip, trying to block out the agony.
Trisha winces as she stands up, her knee clearly impeding her, even as the flesh around it begins to display deep purple bruises. She limps over to her challenger and slips behind her, reaching her arms around the blonde's midriff, until her hands are able to grasp the fabric of Moira's briefs. Wisely opting to capitalize on the damage she had done, the brunette gives a warrior's growl as she suddenly yanks the article of clothing up for what is colloquially known as a 'front wedgie'. As the fabric cuts up mercilessly into Moira's aching womanhood, the blonde's eyes snap open and she gives a banshee's howl of anguish, which brings a smile of pleasure to her tormentor's lips. "I suppose you won't be turning any of your $2 tricks in the parking lot after the show tonight, sweetie," Belle purrs maliciously into her mewling victim's ear.
Trisha finally releases Moira's outfit, only to close in tight, wrapping her arms around the Irish woman. At first it looks to the fans like Belle is going for a bearhug or belly-to-belly suplex, but the Minnesota Mauler's knee is too freshly injured for her to make the mistake of putting more weight on it.
Instead, Trisha hugs Moira tight, then throws her head forward, connecting forehead to face five times in swift succession. Belle sees that Kane is thoroughly dazed by this, the blonde woman's head rolling loosely on her shoulders.
Trisha then whips Moira to the opposite corner, following as fast as she can with her now unmistakable limp, ready to splash the blonde Kane in the corner.
But while the Minnesotan exudes confidence that victory is hers to claim. she would do well to remember that having an opponent on the ropes is not the same as having her beaten.
That's a lesson she learns the hard way; leaping at her adversary, turning her lush body into a wrecking ball of devastation, she is unable to halt herself as Moira suddenly brings both of her knees up. Trisha's copious bosom takes the full brunt of the impact with the bony joints, and she gives a loud gasp of shock and pain as they collide.
Impressively, although she reels backward, Belle does not fall. But her glazed eyes make it plain that she's struggling to regain her wits...an objective which Kane is not about to allow to happen, if she can help it. To achieve this, the battered blonde pushes herself out of the corner, and as she draws near to the still-wavering brunette, Moira throws a kick into the side of her rival's injured knee.
Trisha gives a shrill howl as her leg crumples and she drops to the canvas like an imploded Vegas hotel up for demolition. The IC Champ's only hope...and it's a slender thread at best...is that her opponent is still too weak to launch an effective attack on her. Unfortunately for Trisha, the canny Kane doesn't need much petrol in the tank in order to do damage, so long as she still has gravity working for her. So with that the blonde suddenly dropped swiftly to her hands and knees, delivering a headbutt to Belle's now-throbbing knee. Now, fully intending to exploit this Achilles's Heel, Moira grasps the brunette's ankle and begins to relentlessly twist her leg, seeking the submission.
Trisha screams in the ankle lock, her knee being twisted and wrenched from one side to the other, as she feels the bones painfully shift and grind against each other. The Minnesota Mauler ignores the ref asking for a submission and forces herself to crawl on her forearms toward the ropes, dragging as far as she can before Moira drags her back to center ring, still wrenching the ankle lock.
Belle pulls at her hair, the champ unable to see a way out of this. Finally, she calms herself, trying to block out the pain and think of the options available to her. Moira just leans in and wrenches at the ankle, until Trisha throws her free leg in a hard kick, slamming her booted toe into the Kane sister's belly as she tries to escape.
The kick spears hard into the blonde's lower oblique, sending a sharp jab of pain through her abdomen, and causing her to expel some breath. The blow wasn't enough to force her to release her ankle lock, but it did serve the purpose of irritating Moira enough that she sought to retaliate, much as a flash of red does for a seething bull.
