Post by bigfan on Feb 5, 2018 21:59:22 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen, our next contest is a Last Woman Standing match with a thirty minute time limit, and is for the EurAsian championship! Introducing first... coming in at five foot seven and one hundred twenty eight pounds… hailing from Seoul, South Korea, she is --”
YOONA PARK
A gasp of “OOOH” erupts from the capacity crowd as Yoona Park steps through the curtains and onto the entrance ramp before the ring announcer finishes her introduction. As usual, Yoona wears her black bustier-style one piece lined in metallic gold. Her forearms are sheathed in matching fingerless gloves that run up to her elbow, and on her legs are a pair of black sleeves that start just above her knees and run down to her ankles before terminating in thin stirrups that loop around the arches of her otherwise bare feet. “YOONA” is written vertically in metallic gold block letters on the front of each shin. Tied around her left thigh -- perhaps a bit more tightly and securely than usual -- is a red silk ribbon, a suggestion which Camille had made many months ago.
On this particular occasion, however, Yoona wears something extra.
The entire lower half of her face, from the bridge of her nose to her cheekbones to her chin, is painted like a skeleton. Instead of a mischievous, flirtatious smile, Park wears a grim rictus stretching from cheek to cheek, and black paint framed in white gives the appearance of a hollow space where her nose would be. Her forehead and eyes remain unpainted, although the latter are glassy and unfocused while she shambles towards the ring as if in a fugue. Yoona’s normally gorgeous visage now rendered grotesque, the FAWNatics don’t know how to react except with stunned silence. Even the production team seems taken aback and they neglect to play the entrance music, leaving Park to make her way to the ring with the packed arena eerily quiet.
Camille had come home in a wheelchair a month ago. Sitting in Cosworth’s childhood bedroom, the pair of lovebirds held each other and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried, and when the tears finally ran dry, Yoona left. Leaving Camille in the care of her family, Park returned to Orlando alone and shut herself off from the world. She stayed in their penthouse condo for weeks at a time in order to stew in her grief and her rage, willing stoking the slow burn of madness that would consume her thoughts, and now she emerges once more, ready to carve her pound of flesh from Fiona Waterford’s beating heart.
As Yoona shuffles past the midpoint of the entrance ramp, a voice to her left shatters the stillness.
“KILL HER, YOONA!”
Park lurches to a stop and turns her head to look at the fan who had disturbed her reverie. It’s a young woman -- perhaps young enough that she had snuck into the FAWN Arena with a fake ID -- wearing one of Camille’s first edition F#CK THE IMPOSSIBLE t-shirts. A long time Cosworth loyalist and a proud member of Tomorrow-Morrow Land before Tomorrow-Morrow Land was even a thing, the fan’s eyes well with tears of rage, and then she screams again at the Korean wrestler.
“FUCKING KILL HER!”
With that, the silence is banished for good as a wall of sound crashes down from every corner of the building. Not the rapturous ovation that welcomes a hero nor the salacious catcalling that follows a whore, but the bloodthirsty baying that fuels a lynch mob. Yoona doesn’t seem to notice as she turns away from the fan and resumes her slow walk towards the ring, #SlimReaper -- a play on the title Park had given herself months ago in the closing moments of an intense beach brawl with Adelaide Brewster and a fitting epithet given her current macabre countenance -- already trending on Twitter by the time she makes her way through the ropes.
More nervous and uneasy now than he had been in years, FAWN’s senior referee Nick Castle wipes his hands on the sides of his pants as he visually inspects the challenger from just out of arm’s reach. For her part, Yoona doesn’t even acknowledge the official’s existence, choosing instead to stare blankly at the entrance ramp in the distance as she awaits the arrival of the EurAsian champion.
The booming orchestral chords of the champion’s entrance spreads through the arena (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDI9HuVduDI&feature=related ) heralding the Eurasian title holder. A barrage of boos and jeers follow quickly behind, the arena walls reverberating with hate.
Looking simultaneously threatening and glorious, gaudy gold belt around her waist, Her Ladyship strides to center stage without the a care in the world. If she was meant to be intimidated by the crowd or the sight of Skele-yoona, the royal had yet to show it.
As always, the Englishwoman reviews the boisterous crowd with disdain and imperial arrogance. She provider her best queenly wave to her distant challenger then starts down the ramp as the ring announcer makes her arrival an official one.
“And her opponent…from Finsbury Park, London, England, standing 5 feet 7 inches tall and weighing in at 8 stone 13… the Duchess of East Anglia and FAWN’s Eurasian champion…Lady Fiona Waterford.”
FIONA WATERFORD
The athletic build of the Englishwoman remains very much appreciated even if her dastardly display in breaking Camille is not. Clearly, the deal with the devil to keep Waterford in a condition women half her age would be green with envy over remains in place. Her regal beauty is accentuated by a striking midnight blue lace set of bra and panties with red bows on either hip and a royal coat of arms on her taut bum ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_Kingdom ). As a perfect bit of flair, red fishnet stockings reach up from midnight blue boots, red garters ending the stockings at mid-thigh.
Reaching the ring, Fiona hesitates for the first time, demanding Castle get between her and Park. When he accedes, Her Ladyship climbs the steps and slides through the ropes, slipping between the cables cautiously.
Once in, Waterford sidles to the corner farthest from Yoona. She unstraps her belt and raises it overhead then brings it down for a kiss. A smack of her lips laid on the gold faceplate, Fiona lowers the belt and raises a microphone with her opposite hand.
“I’m sorry. Is this an All Hallows’ Eve replay?” Her Ladyship asks quizzically. “I suppose I may have missed the memo. Or perhaps, the clown make-up is a manner in which to hide from the fact I crippled your girl and I’m going to do the same to you.”
Waterford chuckles as the crowd rains its anger upon her, Yoona’s body tensing noticeably, her pearlies flashing in a sneer before receding.
“I destroyed cheap whores like Cosworth when she and you were in grade school thousands of miles removed from each other. I did it last month when you sluts were together but apart.”
Clearly enjoying stirring the pot, Waterford moves to the middle of the squared circle, stick held high.
“And here’s the happy ending to the story, luv. I’m going to make Cosworth bawl like a baby again tonight, not over her own lost career, but over finishing yours.”
Waterford literally drops the mic and backpedals to her corner, handing over the title belt to Castle, who in turn hands it to an attendant for safekeeping.
Nick looks back and forth between his charges, and he lets out a soft sigh underneath his breath. As FAWN’s senior referee and a quintessential company man, he wielded a certain amount of sway with the higher ups, and he had tried his best to talk the brass out of letting Fiona and Yoona get in the ring together, his referee’s intuition telling him that nothing good would come of it. He’d suggested a suspension for the Duchess, perhaps even stripping her of the EurAsian title and holding a double elimination, thirty-two woman tournament to crown a new champion, but his ideas were almost immediately rebuffed.
The Greek tragedy of the fallen hero and the avenging lover was too much of a goldmine for the FAWN executives to pass up. Camille’s heartbreaking interview and then Yoona’s response had been so captivating and so emotionally raw that it drew a nearly unprecedented amount of interest. Live tickets had sold out within two minutes of being made available online while pay-per-view buys were the highest ever for a non-FAWNAMANIA event, and thus not only had the match been made, but it had been made with a stipulation that provided notoriously little protection for the combatants, practically ensuring that one or both wrestlers would soon be spending time in a hospital bed. That palpable bloodlust surrounding the EurAsian title match made Castle so incredibly uncomfortable that he had briefly considered boycotting the affair.
