Post by alyadmirer on Jan 16, 2018 4:11:29 GMT
Her judicial nomination for the 6th District Appellate Court bogged down by the Deep State, the once and future FAWN Lightweight champion and always True American Hero waits backstage for the moment that would signal her triumphant return to the ring.
Her vast legal knowledge would be put to supreme use soon enough, but in the meantime, there are FAKE wrestlers to beat into a pulp and her challenger tonight deserved such destruction more than most; her and her sister.
The arena’s speakers spark to life with the pounding of “America, Fuck Yeah” from Team America World Police, the song assaulting Orlando’s great unwashed, the fans unsure what to think and who the song might portend.
”AMERICA, F*CK YEAH”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7R5A0pg4oN8
But when the long-absent, little blonde antagonist strides to the center of the stage, the FAWNatics make clear her sojourn outside the organization has not been long enough.
POLLY LOCKWOOD:
Being in Florida, more than a few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ shoot to their feet in delight, saluting her and her anthem crisply. The other 80 percent of the FAWNatics make themselves known in a completely different fashion, raining a cascade of boos toward the obnoxious Trumpeter.
The flaxen-haired hardbody brings a salute to her brow to her Trumptastic troops then lets the snowflakes know what she thinks of them by fashioning the knife-edge into a salute of the middle finger variety.
The time away in front of Fox News cameras and the Senate Judiciary Committee hasn’t led to any changes in her wrestling gear, Polly still proudly sporting her customary hot pants and bikini top. Lockwood alternates her country’s colors between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in the right spots; and shimmering red and white stripes spandex below, barely covering her biscuit butt. She finishes the ensemble with gleaming white pads and boots.
The ‘True American’ maintains her customary cape, Old Glory draped over her shoulders as a cloak.
Lockwood crow hops into a jog to the ring, the flag waving behind her. She snarls at the moronic hordes who infest this great land and ignores their insults and jeers, taking a swipe at one sign proclaiming
”FAWN is the land of opportunity for all!”
“It should be the land of opportunity FOR AMERICANS, you moron,” she shouts.
As Polly makes it to ringside, the announcer proclaims her arrival.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall and has a 15-minute time limit. From Buffalo, New York…standing five feet one inch tall and weighing in at one hundred and sixteen scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome; ladies and gentlemen, she is the one and only TRUE AMERICAN…POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!”
The spiteful patriot ascends the steel steps. Sliding through the ropes, Lockwood removes the flag from her shoulders and holds the star-spangled banner high.
Moving to a corner, she exchanges her flag for a microphone and walks to the center of the ring, pulling it to her lips.
“Most of you people don’t deserve my return and what I’m going to do for you and FAWN,” Lockwood informs. ”Nevertheless, for goodness’ own sake, I will drain this vile swamp of every woman who doesn’t warrant and hasn’t earned the freedom our tremendous, beloved President is providing. Tonight, it starts with a woman who should’ve stayed down on the reservation.”
Lockwood smirks, over the echoing boos.
“This is our country now. You blew your chance. And the Second Amendment will make damn sure no one takes it from us.”
The Star-Spangled Bytch tosses the stick to the canvas with a ‘CLUNK’ and moves to her corner, stretching her arms with tugs of the top rope, waiting for her opponent.
As the crowd continues to shower one returning star with jeers and whistles, the announcer collects the discarded microphone, in order to finish discharging his duties. “And her opponent," he resumes, those three little words proving sufficient to turn the FAWNatics’ demeanor on a dime. “Hailing from Tempe, Arizona… She stands five feet three inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty-two pounds… Ladies and gentlemen, she is the Nubile Navajo… NYYYYYSSSSSSSSA BLLLOOOOOOODDDDWWWWIIIIINNNNNNNDDD!”
”TESTIFY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3dvbM6Pias
NYSSA BLOODWIND:
The murmur of the crowd is interrupted by the first note of Rage Against the Machine. But instead of the elder Bloodwind's ‘Killing in the Name‘, the speakers blare the defiant chords of ‘Testify‘. An instant later and Nyssa pushes the curtains aside, bursting out onto the aisle, the fans bursting into a RESOUNDING ovation for the talented, and DEARLY missed, lightweight. The pedigree is no doubt responsible for part of her reception, but there is little denying that the tyro’s choice of ring gear also wins her a fair few whistles. The raven-haired beauty stands clad in a faux deerskin halter, the shoulder straps eventually becoming two thin strings that crisscross her otherwise bare back. She also wears matching bikini bottoms, augmented by for lack of a better term a "half loin cloth" that descends to mid-thigh in the front, and that fails to obscure the view of her exquisite derriere in the back. Ugg boots molded to resemble moccasins complete the ensemble.
Buoyed by the support of the FAWNatics, a beaming Nyssa makes her way down the aisle, slapping hands along the guardrail, and doing her absolute best not to miss a single palm. Finally reaching the ring steps, Bloodwind takes them nearly two at a time, eager to get in the ring. Stopping just long enough to wipe her boots on the apron, the Nubile Navajo slips through the ropes and makes a beeline for the nearest corner. Nyssa bounds onto the middle rope, pumping a fist in the air, drawing another loud roar of support from the crowd in response.
Hopping down, Nyssa turns away from the corner… and begins to stomp directly toward the so-called TRUE American. It is, after all, worth remembering that Nyssa Bloodwind and Polly Lockwood are by no means strangers to one another. And indeed, while tonight they might be battling over the right to challenge Dominique Daly for the FAWN Lightweight title, once upon a time Bloodwind and Lockwood had waged war over that very strap. Making the Star Spangled Bytch tap with her title on the line qualified as one of the biggest highlights of Nyssa’s career. Of course, Polly taking the belt back from her two months later, when the opportunistic blonde capitalized on the aftereffects of a concussion inflicted upon her by Kylie Sanders…
That might very well be the lowest moment of the Nubile Navajo’s career.
And while Bloodwind had managed to get her revenge on Polly before, by that time she had lost the belt to Lily Burlingame. True, beating Lockwood tonight wouldn’t return the Lightweight championship to her waist, but it WOULD move her a step closer—and Nyssa appears more than eager to get tonight’s festivities going.
To the consternation of the masses, however, the official moves between blonde and brunette, ready to usher the Nubile Navajo back to her corner.
“Start the match and let her through,” Polly shouts over the ref’s shoulder. “These colors don’t run.”
The man shrugs and calls for the bell, stepping aside. Immediately, the raven-haired grappler charges toward Lockwood. While the colors don’t exactly run, they dip through the ropes easily enough, Polly demanding Nyssa back off else she go all Manifest Destiny on the Navajo’s ass.
Fuming, Bloodwind latches onto a wrist with both hands and plays tug-of-war, pulling her foe out from between the strands. But the bite-sized blonde still has a white-knuckle grip on the top rope and howls in protest, demanding the zebra do his job.
He halfheartedly ‘demands’ Bloodwind let Lockwood loose but seems none too concerned when the Native American beauty pulls Polly free and Irish Whips her across the canvas. Unaccustomed to being the bigger woman, if slightly, Nyssa stations herself dead center and waits for the red-white-and-blue blur to return.
Lockwood lowers a shoulder and PLOWS into Bloodwind but only moves her foe a couple steps back.
“May I?” the grinning Nyssa asks, motioning the direction she plans to take to show the True American how a Native gets it done.
“Be my guest,” Lockwood responds. “So many of you Mexicans already are.”
Bloodwind disregards the troll job and steps toward the set of ropes she plans to employ to knock Lockwood into next week. But Nyssa gets only one foot in front of the other before a lightning set of digits shoot to her ebony locks and Polly RIPS Bloodwind down with a hair tug before she can get further.
Nyssa’s spine SLAMS to the canvas. She bounces up to a seat, wincing and cradling the back of her skull.
“The President said there’s good people on both sides,” Lockwood rails as she lines up and delivers a resounding soccer kick to the Nubile Navajo’s cleavage that sends a shudder through the flawless frame of the Arizona native. “But he never met you.”
Lockwood lines up another and the pendulum swings toward Nyssa’s chest. But Bloodwind’s arms shoot forward and she’s able to catch the kick before it hits home. A stern Nyssa climbs to her feet with possession of her foe’s right ankle, keeping Polly hopping on he grounded boot sole. Joining her in verticality, the tawny-skinned grappler throws the captured leg toward the worried ‘patriot’ and the momentum of the swinging limb sends Lockwood sprawling to her face and chest.
The blonde’s hands fly to her beak as she threatens to sue. For what it isn’t clear. Bloodwind doesn’t wait to find out as she tugs the True American to her feet and lights her up with a knife-edge chop that echoes to the back of the arena.
The crowd can’t get the proper ‘WOOOO’ out of their mouths before another blow craaacks across the former Fox&Friendly blonde’s chest. A wide-eyed Polly staggers in a backpedal, the snarling Nyssa advancing to load and land another and another. The shots coming in a flurry, Lockwood is caught in a hailstorm, each impact harder and louder than the last until the blonde is leaning deep into a corner, mewling, wanting it to stop.
Nyssa smirks at the sight and gives her palm a long lick before landing one last wicked connection that nearly sends Lockwood back flipping over the buckles. Her elevated boots are snatched by Nyssa who spins the reeling Polly to the side, draping the blonde sideways across the middle ropes.
Grabbing the top, Bloodwind vaults into a tuck position above her rival and lowers the BOOM with a nasty Double Knee Stomp into the tanned tummy of the Yankee Doodlest, SMASHING Polly to the deck and leaving her in a pooled pile.
DOUBLE KNEE STOMP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewLr-Vf-Kr8
All business, Nyssa snatches an ankle of the blasted blonde and tugs the squirming body of the pernicious patriot to the middle where she releases and drops across the chest of the Star Spangled Bytch in a lateral press, hooking the abbreviated far leg of the would-be Appellate Justice for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Lockwood is not about to let the spiteful squaw pass sentence on her and she throws a shoulder up, rolling to her side as she bucks Bloodwind up to her haunches next to the flustered flag-waver.
“I’d be disappointed if you were sent scurrying back to DC that quickly,” the Nubile Navajo interjects as she rises next to the floored blonde. “You’ve got so much to re-learn.”
Turning to the ropes behind her, Nyssa races to and hits the rubber-coated steel then charging toward the splayed Polly, leaping into a Shooting Star Press from out of nowhere, her body CRASHING down across the open midriff of the Alt-Right Attack Dog.
STANDING SHOOTING STAR PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IV6NmSxa09s
Polly groans loudly as she jackknifes around the impact, exhale bursting from her lips. Slowly, she settles, but Bloodwind decides to pass on another pin, instead popping to her feet, determined to bury the blonde in a way that would send Polly limping back to DC for her hearings, never to be seen in Orlando again.
Rising, Bloodwind puts her boots to Polly’s right set of ribs until the blonde is ‘convinced’ to roll to her chest. Immediately, Nyssa posts her left foot between the legs of her foe, then folds and knots the blonde’s limbs around her own. With Lockwood’s legs secured in her Indian Deathlock, Nyssa turns up the pressure, grabbing the neck of Polly’s blue halter, stretching the spandex to pull her foe’s torso off the deck. She lays out to the canvas, not only stretching the knee ligaments of the ‘patriot’, but also SLAMMING Lockwood’s mug into the thinly-sheathed plywood, not once or twice but three times.
INDIAN DEATHLOCK PLUS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTIgMTVCKTw
Finally, Nyssa plants herself on Polly’s back and collects her foe’s arms, trying to pull the limbs out at the sockets. The Ugly American can do little more with grunt, groan and survive the Native’s handiwork, Bloodwind showing she’s stayed on the top of her game more than the ensnared partisan during their time away.
Despite her best efforts and the opportunities the official gives Lockwood to surrender, Polly endures long enough to convince Bloodwind something more need be done to finish off the True American.