The Irishwoman lifts her right foot up, prepping a stomp to Trisha's thigh. But the IC Champ isn't just prepared for that...it's what she was hoping for. Again her free leg lashes out, and this time the toe of her boot hits like a ball peen hammer into the blonde's inner thigh. Kane shrieks, losing her balance and falling awkwardly to the mat. As she does so, Belle manages to pull her ankle free of her opponent's grasp. She is prepared to roll to the safety of the ropes, but just then she sees a brief window of opportunity: as Moira lays splayed on the canvas, her legs are wide. Once more the brunette puts her boot to use, smashing it's sole into the Irish battler's unprotected groin with a vicious kick. Once again Kane screams, her hands cupping her now-throbbing womanhood as she rolls from side to side on her back, tears welling in her eyes.
And just like that, the pendulum has swung back to Trisha's favor.
With Moira on the mat, Trisha acts fast, scrambling over and almost looking like she's going for a pin. However, the Minnesotan rolls the Irish lass over onto her stomach, holds one of the blonde’s arms tightly between her thighs and laces her hands together before pulling Moira's head and neck up and back, locking in a crossface, hoping to pay Moira back for the knee injury with a neck injury.
"You wanna try to cripple me? I'm more than happy to tear your head off, Blondie!" Trisha yells at Moira as she groans in the harsh hold. Belle leans back as far as she can as the ref checks on the Irish woman. The Kane sister responds with a definite no between haggard breaths, but Trisha shows no sign of dropping the hold.
Moira twists her body back and forth, but to her frustration finds herself trapped beneath the weight of her tormentor. Then she attempts to power out, but Belle has the Crippler locked on too well for that. The unhappy fact dawns on her that she is well and truly trapped. Again the referee asks her if she's ready to submit, and through gritted teeth she hisses "Feck off!"
But bravado aside, she realizes that...barring a miracle...the match was all-but-done. But she was damned sure not going to gift this mud-haired tosser the satisfaction of a tap...she'll let Belle KO her first.
Trisha knows Moira's pride won't let her tap, and she's fine with that. The Irish bitch deserved nothing less for hobbling the Minnesota Mauler.
Belle kept the crossface tight, the blonde Kane sister squirming and moaning for what feels like an eternity, but only lasted one or two minutes before Moira one final pathetic whimper, her eyes rolled back, lids falling shut, and her hands that so frantically clawed at Trisha's hold fell limply to the side.
The champ just leaned back, bending the now limp Irish woman as far as her body would allow. "Check her!" she screamed at the ref. The official lifted Moira's limp wrist, but there was no questioning the result as he easily dropped the Kane sister's hand three times in a row, he then swiftly signalled for the bell.
"Your winner and STILL Intercontinental Champion, TRISHA BELLE!!"
The crowd is divided almost evenly between Trisha supporters and detractors at this point, but all the same the crowd's reaction is deafening.
Trisha rises to her feet, her knee still painful and now a deep purple all around the mangled joint. The official hands her the belt and raises her hand in victory, but the Minnesotan isn't done with Moira quite yet.
Trisha lifts the blonde's head by the hair so she can place her IC title under Moira's cheek like a pillow, she then drops the hair and stands over the still out cold Irish woman. "This is as close to my belt as she's ever going to get!" Trisha shouts to the crowd. She then drops down, her elbow driving into the back of Moira's head and neck, while also driving and grinding her features into the metal faceplate harshly. Moira's body jerks on impact, but does little else. Later, when she finally awakens, the Irish lass can see the impression of the belt's plate pressed into her face for another hour or so, and she can view what was denied her.
Trisha looks to go further with the display, but the ref steps in, "That's enough, Trisha." Belle thinks it over and decides Moira isn't worth the trouble, instead picking up her belt and throwing a swift stomp to the blonde's back, gritting her teeth to fight through the now constant pain in her knee. She finally leaves the ring, heading to the medics to see what can be done about her new injury.
“Haunted” by the Pogues pumps from the arena’s PA system as Moira Kane tears open the curtain and stalks out, raising her arms to encourage the raucous cheers of her fans. Having only so recently possessed one-half of the tag titles (with her sister Maeve, of course), Moira is keen on experiencing the feel of ten pounds of leather and gold around her taut waist once again.