In the end, however, he was a company man, and a company man does as the company orders. With a heavy heart and against his better judgment, Nick signals for the bell to begin the match.
The capacity crowd gets to its feet and roars as if they had just seen the guillotine blade slice through some condemned prisoner’s neck. Curiously, Yoona seems just as languid and listless as she had been for her ring entrance. The Korean wrestler trudges out of her corner, slightly swaying side to side with each step and moving slowly enough that it allows Fiona to seize the initiative. Her Ladyship storms out of the opposite corner with authority and cracks a stinging Backhand Slap across the challenger’s face before immediately retreating to a safe distance.
The force of the blow turns Park’s head to one side and she stumbles a few steps to maintain her balance, though she quickly rights herself and resumes lurching towards the champion, her expression unreadable and her will implacable. Waterford snorts dismissively, and once more she charges into the breach with another slap locked and loaded, this time a forehand to the opposite cheek that manages to drop her opponent to one knee. Even so, something in Yoona’s demeanor gives Fiona pause, and Her Ladyship again backs away rather than try to press her advantage.
“Cosworth was a meddling harlot who got what she had coming to her,” the Duchess snarls at her penitent challenger, earning herself another deafening round of boos and jeers. “She’ll never wrestle again. She’ll never WALK again. She’ll spend the rest of her miserable existence in a wheelchair, looking UP at women like me.”
If the champion had been expecting a response, there isn’t one. Park merely pushes to her feet again and continues to totter forward in silence, her painted visage betraying no emotion and being all the more unsettling for it. Waterford steps up again and cocks her right arm all the way back, her hand now tightly balled into a fist for a jaw-jacking Haymaker, then she punches with as much force as she can muster.
Her blow gets maybe a third of the way to its target before Yoona waylays her with a stiff-fingered thrust to the windpipe.
Suddenly finding it very, very hard to breath and with the coppery taste of blood in the back of her mouth, Fiona’s protectively clutches both her hands around her throat and her eyes nearly pop out of her skull. Her expression having gone from haughty, dismissive confidence to abject panic in the span of a heartbeat, Her Ladyship tries to turn towards the referee for help, though this too is interrupted when Park clasps a pair of hands behind her neck in and pulls her into a stooped over position.
In spite of her crushed trachea, Fiona’s veteran wiles kick in and she instinctively brings her hands down to parry the first Knee Strike. Then she parries a second, and a third, and a fourth, and for a brief moment it seems that she might have neutralized Yoona’s dreaded Thai Plum. That hope is quickly dashed, however, when Park blindsides her with a Headbutt, the challenger’s forehead meeting the top of the champion’s skull with a bone-jarring CLACK!
The concussive collision disrupts Waterford’s defensive rhythm, and a split second later Yoona finally hits with her fifth Knee Strike, the bony joint nearly obliterating Her Ladyship’s ribcage as the FAWNatics erupt into cheers. Fiona starts to crumple and fall backwards, but with her head and neck still trapped in Park’s clinch, she’s got nowhere to go and Yoona lays into her with a torrent of alternating Knee Strikes, left then right, then left then right, then left then right.
Driven backwards by the withering barrage, Fiona soon finds herself backed into a corner. Park releases the clinch, and the champion slumps into a boneless heap with her back against the lower turnbuckle. Yoona grips the intersecting top ropes for support, one in each hand, then she lifts her right foot and repeatedly stomps her bare heel down on Her Ladyship’s chest and abdomen, determined to make a royal mudhole out of the Duchess of East Anglia. After about a dozen, the Korean relents and retreats a step and a half out of the corner, though it’s only to get herself some room for the murderous Buzzsaw Kick she sends into the side of Fiona’s head.
BUZZSAW KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JXZ0FjghTk
The impact sends Waterford careening sideways through the gap between the bottom and middle ropes, and she falls out onto the apron before slopping to the barely-padded cement floor four feet below. As Yoona stands in the ring and gazes down at her battered opponent, the FAWNatics take it upon themselves to serenade Fiona with an angry, mocking chant.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
When the referee’s count reaches “SIX!” and Waterford has only begun to stir, however, Park slips out of the ring and resumes her assault on the champion, apparently not willing to accept a ten-count and the title just yet. The Korean drags her foe upright, one hand in the hair and one hand on the wrist, then she whips the Duchess towards the nearest set of ring steps. After a short, faltering run, Fiona crashes shoulder-first into the unforgiving steel and she crumples once more with a pained cry.
Even so, she appears to be in better shape now than immediately after the kick to the cranium, and Waterford begins to crawl towards the announcer’s table as the newly-minted Slim Reaper stalks after her. Fiona manages to get one arm on the tabletop, and as she fumbles around for support, her hand finds her EurAsian championship belt where the attendant had set it. With Yoona breathing down her neck, Her Ladyship grabs hold of the strap as she forces herself to stand, then whirls around and throws it at the challenger’s face in a desperation attack.
Park manages to swat it away, but the gaudy belt still obstructs her vision just long enough for Waterford to double her over with a Snap Kick to the groin. A moment later, Fiona grabs her on either side of her head before dropping to a seat to mash her skull-painted face into the ground with a Sit Out Facebuster.
SIT-OUT FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4vAI8u3FrA
The challenger lands hard and bounces onto her back, clutching at her nose and groin while moaning softly, the most noise she’s made all night. Having momentarily stemmed the tide, the Duchess seems to know that Yoona won’t be down for long, and so Fiona starts staggering away to try to buy herself more time.
Moving around a corner of the ring to afford herself a hint of safety, Lady Waterford raspily starts a chant of her own while keeping a close eye on the recovering challenger.
“SHE-DE-SERVED-IT. SHE-DE-SERVED-IT.”
It’s a chorus of one that quickly gets buried in boos. The sound from the crowd seems to steel Fiona’s resolve. The regal brunette climbs to the corner of the apron, hanging onto the post next to her and measuring Park as she rises, rubbing at her throat.
Apparently deciding to play tit-for-tat, Her Ladyship times her leap just as Yoona reaches unsteady feet and turns to find her foe. Waterford dives off her ledge and sends her left leg crashing into the throat of the challenger. The British legend uses her momentum to force Park from vertical and ‘ride’ Yoona back to the thinly-padded cement, landing in a flawless leg drop across the Korean’s neck.
Park sputters, gasping and reaching for throat as Waterford rubs at her aching tailbone. Still, it’s a small price to pay for a healthy bit of revenge. Fiona collects her gold lying on the floor a few feet from her and pushes to her feet. She caresses the faceplate of the heavy leather belt then lifts the title to her right shoulder, ready to make it a battering ram.
The brunette dips into a poised crouch and she motions the supposed Slim Reaper to her feet, brandishing her gold as a weapon that could put out the lights of Cosworth’s little crack whore.
A choking Yoona rises, otherwise in a daze. The FAWNatics try to warn her of the ravenous royal in her six o’clock but the noise doesn’t seem to translate. A whistle from Fiona breaks through the stupor however and reflexively Park spins to find the source. It’s a charging Waterford who levels the gold at Park’s forehead.
Yoona ducks the thrust faceplate and, head lowered, wraps her arms around the thighs of the onrushing Brit. Lifting and pivoting with her cargo, she rams Waterford’s vertebrae into the side of the announcer’s table.
The back of the Duchess arches in agony from the impact as the nearby anchors scatter from the firing line. Grimacing, the champ still clutches her prize with one hand while rubbing at the base of her spine with the other. The Duchess continues to try and strike with her weapon of choice, but the effort is a weakened one and Park’s right arm, unburdened, THWOMPS into Waterford’s jaw, spilling Fiona on top of the table.
