Post by bigfan on Nov 5, 2017 20:17:23 GMT
Lady Fiona’s insistence on clearing a black mark off her ledger was met with an enthusiastic ‘hell yes’ from Commissioner Christian. Bethany, knowing well the FAWNatics insatiable appetite for all things Upstart, particularly the Upstart Supreme, leapt at the chance.
Thus, though scaling back her FAWN schedule for a bit, such created the opportunity for Sammie Sinclair to get a shot at EA gold. The crowd proves as enthusiastic as ever when the Announcer steps into the spotlight.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the FAWN Eurasian Championship! Introducing first, she is the challenger, hailing from Nottingham England in the United Kingdom, she stands five feet four inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and ten pounds, she is the Golden Girl, the Little Sparrow… SAMMIE SINCLAIR!”
Sammie Sinclair:
As good natured as any faction of fans in the promotion’s history, Sammie’s supporters go crazy with delight the instant their heroine appears on stage. Tiny but fierce, Sammie Sinclair is every inch the People’s Princess as she cheers back, shimmering in her golden/yellow attire and blushing openly with her dimple, freckled cheeks flushing a delightful crimson. She sports her usual golden sports bra and now standard matching skirt, the latter featuring a generous slit running up the right side. Her boots are similarly altered, still bright blue and reaching upwards to just beneath her kneecaps, they are now tanned from firm leather and sported lacing right up the front.
Busting out in a taut little spiral in the center of the stage, the Golden Girl finishes with her feet apart and keeps her fingers wiggling heavenwards, nodding to her followers with a confident grin and, just before she leads them in her usual declaration of intent, she pauses for a few moments longer. The Upstart Legions don’t need any more prompting, they simply cup their hands to their mouths and roared, ‘ONE! TWO! THREE!’
Sammie points a jaunty index finger toward the squared circle at the exact moment a hearty explosion of pyrokenetics erupts to either side of the stage. Samantha Sinclair is here and, with a joy induced skip she heads down the aisle at a swift sprint, the second generation superstar with chocolate curls bouncing free about her slender shoulders. Already proven Championship Quality, she’s ready for another run with the gold.
The moment Sinclair reaches the squared circle, she takes a short detour and, much to the delight of those who find themselves closest, Sammie begins clapping every outstretched hand she discovers. Beating a fast track around the ring, she soon finds herself back at the start; a run, skip and jump taking her clean up onto the apron. Grasping the top coil with both paws, the Bright Eyed Wonder leans back and, following a cheeky shake of her pert buttocks, shoots right over the top rope with an applause worthy somersault.
Landing lightly on her feet and clapping once more, she pauses only to offer her wrists and knees to senior referee Nick Castle. Once he was satisfied with her lack of foreign objects, the Little Sparrow jogs to the far corner and hops into a seat on the top turnbuckle, a perfect vantage point to scout the approach of tonight’s well-known adversary.
With her challenger situated, the booming orchestral chords of the champion’s entrance music spreads through the arena ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDI9HuVduDI&feature=related ) heralding the former Intercontinental and Lightweight champion and now Eurasian title holder.
Looking simultaneously threatening and glorious, gaudy gold belt around her waist, Her Ladyship strides to center stage having lost much of the good will she’d collected in displacing the belt from Invasion control with her untoward behavior during a Mania victory over fellow Brit Anna Sharpe.
Fiona is resplendent, the long-time veteran of wars inside and outside FAWN pushing back against the growing tide of the New Era. Among them the young veteran she faces tonight, who, it had to be said, is undefeated in battles against the Duchess.
The Englishwoman reviews the boisterous crowd with disdain, back to her imperial arrogance. She starts down the ramp as the ring announcer makes her arrival an official one.
“And the champion from Finsbury Park, London, England, standing 5 feet 7 inches tall and weighing in at 8 stone 13… the Duchess of East Anglia…Lady Fiona Waterford.”
Fiona Waterford:
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The athletic build of the Englishwoman remains very much appreciated, a deal with the devil having been struck to keep Waterford in such fine fettle, women half her age green with envy. Her regal beauty is accentuated by a striking midnight blue lace set of bra and panties with red bows on either hip and a royal coat of arms on her taut bum ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_Kingdom ). The attire leaves just the right amount to the imagination, which in this case is little. As a perfect bit of flair, red fishnet stockings reach up from midnight blue boots, red garters ending the stockings at mid-thigh.
Reaching the ring, Fiona rises up the ring steps and slides through the cables. She moves to the center and raises a microphone to her ruby lips, both eyes planted on her fellow Brit and scrappy pest.
“I squashed the so-called Rookie of the Year,” Fiona announces. “But this fight is much more personal. Sinclair is a bum.”
The boos instantly reverberate through the arena. Fiona unstraps her belt and raises it overhead then pushes it toward her foe for a better look.
“Disagree all you like, but it’s all she’ll EVER be. The little guttersnipe ONLY beat me when I was coming back into FAWN from time away. Tonight, she’s going to get her little feathers singed because I’m on fire. I’m at the top of my game. And she’s going to feel what that’s like.”
Sammie blushes slightly, but she bows her back and motions for Her Ladyship to bring it on. Instead Waterford backpedals to her corner, handing her belt over the ropes to an attendant, her eyes remaining fixed on FAWN royalty, namely the People’s Princess.
As the bell rings, Fiona circles out of her corner, Sinclair joining her. Sammie’s giving up three inches and fifteen pounds, but she’s got youth on her side and she ducks under an attempted collar-and-elbow tie-up. She slips behind the champ and swings her arms around the taut midriff of Her Ladyship, securing a waistlock. An angered Fiona swings elbows back toward Sinclair’s skull, but Sammie ducks under each. She drops backward and pulls Waterford off her feet, rolling Fiona into a cradle for…
ONE…
TWO…
The Duchess kicks her way free and scrambles to her feet, furious. She charges an already risen Sammie and Sinclair ducks under a scythe-like swing, leaping into a salty spinning kick that catches a turning Fiona in the jaw staggering the bigger brunette.
Waterford’s arms windmill as she wobbles and, in the meantime, the Little Sparrow scrambles to her feet and takes flight again, THUMPING a drop kick into Waterford’s chest that drops her to the canvas. Thinking quickly, Fiona rolls out under the ropes and drops her boot soles to the cement floor outside. She paces the ring side angrily, talking to both herself and the fans at ringside giving her guff.
It doesn’t stop an energetic Sammie from ignoring Fiona’s ‘time-out’. The sparkling little Upstart takes off for the ropes behind her and rebounds at full speed. She zooms between the middle and top ropes and NAILS the bug-eyed royal with a Suicide Dive. The impact drops Sinclair safely to her feet but the champion bounces away from the collision, her spine RAMMING into the metal barricade.
Fiona’s back arches in pain from the connection of steel to muscle and bone. She gets a hefty set of forearm smashes to her chest from the rambunctious brown-eyed cutie. The crowd counts along with THREE…FOUR…FIVE THUMPS. With Waterford reeling and the count rising, Sinclair grabs a wrist and whips Her Ladyship toward the ring. The Duchess leaps and slides back in. She hops to her feet but is still a bit wobbly as the second-generation superstar and former lightweight champ dives in after her.