The Galwegian is decked out in a two-piece of green so dark, it almost seems black, with a gold embossed shamrock on her right buttock, and gold lamé ankle boots. She struts down the aisleway with such a cocky swagger, it blatantly suggests she isn’t the least bit worried about her opponent this evening, nor questioning the odds of her winning.
She slaps a few of the many outstretched hands, and blows a kiss to one supporter who holds aloft a sign which reads, TONIGHT IT BECOMES THE IRISH-CONTINENTAL BELT! Passing the Spanish language annouoncers' table at ringside, she climbs the steps up to the ring apron, then slips between the ropes.
“Introducing first, standing five feet six inches tall, and weighing in at one-hundred and thirty-two pounds, from Galway, Ireland, she is a favored daughter of the Emerald Isle, MOIRRRRA KAAAAAAANE!” The Irishwoman throws her arms in the air to bask in the cheers as she struts around the ring, awaiting her opponent.
MORIA KANE:
After a moment, "Oh No Not You Again" by The Heavy starts up on the sound system and Trisha Belle comes out at the top of the ramp, the Intercontinental Title strapped around her waist.
"And her opponent tonight, your FAWN Intercontinental Champion! The Minnesota Mauler! TRISHA BELLLLLLE!"
TRISHA BELLE:
The crowd is divided on the champ, about a third of the FAWNattics boo loudly, but Belle has a growing section of the crowd cheering her on as she walks confidently to the ring. Trisha even sees a few signs in the crowd showing support for the Minnesota Mauler. Belle makes a point to wink at the fan holding a sign reading "The Belle tolls for thee, Moira."
The champ takes the belt off, throwing it over her shoulder, rolls into the ring and poses, wearing her still fairly new wrestling attire, a dark wine colored one piece with a deep neckline that plunges to Trisha's navel, a purely decorative belt around her waist.
Trisha points to the title slung over her shoulder, "You think you can take this from me?" she asks Moira, "You think you have what it takes to take this belt tonight?" Belle stares down the Kane sister intensely.
Moira walks right up to Trisha, refusing to back down as their eye contact never breaks. "You're damn right I do!" she matches Belle's intensity. The only thing that stops the match from kicking off right then and there is the ref separating the two to their corners as he takes the IC title and presents it to the crowd before setting it aside with the timekeeper. "We'll see." Trisha replies calmly. "We'll see."
The bell clangs and the two beauties push out of their respective corners. They circle the ring, each exhibiting a practiced air of slightly arrogant nonchalance, but beneath that veneer their muscles coiled and ready to unleash.
As the distance between them grows steadily closer, their eyes narrow. Suddenly each lunges for a lock up, and the two combatants each attempt to muscle the other back. But the result is a stalemate, as neither is able to overpower the other. So, Kane suddenly shifts tactics, grasping Trisha's left wrist for an armbar.
But the Minnesotan Maiden swiftly reverses, and now it's the Irishwoman's turn to slap at her own shoulder to try and numb the ache a bit. Yet, after a few more moments of this, Moira twists herself and converts the hold into a hammerlock on Belle. The IC Champ grits her teeth and contemplates her next maneuver. Both wrestler know these opening moves are just a means of testing the other, and that the real wrestling hasn't begun yet. But that's about to change.
Sure enough, after a moment or two in the hammerlock, Trisha begins to squirm to find a way out of it. She shifts and tries to turn out of the hold, but Moira is too seasoned to allow that and holds tight. Then Trisha tries to reach over her shoulder to get at the Galwegian's hair or eyes. Again, Kane is too smart for that and easily dodges the Minnesotan's clawing.
However, when Trisha bucks back, slamming her ass into Moira's abs, she's taken by surprise and gets a bit of the wind knocked out of her sails. Seeing an opportunity, Trisha follows this by backpedaling fast. Moira tries to keep up with Belle, but panics enough to get sandwiched between Trisha and the turnbuckles, once more driving air from her lungs.