The hovering official, seeing Her Ladyship in a horizontal state, closes in and seems ready to start his ten-count, but Yoona isn’t having it, Park cracking right elbow thrust after thrust into Fiona’s sternum, leaving the Englishwoman wide-eyed and gasping, finally pulling the gold of her belt atop her bosom in protection.
Unprepared for the metallic defense, Yoona shoots one more elbow strike. This one THUNKS into the gold, putting a healthy dent in the Eurasian title, but also sending a grunting Park wheeling away from the painful collision, cradling her aching right arm close.
Waterford rolls her legs off the table and decides the ring might be a safer place with the volatility of this particular challenger. She drops her feet to the floor and steps away, almost collapsing to a knee before catching herself. She leaves her battered, golden shield with the returning FAWN Gameday crew, wobbles to the apron, and rolls under the ropes, using them to climb to her feet.
A silent Park works the kink out of her balky elbow and hops to the apron, sliding through to join Camille’s assailant. Lady Waterford moves to Yoona throwing her arms forward to lock up in a collar-and-elbow, wanting to keep the opportunity for Park to throw more knife-like strikes to tender areas to a minimum.
But while the Korean’s arms are knotted up with those of her fellow grappler, her legs are not. As Fiona’s lower limbs flex and bend and shift for leverage, as befits her multi-decade wrestling background, Yoona shoots a lightning knee strike into Waterford’s liver.
Her Ladyship gurgles and her stems shudder from the blow, frame collapsing around the impact point. Gutting Her Ladyship with the first blow, Yoona delivers a second, it no surprise the efforts move toward rapid-fire. Fiona, learning from her first encounter, breaks her grip above and catches Park’s right leg on the third thrust.
The Duchess’ grip behind the Korean’s right knee allows the champ to lift the leg into a raised cradle while wrapping her opposite arm behind Park’s neck. Working quickly, Fiona gets back to basics, hauling the Asian off the deck and sending her flying overhead with a release cradle suplex.
Yoona’s body hits with a BANG against the thinly-sheathed plywood but she rolls through the impact popping to her feet and leaning into a corner. A bit flustered by the muted reaction, the Grande Dame of wrestling motions Park to the middle.
“I don’t come to you,” she demands. “You come get what your bytch got.”
Park strides to Waterford silent and stonefaced. She throws her arms in front of her for the lock-up and Fiona responds in kind. It takes but a few seconds for Her Ladyship to convert a collar-and-elbow into a side headlock and the Brit grinds Park’s head into her side within the crook of her elbow.
Yoona quickly counters, slipping free and shooting out the back door, taking Waterford’s right wing with her. The challenger ratchets her hammerlock high, driving a wincing Fiona to tiptoes, but the maneuver is only a stopgap. The Korean gives up her grip, trails her hands down Her Ladyship’s body, genuflecting in the process, and gains possession of the right ankle of the Duchess. Forcing her foe forward, the Muay Thai expert trips Waterford to the deck. Park’s arms snake around the captured limb. She pulls Fiona’s leg to her chest and violently twists the appendage in a brutal ankle lock.
Ankle lock (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uc1T4D5b5FY&t=135s ) @ 1:47
As Park leans into the submission and takes out her immense frustration, testing the ligaments of Waterford’s ankle, the royal howls in pain.
The helpful official reminds Yoona there are no submissions in tonight’s affair, but Park seems perfectly at peace with the opportunity to cause Fiona pain without any chance of it ending the fight.
Determined not to give the challenger the satisfaction of forcing her to tap, even if it didn’t count in the record book, Lady Waterford digs her nails into the canvas and claws her way toward the ropes. A teary-eyed, shrieking Fiona finally manages to wrap a palm around the bottom cable after a slow anguish-filled trip. Waterford howls for the break, but the ref coolly informs the titleholder there are NO disqualifications or count-outs in addition to the agreement to be the last woman standing.
Desperation taking hold, her ankle screwed mercilessly to the outside, Waterford extends her grasp from the bottom rope to the edge of the apron. Using that white-knuckle grip, she tugs her body with all the strength she can muster.
Yanking her frame under the cables, Park’s throat catches on the middle strand, Her Ladyship crafting a makeshift hotshot of the Korean that blessedly removes the clamp from her stem. As Fiona spills to the floor and puddles on the outside, pulling her throbbing leg close, whimpering in pain, a gagging Yoona grasps at her throat, drawing pained breaths through a bruised windpipe.
Showing the fight that made her a legend in Britain and a champion in FAWN, Waterford pulls to vertical with the help of the ring apron. Seeing Yoona turned and working at her throat, Fiona hops on her good leg to the canvas, rolls in, and gingerly uses the ropes to climb to her feet.
Her Ladyship limps toward the challenger from behind, hoping for the element of surprise, but Park turns to face her in the nick of time. The women throw their bodies into each other. Fiona’s wounded wheel gives Yoona the immediate advantage, but the clever royal dips into her bag of tricks and, trusting her ailing right foot will hold, lifts her left and STOMPS Yoona’s right set of toes.
The look of poorly-covered pain on Park’s face is instantaneous. Her Ladyship sees it better than anyone and sweeps the legs of the distracted Korean. With her foe on the canvas next to her, Fiona drops to her knees to take her weight off her throbbing ankle, and snatches Yoona’s right foot, tearing into Park’s tender toes with abandon.
Silent as she has been thus far, Yoona finally provides proof that her vocal chords are still functioning with a high-pitched howl of misery, the ex-ballerina once again finding herself the victim of the tactic that Adelaide Brewster had used to humiliate her more than once. On this particular occasion, however, surrender is quite literally not an option, so Park gnashes her teeth together to keep her screams down to a groan, then she claws her way towards the edge of the ring with her tormenter in tow.
“Cosworth was a sniveling coward at the end,” Fiona sneers as she twists the challenger’s delicate toes. “She begged me not to hurt her. Begged... like the common gutter trash that she is. Will you beg too, dearheart? Or will you just SCREAM?”
Waterford punctuates her threat with a savage twist of the Korean’s ankle as a bit of payback for earlier, but the pain seems to only galvanize the snarling Park. Now within arm’s reach of the ropes, Yoona grabs the bottom strand and hauls herself up before clutching the middle and then top ropes in succession as she hops on one foot. With her right leg stretched out behind her and still in Fiona’s possession, Park leaps off her left and torques her body around in midair to kick Waterford in the temple with an Enzuigiri out of the blue.
The surprise strike earns Yoona her freedom and both wrestlers collapse to the mat, the older champion clutching her jaw and the younger challenger grasping her mangled toes. Somewhere through the haze of pain clouding her senses, Park hears the referee shout, “FOUR!” and she cranes her neck around to see Her Ladyship getting upright with the help of the turnbuckles in the far corner. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a few rapid, shallow pants of breath to steel herself, then with a forceful twist of her hand, she pops a couple of her toes back into their proper alignment.
No masking the pain this time, Yoona flops to her back and unleashes a primal scream at the ceiling that’s equal parts anguish and hatred. As Nick Castle announces, “SIX!” it seems increasingly unlikely that Park might get to her feet in time to prolong the match, but then Fiona does her a cruel favor in stopping the count by leaping onto the top rope from the ring apron and delivering an Elbow Drop directly into the cleft of her bosom.
SPRINGBOARD ELBOW DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOOqGePyftE
Under better circumstances, Waterford might have earned an ovation for delivering a high-flying Springboard Elbow Drop to an opponent twenty years her junior. As it is, she receives nothing but vitriol, though the Duchess dismisses the commoners in her usual manner with a haughty, contemptuous wave of her hand. Fiona turns her attention to her sputtering opponent after giving the FAWNatics the royal rebuke, and she begins hauling Yoona upright with two handfuls of hair.