She untangles herself from the Star-Spangled Bytch and stares down at the groaning hardbody.
“Time to show you some real American heritage,” Nyssa informs.
Bloodwind heads to the nearest corner, the Nubile Navajo climbing to the top and turning in the time Polly can struggle to one knee. Collecting her balance, the bite-sized blonde pushes to her feet and spins to see a soaring Nyssa headed toward her, right hand raised for her signature Diving Tomahawk Chop, a blow that might well put a dent in the blonde’s braincase from that height.
But before Nyssa can connect, Lockwood digs deep and launches into a dropkick aimed upward at the descending chin of Bloodwind. She connects savagely, the Native American grappler’s head snapping back in a whiplash from the impact, the back of her skull then rocketing to the canvas, providing a secondary smash that leaves Nyssa glassy-eyed and staring into the rafters while Polly struggles to even make it to all fours to take advantage.
While “taking advantage” might not be immediately in the cards, the TRUE American nevertheless manages to drag herself over to the ropes. Using the cables, Lockwood pulls herself up from her hands and knees to JUST her knees, and then finally all the way to her feet. Meanwhile, with a groan, the Nubile Navajo works her way up to a seated position, and attempts to shake out a few lingering cobwebs from her cranium’s connection with the canvas.
As we all know, Post-Concussion Syndrome is a thing. And while out appointed by Gawd almighty Commander in Chief has done an effective job of eviscerating NFL players for being too soft to deal with its effects, a cruel smirk forms on Polly’s lips as she wonders whether the same might be able to be said for FAWN starlets. And with Bloodwind facing away from her, the back of Nyssa’s skull proves far too inviting a target to pass up. Her legs feeling a little more certain underneath her, the pocket hardbody shoves away from the ropes with a determined roar, sprinting toward the Nubile Navajo and DRIVING her knee into Nyssa’s noggin, with every intention of turning the former Lightweight champion’s Lights Out.
LIGHTS OUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-XRwr-Ftcg
The sound of knee striking skull draws a collective grimace from the FAWNatics, and earns a dull moan from the poor woman on the receiving end, Nyssa nearly knocked momentarily cross-eyed as she slumps forward. Despite her knee strike-induced stupor, the Nubile Navajo still has enough semblance of awareness to drop her hands in front of her to break her fall. But when Polly twirls a handful of raven locks around her fingers and starts to walk toward the ropes, Bloodwind struggles to simply crawl along as she is lead. “No tears yet,” Lockwood muses, pulling her opponent up to her knees and pressing Nyssa’s clavicle down against the rubber coated steel of the middle rope. “We’ll fix that before the night’s over.”
The Fox & Friendly blonde then planted her knee against the back of Nyssa’s neck, and shifted ALL of her one hundred and eighteen pounds down against the Nubile Navajo. Bloodwind’s Uggs frantically pound at the canvas, her hands managing to momentarily grasp and push up against the cable before any number of involuntary spasms send her arms thrashing and flailing. “Come on, Polly,” the referee snaps.
“Let her off the ropes!”
“Lay off the witch hunt, ref!” Lockwood barks back. But instead of relenting, the official begins to count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
The Star Spangled Bytch dramatically raises her hands in innocence as she lifts her knee away from her opponent, spinning around to face the referee. “WHAT THE HELL, MAN?” Polly shouts. “Didn’t you see the President’s latest Executive Order???” When the zebra only blinks at her in confusion, she enlightens him. “By Executive Order, counts toward disqualification have been doubled, from five to ten. If Twitter can double their character limit…”
The ref opens his mouth… but literally cannot find the words to counter such an outrageous and clearly false on its face assertion. But at this point, he finally notices that Nyssa’s boots are continuing to pound out an insistent S.O.S, because while she had been pleading her (ludicrous) case, Lockwood had merely traded her taut little tush in place of her knee, the blonde reclining against her adversary and continuing to throttle the life out of Bloodwind. “FOR CRYING OUT LOUD,” he sighs, before administering a fresh count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
The future 6th District Justice elects not to test whether she had successfully made her case, stepping away from Nyssa, who drops to her backside with a loud, raspy gasp, one hand moving to clutch her reddened windpipe. “Gawddamn activist refs,” Lockwood spits, then turns back to the wheezing Native American beauty. Bloodwind soon experiences even greater difficulty in catching her breath when Polly sets the boots to her chest and stomach, driving the brunette to her back and then eventually sending her spilling under the bottom rope, crashing to the floor. The miniature blonde hardbody then follows her foe, at least as far as the apron, lying in wait near the ringpost as the Nubile Navajo begins to pull herself to her feet…
Lockwood then charges, swinging and connecting with a wicked running kick. Somewhat remarkably, Nyssa remains on her feet as she spins away from the impact, but with quite the tremors working their way down her tawny and suddenly rubbery legs.
APRON KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAqs1ZMFRug
Jumping down to the floor, Polly saunters up behind her prey. Snatching a wrist, she whips Nyssa around, and then whips her further still, sending the Native American stunner CRASHING headlong into the ring steps. Bloodwind slumps to a seat, turning her back to the cool steel, her head lolling back on her shoulders. “You think you’re just gonna waltz back in here,” Lockwood snarls, “and deny me my chance to win back MY belt? You know what we call that these days?” The TRUE American barely pauses, before providing the answer herself…
“Fake News!”
Polly races forward, loading up to send her knee SMASHING into Nyssa’s noggin once more, this time targeting the bridge of the Native American’s nose… only this time, the Star Spangled Bytch’s knee cap connects only with cold steel when Bloodwind manages to roll to the side, clearing her opponent’s path.
As the mewling blonde hobbles away, clutching at her wounded knee, Nyssa crawls back toward the ring, clutching at the apron skirt to pull herself up. Regaining her footing, the Nubile Navajo lumbers toward her foe, still clearly feeling the effects of Polly’s abuse, but overcoming them enough to take Lockwood by the hand and launching her toward the security barrier. The blonde hits the railing with a gurgling cry, the collision lifting Polly off her feet and very nearly sending her into the first row of deplorables. While she doesn’t spill all the way into the stands, she still remains folded over the beam, knees bent and boots kicking toward the sky in an effort to shift her balance back toward the combat side of the barrier. Alas, as inviting a target as Lockwood’s wriggling backside proves to be, a voice soon catches Nyssa’s attention…
“EIGHT!!!!!!!!”
Bloodwind quickly turns back toward the ring, diving under the bottom rope… and then reversing course, dropping back to the floor before making her way toward the suspended Star Spangled Bytch. Assisting Polly off the metal railing, Nyssa guides her by means of a handful of hair toward the ring, and SLAMS the Fox & Friendly blonde’s face into the edge of the apron once, twice, and finally three times.
Taking a small measure of satisfaction in the glazed look in the blonde’s eyes, Bloodwind pushes her foe’s body up onto the apron before shoveling her underneath the bottom rope. And as Lockwood tumbles back toward the center of the ring, the Nubile Navajo climbs up from the floor, taking the top rope in both hand before rocking back and propelling herself OVER the top rope in a beautiful slingshot 360 splash…
SLINGSHOT 360 SPLASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OchZmqZo0V8
… which, much to the distress of the FAWNatics and Nyssa Bloodwind, connects with a pair of raised knees rather than a washboard stomach. The Native American warrior bounces away from the impact, flopping to the canvas and sputtering as both arms hug her impaled tummy, the wind momentarily knocked out of both her and her rally.
Polly’s instinct pays off, but she doesn’t have a lot more than that at the moment. The little blonde hardbody rolls up to hands and knees and surveys Bloodwind. There’s a hint of satisfaction, but also a hint of a concussion in her eyes. She rattles her braincase to slip some senses back into place and slowly rises to her full 61 inches over the groaning Arizonan.
The Native American grappler is on all fours and Lockwood can’t resist the urge to punt her in the ribs, forcing Bloodwind to barrel roll to her back then over to her chest where the stubborn Navajo pushes up yet again. This time Polly Patriot sinks her nails into Nyssa’s scalp and tugs her rival to vertical, bullying her into a corner.
“MFGA, bytch,” Lockwood whispers in the injun’s ear while changing her grip to a wrist and flinging Nyssa to the far buckles with an Irish Whip. Bloodwind sprints across the expanse and turns into a body-rattling collision with the buckles that seems to turn her legs off. She plops to the canvas, seated on the mat, golden-brown legs extended in front of her, head and shoulders leaning loosely into the corner.
Pleased with her foe’s positioning, the True American takes off like a shot, racing as fast as her little legs will carry her. She leaps from a few feet out with those limbs extended and RAMS her undercarriage into Nyssa’s chest. Grabbing the middle ropes on either side, the blonde thrusts her backside into Bloodwind time and time again, busting her bronco with impunity.
“You…will …respect…my…author…ity,” Polly blurts with each booty-bouncing assault.
Nyssa slowly sinks under the barrage, her face taking a battering from Polly’s junk for chants EIGHT…NINE…and TEN.
With Bloodwind slack jawed beneath her, the Star Spangled Bytch dismounts and grabs the raven-haired grappler by the ankles, pulling her out toward the middle. But there’s no pinfall attempt in store. Instead, Lockwood moves to a standing straddle and leers at her lesser, shaking her head.
Without words, she leaps above the splayed native and stomps her foes’ modest bosom flat. A yelping Nyssa pushes at Polly’s ankles, but it doesn’t stop Lockwood from grinding her boot soles into the thinly-sheathed, tender tissue. Polly hops again to Mushroom Stomp Nyssa’s gurls a second time, a large breath forced from between Bloodwind’s lips, pain etched on her features.
“You’re going to learn your place in our…hell…MY brave new world,” Polly informs. “And you aren’t going to like it.”
Lockwood steps off her pedestals, strolls to her corner and picks up Old Glory, waving it at the fans. Some Pavlovian dogs respond as required, but most in the crowd boo Lockwood’s misuse of their emblem. She gives the ‘fake’ fans a middle-fingered salute then places the flag on the top buckle, turning to see Bloodwind to hands and knees. She raises both sets of fingers in front of her face, fashioning a frame from her thumbs and forefingers and places Nyssa within.
“Pretty as a picture,” Polly purrs.
She surges toward the Native American as Nyssa tries to rise and NAILS her left temple with her signature Lights Out running knee that leaves Bloodwind a grease spot on the canvas.
LIGHTS OUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lUAc1KVAQc
Polly drops across her foe, back to bosom, and hooks a leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Bloodwind pushes Polly off to a seat next to her as she rolls in the opposite direction. Ending on her chest, and apparently afraid of providing the blonde another inviting target, she slithers along the canvas, latching onto the ropes just as the Fox&Friendly Lockwood reaches her.
The official intercedes, blocking Polly’s path as Nyssa uses the cables to pull up to vertical.
“Lemme guess,” the True American whines, “you’re a Bernie Bro.”
“Actually, I voted for Jill Stein,” the man responds.
“Ah. Well thank you for that,” Polly retorts, whispering “sucker” under her breath.
The diminutive and impatient robobabe shoves the zebra to the side and receives a side kick to the abdomen from a recovering Bloodwind. Her foe doubled, Nyssa tugs the blonde’s lowered braincase into a front facelock. Still next to the ropes, she climbs to the middle cable, using Polly as a stabilizer, and springboards from the strand, spinning Lockwood in a whipping 180 only to DDT the crown of the patriot’s skull into the canvas when she lays out.
Lockwood somersaults through the ring-rattling impact and slides to a spread-eagle, her match control lost in little more than the blink of an eye. Still, it takes several seconds for the Native American to even rise to a seated position. She casts a quick glance over her right shoulder to see the stirring Lockwood.
Knowing she must push up and take advantage, Bloodwind reaches her feet and strides in determined fashion to Lockwood. She slips a set of digits into Polly’s shoulder-length flaxen strands and tugs the True American to vertical.