And with that, Belle is given enough slack to escape, turning around and throwing three consecutive knees to the blonde's belly to keep her down. The Minnesota Mauler is just about to unleash a series of punches on the cornered Kane sister when the ref steps in to separate the two and allow Moira out of the corner. Trisha throws up her hands and, in a rare instance, listens to the ref as her now huffing opponent gathers herself again.
Trisha may be obeying the rules at the moment...but that's only in order to allow her to seize the upper hand from a more advantageous position mere heartbeats later. As Moria steps out of the corner and shakes her head to clear it, the brunette suddenly lunges, side-stepping the referee and raking her nails across the Irishwoman's eyes. Blinded, Kane shrieks, and offers scant resistance as her opponent grasps her wrist and flings her across the ring with a...irony duly noted...Irish whip. Moira rebounds off of the strands and rushes back toward her adversary, only to be met with a knee to the belly that drives the air from her lungs with a whoosh. Kane doubles over, gasping hard for breath as her legs tremble and threaten to crumple under her.
Pressing her advantage, the IC Champ grabs her hapless challenger by her golden mane and drags her stumbling to the ropes, where she proceeds to drag poor Moira's face across the top cable, drawing screams as the blonde is further blinded. Reaching the corner, Belle roughly shoves Kane's back against the turnbuckles and drapes her arms over the top ropes. She then somewhat seductively licks the palm of her right hand, and with a mischievous grin, lands a chop across her opponent's chest that instantly reddens her alabaster skin, and draws forth a collective "whoooooooo" from the crowd, even as the recipient of the blow gives a long, pained moan.
Having enjoyed that a great deal, Trisha now unleashes a stream of chops, each one cracking like a whip. Now, in comparison to her sister's D-cups, Moira's C's don't always get the attention they deserve. But now, as the bounce wildly with every brutal blow, many fans come to develop a new appreciation for them. It's an honor which the younger Kane, at this particular moment, would prefer to do without.
Finally bringing her onslaught to an end, Trisha grabs the hair of her victim and pulls their faces close together. "The only problem I have tonight, mick," the brunette sneers, "is deciding how I'm going to make you bawl like a baby and submit!"
Belle whips Moira out of the corner, rolling the lass to a seated position facing center ring. The Minnesota Mauler throws a hard knee to Kane's back to keep her down. Moira screams with the impact, but is helpless as Trisha grabs her wrists and pulls back on her victim's arms, the Mick girl's screams escalate as the ref approaches to check on her, but she defiantly shakes her head even while still screaming.
The Mauler pulls back hard a few more times before finally dropping Moira's arms to the mat. Before the blonde can slump over in pain, however , Belle wraps the Kane sister into a sleeper hold. Moira's eyes go wide, her mouth open and gasping for air.
Trisha leans in to whisper in the Irish lass's ear. "And here I thought you'd put up more of a fight, but I guess I might as well have taken a challenge from one of the Jungle girls."
With that, the Minnesotan jerks the blonde's head and neck in the hold as Moira's hands dig and scratch at her forearm, legs kicking frantically at the canvas. Soon though, Trisha's expert and practiced sleeper takes its toll, Moira only letting out slight grunts and coos as she fades fast.
Finally, the Kane sister's arms fall to the canvas, her boots barely shuffling now. The official closes in and checks Moira's arm, lifting and dropping it.
It falls limply to the mat.
ONCE....
TWICE...
Before the ref can raise the Kane sister's hand for a third and final time, ending the match early, Trisha forcefully throws Moira to the mat and stands up, striking a pose to showboat to the crowd before stomping down hard onto the Irish woman to rouse her again, slamming her boot first onto Moira's chest, then again down onto her bell.