“You dumb whore...” Waterford hisses into her challenger’s ear. “Nothing you do will ever make her whole again.”
Her Ladyship crouches down and threads an arm through Park’s thighs to lift her opponent’s body across her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. When she tries to rise, however, Fiona’s right ankle buckles, forcing her back down to a penitent crouch to the crowd’s delight. Even so, the Duchess is not to be denied, so she grits her teeth and stands again, only to fall again not even a second later. Evidently Yoona’s Ankle Lock has taken its toll on her, and Waterford mutters a string of curses underneath her breath when she feels the Slim Reaper begin to rouse and squirm in her grasps.
Fiona takes another second to gather her reserves, then she powers to a stand with a keening battle cry that’s not quite regal. Doing her best to shut out the burning in her right leg, Waterford hups her opponent off her shoulders with a smooth, practiced motion while dropping to one knee, putting the posted joint on a collision course with the back of Park’s neck.
WAKING NIGHTMARE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=svwKtzRYbRU
Fortunately for Yoona and the vengeance-hungry FAWNatics, Fiona’s first couple of failed attempts at her signature Waking Nightmare has allowed Park to gain a second wind. As she tumbles through the air, Yoona reaches back over her shoulder to grab the champion’s head with both hands in a Three Quarters Facelock. Using her tether to Waterford for leverage, she manages to steer herself into a relatively soft landing on the canvas while simultaneously crushing Fiona’s chin against her shoulder with an Ace Crusher from left field.
ACE CRUSHER OUTTA NOWHERE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhNEi0xV4Z4
The recoil from the counter sends Waterford bouncing back to her feet and she drunkenly backpedals a few steps before falling against the ropes, kept partially upright thanks only to an arm tossed over the top strand at the last moment. Meanwhile, Yoona lays in the center of the ring, panting heavily after her narrow escape. She flexes the toes on her right foot, grimacing each time against the vile bolt of pain that accompanies every movement, but still she rolls onto her stomach and pushes herself up before Nick can get halfway through his count.
The thunderous pop from the crowd that accompanies Yoona’s resurgence sparks something in Fiona as well, and Her Ladyship staggers away from the ropes in order to meet her opponent in the center of the ring. Park tries the Throat Stab again, though this time Waterford is prepared as she tucks her chin and turns her body to let the blow harmless deflect off her left shoulder. Fiona immediately returns fire with a blistering Right Hook that hits home against Yoona’s left cheek, and the Duchess allows herself a small, nearly-imperceptible grin as the force of the blow sends Park spinning around like an unbalanced top.
Even that celebration is far too premature, however, as the ex-ballerina completes the pirouette with her left arm locked and loaded for a Roaring Elbow. Fiona sees it coming at the last moment, and her look of smug satisfaction turns into one of wide-eyed shock a split second before the bony joint THONKS against her forehead.
ROARING ELBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpMvPSX3lJA
The brutal, pinpoint strike seems to leave the champion out on her feet, her body slumping and sagging as if her bones had gone soft. Fiona starts to pitch forward and is on her way to a faceplant before Yoona catches her left arm, trapping the limb between both of her own as if performing an Armbar. It’s only for a moment though, as Park promptly and violently lays out on the mat, spiking Her Ladyship’s head into the deck and wrenching her left shoulder with a vicious Single Arm DDT.
SINGLE ARM DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6B6N3spRLdY
A spasmodic jerk runs through Fiona’s body at the moment of impact, but the Korean isn’t through. Still holding onto the captured limb and with the Duchess lying facedown and motionless, Yoona kneels at her opponent’s left side. Park pins Waterford’s arm behind her back in a high and tight Hammerlock, then she draws back her right leg before bringing it down in a sledgehammer of a Knee Strike into the exposed left side of Fiona’s ribs.
The crushing blow and the accompanying wave of agonized nausea immediately brings the champion back to her senses. Her eyes nearly bulging out of her head and her right hand clawing and scrabbling against the canvas, Waterford gurgles and gasps in a futile attempt to get air back into her lungs, only for Yoona to hit her again, and again, and again, and again with a particularly vicious variation on the the Korean’s usual Side Mounted Knee Strikes.
The FAWNatics love it, and they grant their Slim Reaper license to kill as they scream, “BOMA YE! BOMA YE! BOMA YE!”
One of the ringside cameramen zooms in on the beleaguered champion’s face, and the audience only grows more vocal in their bloodlust when Fiona’s look of misery and suffering is plastered on the FAWNtron. Finally, after perhaps forty seconds of pumping her knees into Waterford’s ribcage as hard and as fast as she can, Yoona is exhausted. She delivers one final, parting shot, then she rolls to the edge of the ring and uses the ropes to clamber upright. Meanwhile, Fiona does nothing except curls into a fetal ball, coughing and retching with every tortured breath while she drools blood onto the canvas from the corner of her mouth.
Castle begins his ten-count towards a new EurAsian champion, and for the first seven seconds, it seems that Waterford is neither willing nor able to answer the call as she merely curls further into her shell. Park watches from one corner of the ring while she slouches against the turnbuckles, just as expressionless and unreadable as she had been all throughout the match.
The fans, however, have not yet had enough.
“BOMA YE! BOMA YE! BOMA YE!” they continue to call.
Nick shouts, “EIGHT!”
“BOMA YE! BOMA YE! BOMA YE!” the crowd answers, louder and more frenetic now.
Fiona still isn’t showing signs of life, and the official calls out “NINE!”
The FAWN Arena buzzes at a rabid fever pitch with a chant of, “BOMAYEBOMAYEBOMAYEBOMAYE!”
“TE -- OH, GODDAMN IT, YOONA!”
With less than a second to spare, Park surges out of her corner and takes to the air before coming down with a Double Foot Stomp on Waterford’s right ankle, drawing a high-pitched screech from the champion and forestalling the end of the match. Castle is livid and he gives the challenger an earful, but the referee is ultimately powerless to intervene. His orders were to give both wrestlers a wide berth, even more so than normal for a Last Woman Standing match, and to end the match now would potentially spark a fan riot.
As the Korean walks by, he catches her with one hand around her bicep and her murmurs, “What… what are you planning to do…”
Yoona turns her head and gives Nick a silent look that chills him to the bone. After a couple of seconds the official finds that he can no longer meet her gaze, and he averts his eyes down and to the side as Park shrugs out of his grasp.
“God, help me…” Castle whispers to himself.
A few steps away a teary-eyed Waterford tries to ignore what might be both cracked ribs and a severely sprained ankle. Wheezing sobs escape her lips as she uses the ropes to pull off the canvas. She’s able to put her weight on her left foot while leaning into the cables on her right side. The Duchess remains bent at the waist, significantly debilitated by the recent barrage of knee strikes.
Fiona gently embraces her left set of ribs with a covering arm, hoping to provide a hint of protection to her aching side. A wrestler of Waterford’s experience knows the difference between injury and pain and she plunges the fingertips of her right hand into the palm of her left, signaling for a time out, sensing it’s the former.
Her already doubled frame makes for easy access to slip her body between the top and middle ropes, hoping against hope that position will somehow persuade Park to provide Her Ladyship a breather. Newsflash. It doesn’t.