Coming at Fee from behind, the adorable Upstart races close, grabs Waterford’s noggin as she races by, and SPIKES chin to canvas with a wicked bulldog. A gobsmacked Fiona flops to her back and Sammie dives atop in a crossbody pin, hooking a leg for good measure, the champ swamped by the excited Upstart Supreme for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Fiona shoves Sammie off with authority but remains grounded as a vertical Sinclair considers her next move to bring Eurasian gold that much closer.
When Fiona slowly starts to push to her feet, the regal beauty makes the decision for Sinclair. Sammie grabs Waterford by a wrist and shoulder and tugs her up the rest of the way. Backing the reeling champion to a corner, the spunky brunette sends her foe for a ride with an Irish Whip. When Fee turns into the buckles, the impact rumbles through her body and ‘turns off’ the champ’s legs, sending Her Ladyship to her royal bum. Sinclair takes off like a shot.
Reaching full speed in an instant, Sammie sprints toward the seated Fiona, the legs of the Duchess extended in front of her, head wobbly. The People’s Princess takes off a few feet out, her abbreviated stems leading the way and she lands with a THUMP into Fiona’s chest, her pert little backside doing the damage.
Grabbing the middle ropes on either side of her foe, Sammie busts the royal bronco, pumping her undercarriage into Waterford time and time again, the crowd counting their way toward ‘TEN’, Sammie’s pelvic thrusts getting higher as Waterford sinks under the battering until the last couple pop her in the mouth and nose.
Finally heeding Castle’s call to get out of the ropes, Sinclair dismounts the shellshocked champion and grabs an ankle, tugging her foe cavewoman style to the center of the ring, Fiona leaving a trail of ‘loser juice’ flop sweat behind her. Sammie seems to consider the cover but chooses to add on to Waterford’s woes to make sure she’s ready for a final pin.
Skipping over the splayed Fiona, the Golden Girl races to the ropes, leaps onto the middle strand while grabbing the top and springboards into an awesome backflip that sends Sinclair toward the open tummy of the splattered Waterford. But before Sammie can blast her fellow Brit’s abdomen, Fiona pulls in her knees and impales the Little Sparrow.
A gurgling, groaning Sammie rolls away from the impact hugging her aching tummy. She ends on her back, mewling and gasping for the oxygen she’s expelled. Fiona rolls to a seat and sends a death stare at the woman who’s beaten her twice in Pay-Per-View events and had been well on her way to a third. Using that as motivation, the ageless wonder pushes to her feet and puts the boots to Sinclair, slamming shoe leather down on any piece of the turtling Sammie she can find until a mudhole the size of Nottingham is stomped.
Taking a moment to gather her breath and energy, Waterford relents for a moment and walks in a predatory circle around the challenger. Sinclair reaches a hand out to grab an ankle and try and trip Fee to the deck, but Waterford shakes it off and grabs the People’s Princess with a handful of dark locks, tugging a yipping Sammie to her feet.
She looks to return a favor on the smaller Brit by whipping Sinclair to the far corner. Quickly following after the challenger’s collision with the buckles, Fiona finds the spring-loaded Sammie hopping to a stance on the middle ropes, and Fee calls an ignominious audible. The Upstart doesn’t have time to counter Waterford’s uppercut between her legs and the forearm hits home in Sinclair’s privates.
Sammie’s baby browns fill with tears, her jaw dropping as she slumps. But Fiona makes sure she doesn’t fall. Instead Waterford turns her back to Sinclair and shuffles the shaken Sammie onto her shoulders and a fireman’s carry. Climbing to the middle ropes and lifting her fellow Englishwoman higher, Fiona leaps off her perch in a forward flip and delivers the Little Sparrow to the deck with her Channel Plunge.
Channel Plunge
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NR9RH1sORmU )
The ring-rattling contact leaves a blasted Sammie spread in a starfish and, when Waterford slides to a stop, she crawls to the demolished challenger for the pin and the win in...
ONE…
TWO…
The crowd roars as Sinclair shoves a shoulder up, ignoring as best she can the waves of pain emanating from her nether region. She sits up, one arm reaching for her lower spine, the other tucked between her thighs, her early match dominance becoming a distant memory.
Waterford seems more than ready to make it more so. Kneeling next to the sitting Sinclair, she paintbrushes Sammie’s cheek with an echoing bytch slap.
“Don’t even think you’re ending my reign, commoner,” Waterford growls.
The royal tugs a debilitated Sammie up with her and dips her head under a limp arm of the challenger while wrapping one of her arms around the back of Sinclair’s neck. Pressing her free palm into the tummy of the Upstart, Fiona easily lifts the featherweight Sparrow, the soles of Sinclair’s boots pointed to the rafters. With Sammie vulnerable, Her Ladyship spins with the elevated Upstart then lowers the boom, dropping the second-gen superstar on her noggin with a vicious Spinning Brainbuster.
Spinning Brainbuster
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYl3kwAM4fc )
A spasm rocks the sinewy, small frame of the People’s Princess and she falls still on her side, body motionless until Waterford grabs a shoulder and hip and forcibly lays her flat to the canvas. The arrogant Lady Waterford kneels on her haunches next to the demolished Sinclair and places a flattened palm down on Sammie’s right breast, claiming the pin in a fashion that would not soon be forgotten for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The lackadaisical restraint by the champion allows Sinclair to shrug a shoulder weakly off the deck, just an inch, but it’s enough to keep the title in doubt for at least three seconds longer.
An aggravated Duchess takes her frustration out on the Little Sparrow, wrapping her palms around the throat of the Upstart. Her Ladyship proceeds to throttle the increasingly red-faced Sammie, Sinclair ineffectually prying at Waterford’s grip while Castle makes his complaint. As Nick continues to withhold his count, hoping to reason with the titleholder, there’s a rustling sound from the crowd that instantly draws the long-time veteran’s attention.
Sprinting down the aisle is Sinclair’s tag partner Elizabeth Cromwell. The young, but veteran redhead is in her battle gear and apparently more than ready to intercede if the underhanded chicanery continues. Her arrival at ringside convinces Fiona to relent and rise off the choking, gagging Sammie.
Elizabeth Cromwell
The Boarding School Princess berates the Eurasian champion, threatening the regal brunette if she continues to use illegal activity to retain her championship. Having plenty of history with Elizabeth, notably more successful than that with Sinclair, Fiona gives as good as she gets, making sure Castle will have to disqualify Sammie’s partner if she makes a move inside the ring.
“Like he disqualified you for cheating just now,” Lizzie points out.
Waterford sneers in return, gathering up a rising Golden Girl into her possession.
The auburn-haired grappler from the northwest of England remains ringside, her gladiator garb consisting of blue bikini bottoms tied at each hip, ‘BSP’ emblazoned in bold white strokes across her backside. Above remains the familiar sports bra, containing a twisting blend of the colors of her UK with a black outline of the British flag on her right breast; white boots and pads finishing the attire.