The blonde's belly seems to fold around the foot, forcing a husky whoosh of breath from her lungs. But as the Minnesotan lifts her legs to deliver yet another savage stomp, Kane manages to reach up and grasp her ankle, giving it a hard twist. Precariously balanced on only one leg, Trisha suddenly finds herself tumbling over to the mat, which she hits with a thud. That buys the Irishwoman the precious seconds she needs to roll across the canvas and under the ropes, dropping somewhat awkwardly to the floor below. She remains there on one knee in a crouch, her whole body heaving as she draws in much-needed oxygen, her alabaster body glistening with sweat.
Finally Moira rises up and starts to pace around the ring, taking full advantage of the referee's desultory twenty count to gather her wits and catch her second wind. And as the zebra nears the completion of his count, Kane climbs back into the ring under the ropes...and promptly slides back out again, necessitating another long count.
Frustrated by this delaying tactic, Belle finally has enough. She pushes past the ref and rushes to the ropes; reaching between the top and middle strand, she manages to grab a good handful of Moira's flaxen mane. The Irish lass shrieks as the Mauler starts to pull her back into the ring by her hair, but suddenly Kane reaches both hands between the ropes, grasps the Trisha's ankles, and gives a hard yank. With a startled yelp, the Mauler finds her legs pulled out from under her, and she lands on her butt. The brunette's hold on her tresses released, Moira pulls her legs far enough under the ropes that she is able to lift Belle's left limb, and them slam it down on the edge of the apron, the hard edge smashing into the back of the IC Champ's knee. Now it's Trisha's turn to shriek in pain, and Kane presses her advantage by now dragging the brunette by her battered leg to the corner of the ring. There, she wraps the gam around the steel ring post, planting her foot against the pole to up the torque as she now yanks the leg sideways, threatening serious damage to the knee.
Flopping onto her back, Trisha's hands rip at her own hair to try and counter the pain, and she can't suppress her screams of anguish. But suddenly it dawns on her that her right leg is still free, and she wildly kicks out with it, blindly landing the sole of her boot to Kane's jaw. The blow forces the blonde to drop her hold and stagger back, rubbing her jaw as she contemplates her next move.
It doesn't take Moira long to decide her next move. She charges Trisha's leg, intent to make the injury even more serious. She grabs the champ's boot as she puts all her strength and weight behind the charge and slams the torqued knee into the corner post, the gam extended to its breaking point.
Trisha howls in pain, then digs the heels of her hands into the canvas as she attempts to drag herself further into the ring to stop Moira's focus on the now surely injured knee. The Minnesotan tenderly bends the joint and tests her weight on it. The once dominant Belle now hobbling with a pronounced limp.
Moira rolls back into the ring after the ref's count reaches 9, now in a much better mood, seeing Trisha in her current state. "Did I over do it, love?" she teases with a sneer. The Irish Lass then swings a high right leg which Trisha catches while still finding her footing. Moira just smiles wider before sending her free foot up and into the side of Trisha's skull.
Belle's eyes stay open, but they glaze over a bit as she slowly teeters then falls back. Moira lands on her hands and knees, turns, then scrambles to cover the Minnesota Mauler, hooking Trisha's bad leg for the pin.
The referee drops down and begins to count, his hand slapping at the canvas each time. "One...two..."
But just as the third and final number reaches his lips, Trisha's battle instincts compel her body to spasm with enough force to lift a shoulder an inch or so above the mat, just enough to break the count. "Foine then," the blonde says in her thick Irish brogue. "We'll do this th' hard way...hard fer ye, that is."
Climbing up off of her opponent, Kane gets to her feet and bends down, filling her hands with generous amounts of chestnut mane, the better to haul the IC Champ up with. Belle gives a sharp shriek as she's painfully pulled up by her hair, but the searing in her scalp has the benefit of shocking her out of her stupor...at least enough for her to formulate an instant response. Thus, even as she's being pulled up, she balls her right fist and swings her arm upward with all of the force she can muster. The blow slams squarely into Moira's groin with an audible thud.