Yoona reaches over the top rope and wraps an arm under Fiona’s chin and around her throat. With Waterford pointed toward the roaring crowd, Park straightens up the regal brunette then stretches her into an agonizing arch, spine pressed tight to the uppermost cable behind her. With Fiona’s top hard pressed to keep its contents in place from the degree her chest is thrust forward, Yoona starts SLAMMING clubbing forearm blows into her foe’s cleavage from over Fiona’s shoulder. The Muay Thai expert adds some alternating knee strikes to the already damaged port side of the blasted Brit.
After a half dozen shots, a sagging, sobbing Fiona is left to slump over the middle rope when the Korean releases her grip, looking like a wet rag hung over a clothesline, alabaster tummy pressing into the rubber-coated steel of the middle cable.
The steely focus remains in Yoona’s eyes. The challenger turns and sprints to the opposite strands. She throws her body into the ropes and rebounds with a slight limp from her crumpled toes, the adrenaline and the thought of Camille overcoming any pain. Barreling down on Fiona’s royal derriere, the ass practically placed on a platter, Park leaps into a forward knee strike between where God split Lady Waterford and CRACKS into the tip of Fiona’s tailbone.
The previously flaccid Waterford howls in pain as she’s launched through the cables, crashing atop the mat outside the ropes before dribbling to the floor, ending like a fractured doll in a heap of broken parts, groaning weakly, the moans increasing when she tries to move in the slightest.
Apparently no longer caring whether crawling backstage on all fours is either dignified or starts the ten-count to the end of her title reign, Her Ladyship makes it to hands and knees and moves in slow motion toward the ramp. If it’s possible to limp on all fours, Fiona does it, every stretch of her ribcage throbbing when she moves her left hand and knee forward, nearly causing her to collapse in agony.
Her face turns fearful at the volume of the crowd rising, knowing what and who’s coming with it. Fiona coughs out a raspy “I quit,” hoping both her foe and Castle can hear. Nick starts to clarify the rules of the Last Woman Standing stipulation, though a moment later, Yoona provides the Duchess with a much more painful reminder with a savage punt to the side of her injured ribs, sending her barrel-rolling to the base of the entrance ramp. Too hurt to even scream, Waterford wheezes and hacks uncontrollably, staining the steel walkway with droplets of red from her mouth. To her dismay, the referee restarts his ten-count from the beginning as the Slim Reaper stalks towards her with murder flashing in those dark eyes.
“It… it was an accident...” Fiona sputters, holding up a placating hand as she lays on her back and kicks her legs against the ground to inch her way up the ramp. “I never meant to hurt her… You have to… have to believe me…”
The crowd makes loudly informs Her Ladyship that they do not, and a look of utter despair flashes across the champion’s face before Yoona surges forward and cracks another stiff kick into her ribcage. Sent rolling away a second time, Fiona comes to a stop on her back near the middle of the entranceway, just a couple of feet from where Camille had met a tragic fate one month ago. Park momentarily halts the assault to grab a video camera from a nearby cameraman, a professional piece of equipment that weighs a dozen pounds and carries a five digit price tag. She mounts it on one shoulder, focuses in on the whimpering Duchess, and stomps forward once more.
“Please… please stop…” Waterford groans, realizing that trying to escape would be futile. “I’ll… I’ll give you anything you want… I… I… I swear I’ll find Camille the best doctors money can buy… I’ll fix her, I swear! I sweaaAARRRGH!”
Park apparently isn’t interested, and she kneels down at her opponent’s side, one knee planted on Her Ladyship’s chest. The agony causes Fiona to thrash wildly for a few seconds as if she were suffering a seizure, and then she falls still save for the sounds of her shallow, tortured breathing, utterly spent and unable to resist further. Yoona sets her purloined camera between the soon-to-be ex-champion’s thighs, then to a massive, massive pop from the crowd, she tears away Fiona’s panties to expose the royal’s naked undercarriage to the lens.
A dirty-minded member of the production team immediately puts the feed onto the gigantic FAWNtron plasma screen, giving the entire arena a crystal clear close-up view of the Duchess’ bare womanhood. Park quickly settles into a straddle across Waterford’s hips while bringing Fiona’s right leg up at a ninety degree angle and hugs it to her chest. Everyone in the building knows what’s coming, including Her Ladyship, though all she can do is croak a soft, wordless plea before Yoona leans forward onto her, stretching her foot up over the top of her head. Battered ribs be damned, Fiona unleashes a high-pitched howl as her hamstring and groin muscles nearly snap from the strain. The FAWNatics still want to see more, however, and they start a rumbling chant of “SNU SNU! SNU SNU! SNU SNU!”
Park readily obliges, rocking back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth, grinding her groin against Waterford’s as the FAWNtron in combination with Yoona’s strategically placed camera affords the live audience an unprecedented up-close and personal view of her Death by Snu Snu finisher. For her part, Fiona burbles incomprehensibly as the combination leg split and crotch grind overwhelms her with a mix of agony and ecstasy unseen since the heyday of Miriam Gaiman. Even as each salacious sweep of Park’s hips brings her closer to an explosive orgasm, the muscles in her body flex and spasm, dramatically increasing the strain on her leg that’s already stretched well beyond its normal limits.
After scarcely a minute, Fiona can hold back the tide no longer. A tremendous climax rips through her body, culminating in a gushing discharge that splatters against the nearby camera lens to one of the loudest ovations in years at the FAWN Arena. A moment later, the aftershocks of Waterford’s orgasm tear apart the sinews in her right leg, though the crowd is so loud that her blood-curdling shriek is entirely obscured. Judging from the sudden lack of resistance in Her Ladyship’s leg, however, Yoona knows that her hated opponent has suffered at minimum a torn hamstring, a debilitating injury even for a young wrestler and likely a career-ender for one of Fiona’s age.
Park lets the shredded limb flop to the ground, and scoots forward to sit on Waterford’s stomach. The Korean reaches behind to grab the camera, then resets it next to the Duchess’ head before palming the side of her face and forcing her to look directly into the lens. The fans in attendance get to see Fiona’s terrified visage -- openly sobbing and twisted in anguish -- magnified on the FAWNtron, and the cheers quickly peter out as what seemed to be a titillating pornography moments ago now seems to be an appalling snuff film when they’re literally faced with the aftermath.
“Yoona, please… she’s finished…” Nick Castle softly murmurs from just a couple of feet away. “Please, just… just step aside…”
The Korean doesn’t move a muscle for several long, long seconds, then Her Ladyship gathers what remains of her strength and croaks, “M - M - Mercy… mercy…”
The word immediately curdles in Yoona’s ears, and her brow twitches in anger. She had offered mercy to Adelaide Brewster in the Spider’s Nest and been rewarded with injury and humiliation. That degrading memory fresh in mind, she leans down and puts her lips just fractions of an inch away from Fiona’s ear. As the battered Duchess visibly trembles with fear, the Slim Reaper whispers her first, last, and only word of the night.
“No.”
“Oh, God…” Waterford sobs moments before Park grabs the camera and smashes into lens-first into her face.
The impact thankfully brings an end to Fiona’s prolonged suffering by immediately rendering her unconscious, but Yoona isn’t done. She raises her makeshift bludgeon and brings it down again, the blow shown in grisly, first-person detail on the FAWNtron. There’s a smattering of gasps from the capacity crowd, but mostly they watch in silent, mesmerized horror as the image becomes blood-stained from wounds opened on Waterford’s forehead, cheek, and lips.