Clearly unintimidated by the presence of her challenger’s tag team partner, Waterford clamps a ¾ facelock on the freckled fan favorite and drops to a knee to snap mare Sammie over a shoulder to a seat on the canvas. The Duchess quickly rises to deliver a soccer kick to Sammie’s spine, Sinclair arching in agony from the force of the blow.
Happy with the result, Fee is ready for seconds, but this time Fiona races to the ropes in front of the Upstart, rebounds, and aims a similar kick to Sinclair’s chest. Sammie’s baby browns widen and she drops flat to the canvas, letting Waterford’s boot pass just over her nose. As the ageless wonder slides to a stop, the feisty Upstart Supreme kips to her feet and meets the spinning Duchess with a dropkick to the face.
Waterford pirouettes out of the impact in a wobbly 360. A quickly rising Sinclair takes advantage, cinching her arms around the flat midriff of Her Ladyship from behind. Before Fiona can even think to counter, the Little Sparrow shows she has some strength in her flexing wings and vaults the champion off the canvas, flipping Fee over her shoulders and RAMMING the back of Waterford’s head and her shoulders into the deck with a German Suplex. Sammie retains possession of the champ, keeping Fee stacked on those shoulders while Sinclair bridges through…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOO.
Her Ladyship throws her body to the left and she tumbles free of the pinning predicament. Rolling to all fours and taking a worried glance at Castle. She sighs in relief at the two raised fingers, but realizes she’s lost track of the slippery People’s Princess.
The Upstart makes herself known, already airborne, having leapt into the nearby ropes and springboarding into senton across Fiona’s spine that SLAMS the Eurasian title holder flat to the canvas. Draped across Waterford’s back, Sinclair reaches forward, and secures a crossface grip on Her Ladyship, Sammie taking advantage of circumstances to attempt to draw a rare submission from one of her opponents.
The Golden Girl attacks the job with relish, gritting her perfect pearlies as she tugs back on Waterford’s noggin, wrenching the neck of the mewling Fiona. Castle drops in front of the grunting Duchess as the crowd chants at the champ to tap her title to their favorite.
Fiona grunts out a muffled ‘no’ but Sammie continues to work at her grip enthusiastically while Lizzie, directly in a delighted Sinclair’s sightline, cheers on her partner.
Despite the Upstart’s efforts, Sinclair can’t get the Duchess to surrender her Eurasian throne and the Golden Girl releases Waterford from her crossface grip. Pushing up to vertical, Sammie shovels Lady Fiona to her back with a couple stiff kicks to her fellow brunette’s ribs.
With the ageless wonder looking a little closer to her fortysomething, Sammie skips over her foe’s splayed frame and hops into the ropes at Fiona’s side. Landing on the middle rope, Sinclair grabs the top and springboards off in a 180-degree turn. Eschewing the more dangerous lionsault, the Little Sparrow flies off in a simpler but nearly as effective flying crossbody splash across the tanned, taut midriff of the champion.
Though her body is slight, Sammie forces a great exhale from the jackknifing Waterford, Fiona folding around the gutting impact point. Looking spent, Her Ladyship melts back to the canvas and the challenger presses her body closer still, hooking a far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Again, Waterford refuses to be dispatched by the freckled grappler and Sinclair ‘hmmmphs’ a stray strand of chocolate locks out of her eyes after being shoved off a half-tick away from a title. Something more emphatic is required to finish off Lady Fiona, but having already done it twice in her career, Sinclair knows how to end the royal’s reign.
Skipping to the nearest set of buckles, Sammie gives Cromwell a cheeky wink and scales to the top, turning and facing the stirring champion. Fiona is a battered warrior, youth having been served for the most part in this title match, Sinclair living up to the hype of her Legions of fans. The spunky Upstart lowers into a slight crouch as Waterford slowly pushes toward vertical, halting at one knee to regain her bearings, then rising the rest of the way, turned away from the poised high flyer.
Slowly, Waterford drunkenly stumbles in a spin and Sammie is ready. The Upstart Supreme skies from her perch and lands atop Fiona’s shoulders, her legs clamping down around the temples of the title holder, ready to rip Waterford off her feet and plant the crown of her skull into the canvas with a half-hurricarana, half- piledriver that most everyone knows as the Sinclair Summer Stunner.
But as the People’s Princess starts to send her body backwards and draw Fiona toward the end of her reign, Waterford digs deep into her reserves, wrapping her arms tight around the Nottingham native’s stems. Somehow, Fee anchors herself to the deck and refuses to be moved as Sinclair drapes down Fiona’s front.
With her dual grips, Waterford launches the startled Sammie back up her body and onto her shoulders for a very different ride this time, Her Ladyship sitting out and DRIVING the Upstart’s spine into the canvas with a powerbomb that shakes the ring and has Sammie spread in a lifeless spreadeagle between Waterford’s extended stems.
Fiona hangs onto the lower limbs, leaning forward to make a powerful statement that no commoner would remove her gold, least of all some pitiful Upstart. She holds court with the pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Sinclair kicks free, her body spasming in the nick of time to keep hope alive in her legion of fans. The Golden Girl rolls to her chest and tries to push up to all fours, though she’s having a tough time managing. At her side, a furious Fiona has no such problem, adrenaline flowing with the furor that comes with not being able to keep Sammie down. She reaches vertical and takes a 360-degree look around the arena, her gaze ending on Cromwell.
“She’s damn well better than you, luv. But she doesn’t have my number,” Waterford informs the Boarding School Princess.
“The record book says different,” Elizabeth growls, proud of her partner but the dig into her loss totals against Fiona and Sammie touching a nerve.
Her Ladyship waves off the redhead with more than a hint of disgust, mumbling something quite uncomplimentary about Liverpool, and returns her sights to Sammie, who’s made it to her knees. Fiona grabs a wrist of the challenger and yanks Sinclair up to her feet and then some, the Upstart’s boots leaving the canvas for a moment before she settles back to earth.
Waterford doesn’t wait long to send the People’s Princess on a little trip, heaving her with an Irish Whip toward the ropes. Stationing in the middle, Waterford waits for a rebounding Sammie then surprisingly drops to the mat between the less than lengthy lower limbs of the Nottingham native. Her Ladyship manages to slide through the gap and catch Sammie’s left leg at the ankle, tripping up her challenger.
The Duchess nimbly reverse somersaults into a one-legged Boston Crab, deepening her crouch by the second and drawing yelps of anguish from the misty-eyed Sinclair.
Rolling Boston Crab
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHSASf05imc )
Almost instantly, Castle drops to a knee in front of the wincing Sammie, the aching Upstart sinking her nails into the canvas to drag her way to the ropes and save herself.
“What do you say, Sammie? You want to quit?” Nick asks firmly.
Her voice cracking, Sinclair squeaks out a ‘no’, shaking her head more intently. On the sidelines, Lizzie implores her partner to reach the cables and the determined Golden Girl, despite Fiona trying to touch Sinclair’s toe tips to the crown of her foe’s noggin, makes it to the rubber-coated steel, wrapping a palm and crying out for release.
Cromwell joins in the call and Castle finally starts his count, Her Ladyship straightening out of her Crabby crouch and throwing Sinclair’s leg into the thinly-sheathed plywood, her knee bouncing off the deck.