“Time to impeach your assAHHHH!”
The threat turns to a howl as Polly’s hands form two sets of claws and shoot toward and into Nyssa’s breasts. Already bruised by the pernicious patriot, Lockwood now tears into the pert flesh. Pivoting, the blonde uses the dual grips of flesh to hiptoss the mewling Native.
Bloodwind lands on her tailbone with a THUMP. She massages her behind with one hand while trying to slip her faux deerskin cups back into place over her gurls. As Nyssa tends to derriere and deerskin, the soon-to-be member of the federal judiciary heads for the nearest set of buckles. It looks like it might be a mistake when Nyssa starts to rise to her feet as Polly moves up the buckles. However, in the time it takes the Native grappler to turn and find the Star Spangled Bytch, Polly’s able to pivot on her perch and leap into the void between the rivals.
Soaring like a Patriot missile, the little blonde hardbody skies over Nyssa, snatching her noggin as she passes overhead. As Lockwood flips to a landing on the deck she PLANTS Nyssa with a breathtaking and vertebrae-crunching neckbreaker from the top that leaves the FAWNatics groaning and Nyssa, at best, semiconscious, ending face down and unmoving.
FLYING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILZrVGvCktk
The impact takes something out of the Alt-Right Attack Dog as well and several seconds go by before Polly crawls to what’s left of Nyssa, shoves Bloodwind to her back, and drops across her foe to become #1 contender for the lightweight title.
Both women’s only movement is the swell of their chests but with Polly on top, it’s good enough to count for the win with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Nubile Navajo throws up a shoulder.
Her opponent’s defiance brings a measure of life back into the body of the TRUE American, Polly pushing herself up to her knees and climbing into a straddle of Bloodwind’s tummy. The miniature blonde hardbody leans forward, claiming Nyssa’s wrists one in each hand and pressing them down over the still-dazed Native American’s noggin, her shoulders once again flat against the canvas. And so, the referee slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Again, though with a little less force, Nyssa manages to shrug a shoulder up off the mat.
Moving beyond annoyed to fully enraged, the Alt-Right Attach Dog snarls as she relinquishes her grasp on Nyssa’s wrists, and instead wraps both hands around Nyssa’s throat in an extremely blatant and even more illegal choke. Instantly, Bloodwind’s glistening legs begin to kick and thrash, the brunette’s eyes bulging as her fists and forearms club at Lockwood’s arms. “KNOCK IT OFF, POLLY!” the zebra orders, but when he receives no response, he begins to count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
Nyssa lets out a loud, almost grateful gasp as Lockwood lets go, raising her hands in… well, hardly innocence. “I. AM. A. STAR!!!” the Fox & Friendly blonde pointedly explains to the hapless official. “And I have it on the highest authority there is that, when you’re a star, they let you get away with it!”
He merely rolls his eyes, but Lockwood remains quick to take advantage of the lapse that annoyance leads to in the ref’s concentration when she quickly snatches two handfuls of dark tresses, lifts Nyssa’s head just a few inches off the mat, and then SLAMS the back her skull back into the harsh, scarcely padded plywood. “HEY!!!” the official protests, but Polly promptly cuts him off.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the TRUE American mutters, climbing to her feet and turning toward the ropes. Establishing a double-fisted grip on the uppermost cable, the Breitbart Babe rocks back and launches herself over the strands, twisting her body to face back toward the ring when she lands on the apron. And there she waits, as a ragged, sweat-drenched Nyssa Bloodwind struggles to regain her footing, the Native American warrior’s back to the ropes.
Eventually, drunkenly, the brunette starts to turn. And to her credit, as soon as she spots Lockwood, Nyssa starts to lumber towards her, as quickly and as gracefully as her unsteady stems will allow—which is to say, not very.
And it doesn’t matter, regardless. For Polly dips down and EXPLODES through the gap between the middle and top ropes, diving toward Bloodwind and DRIVING her shoulder into the former Lightweight’s belly, the Lockwood Lunge folding Nyssa in half as the TRUE American tackles her to the mat.
LOCKWOOD LUNGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8-8LhfAOhg
Another cover might very well have been able to score Polly the victory, and secure for herself a match against Dominique Daly. But the Alt-Right Attack Dog forsakes the opportunity, rising and taking hold of one of Bloodwind’s wrist and one of her ankles. She uses those handholds to drag the Nubile Navajo a little closer to the nearest corner, positioning her just so before turning toward the buckles. Noting the flag still waving o’er the top turnbuckle, the Star Spangled Bytch can’t resist giving it a crisp salute before climbing to join it. Then, from her perch, Polly launches herself airborne, twisting into a beautiful moonsault…
… that CRASHES onto Bloodwind’s raised knees, the Nubile Navajo both averting disaster and getting a little turnabout on the turncoat from moments ago. Polly flops to the side, rolling to a hip and curling up, coughing and clutching suddenly sore ribs. Nyssa remains on her back, the soles of her Uggs settled down to the mat, knees raised as she tries to use the seconds she has bought herself to regroup.
Alas, with both women down and (possibly) out, the referee waits for as long as possible, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. After a few moments, he begins to count BOTH women towards a defeat…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!”
Nyssa proves to be the first to stir, struggling up to her knees. Unfortunately, much to the distress of Navajo Nation, Lockwood isn’t far behind when she gets to all fours. And Polly proves to be ambulatory first, crawling over to the Nubile Navajo before dropping back on her haunches, facing the exhausted brunette. “This ring…” the Breitbart Babe pants, “… is MY ring!”
Lockwood lunges forward, a little wobbly, but SLAMMING a forearm blast into Bloodwind’s jaw.
“ONLY my ring!”
Another forearm shot connects, this time with Nyssa’s upper chest.
“From the nnnNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
The FAWNatics ERUPT as Nyssa returns fire, landing a forearm to chest that ROCKS Polly back onto her heels. The blow dazes the Star Spangled Bytch sufficiently that Bloodwind can shuffle slightly to the side, draw back, and UNLOAD with an open hand chop that would make her older sister proud. Pushing to her feet, the Nubile Navajo reaches down, snatches a handful of hair and…
“GYYYAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Polly answers by going to the eyes.
As the dark haired former Lightweight champion staggers away blinking, her flaxen maned colleague rises up behind her, breathing heavy, but clearly satisfied to be back in control. Spinning Nyssa back to face her, Lockwood claims a wrist, sets her feet and whips Bloodwind toward the ropes. And, for the briefest of moments, when she doesn’t begin to turn her back into the collision with the cables, Polly suspects that her opponent remains too blinded to realize what is happening…
… only instead, the Nubile Navajo JUMPS to meet the ropes, landing on the middle strand and propelling herself back toward the stunned blonde, SLAMMING an elbow into Lockwood’s chest as both women crash to the canvas.
SPRINGBOARD BACK ELBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxcJstXapSA
A seemingly rejuvenated Nyssa rolls through her landing, shooting up to her feet to a roar of affection and support from the FAWNatics. Lockwood, meanwhile, bounces back up as far as to a seated position, but that’s about as far as she makes it, her head slumped forward, her hands reaching to cradle the back of her throbbing skull. Marching over to her, Bloodwind clamps down on a handful of hair, pulls Polly up to her knees and STUFFS the blonde’s noggin between two strong thighs. Pushing the Alt-Right Attack Dog’s left boot into the pit of her right knee, Bloodwind then claims Polly’s right boot and pulls up—which first trapped the blonde’s boot with her folded stem, and then gradually pulls the pintsized hardbody into the air. Wrapping an arm around the waist of the Star Spangled Bytch while keeping the other hand on her boot, Nyssa drops to her taut tush, SPIKING Polly’s skull with her Indian Deathlock Piledriver.
INDIAN DEATHLOCK PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXcN8fXiktE
Lockwood’s head springs out from between those shapely, glistening thighs of the Navajo warrior, her eyes on tilt as she plummets backward, landing spread-eagled on the mat. Gathering the blonde’s ankles, Nyssa crawls forward, her belly pressing down onto Polly’s now upturned rump as she folds the Star Spangled Bytch up in a matchbook pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Lockwood is able to unfold from under the Native American grappler, flopping to her side while pushing Bloodwind up to her knees. Both show the wear of another war, but it’s the glistening golden body of Nyssa that has the vitality at the moment.
The Nubile Navajo slaps the canvas, showing a hint of frustration, but quickly pushes to her feet and heads for the nearest corner. Climbing, she stands on the top ropes, the sole of an Ugg on the cable either side of the buckles. Back to the ring, Bloodwind casts a glance over her shoulder and sees Polly rising. Throwing caution to the wind, she nevertheless leaps from her perch in a moonsault and CRASHES down across the Fox&Friendly blonde in a Bloodhawk Press.
BLOODHAWK PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIR78M9_KXg
The overturned Navajo SLAMS into the bite-sized blonde, knocking Polly flat to the canvas. Nyssa only need scoot forward to claim a pin, but the warrior scrambles around the flagging patriot, settling in a seated position between Lockwood’s legs, pointed away from the torso of the True American.
Grabbing both legs, the raven-haired grappler rolls to her back, forcing Polly to her chest. She secures the abbreviated stems of her foe, folding them at her chest, then collects the arms of the Star Spangled Bytch, pulling back at her elbows before switching her grips to Lockwood’s wrists, violently stretching Polly’s spine and trying to pull her arms out at the sockets with a modified surfboard stretch.
MODIFIED SURFBOARD STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtAEn4oQQzY
Polly’s spandex stars press tight to her bosom as her chest is thrust forward by Nyssa’s submission maneuver, her limbs extended behind her from Bloodwind’s tugging.
“Give up,” the Navajo shouts to the grimacing Polly, the FAWNatics adding a ‘TAP’ chant that gains momentum and volume. Soon, the arena is rocking, and Nyssa adds a little hobbyhorse action to her stretch, drawing some loud mewls out of Lockwood. Still, Polly shakes her head vigorously when the referee asks if she wants to hand the title shot to the injun.
Convinced this effort won’t bring the blonde to heel, Nyssa releases her grip and clambers to her feet while Lockwood is face down, rolling her shoulders to bring some feeling back to her arms. The blonde presses to all fours while Bloodwind calmly observes, the crowd getting nervous she’s allowing the future Appellate Judge to rise.
Seemingly timing her action, the Native American grappler turns and heads for the nearby ropes. She bounds into the middle cable while grabbing the top with both hands. Springboarding into a u-turn, the lithe lightweight skies toward a turning Polly and PLANTS a Tomahawk Chop between the baby blues of the pernicious patriot. The eyes cross as Lockwood’s legs fly out in front of her and the back of her skull and shoulders CRASH into the canvas with violent force.
Left in a motionless starfish from Nyssa’s signature blow, Polly’s out cold, pink tongue poking from between her pursed lips. Above her, Bloodwind indulges, lofting an index finger high to signify she’s assured herself the #1 contender position for FAWN’s most competitive title. Dropping to a kneel next to the demolished blonde, she flops forward into a lateral press, hooking Polly’s far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The crowd’s roars turn to groans when Kellyanne Conway’s former protégé shudders to life and manages to slip a shoulder off the canvas with the official’s palm an inch away from signaling another notch in the handle of Nyssa’s tomahawk.
On her back next to her foe, Bloodwind raises her arms to the heavens in wonderment at how the Star Spangled Bytch sprang back to life in the nick of time. Apparently the political version of a horror movie monster, Lockwood uses another of her lives, shoving up to a glassy-eyed, slumping seat, the True American comically confused on where she is, what she’s supposed to do, and how she should be able to do it.
Deciding she needs to up the ante to finish off the petulant if persistent patriot, Nyssa gives Lockwood a solid kick to the lower vertebrae before sliding past the seated Polly. Proceeding to the corner in front of the women, Bloodwind pops to a seat of her own, her taut cheeks finding a resting place on the top buckle, her Uggs planting firmly on the middle ropes beneath her.