After a couple of strikes, the lens portion of the video camera shatters. Holding the remnants of her weapon, Yoona rises to her feet and viciously spikes what’s left of the ruined camera into Fiona’s head as a final shot. Panting heavily and her whole body shaking with an overload of adrenaline, Park stares down at the brutalized wrestler lying at her feet, the rapid fluttering of Waterford’s throat with every breath being the only sign of life. Even now, looking at the Duchess still fills Yoona with hateful rage, so she forces herself to squeeze her eyes shut, all sounds from the outside world drowned out by the noise of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
She could have stood there until the end of the show were it not something gently prodding her arm. Park opens her eyes and turns her head, coming face to face with an apprehensive looking ring attendant standing at arm’s length and offering the EurAsian title belt to her. She turns her head the other way in the direction of the FAWNtron, and displayed on the massive screen are the words: NEW EURASIAN CHAMPION: YOONA PARK. Evidently, she had been so lost in her own world that she had missed both the referee’s final ten-count and the ring announcer’s official proclamation.
The ring attendant nudges her again with the belt, and when Park fixes her gaze on him, the young man looks like he just wants to turn and run. His courage holds -- just barely -- and after a couple of tense seconds, the new EurAsian champion takes the heavy strap from his hands. Rather than holding it up high or showing it off to the audience, Yoona merely clutches it at one end and lets it drag along the walkway behind her while she trudges towards the backstage area. As she passes by the fan who had demanded the murder of Fiona Waterford at the start of the match, she shoots a sideways glance at the young lady without breaking stride.
Rather than righteous fury, this time the girl shows only fearful revulsion, slinking back into the crowd to hide behind some other fans to escape Park’s line of sight. The rest of the building remains in shocked silence all throughout, not daring to make a sound until well after the Slim Reaper had disappeared from view and the medical personnel had carted away the bloody and battered wreckage of Fiona Waterford.
YOONA PARK
A gasp of “OOOH” erupts from the capacity crowd as Yoona Park steps through the curtains and onto the entrance ramp before the ring announcer finishes her introduction. As usual, Yoona wears her black bustier-style one piece lined in metallic gold. Her forearms are sheathed in matching fingerless gloves that run up to her elbow, and on her legs are a pair of black sleeves that start just above her knees and run down to her ankles before terminating in thin stirrups that loop around the arches of her otherwise bare feet. “YOONA” is written vertically in metallic gold block letters on the front of each shin. Tied around her left thigh -- perhaps a bit more tightly and securely than usual -- is a red silk ribbon, a suggestion which Camille had made many months ago.
On this particular occasion, however, Yoona wears something extra.
The entire lower half of her face, from the bridge of her nose to her cheekbones to her chin, is painted like a skeleton. Instead of a mischievous, flirtatious smile, Park wears a grim rictus stretching from cheek to cheek, and black paint framed in white gives the appearance of a hollow space where her nose would be. Her forehead and eyes remain unpainted, although the latter are glassy and unfocused while she shambles towards the ring as if in a fugue. Yoona’s normally gorgeous visage now rendered grotesque, the FAWNatics don’t know how to react except with stunned silence. Even the production team seems taken aback and they neglect to play the entrance music, leaving Park to make her way to the ring with the packed arena eerily quiet.
Camille had come home in a wheelchair a month ago. Sitting in Cosworth’s childhood bedroom, the pair of lovebirds held each other and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried, and when the tears finally ran dry, Yoona left. Leaving Camille in the care of her family, Park returned to Orlando alone and shut herself off from the world. She stayed in their penthouse condo for weeks at a time in order to stew in her grief and her rage, willing stoking the slow burn of madness that would consume her thoughts, and now she emerges once more, ready to carve her pound of flesh from Fiona Waterford’s beating heart.
As Yoona shuffles past the midpoint of the entrance ramp, a voice to her left shatters the stillness.
“KILL HER, YOONA!”
Park lurches to a stop and turns her head to look at the fan who had disturbed her reverie. It’s a young woman -- perhaps young enough that she had snuck into the FAWN Arena with a fake ID -- wearing one of Camille’s first edition F#CK THE IMPOSSIBLE t-shirts. A long time Cosworth loyalist and a proud member of Tomorrow-Morrow Land before Tomorrow-Morrow Land was even a thing, the fan’s eyes well with tears of rage, and then she screams again at the Korean wrestler.
“FUCKING KILL HER!”
With that, the silence is banished for good as a wall of sound crashes down from every corner of the building. Not the rapturous ovation that welcomes a hero nor the salacious catcalling that follows a whore, but the bloodthirsty baying that fuels a lynch mob. Yoona doesn’t seem to notice as she turns away from the fan and resumes her slow walk towards the ring, #SlimReaper -- a play on the title Park had given herself months ago in the closing moments of an intense beach brawl with Adelaide Brewster and a fitting epithet given her current macabre countenance -- already trending on Twitter by the time she makes her way through the ropes.
More nervous and uneasy now than he had been in years, FAWN’s senior referee Nick Castle wipes his hands on the sides of his pants as he visually inspects the challenger from just out of arm’s reach. For her part, Yoona doesn’t even acknowledge the official’s existence, choosing instead to stare blankly at the entrance ramp in the distance as she awaits the arrival of the EurAsian champion.
The booming orchestral chords of the champion’s entrance spreads through the arena (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDI9HuVduDI&feature=related ) heralding the Eurasian title holder. A barrage of boos and jeers follow quickly behind, the arena walls reverberating with hate.
Looking simultaneously threatening and glorious, gaudy gold belt around her waist, Her Ladyship strides to center stage without the a care in the world. If she was meant to be intimidated by the crowd or the sight of Skele-yoona, the royal had yet to show it.
As always, the Englishwoman reviews the boisterous crowd with disdain and imperial arrogance. She provider her best queenly wave to her distant challenger then starts down the ramp as the ring announcer makes her arrival an official one.
“And her opponent…from Finsbury Park, London, England, standing 5 feet 7 inches tall and weighing in at 8 stone 13… the Duchess of East Anglia and FAWN’s Eurasian champion…Lady Fiona Waterford.”
FIONA WATERFORD
The athletic build of the Englishwoman remains very much appreciated even if her dastardly display in breaking Camille is not. Clearly, the deal with the devil to keep Waterford in a condition women half her age would be green with envy over remains in place. Her regal beauty is accentuated by a striking midnight blue lace set of bra and panties with red bows on either hip and a royal coat of arms on her taut bum ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_Kingdom ). As a perfect bit of flair, red fishnet stockings reach up from midnight blue boots, red garters ending the stockings at mid-thigh.
Reaching the ring, Fiona hesitates for the first time, demanding Castle get between her and Park. When he accedes, Her Ladyship climbs the steps and slides through the ropes, slipping between the cables cautiously.
Once in, Waterford sidles to the corner farthest from Yoona. She unstraps her belt and raises it overhead then brings it down for a kiss. A smack of her lips laid on the gold faceplate, Fiona lowers the belt and raises a microphone with her opposite hand.
“I’m sorry. Is this an All Hallows’ Eve replay?” Her Ladyship asks quizzically. “I suppose I may have missed the memo. Or perhaps, the clown make-up is a manner in which to hide from the fact I crippled your girl and I’m going to do the same to you.”
Waterford chuckles as the crowd rains its anger upon her, Yoona’s body tensing noticeably, her pearlies flashing in a sneer before receding.
“I destroyed cheap whores like Cosworth when she and you were in grade school thousands of miles removed from each other. I did it last month when you sluts were together but apart.”
Clearly enjoying stirring the pot, Waterford moves to the middle of the squared circle, stick held high.
“And here’s the happy ending to the story, luv. I’m going to make Cosworth bawl like a baby again tonight, not over her own lost career, but over finishing yours.”