Eyes suddenly widening, Kane releases her handfuls of hair and doubles over, staggering backward knock-kneed, her hands now clutching at her throbbing crotch. "Be...begorah..." she whimpers in a high-pitched voice, then she shuts her eyes tight and bites her lower lip, trying to block out the agony.
Trisha winces as she stands up, her knee clearly impeding her, even as the flesh around it begins to display deep purple bruises. She limps over to her challenger and slips behind her, reaching her arms around the blonde's midriff, until her hands are able to grasp the fabric of Moira's briefs. Wisely opting to capitalize on the damage she had done, the brunette gives a warrior's growl as she suddenly yanks the article of clothing up for what is colloquially known as a 'front wedgie'. As the fabric cuts up mercilessly into Moira's aching womanhood, the blonde's eyes snap open and she gives a banshee's howl of anguish, which brings a smile of pleasure to her tormentor's lips. "I suppose you won't be turning any of your $2 tricks in the parking lot after the show tonight, sweetie," Belle purrs maliciously into her mewling victim's ear.
Trisha finally releases Moira's outfit, only to close in tight, wrapping her arms around the Irish woman. At first it looks to the fans like Belle is going for a bearhug or belly-to-belly suplex, but the Minnesota Mauler's knee is too freshly injured for her to make the mistake of putting more weight on it.
Instead, Trisha hugs Moira tight, then throws her head forward, connecting forehead to face five times in swift succession. Belle sees that Kane is thoroughly dazed by this, the blonde woman's head rolling loosely on her shoulders.
Trisha then whips Moira to the opposite corner, following as fast as she can with her now unmistakable limp, ready to splash the blonde Kane in the corner.
But while the Minnesotan exudes confidence that victory is hers to claim. she would do well to remember that having an opponent on the ropes is not the same as having her beaten.
That's a lesson she learns the hard way; leaping at her adversary, turning her lush body into a wrecking ball of devastation, she is unable to halt herself as Moira suddenly brings both of her knees up. Trisha's copious bosom takes the full brunt of the impact with the bony joints, and she gives a loud gasp of shock and pain as they collide.
Impressively, although she reels backward, Belle does not fall. But her glazed eyes make it plain that she's struggling to regain her wits...an objective which Kane is not about to allow to happen, if she can help it. To achieve this, the battered blonde pushes herself out of the corner, and as she draws near to the still-wavering brunette, Moira throws a kick into the side of her rival's injured knee.
Trisha gives a shrill howl as her leg crumples and she drops to the canvas like an imploded Vegas hotel up for demolition. The IC Champ's only hope...and it's a slender thread at best...is that her opponent is still too weak to launch an effective attack on her. Unfortunately for Trisha, the canny Kane doesn't need much petrol in the tank in order to do damage, so long as she still has gravity working for her. So with that the blonde suddenly dropped swiftly to her hands and knees, delivering a headbutt to Belle's now-throbbing knee. Now, fully intending to exploit this Achilles's Heel, Moira grasps the brunette's ankle and begins to relentlessly twist her leg, seeking the submission.
Trisha screams in the ankle lock, her knee being twisted and wrenched from one side to the other, as she feels the bones painfully shift and grind against each other. The Minnesota Mauler ignores the ref asking for a submission and forces herself to crawl on her forearms toward the ropes, dragging as far as she can before Moira drags her back to center ring, still wrenching the ankle lock.
Belle pulls at her hair, the champ unable to see a way out of this. Finally, she calms herself, trying to block out the pain and think of the options available to her. Moira just leans in and wrenches at the ankle, until Trisha throws her free leg in a hard kick, slamming her booted toe into the Kane sister's belly as she tries to escape.
The kick spears hard into the blonde's lower oblique, sending a sharp jab of pain through her abdomen, and causing her to expel some breath. The blow wasn't enough to force her to release her ankle lock, but it did serve the purpose of irritating Moira enough that she sought to retaliate, much as a flash of red does for a seething bull.