A yipping Sammie pulls the limb close while a hovering Lizzie rises to the apron, making sure Waterford keeps her distance as Sammie rises to her feet and walks off the limp in her left leg. Having provided sufficient cover, the Boarding School Princess lowers to the canvas as the diminutive brunette wheels away from the safety of the ropes, Fiona in deliberate pursuit.
Sinclair keeps her squeaky wheel behind her in relation to the champ and she sends out a couple jabs to keep Waterford at bay. Determined to keep her momentum, Fiona lunges at the People’s Princess and pays for it with a pop to the chin that snaps her head back. Her leg loosening, Sammie starts to have the usual skip in her step.
Showing a growing urgency, knowing the younger Brit can run the ropes all day and night if given the chance, the ageless wonder swallows hard and charges again, swiping a clothesline at the clavicle of the challenger.
Sinclair slips beneath the lariat-like limb with a glittering matrix duck-under. As Waterford skids to a stop, the Golden Girl rises out of her bridge and spins into a lightning superkick toward where she hopes a turning Duchess will be. Boot and jaw meet in perfect synchronicity for the Goliath’s little girl and Fiona’s noggin is spun as if on a swivel.
Out of sheer willfulness, Her Ladyship remains upright if staggered. She sways like a reed in the wind in front of the poised challenger and Sinclair helps herself to a wrist. She sends the Duchess on her way with an Irish Whip, stationing herself mid-ring for the London native’s inevitable rebound and return.
Gathering up the bigger Brit on her hip, the Upstart Supreme shows she has a little strength to go with her speed as she lifts Waterford into the air, spins and lays out, PLANTING Fee into the deck with a ring-rattling sidewalk slam.
Sidewalk Slam
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yHzifKUegw )
Sinclair scrambles atop the dumbfounded royal, hooking her foe’s far leg to increase the odds for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Again the slighter Sammie can’t quite keep the champion down for the final slap of the canvas, Lady Fiona nudging a shoulder off the deck by the barest of margins. It seems the stay of execution of her reign is all the fight Waterford has left in her and she grows flaccid, melting back to horizontal.
Instead of going for another pin, which seems possible considering Fiona’s drained condition, Sinclair heads for the nearest corner to finish off what’s left of Waterford in style. The freckled cutie heads up, taking a moment to lead the crowd in a rhythmic clap that would signal the end for the Duchess.
As Sinclair, having climbed to the middle ropes, leads the applause, a glassy-eyed Waterford rolls toward a shoulder. She makes bleary eye contact with another freckled face, that of the Boarding School Princess. Elizabeth smirks at the spent Duchess. But Fiona isn’t so depleted she can’t croak out a few weak words toward the auburn-haired grappler.
“Screw her,” Waterford rasps.
Cromwell is confused as Fee continues.
“Screw her and you get a title shot…next Pay-Per-View.”
“What the hell are you…”
“No DQ…no countout…anything you want…” the desperate Waterford pants, trying to get up but unable, the relentless pace of Sinclair and her age finally catching up with her.
Cromwell takes a glance at her partner, still leading the cheers as she moves toward a position at the top. Knowing how far down the ladder she’s gone in the last couple years and, with Sammie in possession of a singles title, she wouldn’t have a tag team OR a sniff of a title match, the Liverpool lovely runs the calculations, weighing them against the friendship that blossomed between her and Sammie.
“Swear on the Queen!” Lizzie bleats. “Swear!”
“I swear,” Fiona groans, rolling back to flat on Sammie’s championship platter.
On the top ropes, Sinclair takes a peek over her shoulder to confirm Lady Waterford remains in place. Seeing she is, Sinclair settles into a slight crouch for liftoff and starts to push off when her left leg gives way and she falls instead, her legs dissected by the wire holding the top buckles to the ringpost.
The baby browns of the Golden Girl roll back in her head from the anguish, the vicious shot to her crotch leaving her destroyed. Sammie’s hands go to her center as her eyes well, the waves of pain rocking her frame. She manages to turn slightly and see Elizabeth on the apron next to her.
A look of betrayal and confusion joins the anguish in her features. Cromwell is cold as a stone in her stare at the wounded Upstart.
“Nothing personal, Samantha. I’ve thought about this for a while. I’m more important than us.”
Lizzie pulls Sammie up to a slumped stance and throws her off the buckles, Sinclair flipping and landing flush on her spine and the back of her skull.
As the crowd goes apeshit, burying Elizabeth in a sea of jeers, and Nick Castle stares blankly at Cromwell’s duplicity, unable to make enough sense of it all to call for a disqualification, the beleaguered but recovering Lady Waterford slowly pushes up and strides to her now vulnerable challenger.
Fiona plucks a demolished Sinclair off the deck and bullies her back to the corner where Cromwell, her part of the deal done, drops to the floor.
Fee gets Sammie’s back to the buckles then lifts the left leg of the lethargic Upstart, laying it over the middle rope. Waterford does the same to the right, Sinclair’s undercarriage parted wide. A snarling Fiona backpedals to the center of the ring and charges forward, shattering the dreams of Sammie’s legions with a perfect punt to the privates of the People’s Princess.
A stricken Sammie tumbles forward out of the pained predicament, landing a forward flip onto her spinal column. Hands buried amidst her crotch, a hyperventilating Sinclair is helpless at the feet of the champion.
A rejuvenated Duchess scrapes the remains of the Upstart off the deck and again forces her back toward the buckles that had seemingly sealed Sammie’s doom. With a dip and heave, Lady Fiona lifts and seats Sinclair on the top buckle, Waterford quickly following her prey up with a stance on the middle ropes.
Her Ladyship pulls the beloved brunette up to stand with her, wrapping an arm around the back of her fellow Brit’s neck while slipping her head under the limp limb of her challenger. The crowd pleads for an escape, but Waterford lifts Sammie off her perch, boot soles quickly pointed to the lights above.
It’s a slow terrible lean back from Fiona until finally she tumbles, laying out on the thinly-covered plywood and SPIKING Sammie’s skull into the same deck with her frightening Off With Her Head finisher.
Off With Her Head
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AhiK2hfrL9o )
An unconscious Sinclair ends in a lifeless starfish as the crowd boos the smirking, kneeling champion, but saves most of their ire for a expressionless Cromwell who isn’t waiting for the formality of the three-count. Having sold her soul for a title shot, Lizzie heads for the exit as Fiona covers the demolished carcass of the Upstart with an arrogant schoolgirl pin, Sinclair’s chin tucked into the Her Ladyship’s crotch for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
The Duchess raises her arms high and wide, fashioning her right index and middle fingers into a ‘V’, supremely satisfied at finally besting her fellow Brit, assistance required or no.
Waterford lounges atop her dozing foe as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner and STILL Eurasian champion…Lady Fiona Waterford!”
Only then does the royal rise and move to the ropes to grasp her gold. She holds the belt aloft, looking back at the still motionless Sinclair with disdain.
“Learn how to pick your friends a little better, Sunshine,” she chuckles. “This one’s mine.”