Waterford literally drops the mic and backpedals to her corner, handing over the title belt to Castle, who in turn hands it to an attendant for safekeeping.
Nick looks back and forth between his charges, and he lets out a soft sigh underneath his breath. As FAWN’s senior referee and a quintessential company man, he wielded a certain amount of sway with the higher ups, and he had tried his best to talk the brass out of letting Fiona and Yoona get in the ring together, his referee’s intuition telling him that nothing good would come of it. He’d suggested a suspension for the Duchess, perhaps even stripping her of the EurAsian title and holding a double elimination, thirty-two woman tournament to crown a new champion, but his ideas were almost immediately rebuffed.
The Greek tragedy of the fallen hero and the avenging lover was too much of a goldmine for the FAWN executives to pass up. Camille’s heartbreaking interview and then Yoona’s response had been so captivating and so emotionally raw that it drew a nearly unprecedented amount of interest. Live tickets had sold out within two minutes of being made available online while pay-per-view buys were the highest ever for a non-FAWNAMANIA event, and thus not only had the match been made, but it had been made with a stipulation that provided notoriously little protection for the combatants, practically ensuring that one or both wrestlers would soon be spending time in a hospital bed. That palpable bloodlust surrounding the EurAsian title match made Castle so incredibly uncomfortable that he had briefly considered boycotting the affair.
In the end, however, he was a company man, and a company man does as the company orders. With a heavy heart and against his better judgment, Nick signals for the bell to begin the match.
The capacity crowd gets to its feet and roars as if they had just seen the guillotine blade slice through some condemned prisoner’s neck. Curiously, Yoona seems just as languid and listless as she had been for her ring entrance. The Korean wrestler trudges out of her corner, slightly swaying side to side with each step and moving slowly enough that it allows Fiona to seize the initiative. Her Ladyship storms out of the opposite corner with authority and cracks a stinging Backhand Slap across the challenger’s face before immediately retreating to a safe distance.
The force of the blow turns Park’s head to one side and she stumbles a few steps to maintain her balance, though she quickly rights herself and resumes lurching towards the champion, her expression unreadable and her will implacable. Waterford snorts dismissively, and once more she charges into the breach with another slap locked and loaded, this time a forehand to the opposite cheek that manages to drop her opponent to one knee. Even so, something in Yoona’s demeanor gives Fiona pause, and Her Ladyship again backs away rather than try to press her advantage.
“Cosworth was a meddling harlot who got what she had coming to her,” the Duchess snarls at her penitent challenger, earning herself another deafening round of boos and jeers. “She’ll never wrestle again. She’ll never WALK again. She’ll spend the rest of her miserable existence in a wheelchair, looking UP at women like me.”
If the champion had been expecting a response, there isn’t one. Park merely pushes to her feet again and continues to totter forward in silence, her painted visage betraying no emotion and being all the more unsettling for it. Waterford steps up again and cocks her right arm all the way back, her hand now tightly balled into a fist for a jaw-jacking Haymaker, then she punches with as much force as she can muster.
Her blow gets maybe a third of the way to its target before Yoona waylays her with a stiff-fingered thrust to the windpipe.
Suddenly finding it very, very hard to breath and with the coppery taste of blood in the back of her mouth, Fiona’s protectively clutches both her hands around her throat and her eyes nearly pop out of her skull. Her expression having gone from haughty, dismissive confidence to abject panic in the span of a heartbeat, Her Ladyship tries to turn towards the referee for help, though this too is interrupted when Park clasps a pair of hands behind her neck in and pulls her into a stooped over position.
In spite of her crushed trachea, Fiona’s veteran wiles kick in and she instinctively brings her hands down to parry the first Knee Strike. Then she parries a second, and a third, and a fourth, and for a brief moment it seems that she might have neutralized Yoona’s dreaded Thai Plum. That hope is quickly dashed, however, when Park blindsides her with a Headbutt, the challenger’s forehead meeting the top of the champion’s skull with a bone-jarring CLACK!
The concussive collision disrupts Waterford’s defensive rhythm, and a split second later Yoona finally hits with her fifth Knee Strike, the bony joint nearly obliterating Her Ladyship’s ribcage as the FAWNatics erupt into cheers. Fiona starts to crumple and fall backwards, but with her head and neck still trapped in Park’s clinch, she’s got nowhere to go and Yoona lays into her with a torrent of alternating Knee Strikes, left then right, then left then right, then left then right.
Driven backwards by the withering barrage, Fiona soon finds herself backed into a corner. Park releases the clinch, and the champion slumps into a boneless heap with her back against the lower turnbuckle. Yoona grips the intersecting top ropes for support, one in each hand, then she lifts her right foot and repeatedly stomps her bare heel down on Her Ladyship’s chest and abdomen, determined to make a royal mudhole out of the Duchess of East Anglia. After about a dozen, the Korean relents and retreats a step and a half out of the corner, though it’s only to get herself some room for the murderous Buzzsaw Kick she sends into the side of Fiona’s head.
BUZZSAW KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JXZ0FjghTk
The impact sends Waterford careening sideways through the gap between the bottom and middle ropes, and she falls out onto the apron before slopping to the barely-padded cement floor four feet below. As Yoona stands in the ring and gazes down at her battered opponent, the FAWNatics take it upon themselves to serenade Fiona with an angry, mocking chant.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
”YOU DE-SERVE IT!”
Clap, clap, clap clap clap.
When the referee’s count reaches “SIX!” and Waterford has only begun to stir, however, Park slips out of the ring and resumes her assault on the champion, apparently not willing to accept a ten-count and the title just yet. The Korean drags her foe upright, one hand in the hair and one hand on the wrist, then she whips the Duchess towards the nearest set of ring steps. After a short, faltering run, Fiona crashes shoulder-first into the unforgiving steel and she crumples once more with a pained cry.
Even so, she appears to be in better shape now than immediately after the kick to the cranium, and Waterford begins to crawl towards the announcer’s table as the newly-minted Slim Reaper stalks after her. Fiona manages to get one arm on the tabletop, and as she fumbles around for support, her hand finds her EurAsian championship belt where the attendant had set it. With Yoona breathing down her neck, Her Ladyship grabs hold of the strap as she forces herself to stand, then whirls around and throws it at the challenger’s face in a desperation attack.
Park manages to swat it away, but the gaudy belt still obstructs her vision just long enough for Waterford to double her over with a Snap Kick to the groin. A moment later, Fiona grabs her on either side of her head before dropping to a seat to mash her skull-painted face into the ground with a Sit Out Facebuster.
SIT-OUT FACEBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4vAI8u3FrA
The challenger lands hard and bounces onto her back, clutching at her nose and groin while moaning softly, the most noise she’s made all night. Having momentarily stemmed the tide, the Duchess seems to know that Yoona won’t be down for long, and so Fiona starts staggering away to try to buy herself more time.
Moving around a corner of the ring to afford herself a hint of safety, Lady Waterford raspily starts a chant of her own while keeping a close eye on the recovering challenger.
“SHE-DE-SERVED-IT. SHE-DE-SERVED-IT.”
It’s a chorus of one that quickly gets buried in boos. The sound from the crowd seems to steel Fiona’s resolve. The regal brunette climbs to the corner of the apron, hanging onto the post next to her and measuring Park as she rises, rubbing at her throat.
Apparently deciding to play tit-for-tat, Her Ladyship times her leap just as Yoona reaches unsteady feet and turns to find her foe. Waterford dives off her ledge and sends her left leg crashing into the throat of the challenger. The British legend uses her momentum to force Park from vertical and ‘ride’ Yoona back to the thinly-padded cement, landing in a flawless leg drop across the Korean’s neck.