The Native beauty watches intently as the loopy Lockwood pushes up and drunkenly stumbles toward her with barely a hint of where she or her rival is. Nyssa rises and leaps toward Polly, grasping at the Fox&Friendly blonde’s noggin to whip the True American trough a modified version of her Long Walk, hoping to spike the crown of Polly’s skull into the canvas and drop the patriot’s listed height to an even five feet from five-one.
MODIFIED LONG WALK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eK84shq7DU
But as Nyssa leaps from her perch, Polly wakens from her daze. She pivots enough to catch Bloodwind across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The legs of the bite-sized blonde waver under the impact of the landing but she stabilizes and PLANTS the tawny-skinned warrior with a thumping Samoan Drop.
Nyssa’s back arches in pain from the collision and she writhes next to a splayed and sweat-drenched Lockwood who slowly spins to her chest to take in the sight of the squirming Bloodwind. Polly pushes up and calls on a second wind to put her boot to every piece of Nyssa’s real estate she finds available until exhaustion catches up with her after a dozen piston-like thrusts of her right leg. The little hardbody draws in deep breaths as Bloodwind groans at her feet, chest and face down.
“I’m going to send you back to that shithole state of yours. Maybe Desert Divas will let you sweep the ring after their cards at the Los Lunas Eagles Club.”
Polly drops a knee into the base of Nyssa’s spine, sending her foe into another anguish-induced arch and, with Bloodwind rightly distracted, Lockwood moves to a forward-facing kneel between Nyssa’s glossy stems, forcing them wide when she spreads her legs.
With the Nubile Navajo’s gams approaching a 45-degree angle, Polly THRUSTS an underhand claw into Nyssa’s privates, driving the fingers in and clenching them with a ferocity that wholly represents her desire to humiliate her rival AND reach the lightweight title match.
Lockwood ‘chews’ away with her uppercut grasp of Nyssa’s crotch, Bloodwind treated like a hand puppet, her face etched in agony as Polly savagely works her signature Presidential Handshake deeper into the tender flesh.
Instinctively, Nyssa’s thighs clench in an effort to draw her legs back together and protect her nether regions—never mind that doing so would actually trap the Fox & (all too at the moment) Friendly blonde’s hand where it was doing the most damage. Fortunately for the Nubile Navajo, Lockwood’s knees prevented her body’s involuntary response.
But of course, that also allows Polly to continue to work her vicious claw with impunity.
The longer the Star Spangled Bytch works her claw, the more the hold causes alternating and contradictory conditions with Nyssa’s lower limbs. When her well-shaped legs aren’t held in paralysis from the agony of the Presidential Handshake, the torment of Polly’s talons appears to deny Bloodwind any sense of muscle control, her legs spasming with little rhyme and less reason. The Nubile Navajo’s lone recourse is to dig her elbows into the mat, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, draaaaaaaaaag herself towards the ropes.
Mere seconds feel like half an hour to the distressed brunette, but at last, she manages to wrap both arms around the bottom rope. The referee calls for a break, bringing the Native American warrior’s ordeal to an end…
… or at least, it SHOULD have. But, snarling in naked rage and hatred, Polly refuses to release the Handshake! “BREAK THE HOLD, POLLY!” the official demands.
If anything, the Alt-Right Attack Dog clamps down HARDER, ripping a howl of despairing anguish from Nyssa’s lips.
“ONE!” the ref counts.
“GYYYYAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” wails the Nubile Navajo, clinging to the rubber coated steel of the bottom cable.
“TWO!!”
“FYYYYUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Nyssa screams, bawling in her agony. “PUUUUHHHHLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
And still, Polly clamps down.
“THREE!!!”
“GYYYYYUUUUUUGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!” Nyssa howls, the tortuous Handshake overwhelming her pride, forcing Bloodwind to plead with the official. “GUUUHHHH… GEEEEETTTHHEERRROOOFFFFFFFFFMMUUUUUEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Alas, for the moment, all he can is continue his count. “FOUR!!!!”
Finally, the unrelenting torrent of pain, inflicted upon the Nubile Navajo beyond legal bounds, forces a break in the dam of her resolve. Unable to stop herself, Nyssa screams out, “AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! GIIIIIIVVVVVEEE!!!!!! I GIIIIIVVVVVEEEEE!!!!!! FUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHPPPLLEEEEAAAAAAASSSSEEE!!!!!”
“F…!!!!!”
Lockwood RIIIIPS away the claw, practically springing back to her feet and shooting both arms into the air in triumph. The FAWNatics shower the miniature blonde hardbody in jeers, and get even louder when the TRUE American lowers her arms to reach for the referee’s hand, so that he can raise hers in victory. But Polly’s jubilant expression turns to anger when he rips his hand away. “You heard her!” she scolds him.
“She was in the ropes!” he snaps back. “It was an illegal hold, and you know damn well you can’t get a submission from an illegal hold!”
For the briefest of moments, Lockwood considers introducing HIM to the Presidential Handshake, but ultimately, she elects to let him enjoy his alternative facts. The bytch had submitted. She heard it, he heard, and everyone watching had heard it.
The bytch was BROKEN.
Which means Polly can have some fun.
Snatching a handful of Bloodwind’s raven locks, she peels the wreckage of the Nubile Navajo off the canvas, Nyssa’s still-quaking legs showing tremendous difficulty in supporting her weight—so the Fox & Friendly blonde does her solid, offering some support by wrapping an arm around her neck. Lockwood then takes a couple of long strides back toward the center of the ring before leaping into the air and laying out, SLAMMING Nyssa’s mug into the mat with a bulldog.
With the sweat-soaked Nubile Navajo left face down and twitching, Polly rolls to her knees, her chest heaving with each deep breath as she brings her hands to her thighs, looking down on the shattered remnants of her opponent. Instead of just rolling her over for a cover, Lockwood pushes to her feet and heads toward the ropes. “And now, to show the world nobody beats the good ol’ U. S. of A,” she remarks, slipping out onto the apron. “Your Long Walk ain’t got SH!T on the Polly Rocket!” she shouts at the barely stirring Nyssa, waiting for her to rise, confident that the ignorant savage was too far out of it to understand her words.
Judging by the drunken, faltering nature in which Bloodwind begins her ascent, Polly’s assumption would appear safe. Nyssa’s first attempt to straighten up results in the Native American beauty promptly dropping back to one knee, head bowed, which only prompts the Star Spangled Bytch’s smirk to broaden. The Nubile Navajo pushes up again, swaying unsteadily, her back to the eager blonde. When Bloodwind begins to turn, Polly vaults herself to the top rope, and from there launches her lethal Polly Rocket…
POLLY ROCKET:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKWI-rr-T7I
… but as the Rocket zeroes in on its target, Nyssa’s trembling gams suddenly find renewed strength, not only enough to hold herself up but to launch herself into the air. Letting her weight fall backward, Bloodwind kicks her legs high, the soles of her Uggs catching Polly under the chin. And, just as Lockwood had done to her earlier in the contest, Nyssa catches the blonde coming off the top rope with an incredible, devastating dropkick.
Both women hit the deck hard, each looking seemingly demolished. It proves to take a few moments for either one to collect herself enough to move, but ultimately, the Nubile Navajo manages to crawl over to the smoldering wreckage of the intercepted Polly Rocket, and drops an arm across Lockwood’s chest as she slumps down beside the blonde on her tummy.
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Polly muscles one leg off the canvas, just enough to allow her ankle to drop across the bottom rope, deflating a crowd that was ready to erupt in euphoria.
Struggling not to be discouraged, Bloodwind fights her way back to verticality, then yanks Lockwood to the same by way of a handful of hair. Taking her foe by the wrist, Nyssa starts to whip the Alt-Right Attack Dog toward the far corner, but again, Polly proves resourceful, answering the whip with a reversal. She begins to follow Nyssa in, but has to slam on the brakes when the Nubile Navajo hops to the middle turnbuckle and propels herself back toward the pint-sized hardbody, taking Lockwood down to the canvas with a rebound flying crossbody. Bloodwind’s weight slams down onto her opponent, knocking the wind out of her and sending Polly’s gams sailing heavenward. So, Nyssa hooks them as the official slides into position…
REBOUND FLYING CROSSBODY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fVba8BTGqs
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Lockwood kicks out, with virtually no time to spare.
Hauling the blonde up to rubbery legs, Nyssa takes a shuffling step to the side, draws her right hand back, and UNLOADS with a knife edge chop to Polly’s sternum. As required by international law, the FAWNatics respond with a “WHOOOOOO!!!!!” as the Star Bangled Bytch lets out a yelp of pain, but the Nubile Navajo isn’t done, landing a further five chops to Lockwood’s increasingly crimson chest. Trying to return fire, Polly balls her fist and swings a looping right, but Bloodwind ducks clear. Straightening up before the blonde can pull back her arm, Nyssa reaches an arm across her chest, grabbing a shoulder. With her other hand, the brunette reaches around Polly’s back grabbing a handful of waistband. With a grunt of effort, Nyssa hoists her foe off her feet as she jumps into the air, kicking her shapely legs out in front of her and dropping to her pert backside.
BAREBACK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pD3vzo4uLTw
Polly lands on her knees, but the impact rockets her back to her feet, at least temporarily. The Star Spangled Bytch staggers into a slight turn, before she trips on her own feet and plummets back to the mat, landing on her face and chest. Bloodwind is on her in an instant, diving into a straddle of the blonde’s lower back. Hooking both of Polly’s arms behind her back, the Nubile Navajo launches herself forward, landing on her tiptoes in a bridge, the crown of her skull resting on the mat—and her arms CRAAAAANKING on Lockwood’s captive wings.
DINEH DEATHLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zN5hDN-g14
Screaming in torment, Polly’s legs kick and thrash, her boots straaaaaaaaaaaiiiining to find the sanctuary of the ropes—but they are much too far away to be of any use to the diminutive beauty. Without the use of her arms, the blonde can do little more than offer her best impression of the serpent on the Gadsden Flag, but writhe and wriggle as she might, her feet still fail to find any means of rescue for her.
“What do you say, Polly?” the referee asks.
“GYYYUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!!!!” the blonde moans. “FUUUGGGHHHH… FUUUGGGHHHHHOOOOFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!”
Nyssa gives Polly’s arms an even harsher crank.
“AGGGGHHHHHHJJJJEEEEEZZZZZUUUUUUSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!” the Alt-Right Attack Dog howls, feet still kicking… and still coming up empty.
Screwing her eyes shut, the Nubile Navajo starts cranking on the Deathlock with abandon, apparently determined to either wring a submission out of the TRUE American or to exhaust herself trying. About five seconds later, the answer comes…
Polly’s hand starts slapping the canvas.
“THAT’S IT!” the ref declares. “RING THE BELL!!!”
DING! DING!! DING!!!
As tempting as the thought of keeping the Dineh Deathlock cinched in after the bell might have been—MUST have been—Nyssa relinquishes the hold almost immediately, crumpling to the mat beside the mewling Lockwood, chest heaving as she looks up at the lights. Eventually, though, the brunette rolls up to her knees, the official reaching down to raise her hand as the announcer proclaims, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, by submission… and NEW #1 Contender for the Lightweight title… NYYYSSSSSSAAA BLLLOOOOOODDDWWWIIINNNDDD!!!!!”
As the FAWNatics rise to their feet, shouting and cheering, a beaming Nyssa closes her eyes and gently nods her head. Finally summoning the strength to regain her footing, the Nubile Navajo taps a fist to her heart before bowing to the crowd. No doubt there would be posts on the FAWN messageboards about her triumphant return, but Nyssa then reminds both the crowd and the audience at home that there remains work to be done. Locating the nearest camera, Bloodwind turns and motions two hands across her waist.