Fiona waggles her title at the softly stirring Sammie and bids her adieu, proving herself the better Brit, at least for tonight, at least with another Brit’s help.
Thus, though scaling back her FAWN schedule for a bit, such created the opportunity for Sammie Sinclair to get a shot at EA gold. The crowd proves as enthusiastic as ever when the Announcer steps into the spotlight.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the FAWN Eurasian Championship! Introducing first, she is the challenger, hailing from Nottingham England in the United Kingdom, she stands five feet four inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and ten pounds, she is the Golden Girl, the Little Sparrow… SAMMIE SINCLAIR!”
Sammie Sinclair:
As good natured as any faction of fans in the promotion’s history, Sammie’s supporters go crazy with delight the instant their heroine appears on stage. Tiny but fierce, Sammie Sinclair is every inch the People’s Princess as she cheers back, shimmering in her golden/yellow attire and blushing openly with her dimple, freckled cheeks flushing a delightful crimson. She sports her usual golden sports bra and now standard matching skirt, the latter featuring a generous slit running up the right side. Her boots are similarly altered, still bright blue and reaching upwards to just beneath her kneecaps, they are now tanned from firm leather and sported lacing right up the front.
Busting out in a taut little spiral in the center of the stage, the Golden Girl finishes with her feet apart and keeps her fingers wiggling heavenwards, nodding to her followers with a confident grin and, just before she leads them in her usual declaration of intent, she pauses for a few moments longer. The Upstart Legions don’t need any more prompting, they simply cup their hands to their mouths and roared, ‘ONE! TWO! THREE!’
Sammie points a jaunty index finger toward the squared circle at the exact moment a hearty explosion of pyrokenetics erupts to either side of the stage. Samantha Sinclair is here and, with a joy induced skip she heads down the aisle at a swift sprint, the second generation superstar with chocolate curls bouncing free about her slender shoulders. Already proven Championship Quality, she’s ready for another run with the gold.
The moment Sinclair reaches the squared circle, she takes a short detour and, much to the delight of those who find themselves closest, Sammie begins clapping every outstretched hand she discovers. Beating a fast track around the ring, she soon finds herself back at the start; a run, skip and jump taking her clean up onto the apron. Grasping the top coil with both paws, the Bright Eyed Wonder leans back and, following a cheeky shake of her pert buttocks, shoots right over the top rope with an applause worthy somersault.
Landing lightly on her feet and clapping once more, she pauses only to offer her wrists and knees to senior referee Nick Castle. Once he was satisfied with her lack of foreign objects, the Little Sparrow jogs to the far corner and hops into a seat on the top turnbuckle, a perfect vantage point to scout the approach of tonight’s well-known adversary.
With her challenger situated, the booming orchestral chords of the champion’s entrance music spreads through the arena ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDI9HuVduDI&feature=related ) heralding the former Intercontinental and Lightweight champion and now Eurasian title holder.
Looking simultaneously threatening and glorious, gaudy gold belt around her waist, Her Ladyship strides to center stage having lost much of the good will she’d collected in displacing the belt from Invasion control with her untoward behavior during a Mania victory over fellow Brit Anna Sharpe.
Fiona is resplendent, the long-time veteran of wars inside and outside FAWN pushing back against the growing tide of the New Era. Among them the young veteran she faces tonight, who, it had to be said, is undefeated in battles against the Duchess.
The Englishwoman reviews the boisterous crowd with disdain, back to her imperial arrogance. She starts down the ramp as the ring announcer makes her arrival an official one.
“And the champion from Finsbury Park, London, England, standing 5 feet 7 inches tall and weighing in at 8 stone 13… the Duchess of East Anglia…Lady Fiona Waterford.”
Fiona Waterford:
The athletic build of the Englishwoman remains very much appreciated, a deal with the devil having been struck to keep Waterford in such fine fettle, women half her age green with envy. Her regal beauty is accentuated by a striking midnight blue lace set of bra and panties with red bows on either hip and a royal coat of arms on her taut bum ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_Kingdom ). The attire leaves just the right amount to the imagination, which in this case is little. As a perfect bit of flair, red fishnet stockings reach up from midnight blue boots, red garters ending the stockings at mid-thigh.
Reaching the ring, Fiona rises up the ring steps and slides through the cables. She moves to the center and raises a microphone to her ruby lips, both eyes planted on her fellow Brit and scrappy pest.
“I squashed the so-called Rookie of the Year,” Fiona announces. “But this fight is much more personal. Sinclair is a bum.”
The boos instantly reverberate through the arena. Fiona unstraps her belt and raises it overhead then pushes it toward her foe for a better look.
“Disagree all you like, but it’s all she’ll EVER be. The little guttersnipe ONLY beat me when I was coming back into FAWN from time away. Tonight, she’s going to get her little feathers singed because I’m on fire. I’m at the top of my game. And she’s going to feel what that’s like.”
Sammie blushes slightly, but she bows her back and motions for Her Ladyship to bring it on. Instead Waterford backpedals to her corner, handing her belt over the ropes to an attendant, her eyes remaining fixed on FAWN royalty, namely the People’s Princess.
As the bell rings, Fiona circles out of her corner, Sinclair joining her. Sammie’s giving up three inches and fifteen pounds, but she’s got youth on her side and she ducks under an attempted collar-and-elbow tie-up. She slips behind the champ and swings her arms around the taut midriff of Her Ladyship, securing a waistlock. An angered Fiona swings elbows back toward Sinclair’s skull, but Sammie ducks under each. She drops backward and pulls Waterford off her feet, rolling Fiona into a cradle for…
ONE…
TWO…
The Duchess kicks her way free and scrambles to her feet, furious. She charges an already risen Sammie and Sinclair ducks under a scythe-like swing, leaping into a salty spinning kick that catches a turning Fiona in the jaw staggering the bigger brunette.
Waterford’s arms windmill as she wobbles and, in the meantime, the Little Sparrow scrambles to her feet and takes flight again, THUMPING a drop kick into Waterford’s chest that drops her to the canvas. Thinking quickly, Fiona rolls out under the ropes and drops her boot soles to the cement floor outside. She paces the ring side angrily, talking to both herself and the fans at ringside giving her guff.
It doesn’t stop an energetic Sammie from ignoring Fiona’s ‘time-out’. The sparkling little Upstart takes off for the ropes behind her and rebounds at full speed. She zooms between the middle and top ropes and NAILS the bug-eyed royal with a Suicide Dive. The impact drops Sinclair safely to her feet but the champion bounces away from the collision, her spine RAMMING into the metal barricade.
Fiona’s back arches in pain from the connection of steel to muscle and bone. She gets a hefty set of forearm smashes to her chest from the rambunctious brown-eyed cutie. The crowd counts along with THREE…FOUR…FIVE THUMPS. With Waterford reeling and the count rising, Sinclair grabs a wrist and whips Her Ladyship toward the ring. The Duchess leaps and slides back in. She hops to her feet but is still a bit wobbly as the second-generation superstar and former lightweight champ dives in after her.