The Irishwoman lifts her right foot up, prepping a stomp to Trisha's thigh. But the IC Champ isn't just prepared for that...it's what she was hoping for. Again her free leg lashes out, and this time the toe of her boot hits like a ball peen hammer into the blonde's inner thigh. Kane shrieks, losing her balance and falling awkwardly to the mat. As she does so, Belle manages to pull her ankle free of her opponent's grasp. She is prepared to roll to the safety of the ropes, but just then she sees a brief window of opportunity: as Moira lays splayed on the canvas, her legs are wide. Once more the brunette puts her boot to use, smashing it's sole into the Irish battler's unprotected groin with a vicious kick. Once again Kane screams, her hands cupping her now-throbbing womanhood as she rolls from side to side on her back, tears welling in her eyes.
And just like that, the pendulum has swung back to Trisha's favor.
With Moira on the mat, Trisha acts fast, scrambling over and almost looking like she's going for a pin. However, the Minnesotan rolls the Irish lass over onto her stomach, holds one of the blonde’s arms tightly between her thighs and laces her hands together before pulling Moira's head and neck up and back, locking in a crossface, hoping to pay Moira back for the knee injury with a neck injury.
"You wanna try to cripple me? I'm more than happy to tear your head off, Blondie!" Trisha yells at Moira as she groans in the harsh hold. Belle leans back as far as she can as the ref checks on the Irish woman. The Kane sister responds with a definite no between haggard breaths, but Trisha shows no sign of dropping the hold.
Moira twists her body back and forth, but to her frustration finds herself trapped beneath the weight of her tormentor. Then she attempts to power out, but Belle has the Crippler locked on too well for that. The unhappy fact dawns on her that she is well and truly trapped. Again the referee asks her if she's ready to submit, and through gritted teeth she hisses "Feck off!"
But bravado aside, she realizes that...barring a miracle...the match was all-but-done. But she was damned sure not going to gift this mud-haired tosser the satisfaction of a tap...she'll let Belle KO her first.
Trisha knows Moira's pride won't let her tap, and she's fine with that. The Irish bitch deserved nothing less for hobbling the Minnesota Mauler.
Belle kept the crossface tight, the blonde Kane sister squirming and moaning for what feels like an eternity, but only lasted one or two minutes before Moira one final pathetic whimper, her eyes rolled back, lids falling shut, and her hands that so frantically clawed at Trisha's hold fell limply to the side.
The champ just leaned back, bending the now limp Irish woman as far as her body would allow. "Check her!" she screamed at the ref. The official lifted Moira's limp wrist, but there was no questioning the result as he easily dropped the Kane sister's hand three times in a row, he then swiftly signalled for the bell.
"Your winner and STILL Intercontinental Champion, TRISHA BELLE!!"
The crowd is divided almost evenly between Trisha supporters and detractors at this point, but all the same the crowd's reaction is deafening.
Trisha rises to her feet, her knee still painful and now a deep purple all around the mangled joint. The official hands her the belt and raises her hand in victory, but the Minnesotan isn't done with Moira quite yet.
Trisha lifts the blonde's head by the hair so she can place her IC title under Moira's cheek like a pillow, she then drops the hair and stands over the still out cold Irish woman. "This is as close to my belt as she's ever going to get!" Trisha shouts to the crowd. She then drops down, her elbow driving into the back of Moira's head and neck, while also driving and grinding her features into the metal faceplate harshly. Moira's body jerks on impact, but does little else. Later, when she finally awakens, the Irish lass can see the impression of the belt's plate pressed into her face for another hour or so, and she can view what was denied her.
Trisha looks to go further with the display, but the ref steps in, "That's enough, Trisha." Belle thinks it over and decides Moira isn't worth the trouble, instead picking up her belt and throwing a swift stomp to the blonde's back, gritting her teeth to fight through the now constant pain in her knee. She finally leaves the ring, heading to the medics to see what can be done about her new injury.