“Keep it shiny for me, Domi,” Bloodwind says. “It’s coming home with me, REAL soon…”
Her vast legal knowledge would be put to supreme use soon enough, but in the meantime, there are FAKE wrestlers to beat into a pulp and her challenger tonight deserved such destruction more than most; her and her sister.
The arena’s speakers spark to life with the pounding of “America, Fuck Yeah” from Team America World Police, the song assaulting Orlando’s great unwashed, the fans unsure what to think and who the song might portend.
”AMERICA, F*CK YEAH”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7R5A0pg4oN8
But when the long-absent, little blonde antagonist strides to the center of the stage, the FAWNatics make clear her sojourn outside the organization has not been long enough.
POLLY LOCKWOOD:
Being in Florida, more than a few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ shoot to their feet in delight, saluting her and her anthem crisply. The other 80 percent of the FAWNatics make themselves known in a completely different fashion, raining a cascade of boos toward the obnoxious Trumpeter.
The flaxen-haired hardbody brings a salute to her brow to her Trumptastic troops then lets the snowflakes know what she thinks of them by fashioning the knife-edge into a salute of the middle finger variety.
The time away in front of Fox News cameras and the Senate Judiciary Committee hasn’t led to any changes in her wrestling gear, Polly still proudly sporting her customary hot pants and bikini top. Lockwood alternates her country’s colors between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in the right spots; and shimmering red and white stripes spandex below, barely covering her biscuit butt. She finishes the ensemble with gleaming white pads and boots.
The ‘True American’ maintains her customary cape, Old Glory draped over her shoulders as a cloak.
Lockwood crow hops into a jog to the ring, the flag waving behind her. She snarls at the moronic hordes who infest this great land and ignores their insults and jeers, taking a swipe at one sign proclaiming
”FAWN is the land of opportunity for all!”
“It should be the land of opportunity FOR AMERICANS, you moron,” she shouts.
As Polly makes it to ringside, the announcer proclaims her arrival.
“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall and has a 15-minute time limit. From Buffalo, New York…standing five feet one inch tall and weighing in at one hundred and sixteen scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome; ladies and gentlemen, she is the one and only TRUE AMERICAN…POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!”
The spiteful patriot ascends the steel steps. Sliding through the ropes, Lockwood removes the flag from her shoulders and holds the star-spangled banner high.
Moving to a corner, she exchanges her flag for a microphone and walks to the center of the ring, pulling it to her lips.
“Most of you people don’t deserve my return and what I’m going to do for you and FAWN,” Lockwood informs. ”Nevertheless, for goodness’ own sake, I will drain this vile swamp of every woman who doesn’t warrant and hasn’t earned the freedom our tremendous, beloved President is providing. Tonight, it starts with a woman who should’ve stayed down on the reservation.”
Lockwood smirks, over the echoing boos.
“This is our country now. You blew your chance. And the Second Amendment will make damn sure no one takes it from us.”
The Star-Spangled Bytch tosses the stick to the canvas with a ‘CLUNK’ and moves to her corner, stretching her arms with tugs of the top rope, waiting for her opponent.
As the crowd continues to shower one returning star with jeers and whistles, the announcer collects the discarded microphone, in order to finish discharging his duties. “And her opponent," he resumes, those three little words proving sufficient to turn the FAWNatics’ demeanor on a dime. “Hailing from Tempe, Arizona… She stands five feet three inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty-two pounds… Ladies and gentlemen, she is the Nubile Navajo… NYYYYYSSSSSSSSA BLLLOOOOOOODDDDWWWWIIIIINNNNNNNDDD!”
”TESTIFY”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3dvbM6Pias
NYSSA BLOODWIND:
The murmur of the crowd is interrupted by the first note of Rage Against the Machine. But instead of the elder Bloodwind's ‘Killing in the Name‘, the speakers blare the defiant chords of ‘Testify‘. An instant later and Nyssa pushes the curtains aside, bursting out onto the aisle, the fans bursting into a RESOUNDING ovation for the talented, and DEARLY missed, lightweight. The pedigree is no doubt responsible for part of her reception, but there is little denying that the tyro’s choice of ring gear also wins her a fair few whistles. The raven-haired beauty stands clad in a faux deerskin halter, the shoulder straps eventually becoming two thin strings that crisscross her otherwise bare back. She also wears matching bikini bottoms, augmented by for lack of a better term a "half loin cloth" that descends to mid-thigh in the front, and that fails to obscure the view of her exquisite derriere in the back. Ugg boots molded to resemble moccasins complete the ensemble.
Buoyed by the support of the FAWNatics, a beaming Nyssa makes her way down the aisle, slapping hands along the guardrail, and doing her absolute best not to miss a single palm. Finally reaching the ring steps, Bloodwind takes them nearly two at a time, eager to get in the ring. Stopping just long enough to wipe her boots on the apron, the Nubile Navajo slips through the ropes and makes a beeline for the nearest corner. Nyssa bounds onto the middle rope, pumping a fist in the air, drawing another loud roar of support from the crowd in response.
Hopping down, Nyssa turns away from the corner… and begins to stomp directly toward the so-called TRUE American. It is, after all, worth remembering that Nyssa Bloodwind and Polly Lockwood are by no means strangers to one another. And indeed, while tonight they might be battling over the right to challenge Dominique Daly for the FAWN Lightweight title, once upon a time Bloodwind and Lockwood had waged war over that very strap. Making the Star Spangled Bytch tap with her title on the line qualified as one of the biggest highlights of Nyssa’s career. Of course, Polly taking the belt back from her two months later, when the opportunistic blonde capitalized on the aftereffects of a concussion inflicted upon her by Kylie Sanders…
That might very well be the lowest moment of the Nubile Navajo’s career.
And while Bloodwind had managed to get her revenge on Polly before, by that time she had lost the belt to Lily Burlingame. True, beating Lockwood tonight wouldn’t return the Lightweight championship to her waist, but it WOULD move her a step closer—and Nyssa appears more than eager to get tonight’s festivities going.
To the consternation of the masses, however, the official moves between blonde and brunette, ready to usher the Nubile Navajo back to her corner.
“Start the match and let her through,” Polly shouts over the ref’s shoulder. “These colors don’t run.”
The man shrugs and calls for the bell, stepping aside. Immediately, the raven-haired grappler charges toward Lockwood. While the colors don’t exactly run, they dip through the ropes easily enough, Polly demanding Nyssa back off else she go all Manifest Destiny on the Navajo’s ass.
Fuming, Bloodwind latches onto a wrist with both hands and plays tug-of-war, pulling her foe out from between the strands. But the bite-sized blonde still has a white-knuckle grip on the top rope and howls in protest, demanding the zebra do his job.
He halfheartedly ‘demands’ Bloodwind let Lockwood loose but seems none too concerned when the Native American beauty pulls Polly free and Irish Whips her across the canvas. Unaccustomed to being the bigger woman, if slightly, Nyssa stations herself dead center and waits for the red-white-and-blue blur to return.
Lockwood lowers a shoulder and PLOWS into Bloodwind but only moves her foe a couple steps back.
“May I?” the grinning Nyssa asks, motioning the direction she plans to take to show the True American how a Native gets it done.
“Be my guest,” Lockwood responds. “So many of you Mexicans already are.”
Bloodwind disregards the troll job and steps toward the set of ropes she plans to employ to knock Lockwood into next week. But Nyssa gets only one foot in front of the other before a lightning set of digits shoot to her ebony locks and Polly RIPS Bloodwind down with a hair tug before she can get further.
Nyssa’s spine SLAMS to the canvas. She bounces up to a seat, wincing and cradling the back of her skull.
“The President said there’s good people on both sides,” Lockwood rails as she lines up and delivers a resounding soccer kick to the Nubile Navajo’s cleavage that sends a shudder through the flawless frame of the Arizona native. “But he never met you.”
Lockwood lines up another and the pendulum swings toward Nyssa’s chest. But Bloodwind’s arms shoot forward and she’s able to catch the kick before it hits home. A stern Nyssa climbs to her feet with possession of her foe’s right ankle, keeping Polly hopping on he grounded boot sole. Joining her in verticality, the tawny-skinned grappler throws the captured leg toward the worried ‘patriot’ and the momentum of the swinging limb sends Lockwood sprawling to her face and chest.
The blonde’s hands fly to her beak as she threatens to sue. For what it isn’t clear. Bloodwind doesn’t wait to find out as she tugs the True American to her feet and lights her up with a knife-edge chop that echoes to the back of the arena.
The crowd can’t get the proper ‘WOOOO’ out of their mouths before another blow craaacks across the former Fox&Friendly blonde’s chest. A wide-eyed Polly staggers in a backpedal, the snarling Nyssa advancing to load and land another and another. The shots coming in a flurry, Lockwood is caught in a hailstorm, each impact harder and louder than the last until the blonde is leaning deep into a corner, mewling, wanting it to stop.
Nyssa smirks at the sight and gives her palm a long lick before landing one last wicked connection that nearly sends Lockwood back flipping over the buckles. Her elevated boots are snatched by Nyssa who spins the reeling Polly to the side, draping the blonde sideways across the middle ropes.
Grabbing the top, Bloodwind vaults into a tuck position above her rival and lowers the BOOM with a nasty Double Knee Stomp into the tanned tummy of the Yankee Doodlest, SMASHING Polly to the deck and leaving her in a pooled pile.
DOUBLE KNEE STOMP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewLr-Vf-Kr8
All business, Nyssa snatches an ankle of the blasted blonde and tugs the squirming body of the pernicious patriot to the middle where she releases and drops across the chest of the Star Spangled Bytch in a lateral press, hooking the abbreviated far leg of the would-be Appellate Justice for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Lockwood is not about to let the spiteful squaw pass sentence on her and she throws a shoulder up, rolling to her side as she bucks Bloodwind up to her haunches next to the flustered flag-waver.
“I’d be disappointed if you were sent scurrying back to DC that quickly,” the Nubile Navajo interjects as she rises next to the floored blonde. “You’ve got so much to re-learn.”
Turning to the ropes behind her, Nyssa races to and hits the rubber-coated steel then charging toward the splayed Polly, leaping into a Shooting Star Press from out of nowhere, her body CRASHING down across the open midriff of the Alt-Right Attack Dog.
STANDING SHOOTING STAR PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IV6NmSxa09s
Polly groans loudly as she jackknifes around the impact, exhale bursting from her lips. Slowly, she settles, but Bloodwind decides to pass on another pin, instead popping to her feet, determined to bury the blonde in a way that would send Polly limping back to DC for her hearings, never to be seen in Orlando again.
Rising, Bloodwind puts her boots to Polly’s right set of ribs until the blonde is ‘convinced’ to roll to her chest. Immediately, Nyssa posts her left foot between the legs of her foe, then folds and knots the blonde’s limbs around her own. With Lockwood’s legs secured in her Indian Deathlock, Nyssa turns up the pressure, grabbing the neck of Polly’s blue halter, stretching the spandex to pull her foe’s torso off the deck. She lays out to the canvas, not only stretching the knee ligaments of the ‘patriot’, but also SLAMMING Lockwood’s mug into the thinly-sheathed plywood, not once or twice but three times.
INDIAN DEATHLOCK PLUS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTIgMTVCKTw
Finally, Nyssa plants herself on Polly’s back and collects her foe’s arms, trying to pull the limbs out at the sockets. The Ugly American can do little more with grunt, groan and survive the Native’s handiwork, Bloodwind showing she’s stayed on the top of her game more than the ensnared partisan during their time away.
Despite her best efforts and the opportunities the official gives Lockwood to surrender, Polly endures long enough to convince Bloodwind something more need be done to finish off the True American.
She untangles herself from the Star-Spangled Bytch and stares down at the groaning hardbody.
“Time to show you some real American heritage,” Nyssa informs.