Coming at Fee from behind, the adorable Upstart races close, grabs Waterford’s noggin as she races by, and SPIKES chin to canvas with a wicked bulldog. A gobsmacked Fiona flops to her back and Sammie dives atop in a crossbody pin, hooking a leg for good measure, the champ swamped by the excited Upstart Supreme for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Fiona shoves Sammie off with authority but remains grounded as a vertical Sinclair considers her next move to bring Eurasian gold that much closer.
When Fiona slowly starts to push to her feet, the regal beauty makes the decision for Sinclair. Sammie grabs Waterford by a wrist and shoulder and tugs her up the rest of the way. Backing the reeling champion to a corner, the spunky brunette sends her foe for a ride with an Irish Whip. When Fee turns into the buckles, the impact rumbles through her body and ‘turns off’ the champ’s legs, sending Her Ladyship to her royal bum. Sinclair takes off like a shot.
Reaching full speed in an instant, Sammie sprints toward the seated Fiona, the legs of the Duchess extended in front of her, head wobbly. The People’s Princess takes off a few feet out, her abbreviated stems leading the way and she lands with a THUMP into Fiona’s chest, her pert little backside doing the damage.
Grabbing the middle ropes on either side of her foe, Sammie busts the royal bronco, pumping her undercarriage into Waterford time and time again, the crowd counting their way toward ‘TEN’, Sammie’s pelvic thrusts getting higher as Waterford sinks under the battering until the last couple pop her in the mouth and nose.
Finally heeding Castle’s call to get out of the ropes, Sinclair dismounts the shellshocked champion and grabs an ankle, tugging her foe cavewoman style to the center of the ring, Fiona leaving a trail of ‘loser juice’ flop sweat behind her. Sammie seems to consider the cover but chooses to add on to Waterford’s woes to make sure she’s ready for a final pin.
Skipping over the splayed Fiona, the Golden Girl races to the ropes, leaps onto the middle strand while grabbing the top and springboards into an awesome backflip that sends Sinclair toward the open tummy of the splattered Waterford. But before Sammie can blast her fellow Brit’s abdomen, Fiona pulls in her knees and impales the Little Sparrow.
A gurgling, groaning Sammie rolls away from the impact hugging her aching tummy. She ends on her back, mewling and gasping for the oxygen she’s expelled. Fiona rolls to a seat and sends a death stare at the woman who’s beaten her twice in Pay-Per-View events and had been well on her way to a third. Using that as motivation, the ageless wonder pushes to her feet and puts the boots to Sinclair, slamming shoe leather down on any piece of the turtling Sammie she can find until a mudhole the size of Nottingham is stomped.
Taking a moment to gather her breath and energy, Waterford relents for a moment and walks in a predatory circle around the challenger. Sinclair reaches a hand out to grab an ankle and try and trip Fee to the deck, but Waterford shakes it off and grabs the People’s Princess with a handful of dark locks, tugging a yipping Sammie to her feet.
She looks to return a favor on the smaller Brit by whipping Sinclair to the far corner. Quickly following after the challenger’s collision with the buckles, Fiona finds the spring-loaded Sammie hopping to a stance on the middle ropes, and Fee calls an ignominious audible. The Upstart doesn’t have time to counter Waterford’s uppercut between her legs and the forearm hits home in Sinclair’s privates.
Sammie’s baby browns fill with tears, her jaw dropping as she slumps. But Fiona makes sure she doesn’t fall. Instead Waterford turns her back to Sinclair and shuffles the shaken Sammie onto her shoulders and a fireman’s carry. Climbing to the middle ropes and lifting her fellow Englishwoman higher, Fiona leaps off her perch in a forward flip and delivers the Little Sparrow to the deck with her Channel Plunge.
Channel Plunge
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NR9RH1sORmU )
The ring-rattling contact leaves a blasted Sammie spread in a starfish and, when Waterford slides to a stop, she crawls to the demolished challenger for the pin and the win in...
ONE…
TWO…
The crowd roars as Sinclair shoves a shoulder up, ignoring as best she can the waves of pain emanating from her nether region. She sits up, one arm reaching for her lower spine, the other tucked between her thighs, her early match dominance becoming a distant memory.
Waterford seems more than ready to make it more so. Kneeling next to the sitting Sinclair, she paintbrushes Sammie’s cheek with an echoing bytch slap.
“Don’t even think you’re ending my reign, commoner,” Waterford growls.
The royal tugs a debilitated Sammie up with her and dips her head under a limp arm of the challenger while wrapping one of her arms around the back of Sinclair’s neck. Pressing her free palm into the tummy of the Upstart, Fiona easily lifts the featherweight Sparrow, the soles of Sinclair’s boots pointed to the rafters. With Sammie vulnerable, Her Ladyship spins with the elevated Upstart then lowers the boom, dropping the second-gen superstar on her noggin with a vicious Spinning Brainbuster.
Spinning Brainbuster
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYl3kwAM4fc )
A spasm rocks the sinewy, small frame of the People’s Princess and she falls still on her side, body motionless until Waterford grabs a shoulder and hip and forcibly lays her flat to the canvas. The arrogant Lady Waterford kneels on her haunches next to the demolished Sinclair and places a flattened palm down on Sammie’s right breast, claiming the pin in a fashion that would not soon be forgotten for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
The lackadaisical restraint by the champion allows Sinclair to shrug a shoulder weakly off the deck, just an inch, but it’s enough to keep the title in doubt for at least three seconds longer.
An aggravated Duchess takes her frustration out on the Little Sparrow, wrapping her palms around the throat of the Upstart. Her Ladyship proceeds to throttle the increasingly red-faced Sammie, Sinclair ineffectually prying at Waterford’s grip while Castle makes his complaint. As Nick continues to withhold his count, hoping to reason with the titleholder, there’s a rustling sound from the crowd that instantly draws the long-time veteran’s attention.
Sprinting down the aisle is Sinclair’s tag partner Elizabeth Cromwell. The young, but veteran redhead is in her battle gear and apparently more than ready to intercede if the underhanded chicanery continues. Her arrival at ringside convinces Fiona to relent and rise off the choking, gagging Sammie.
Elizabeth Cromwell
The Boarding School Princess berates the Eurasian champion, threatening the regal brunette if she continues to use illegal activity to retain her championship. Having plenty of history with Elizabeth, notably more successful than that with Sinclair, Fiona gives as good as she gets, making sure Castle will have to disqualify Sammie’s partner if she makes a move inside the ring.
“Like he disqualified you for cheating just now,” Lizzie points out.
Waterford sneers in return, gathering up a rising Golden Girl into her possession.
The auburn-haired grappler from the northwest of England remains ringside, her gladiator garb consisting of blue bikini bottoms tied at each hip, ‘BSP’ emblazoned in bold white strokes across her backside. Above remains the familiar sports bra, containing a twisting blend of the colors of her UK with a black outline of the British flag on her right breast; white boots and pads finishing the attire.
Clearly unintimidated by the presence of her challenger’s tag team partner, Waterford clamps a ¾ facelock on the freckled fan favorite and drops to a knee to snap mare Sammie over a shoulder to a seat on the canvas. The Duchess quickly rises to deliver a soccer kick to Sammie’s spine, Sinclair arching in agony from the force of the blow.