Bloodwind heads to the nearest corner, the Nubile Navajo climbing to the top and turning in the time Polly can struggle to one knee. Collecting her balance, the bite-sized blonde pushes to her feet and spins to see a soaring Nyssa headed toward her, right hand raised for her signature Diving Tomahawk Chop, a blow that might well put a dent in the blonde’s braincase from that height.
But before Nyssa can connect, Lockwood digs deep and launches into a dropkick aimed upward at the descending chin of Bloodwind. She connects savagely, the Native American grappler’s head snapping back in a whiplash from the impact, the back of her skull then rocketing to the canvas, providing a secondary smash that leaves Nyssa glassy-eyed and staring into the rafters while Polly struggles to even make it to all fours to take advantage.
While “taking advantage” might not be immediately in the cards, the TRUE American nevertheless manages to drag herself over to the ropes. Using the cables, Lockwood pulls herself up from her hands and knees to JUST her knees, and then finally all the way to her feet. Meanwhile, with a groan, the Nubile Navajo works her way up to a seated position, and attempts to shake out a few lingering cobwebs from her cranium’s connection with the canvas.
As we all know, Post-Concussion Syndrome is a thing. And while out appointed by Gawd almighty Commander in Chief has done an effective job of eviscerating NFL players for being too soft to deal with its effects, a cruel smirk forms on Polly’s lips as she wonders whether the same might be able to be said for FAWN starlets. And with Bloodwind facing away from her, the back of Nyssa’s skull proves far too inviting a target to pass up. Her legs feeling a little more certain underneath her, the pocket hardbody shoves away from the ropes with a determined roar, sprinting toward the Nubile Navajo and DRIVING her knee into Nyssa’s noggin, with every intention of turning the former Lightweight champion’s Lights Out.
LIGHTS OUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-XRwr-Ftcg
The sound of knee striking skull draws a collective grimace from the FAWNatics, and earns a dull moan from the poor woman on the receiving end, Nyssa nearly knocked momentarily cross-eyed as she slumps forward. Despite her knee strike-induced stupor, the Nubile Navajo still has enough semblance of awareness to drop her hands in front of her to break her fall. But when Polly twirls a handful of raven locks around her fingers and starts to walk toward the ropes, Bloodwind struggles to simply crawl along as she is lead. “No tears yet,” Lockwood muses, pulling her opponent up to her knees and pressing Nyssa’s clavicle down against the rubber coated steel of the middle rope. “We’ll fix that before the night’s over.”
The Fox & Friendly blonde then planted her knee against the back of Nyssa’s neck, and shifted ALL of her one hundred and eighteen pounds down against the Nubile Navajo. Bloodwind’s Uggs frantically pound at the canvas, her hands managing to momentarily grasp and push up against the cable before any number of involuntary spasms send her arms thrashing and flailing. “Come on, Polly,” the referee snaps.
“Let her off the ropes!”
“Lay off the witch hunt, ref!” Lockwood barks back. But instead of relenting, the official begins to count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
The Star Spangled Bytch dramatically raises her hands in innocence as she lifts her knee away from her opponent, spinning around to face the referee. “WHAT THE HELL, MAN?” Polly shouts. “Didn’t you see the President’s latest Executive Order???” When the zebra only blinks at her in confusion, she enlightens him. “By Executive Order, counts toward disqualification have been doubled, from five to ten. If Twitter can double their character limit…”
The ref opens his mouth… but literally cannot find the words to counter such an outrageous and clearly false on its face assertion. But at this point, he finally notices that Nyssa’s boots are continuing to pound out an insistent S.O.S, because while she had been pleading her (ludicrous) case, Lockwood had merely traded her taut little tush in place of her knee, the blonde reclining against her adversary and continuing to throttle the life out of Bloodwind. “FOR CRYING OUT LOUD,” he sighs, before administering a fresh count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
The future 6th District Justice elects not to test whether she had successfully made her case, stepping away from Nyssa, who drops to her backside with a loud, raspy gasp, one hand moving to clutch her reddened windpipe. “Gawddamn activist refs,” Lockwood spits, then turns back to the wheezing Native American beauty. Bloodwind soon experiences even greater difficulty in catching her breath when Polly sets the boots to her chest and stomach, driving the brunette to her back and then eventually sending her spilling under the bottom rope, crashing to the floor. The miniature blonde hardbody then follows her foe, at least as far as the apron, lying in wait near the ringpost as the Nubile Navajo begins to pull herself to her feet…
Lockwood then charges, swinging and connecting with a wicked running kick. Somewhat remarkably, Nyssa remains on her feet as she spins away from the impact, but with quite the tremors working their way down her tawny and suddenly rubbery legs.
APRON KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAqs1ZMFRug
Jumping down to the floor, Polly saunters up behind her prey. Snatching a wrist, she whips Nyssa around, and then whips her further still, sending the Native American stunner CRASHING headlong into the ring steps. Bloodwind slumps to a seat, turning her back to the cool steel, her head lolling back on her shoulders. “You think you’re just gonna waltz back in here,” Lockwood snarls, “and deny me my chance to win back MY belt? You know what we call that these days?” The TRUE American barely pauses, before providing the answer herself…
“Fake News!”
Polly races forward, loading up to send her knee SMASHING into Nyssa’s noggin once more, this time targeting the bridge of the Native American’s nose… only this time, the Star Spangled Bytch’s knee cap connects only with cold steel when Bloodwind manages to roll to the side, clearing her opponent’s path.
As the mewling blonde hobbles away, clutching at her wounded knee, Nyssa crawls back toward the ring, clutching at the apron skirt to pull herself up. Regaining her footing, the Nubile Navajo lumbers toward her foe, still clearly feeling the effects of Polly’s abuse, but overcoming them enough to take Lockwood by the hand and launching her toward the security barrier. The blonde hits the railing with a gurgling cry, the collision lifting Polly off her feet and very nearly sending her into the first row of deplorables. While she doesn’t spill all the way into the stands, she still remains folded over the beam, knees bent and boots kicking toward the sky in an effort to shift her balance back toward the combat side of the barrier. Alas, as inviting a target as Lockwood’s wriggling backside proves to be, a voice soon catches Nyssa’s attention…
“EIGHT!!!!!!!!”
Bloodwind quickly turns back toward the ring, diving under the bottom rope… and then reversing course, dropping back to the floor before making her way toward the suspended Star Spangled Bytch. Assisting Polly off the metal railing, Nyssa guides her by means of a handful of hair toward the ring, and SLAMS the Fox & Friendly blonde’s face into the edge of the apron once, twice, and finally three times.
Taking a small measure of satisfaction in the glazed look in the blonde’s eyes, Bloodwind pushes her foe’s body up onto the apron before shoveling her underneath the bottom rope. And as Lockwood tumbles back toward the center of the ring, the Nubile Navajo climbs up from the floor, taking the top rope in both hand before rocking back and propelling herself OVER the top rope in a beautiful slingshot 360 splash…
SLINGSHOT 360 SPLASH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OchZmqZo0V8
… which, much to the distress of the FAWNatics and Nyssa Bloodwind, connects with a pair of raised knees rather than a washboard stomach. The Native American warrior bounces away from the impact, flopping to the canvas and sputtering as both arms hug her impaled tummy, the wind momentarily knocked out of both her and her rally.
Polly’s instinct pays off, but she doesn’t have a lot more than that at the moment. The little blonde hardbody rolls up to hands and knees and surveys Bloodwind. There’s a hint of satisfaction, but also a hint of a concussion in her eyes. She rattles her braincase to slip some senses back into place and slowly rises to her full 61 inches over the groaning Arizonan.
The Native American grappler is on all fours and Lockwood can’t resist the urge to punt her in the ribs, forcing Bloodwind to barrel roll to her back then over to her chest where the stubborn Navajo pushes up yet again. This time Polly Patriot sinks her nails into Nyssa’s scalp and tugs her rival to vertical, bullying her into a corner.
“MFGA, bytch,” Lockwood whispers in the injun’s ear while changing her grip to a wrist and flinging Nyssa to the far buckles with an Irish Whip. Bloodwind sprints across the expanse and turns into a body-rattling collision with the buckles that seems to turn her legs off. She plops to the canvas, seated on the mat, golden-brown legs extended in front of her, head and shoulders leaning loosely into the corner.
Pleased with her foe’s positioning, the True American takes off like a shot, racing as fast as her little legs will carry her. She leaps from a few feet out with those limbs extended and RAMS her undercarriage into Nyssa’s chest. Grabbing the middle ropes on either side, the blonde thrusts her backside into Bloodwind time and time again, busting her bronco with impunity.
“You…will …respect…my…author…ity,” Polly blurts with each booty-bouncing assault.
Nyssa slowly sinks under the barrage, her face taking a battering from Polly’s junk for chants EIGHT…NINE…and TEN.
With Bloodwind slack jawed beneath her, the Star Spangled Bytch dismounts and grabs the raven-haired grappler by the ankles, pulling her out toward the middle. But there’s no pinfall attempt in store. Instead, Lockwood moves to a standing straddle and leers at her lesser, shaking her head.
Without words, she leaps above the splayed native and stomps her foes’ modest bosom flat. A yelping Nyssa pushes at Polly’s ankles, but it doesn’t stop Lockwood from grinding her boot soles into the thinly-sheathed, tender tissue. Polly hops again to Mushroom Stomp Nyssa’s gurls a second time, a large breath forced from between Bloodwind’s lips, pain etched on her features.
“You’re going to learn your place in our…hell…MY brave new world,” Polly informs. “And you aren’t going to like it.”
Lockwood steps off her pedestals, strolls to her corner and picks up Old Glory, waving it at the fans. Some Pavlovian dogs respond as required, but most in the crowd boo Lockwood’s misuse of their emblem. She gives the ‘fake’ fans a middle-fingered salute then places the flag on the top buckle, turning to see Bloodwind to hands and knees. She raises both sets of fingers in front of her face, fashioning a frame from her thumbs and forefingers and places Nyssa within.
“Pretty as a picture,” Polly purrs.
She surges toward the Native American as Nyssa tries to rise and NAILS her left temple with her signature Lights Out running knee that leaves Bloodwind a grease spot on the canvas.
LIGHTS OUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lUAc1KVAQc
Polly drops across her foe, back to bosom, and hooks a leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Bloodwind pushes Polly off to a seat next to her as she rolls in the opposite direction. Ending on her chest, and apparently afraid of providing the blonde another inviting target, she slithers along the canvas, latching onto the ropes just as the Fox&Friendly Lockwood reaches her.
The official intercedes, blocking Polly’s path as Nyssa uses the cables to pull up to vertical.
“Lemme guess,” the True American whines, “you’re a Bernie Bro.”
“Actually, I voted for Jill Stein,” the man responds.
“Ah. Well thank you for that,” Polly retorts, whispering “sucker” under her breath.
The diminutive and impatient robobabe shoves the zebra to the side and receives a side kick to the abdomen from a recovering Bloodwind. Her foe doubled, Nyssa tugs the blonde’s lowered braincase into a front facelock. Still next to the ropes, she climbs to the middle cable, using Polly as a stabilizer, and springboards from the strand, spinning Lockwood in a whipping 180 only to DDT the crown of the patriot’s skull into the canvas when she lays out.
Lockwood somersaults through the ring-rattling impact and slides to a spread-eagle, her match control lost in little more than the blink of an eye. Still, it takes several seconds for the Native American to even rise to a seated position. She casts a quick glance over her right shoulder to see the stirring Lockwood.
Knowing she must push up and take advantage, Bloodwind reaches her feet and strides in determined fashion to Lockwood. She slips a set of digits into Polly’s shoulder-length flaxen strands and tugs the True American to vertical.
“Time to impeach your assAHHHH!”
The threat turns to a howl as Polly’s hands form two sets of claws and shoot toward and into Nyssa’s breasts. Already bruised by the pernicious patriot, Lockwood now tears into the pert flesh. Pivoting, the blonde uses the dual grips of flesh to hiptoss the mewling Native.
Bloodwind lands on her tailbone with a THUMP. She massages her behind with one hand while trying to slip her faux deerskin cups back into place over her gurls. As Nyssa tends to derriere and deerskin, the soon-to-be member of the federal judiciary heads for the nearest set of buckles. It looks like it might be a mistake when Nyssa starts to rise to her feet as Polly moves up the buckles. However, in the time it takes the Native grappler to turn and find the Star Spangled Bytch, Polly’s able to pivot on her perch and leap into the void between the rivals.
Soaring like a Patriot missile, the little blonde hardbody skies over Nyssa, snatching her noggin as she passes overhead. As Lockwood flips to a landing on the deck she PLANTS Nyssa with a breathtaking and vertebrae-crunching neckbreaker from the top that leaves the FAWNatics groaning and Nyssa, at best, semiconscious, ending face down and unmoving.
FLYING NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILZrVGvCktk
The impact takes something out of the Alt-Right Attack Dog as well and several seconds go by before Polly crawls to what’s left of Nyssa, shoves Bloodwind to her back, and drops across her foe to become #1 contender for the lightweight title.
Both women’s only movement is the swell of their chests but with Polly on top, it’s good enough to count for the win with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Nubile Navajo throws up a shoulder.
Her opponent’s defiance brings a measure of life back into the body of the TRUE American, Polly pushing herself up to her knees and climbing into a straddle of Bloodwind’s tummy. The miniature blonde hardbody leans forward, claiming Nyssa’s wrists one in each hand and pressing them down over the still-dazed Native American’s noggin, her shoulders once again flat against the canvas. And so, the referee slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Again, though with a little less force, Nyssa manages to shrug a shoulder up off the mat.
Moving beyond annoyed to fully enraged, the Alt-Right Attach Dog snarls as she relinquishes her grasp on Nyssa’s wrists, and instead wraps both hands around Nyssa’s throat in an extremely blatant and even more illegal choke. Instantly, Bloodwind’s glistening legs begin to kick and thrash, the brunette’s eyes bulging as her fists and forearms club at Lockwood’s arms. “KNOCK IT OFF, POLLY!” the zebra orders, but when he receives no response, he begins to count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
FOUR!!!!”
Nyssa lets out a loud, almost grateful gasp as Lockwood lets go, raising her hands in… well, hardly innocence. “I. AM. A. STAR!!!” the Fox & Friendly blonde pointedly explains to the hapless official. “And I have it on the highest authority there is that, when you’re a star, they let you get away with it!”
He merely rolls his eyes, but Lockwood remains quick to take advantage of the lapse that annoyance leads to in the ref’s concentration when she quickly snatches two handfuls of dark tresses, lifts Nyssa’s head just a few inches off the mat, and then SLAMS the back her skull back into the harsh, scarcely padded plywood. “HEY!!!” the official protests, but Polly promptly cuts him off.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the TRUE American mutters, climbing to her feet and turning toward the ropes. Establishing a double-fisted grip on the uppermost cable, the Breitbart Babe rocks back and launches herself over the strands, twisting her body to face back toward the ring when she lands on the apron. And there she waits, as a ragged, sweat-drenched Nyssa Bloodwind struggles to regain her footing, the Native American warrior’s back to the ropes.
Eventually, drunkenly, the brunette starts to turn. And to her credit, as soon as she spots Lockwood, Nyssa starts to lumber towards her, as quickly and as gracefully as her unsteady stems will allow—which is to say, not very.
And it doesn’t matter, regardless. For Polly dips down and EXPLODES through the gap between the middle and top ropes, diving toward Bloodwind and DRIVING her shoulder into the former Lightweight’s belly, the Lockwood Lunge folding Nyssa in half as the TRUE American tackles her to the mat.
LOCKWOOD LUNGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8-8LhfAOhg
Another cover might very well have been able to score Polly the victory, and secure for herself a match against Dominique Daly. But the Alt-Right Attack Dog forsakes the opportunity, rising and taking hold of one of Bloodwind’s wrist and one of her ankles. She uses those handholds to drag the Nubile Navajo a little closer to the nearest corner, positioning her just so before turning toward the buckles. Noting the flag still waving o’er the top turnbuckle, the Star Spangled Bytch can’t resist giving it a crisp salute before climbing to join it. Then, from her perch, Polly launches herself airborne, twisting into a beautiful moonsault…
… that CRASHES onto Bloodwind’s raised knees, the Nubile Navajo both averting disaster and getting a little turnabout on the turncoat from moments ago. Polly flops to the side, rolling to a hip and curling up, coughing and clutching suddenly sore ribs. Nyssa remains on her back, the soles of her Uggs settled down to the mat, knees raised as she tries to use the seconds she has bought herself to regroup.
Alas, with both women down and (possibly) out, the referee waits for as long as possible, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. After a few moments, he begins to count BOTH women towards a defeat…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!”
Nyssa proves to be the first to stir, struggling up to her knees. Unfortunately, much to the distress of Navajo Nation, Lockwood isn’t far behind when she gets to all fours. And Polly proves to be ambulatory first, crawling over to the Nubile Navajo before dropping back on her haunches, facing the exhausted brunette. “This ring…” the Breitbart Babe pants, “… is MY ring!”
Lockwood lunges forward, a little wobbly, but SLAMMING a forearm blast into Bloodwind’s jaw.
“ONLY my ring!”
Another forearm shot connects, this time with Nyssa’s upper chest.
“From the nnnNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
The FAWNatics ERUPT as Nyssa returns fire, landing a forearm to chest that ROCKS Polly back onto her heels. The blow dazes the Star Spangled Bytch sufficiently that Bloodwind can shuffle slightly to the side, draw back, and UNLOAD with an open hand chop that would make her older sister proud. Pushing to her feet, the Nubile Navajo reaches down, snatches a handful of hair and…
“GYYYAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Polly answers by going to the eyes.
As the dark haired former Lightweight champion staggers away blinking, her flaxen maned colleague rises up behind her, breathing heavy, but clearly satisfied to be back in control. Spinning Nyssa back to face her, Lockwood claims a wrist, sets her feet and whips Bloodwind toward the ropes. And, for the briefest of moments, when she doesn’t begin to turn her back into the collision with the cables, Polly suspects that her opponent remains too blinded to realize what is happening…
… only instead, the Nubile Navajo JUMPS to meet the ropes, landing on the middle strand and propelling herself back toward the stunned blonde, SLAMMING an elbow into Lockwood’s chest as both women crash to the canvas.
SPRINGBOARD BACK ELBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxcJstXapSA
A seemingly rejuvenated Nyssa rolls through her landing, shooting up to her feet to a roar of affection and support from the FAWNatics. Lockwood, meanwhile, bounces back up as far as to a seated position, but that’s about as far as she makes it, her head slumped forward, her hands reaching to cradle the back of her throbbing skull. Marching over to her, Bloodwind clamps down on a handful of hair, pulls Polly up to her knees and STUFFS the blonde’s noggin between two strong thighs. Pushing the Alt-Right Attack Dog’s left boot into the pit of her right knee, Bloodwind then claims Polly’s right boot and pulls up—which first trapped the blonde’s boot with her folded stem, and then gradually pulls the pintsized hardbody into the air. Wrapping an arm around the waist of the Star Spangled Bytch while keeping the other hand on her boot, Nyssa drops to her taut tush, SPIKING Polly’s skull with her Indian Deathlock Piledriver.
INDIAN DEATHLOCK PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXcN8fXiktE
Lockwood’s head springs out from between those shapely, glistening thighs of the Navajo warrior, her eyes on tilt as she plummets backward, landing spread-eagled on the mat. Gathering the blonde’s ankles, Nyssa crawls forward, her belly pressing down onto Polly’s now upturned rump as she folds the Star Spangled Bytch up in a matchbook pin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Lockwood is able to unfold from under the Native American grappler, flopping to her side while pushing Bloodwind up to her knees. Both show the wear of another war, but it’s the glistening golden body of Nyssa that has the vitality at the moment.
The Nubile Navajo slaps the canvas, showing a hint of frustration, but quickly pushes to her feet and heads for the nearest corner. Climbing, she stands on the top ropes, the sole of an Ugg on the cable either side of the buckles. Back to the ring, Bloodwind casts a glance over her shoulder and sees Polly rising. Throwing caution to the wind, she nevertheless leaps from her perch in a moonsault and CRASHES down across the Fox&Friendly blonde in a Bloodhawk Press.
BLOODHAWK PRESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIR78M9_KXg
The overturned Navajo SLAMS into the bite-sized blonde, knocking Polly flat to the canvas. Nyssa only need scoot forward to claim a pin, but the warrior scrambles around the flagging patriot, settling in a seated position between Lockwood’s legs, pointed away from the torso of the True American.
Grabbing both legs, the raven-haired grappler rolls to her back, forcing Polly to her chest. She secures the abbreviated stems of her foe, folding them at her chest, then collects the arms of the Star Spangled Bytch, pulling back at her elbows before switching her grips to Lockwood’s wrists, violently stretching Polly’s spine and trying to pull her arms out at the sockets with a modified surfboard stretch.
MODIFIED SURFBOARD STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtAEn4oQQzY
Polly’s spandex stars press tight to her bosom as her chest is thrust forward by Nyssa’s submission maneuver, her limbs extended behind her from Bloodwind’s tugging.
“Give up,” the Navajo shouts to the grimacing Polly, the FAWNatics adding a ‘TAP’ chant that gains momentum and volume. Soon, the arena is rocking, and Nyssa adds a little hobbyhorse action to her stretch, drawing some loud mewls out of Lockwood. Still, Polly shakes her head vigorously when the referee asks if she wants to hand the title shot to the injun.
Convinced this effort won’t bring the blonde to heel, Nyssa releases her grip and clambers to her feet while Lockwood is face down, rolling her shoulders to bring some feeling back to her arms. The blonde presses to all fours while Bloodwind calmly observes, the crowd getting nervous she’s allowing the future Appellate Judge to rise.
Seemingly timing her action, the Native American grappler turns and heads for the nearby ropes. She bounds into the middle cable while grabbing the top with both hands. Springboarding into a u-turn, the lithe lightweight skies toward a turning Polly and PLANTS a Tomahawk Chop between the baby blues of the pernicious patriot. The eyes cross as Lockwood’s legs fly out in front of her and the back of her skull and shoulders CRASH into the canvas with violent force.
Left in a motionless starfish from Nyssa’s signature blow, Polly’s out cold, pink tongue poking from between her pursed lips. Above her, Bloodwind indulges, lofting an index finger high to signify she’s assured herself the #1 contender position for FAWN’s most competitive title. Dropping to a kneel next to the demolished blonde, she flops forward into a lateral press, hooking Polly’s far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The crowd’s roars turn to groans when Kellyanne Conway’s former protégé shudders to life and manages to slip a shoulder off the canvas with the official’s palm an inch away from signaling another notch in the handle of Nyssa’s tomahawk.
On her back next to her foe, Bloodwind raises her arms to the heavens in wonderment at how the Star Spangled Bytch sprang back to life in the nick of time. Apparently the political version of a horror movie monster, Lockwood uses another of her lives, shoving up to a glassy-eyed, slumping seat, the True American comically confused on where she is, what she’s supposed to do, and how she should be able to do it.
Deciding she needs to up the ante to finish off the petulant if persistent patriot, Nyssa gives Lockwood a solid kick to the lower vertebrae before sliding past the seated Polly. Proceeding to the corner in front of the women, Bloodwind pops to a seat of her own, her taut cheeks finding a resting place on the top buckle, her Uggs planting firmly on the middle ropes beneath her.