Happy with the result, Fee is ready for seconds, but this time Fiona races to the ropes in front of the Upstart, rebounds, and aims a similar kick to Sinclair’s chest. Sammie’s baby browns widen and she drops flat to the canvas, letting Waterford’s boot pass just over her nose. As the ageless wonder slides to a stop, the feisty Upstart Supreme kips to her feet and meets the spinning Duchess with a dropkick to the face.
Waterford pirouettes out of the impact in a wobbly 360. A quickly rising Sinclair takes advantage, cinching her arms around the flat midriff of Her Ladyship from behind. Before Fiona can even think to counter, the Little Sparrow shows she has some strength in her flexing wings and vaults the champion off the canvas, flipping Fee over her shoulders and RAMMING the back of Waterford’s head and her shoulders into the deck with a German Suplex. Sammie retains possession of the champ, keeping Fee stacked on those shoulders while Sinclair bridges through…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOO.
Her Ladyship throws her body to the left and she tumbles free of the pinning predicament. Rolling to all fours and taking a worried glance at Castle. She sighs in relief at the two raised fingers, but realizes she’s lost track of the slippery People’s Princess.
The Upstart makes herself known, already airborne, having leapt into the nearby ropes and springboarding into senton across Fiona’s spine that SLAMS the Eurasian title holder flat to the canvas. Draped across Waterford’s back, Sinclair reaches forward, and secures a crossface grip on Her Ladyship, Sammie taking advantage of circumstances to attempt to draw a rare submission from one of her opponents.
The Golden Girl attacks the job with relish, gritting her perfect pearlies as she tugs back on Waterford’s noggin, wrenching the neck of the mewling Fiona. Castle drops in front of the grunting Duchess as the crowd chants at the champ to tap her title to their favorite.
Fiona grunts out a muffled ‘no’ but Sammie continues to work at her grip enthusiastically while Lizzie, directly in a delighted Sinclair’s sightline, cheers on her partner.
Despite the Upstart’s efforts, Sinclair can’t get the Duchess to surrender her Eurasian throne and the Golden Girl releases Waterford from her crossface grip. Pushing up to vertical, Sammie shovels Lady Fiona to her back with a couple stiff kicks to her fellow brunette’s ribs.
With the ageless wonder looking a little closer to her fortysomething, Sammie skips over her foe’s splayed frame and hops into the ropes at Fiona’s side. Landing on the middle rope, Sinclair grabs the top and springboards off in a 180-degree turn. Eschewing the more dangerous lionsault, the Little Sparrow flies off in a simpler but nearly as effective flying crossbody splash across the tanned, taut midriff of the champion.
Though her body is slight, Sammie forces a great exhale from the jackknifing Waterford, Fiona folding around the gutting impact point. Looking spent, Her Ladyship melts back to the canvas and the challenger presses her body closer still, hooking a far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Again, Waterford refuses to be dispatched by the freckled grappler and Sinclair ‘hmmmphs’ a stray strand of chocolate locks out of her eyes after being shoved off a half-tick away from a title. Something more emphatic is required to finish off Lady Fiona, but having already done it twice in her career, Sinclair knows how to end the royal’s reign.
Skipping to the nearest set of buckles, Sammie gives Cromwell a cheeky wink and scales to the top, turning and facing the stirring champion. Fiona is a battered warrior, youth having been served for the most part in this title match, Sinclair living up to the hype of her Legions of fans. The spunky Upstart lowers into a slight crouch as Waterford slowly pushes toward vertical, halting at one knee to regain her bearings, then rising the rest of the way, turned away from the poised high flyer.
Slowly, Waterford drunkenly stumbles in a spin and Sammie is ready. The Upstart Supreme skies from her perch and lands atop Fiona’s shoulders, her legs clamping down around the temples of the title holder, ready to rip Waterford off her feet and plant the crown of her skull into the canvas with a half-hurricarana, half- piledriver that most everyone knows as the Sinclair Summer Stunner.
But as the People’s Princess starts to send her body backwards and draw Fiona toward the end of her reign, Waterford digs deep into her reserves, wrapping her arms tight around the Nottingham native’s stems. Somehow, Fee anchors herself to the deck and refuses to be moved as Sinclair drapes down Fiona’s front.
With her dual grips, Waterford launches the startled Sammie back up her body and onto her shoulders for a very different ride this time, Her Ladyship sitting out and DRIVING the Upstart’s spine into the canvas with a powerbomb that shakes the ring and has Sammie spread in a lifeless spreadeagle between Waterford’s extended stems.
Fiona hangs onto the lower limbs, leaning forward to make a powerful statement that no commoner would remove her gold, least of all some pitiful Upstart. She holds court with the pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
Sinclair kicks free, her body spasming in the nick of time to keep hope alive in her legion of fans. The Golden Girl rolls to her chest and tries to push up to all fours, though she’s having a tough time managing. At her side, a furious Fiona has no such problem, adrenaline flowing with the furor that comes with not being able to keep Sammie down. She reaches vertical and takes a 360-degree look around the arena, her gaze ending on Cromwell.
“She’s damn well better than you, luv. But she doesn’t have my number,” Waterford informs the Boarding School Princess.
“The record book says different,” Elizabeth growls, proud of her partner but the dig into her loss totals against Fiona and Sammie touching a nerve.
Her Ladyship waves off the redhead with more than a hint of disgust, mumbling something quite uncomplimentary about Liverpool, and returns her sights to Sammie, who’s made it to her knees. Fiona grabs a wrist of the challenger and yanks Sinclair up to her feet and then some, the Upstart’s boots leaving the canvas for a moment before she settles back to earth.
Waterford doesn’t wait long to send the People’s Princess on a little trip, heaving her with an Irish Whip toward the ropes. Stationing in the middle, Waterford waits for a rebounding Sammie then surprisingly drops to the mat between the less than lengthy lower limbs of the Nottingham native. Her Ladyship manages to slide through the gap and catch Sammie’s left leg at the ankle, tripping up her challenger.
The Duchess nimbly reverse somersaults into a one-legged Boston Crab, deepening her crouch by the second and drawing yelps of anguish from the misty-eyed Sinclair.
Rolling Boston Crab
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHSASf05imc )
Almost instantly, Castle drops to a knee in front of the wincing Sammie, the aching Upstart sinking her nails into the canvas to drag her way to the ropes and save herself.
“What do you say, Sammie? You want to quit?” Nick asks firmly.
Her voice cracking, Sinclair squeaks out a ‘no’, shaking her head more intently. On the sidelines, Lizzie implores her partner to reach the cables and the determined Golden Girl, despite Fiona trying to touch Sinclair’s toe tips to the crown of her foe’s noggin, makes it to the rubber-coated steel, wrapping a palm and crying out for release.
Cromwell joins in the call and Castle finally starts his count, Her Ladyship straightening out of her Crabby crouch and throwing Sinclair’s leg into the thinly-sheathed plywood, her knee bouncing off the deck.
A yipping Sammie pulls the limb close while a hovering Lizzie rises to the apron, making sure Waterford keeps her distance as Sammie rises to her feet and walks off the limp in her left leg. Having provided sufficient cover, the Boarding School Princess lowers to the canvas as the diminutive brunette wheels away from the safety of the ropes, Fiona in deliberate pursuit.
Sinclair keeps her squeaky wheel behind her in relation to the champ and she sends out a couple jabs to keep Waterford at bay. Determined to keep her momentum, Fiona lunges at the People’s Princess and pays for it with a pop to the chin that snaps her head back. Her leg loosening, Sammie starts to have the usual skip in her step.
Showing a growing urgency, knowing the younger Brit can run the ropes all day and night if given the chance, the ageless wonder swallows hard and charges again, swiping a clothesline at the clavicle of the challenger.
Sinclair slips beneath the lariat-like limb with a glittering matrix duck-under. As Waterford skids to a stop, the Golden Girl rises out of her bridge and spins into a lightning superkick toward where she hopes a turning Duchess will be. Boot and jaw meet in perfect synchronicity for the Goliath’s little girl and Fiona’s noggin is spun as if on a swivel.
Out of sheer willfulness, Her Ladyship remains upright if staggered. She sways like a reed in the wind in front of the poised challenger and Sinclair helps herself to a wrist. She sends the Duchess on her way with an Irish Whip, stationing herself mid-ring for the London native’s inevitable rebound and return.
Gathering up the bigger Brit on her hip, the Upstart Supreme shows she has a little strength to go with her speed as she lifts Waterford into the air, spins and lays out, PLANTING Fee into the deck with a ring-rattling sidewalk slam.
Sidewalk Slam
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yHzifKUegw )
Sinclair scrambles atop the dumbfounded royal, hooking her foe’s far leg to increase the odds for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Again the slighter Sammie can’t quite keep the champion down for the final slap of the canvas, Lady Fiona nudging a shoulder off the deck by the barest of margins. It seems the stay of execution of her reign is all the fight Waterford has left in her and she grows flaccid, melting back to horizontal.
Instead of going for another pin, which seems possible considering Fiona’s drained condition, Sinclair heads for the nearest corner to finish off what’s left of Waterford in style. The freckled cutie heads up, taking a moment to lead the crowd in a rhythmic clap that would signal the end for the Duchess.
As Sinclair, having climbed to the middle ropes, leads the applause, a glassy-eyed Waterford rolls toward a shoulder. She makes bleary eye contact with another freckled face, that of the Boarding School Princess. Elizabeth smirks at the spent Duchess. But Fiona isn’t so depleted she can’t croak out a few weak words toward the auburn-haired grappler.
“Screw her,” Waterford rasps.
Cromwell is confused as Fee continues.
“Screw her and you get a title shot…next Pay-Per-View.”
“What the hell are you…”
“No DQ…no countout…anything you want…” the desperate Waterford pants, trying to get up but unable, the relentless pace of Sinclair and her age finally catching up with her.
Cromwell takes a glance at her partner, still leading the cheers as she moves toward a position at the top. Knowing how far down the ladder she’s gone in the last couple years and, with Sammie in possession of a singles title, she wouldn’t have a tag team OR a sniff of a title match, the Liverpool lovely runs the calculations, weighing them against the friendship that blossomed between her and Sammie.
“Swear on the Queen!” Lizzie bleats. “Swear!”
“I swear,” Fiona groans, rolling back to flat on Sammie’s championship platter.
On the top ropes, Sinclair takes a peek over her shoulder to confirm Lady Waterford remains in place. Seeing she is, Sinclair settles into a slight crouch for liftoff and starts to push off when her left leg gives way and she falls instead, her legs dissected by the wire holding the top buckles to the ringpost.
The baby browns of the Golden Girl roll back in her head from the anguish, the vicious shot to her crotch leaving her destroyed. Sammie’s hands go to her center as her eyes well, the waves of pain rocking her frame. She manages to turn slightly and see Elizabeth on the apron next to her.
A look of betrayal and confusion joins the anguish in her features. Cromwell is cold as a stone in her stare at the wounded Upstart.
“Nothing personal, Samantha. I’ve thought about this for a while. I’m more important than us.”
Lizzie pulls Sammie up to a slumped stance and throws her off the buckles, Sinclair flipping and landing flush on her spine and the back of her skull.
As the crowd goes apeshit, burying Elizabeth in a sea of jeers, and Nick Castle stares blankly at Cromwell’s duplicity, unable to make enough sense of it all to call for a disqualification, the beleaguered but recovering Lady Waterford slowly pushes up and strides to her now vulnerable challenger.
Fiona plucks a demolished Sinclair off the deck and bullies her back to the corner where Cromwell, her part of the deal done, drops to the floor.
Fee gets Sammie’s back to the buckles then lifts the left leg of the lethargic Upstart, laying it over the middle rope. Waterford does the same to the right, Sinclair’s undercarriage parted wide. A snarling Fiona backpedals to the center of the ring and charges forward, shattering the dreams of Sammie’s legions with a perfect punt to the privates of the People’s Princess.
A stricken Sammie tumbles forward out of the pained predicament, landing a forward flip onto her spinal column. Hands buried amidst her crotch, a hyperventilating Sinclair is helpless at the feet of the champion.
A rejuvenated Duchess scrapes the remains of the Upstart off the deck and again forces her back toward the buckles that had seemingly sealed Sammie’s doom. With a dip and heave, Lady Fiona lifts and seats Sinclair on the top buckle, Waterford quickly following her prey up with a stance on the middle ropes.
Her Ladyship pulls the beloved brunette up to stand with her, wrapping an arm around the back of her fellow Brit’s neck while slipping her head under the limp limb of her challenger. The crowd pleads for an escape, but Waterford lifts Sammie off her perch, boot soles quickly pointed to the lights above.
It’s a slow terrible lean back from Fiona until finally she tumbles, laying out on the thinly-covered plywood and SPIKING Sammie’s skull into the same deck with her frightening Off With Her Head finisher.
Off With Her Head
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AhiK2hfrL9o )
An unconscious Sinclair ends in a lifeless starfish as the crowd boos the smirking, kneeling champion, but saves most of their ire for a expressionless Cromwell who isn’t waiting for the formality of the three-count. Having sold her soul for a title shot, Lizzie heads for the exit as Fiona covers the demolished carcass of the Upstart with an arrogant schoolgirl pin, Sinclair’s chin tucked into the Her Ladyship’s crotch for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
The Duchess raises her arms high and wide, fashioning her right index and middle fingers into a ‘V’, supremely satisfied at finally besting her fellow Brit, assistance required or no.
Waterford lounges atop her dozing foe as the announcer makes it official.
“Your winner and STILL Eurasian champion…Lady Fiona Waterford!”
Only then does the royal rise and move to the ropes to grasp her gold. She holds the belt aloft, looking back at the still motionless Sinclair with disdain.
“Learn how to pick your friends a little better, Sunshine,” she chuckles. “This one’s mine.”
Fiona waggles her title at the softly stirring Sammie and bids her adieu, proving herself the better Brit, at least for tonight, at least with another Brit’s help.