The Native beauty watches intently as the loopy Lockwood pushes up and drunkenly stumbles toward her with barely a hint of where she or her rival is. Nyssa rises and leaps toward Polly, grasping at the Fox&Friendly blonde’s noggin to whip the True American trough a modified version of her Long Walk, hoping to spike the crown of Polly’s skull into the canvas and drop the patriot’s listed height to an even five feet from five-one.
MODIFIED LONG WALK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eK84shq7DU
But as Nyssa leaps from her perch, Polly wakens from her daze. She pivots enough to catch Bloodwind across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The legs of the bite-sized blonde waver under the impact of the landing but she stabilizes and PLANTS the tawny-skinned warrior with a thumping Samoan Drop.
Nyssa’s back arches in pain from the collision and she writhes next to a splayed and sweat-drenched Lockwood who slowly spins to her chest to take in the sight of the squirming Bloodwind. Polly pushes up and calls on a second wind to put her boot to every piece of Nyssa’s real estate she finds available until exhaustion catches up with her after a dozen piston-like thrusts of her right leg. The little hardbody draws in deep breaths as Bloodwind groans at her feet, chest and face down.
“I’m going to send you back to that shithole state of yours. Maybe Desert Divas will let you sweep the ring after their cards at the Los Lunas Eagles Club.”
Polly drops a knee into the base of Nyssa’s spine, sending her foe into another anguish-induced arch and, with Bloodwind rightly distracted, Lockwood moves to a forward-facing kneel between Nyssa’s glossy stems, forcing them wide when she spreads her legs.
With the Nubile Navajo’s gams approaching a 45-degree angle, Polly THRUSTS an underhand claw into Nyssa’s privates, driving the fingers in and clenching them with a ferocity that wholly represents her desire to humiliate her rival AND reach the lightweight title match.
Lockwood ‘chews’ away with her uppercut grasp of Nyssa’s crotch, Bloodwind treated like a hand puppet, her face etched in agony as Polly savagely works her signature Presidential Handshake deeper into the tender flesh.
Instinctively, Nyssa’s thighs clench in an effort to draw her legs back together and protect her nether regions—never mind that doing so would actually trap the Fox & (all too at the moment) Friendly blonde’s hand where it was doing the most damage. Fortunately for the Nubile Navajo, Lockwood’s knees prevented her body’s involuntary response.
But of course, that also allows Polly to continue to work her vicious claw with impunity.
The longer the Star Spangled Bytch works her claw, the more the hold causes alternating and contradictory conditions with Nyssa’s lower limbs. When her well-shaped legs aren’t held in paralysis from the agony of the Presidential Handshake, the torment of Polly’s talons appears to deny Bloodwind any sense of muscle control, her legs spasming with little rhyme and less reason. The Nubile Navajo’s lone recourse is to dig her elbows into the mat, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, draaaaaaaaaag herself towards the ropes.
Mere seconds feel like half an hour to the distressed brunette, but at last, she manages to wrap both arms around the bottom rope. The referee calls for a break, bringing the Native American warrior’s ordeal to an end…
… or at least, it SHOULD have. But, snarling in naked rage and hatred, Polly refuses to release the Handshake! “BREAK THE HOLD, POLLY!” the official demands.
If anything, the Alt-Right Attack Dog clamps down HARDER, ripping a howl of despairing anguish from Nyssa’s lips.
“ONE!” the ref counts.
“GYYYYAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” wails the Nubile Navajo, clinging to the rubber coated steel of the bottom cable.
“TWO!!”
“FYYYYUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Nyssa screams, bawling in her agony. “PUUUUHHHHLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
And still, Polly clamps down.
“THREE!!!”
“GYYYYYUUUUUUGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!” Nyssa howls, the tortuous Handshake overwhelming her pride, forcing Bloodwind to plead with the official. “GUUUHHHH… GEEEEETTTHHEERRROOOFFFFFFFFFMMUUUUUEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Alas, for the moment, all he can is continue his count. “FOUR!!!!”
Finally, the unrelenting torrent of pain, inflicted upon the Nubile Navajo beyond legal bounds, forces a break in the dam of her resolve. Unable to stop herself, Nyssa screams out, “AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! GIIIIIIVVVVVEEE!!!!!! I GIIIIIVVVVVEEEEE!!!!!! FUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHPPPLLEEEEAAAAAAASSSSEEE!!!!!”
“F…!!!!!”
Lockwood RIIIIPS away the claw, practically springing back to her feet and shooting both arms into the air in triumph. The FAWNatics shower the miniature blonde hardbody in jeers, and get even louder when the TRUE American lowers her arms to reach for the referee’s hand, so that he can raise hers in victory. But Polly’s jubilant expression turns to anger when he rips his hand away. “You heard her!” she scolds him.
“She was in the ropes!” he snaps back. “It was an illegal hold, and you know damn well you can’t get a submission from an illegal hold!”
For the briefest of moments, Lockwood considers introducing HIM to the Presidential Handshake, but ultimately, she elects to let him enjoy his alternative facts. The bytch had submitted. She heard it, he heard, and everyone watching had heard it.
The bytch was BROKEN.
Which means Polly can have some fun.
Snatching a handful of Bloodwind’s raven locks, she peels the wreckage of the Nubile Navajo off the canvas, Nyssa’s still-quaking legs showing tremendous difficulty in supporting her weight—so the Fox & Friendly blonde does her solid, offering some support by wrapping an arm around her neck. Lockwood then takes a couple of long strides back toward the center of the ring before leaping into the air and laying out, SLAMMING Nyssa’s mug into the mat with a bulldog.
With the sweat-soaked Nubile Navajo left face down and twitching, Polly rolls to her knees, her chest heaving with each deep breath as she brings her hands to her thighs, looking down on the shattered remnants of her opponent. Instead of just rolling her over for a cover, Lockwood pushes to her feet and heads toward the ropes. “And now, to show the world nobody beats the good ol’ U. S. of A,” she remarks, slipping out onto the apron. “Your Long Walk ain’t got SH!T on the Polly Rocket!” she shouts at the barely stirring Nyssa, waiting for her to rise, confident that the ignorant savage was too far out of it to understand her words.
Judging by the drunken, faltering nature in which Bloodwind begins her ascent, Polly’s assumption would appear safe. Nyssa’s first attempt to straighten up results in the Native American beauty promptly dropping back to one knee, head bowed, which only prompts the Star Spangled Bytch’s smirk to broaden. The Nubile Navajo pushes up again, swaying unsteadily, her back to the eager blonde. When Bloodwind begins to turn, Polly vaults herself to the top rope, and from there launches her lethal Polly Rocket…
POLLY ROCKET:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKWI-rr-T7I
… but as the Rocket zeroes in on its target, Nyssa’s trembling gams suddenly find renewed strength, not only enough to hold herself up but to launch herself into the air. Letting her weight fall backward, Bloodwind kicks her legs high, the soles of her Uggs catching Polly under the chin. And, just as Lockwood had done to her earlier in the contest, Nyssa catches the blonde coming off the top rope with an incredible, devastating dropkick.
Both women hit the deck hard, each looking seemingly demolished. It proves to take a few moments for either one to collect herself enough to move, but ultimately, the Nubile Navajo manages to crawl over to the smoldering wreckage of the intercepted Polly Rocket, and drops an arm across Lockwood’s chest as she slumps down beside the blonde on her tummy.
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Polly muscles one leg off the canvas, just enough to allow her ankle to drop across the bottom rope, deflating a crowd that was ready to erupt in euphoria.
Struggling not to be discouraged, Bloodwind fights her way back to verticality, then yanks Lockwood to the same by way of a handful of hair. Taking her foe by the wrist, Nyssa starts to whip the Alt-Right Attack Dog toward the far corner, but again, Polly proves resourceful, answering the whip with a reversal. She begins to follow Nyssa in, but has to slam on the brakes when the Nubile Navajo hops to the middle turnbuckle and propels herself back toward the pint-sized hardbody, taking Lockwood down to the canvas with a rebound flying crossbody. Bloodwind’s weight slams down onto her opponent, knocking the wind out of her and sending Polly’s gams sailing heavenward. So, Nyssa hooks them as the official slides into position…
REBOUND FLYING CROSSBODY:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fVba8BTGqs
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Lockwood kicks out, with virtually no time to spare.
Hauling the blonde up to rubbery legs, Nyssa takes a shuffling step to the side, draws her right hand back, and UNLOADS with a knife edge chop to Polly’s sternum. As required by international law, the FAWNatics respond with a “WHOOOOOO!!!!!” as the Star Bangled Bytch lets out a yelp of pain, but the Nubile Navajo isn’t done, landing a further five chops to Lockwood’s increasingly crimson chest. Trying to return fire, Polly balls her fist and swings a looping right, but Bloodwind ducks clear. Straightening up before the blonde can pull back her arm, Nyssa reaches an arm across her chest, grabbing a shoulder. With her other hand, the brunette reaches around Polly’s back grabbing a handful of waistband. With a grunt of effort, Nyssa hoists her foe off her feet as she jumps into the air, kicking her shapely legs out in front of her and dropping to her pert backside.
BAREBACK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pD3vzo4uLTw
Polly lands on her knees, but the impact rockets her back to her feet, at least temporarily. The Star Spangled Bytch staggers into a slight turn, before she trips on her own feet and plummets back to the mat, landing on her face and chest. Bloodwind is on her in an instant, diving into a straddle of the blonde’s lower back. Hooking both of Polly’s arms behind her back, the Nubile Navajo launches herself forward, landing on her tiptoes in a bridge, the crown of her skull resting on the mat—and her arms CRAAAAANKING on Lockwood’s captive wings.
DINEH DEATHLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zN5hDN-g14
Screaming in torment, Polly’s legs kick and thrash, her boots straaaaaaaaaaaiiiining to find the sanctuary of the ropes—but they are much too far away to be of any use to the diminutive beauty. Without the use of her arms, the blonde can do little more than offer her best impression of the serpent on the Gadsden Flag, but writhe and wriggle as she might, her feet still fail to find any means of rescue for her.
“What do you say, Polly?” the referee asks.
“GYYYUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!!!!” the blonde moans. “FUUUGGGHHHH… FUUUGGGHHHHHOOOOFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!”
Nyssa gives Polly’s arms an even harsher crank.
“AGGGGHHHHHHJJJJEEEEEZZZZZUUUUUUSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!” the Alt-Right Attack Dog howls, feet still kicking… and still coming up empty.
Screwing her eyes shut, the Nubile Navajo starts cranking on the Deathlock with abandon, apparently determined to either wring a submission out of the TRUE American or to exhaust herself trying. About five seconds later, the answer comes…
Polly’s hand starts slapping the canvas.
“THAT’S IT!” the ref declares. “RING THE BELL!!!”
DING! DING!! DING!!!
As tempting as the thought of keeping the Dineh Deathlock cinched in after the bell might have been—MUST have been—Nyssa relinquishes the hold almost immediately, crumpling to the mat beside the mewling Lockwood, chest heaving as she looks up at the lights. Eventually, though, the brunette rolls up to her knees, the official reaching down to raise her hand as the announcer proclaims, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, by submission… and NEW #1 Contender for the Lightweight title… NYYYSSSSSSAAA BLLLOOOOOODDDWWWIIINNNDDD!!!!!”
As the FAWNatics rise to their feet, shouting and cheering, a beaming Nyssa closes her eyes and gently nods her head. Finally summoning the strength to regain her footing, the Nubile Navajo taps a fist to her heart before bowing to the crowd. No doubt there would be posts on the FAWN messageboards about her triumphant return, but Nyssa then reminds both the crowd and the audience at home that there remains work to be done. Locating the nearest camera, Bloodwind turns and motions two hands across her waist.
“Keep it shiny for me, Domi,” Bloodwind says. “It’s coming home with me, REAL soon…”