Park sputters, gasping and reaching for throat as Waterford rubs at her aching tailbone. Still, it’s a small price to pay for a healthy bit of revenge. Fiona collects her gold lying on the floor a few feet from her and pushes to her feet. She caresses the faceplate of the heavy leather belt then lifts the title to her right shoulder, ready to make it a battering ram.
The brunette dips into a poised crouch and she motions the supposed Slim Reaper to her feet, brandishing her gold as a weapon that could put out the lights of Cosworth’s little crack whore.
A choking Yoona rises, otherwise in a daze. The FAWNatics try to warn her of the ravenous royal in her six o’clock but the noise doesn’t seem to translate. A whistle from Fiona breaks through the stupor however and reflexively Park spins to find the source. It’s a charging Waterford who levels the gold at Park’s forehead.
Yoona ducks the thrust faceplate and, head lowered, wraps her arms around the thighs of the onrushing Brit. Lifting and pivoting with her cargo, she rams Waterford’s vertebrae into the side of the announcer’s table.
The back of the Duchess arches in agony from the impact as the nearby anchors scatter from the firing line. Grimacing, the champ still clutches her prize with one hand while rubbing at the base of her spine with the other. The Duchess continues to try and strike with her weapon of choice, but the effort is a weakened one and Park’s right arm, unburdened, THWOMPS into Waterford’s jaw, spilling Fiona on top of the table.
The hovering official, seeing Her Ladyship in a horizontal state, closes in and seems ready to start his ten-count, but Yoona isn’t having it, Park cracking right elbow thrust after thrust into Fiona’s sternum, leaving the Englishwoman wide-eyed and gasping, finally pulling the gold of her belt atop her bosom in protection.
Unprepared for the metallic defense, Yoona shoots one more elbow strike. This one THUNKS into the gold, putting a healthy dent in the Eurasian title, but also sending a grunting Park wheeling away from the painful collision, cradling her aching right arm close.
Waterford rolls her legs off the table and decides the ring might be a safer place with the volatility of this particular challenger. She drops her feet to the floor and steps away, almost collapsing to a knee before catching herself. She leaves her battered, golden shield with the returning FAWN Gameday crew, wobbles to the apron, and rolls under the ropes, using them to climb to her feet.
A silent Park works the kink out of her balky elbow and hops to the apron, sliding through to join Camille’s assailant. Lady Waterford moves to Yoona throwing her arms forward to lock up in a collar-and-elbow, wanting to keep the opportunity for Park to throw more knife-like strikes to tender areas to a minimum.
But while the Korean’s arms are knotted up with those of her fellow grappler, her legs are not. As Fiona’s lower limbs flex and bend and shift for leverage, as befits her multi-decade wrestling background, Yoona shoots a lightning knee strike into Waterford’s liver.
Her Ladyship gurgles and her stems shudder from the blow, frame collapsing around the impact point. Gutting Her Ladyship with the first blow, Yoona delivers a second, it no surprise the efforts move toward rapid-fire. Fiona, learning from her first encounter, breaks her grip above and catches Park’s right leg on the third thrust.
The Duchess’ grip behind the Korean’s right knee allows the champ to lift the leg into a raised cradle while wrapping her opposite arm behind Park’s neck. Working quickly, Fiona gets back to basics, hauling the Asian off the deck and sending her flying overhead with a release cradle suplex.
Yoona’s body hits with a BANG against the thinly-sheathed plywood but she rolls through the impact popping to her feet and leaning into a corner. A bit flustered by the muted reaction, the Grande Dame of wrestling motions Park to the middle.
“I don’t come to you,” she demands. “You come get what your bytch got.”
Park strides to Waterford silent and stonefaced. She throws her arms in front of her for the lock-up and Fiona responds in kind. It takes but a few seconds for Her Ladyship to convert a collar-and-elbow into a side headlock and the Brit grinds Park’s head into her side within the crook of her elbow.
Yoona quickly counters, slipping free and shooting out the back door, taking Waterford’s right wing with her. The challenger ratchets her hammerlock high, driving a wincing Fiona to tiptoes, but the maneuver is only a stopgap. The Korean gives up her grip, trails her hands down Her Ladyship’s body, genuflecting in the process, and gains possession of the right ankle of the Duchess. Forcing her foe forward, the Muay Thai expert trips Waterford to the deck. Park’s arms snake around the captured limb. She pulls Fiona’s leg to her chest and violently twists the appendage in a brutal ankle lock.
Ankle lock (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uc1T4D5b5FY&t=135s ) @ 1:47
As Park leans into the submission and takes out her immense frustration, testing the ligaments of Waterford’s ankle, the royal howls in pain.
The helpful official reminds Yoona there are no submissions in tonight’s affair, but Park seems perfectly at peace with the opportunity to cause Fiona pain without any chance of it ending the fight.
Determined not to give the challenger the satisfaction of forcing her to tap, even if it didn’t count in the record book, Lady Waterford digs her nails into the canvas and claws her way toward the ropes. A teary-eyed, shrieking Fiona finally manages to wrap a palm around the bottom cable after a slow anguish-filled trip. Waterford howls for the break, but the ref coolly informs the titleholder there are NO disqualifications or count-outs in addition to the agreement to be the last woman standing.
Desperation taking hold, her ankle screwed mercilessly to the outside, Waterford extends her grasp from the bottom rope to the edge of the apron. Using that white-knuckle grip, she tugs her body with all the strength she can muster.
Yanking her frame under the cables, Park’s throat catches on the middle strand, Her Ladyship crafting a makeshift hotshot of the Korean that blessedly removes the clamp from her stem. As Fiona spills to the floor and puddles on the outside, pulling her throbbing leg close, whimpering in pain, a gagging Yoona grasps at her throat, drawing pained breaths through a bruised windpipe.
Showing the fight that made her a legend in Britain and a champion in FAWN, Waterford pulls to vertical with the help of the ring apron. Seeing Yoona turned and working at her throat, Fiona hops on her good leg to the canvas, rolls in, and gingerly uses the ropes to climb to her feet.
Her Ladyship limps toward the challenger from behind, hoping for the element of surprise, but Park turns to face her in the nick of time. The women throw their bodies into each other. Fiona’s wounded wheel gives Yoona the immediate advantage, but the clever royal dips into her bag of tricks and, trusting her ailing right foot will hold, lifts her left and STOMPS Yoona’s right set of toes.
The look of poorly-covered pain on Park’s face is instantaneous. Her Ladyship sees it better than anyone and sweeps the legs of the distracted Korean. With her foe on the canvas next to her, Fiona drops to her knees to take her weight off her throbbing ankle, and snatches Yoona’s right foot, tearing into Park’s tender toes with abandon.
Silent as she has been thus far, Yoona finally provides proof that her vocal chords are still functioning with a high-pitched howl of misery, the ex-ballerina once again finding herself the victim of the tactic that Adelaide Brewster had used to humiliate her more than once. On this particular occasion, however, surrender is quite literally not an option, so Park gnashes her teeth together to keep her screams down to a groan, then she claws her way towards the edge of the ring with her tormenter in tow.
“Cosworth was a sniveling coward at the end,” Fiona sneers as she twists the challenger’s delicate toes. “She begged me not to hurt her. Begged... like the common gutter trash that she is. Will you beg too, dearheart? Or will you just SCREAM?”
Waterford punctuates her threat with a savage twist of the Korean’s ankle as a bit of payback for earlier, but the pain seems to only galvanize the snarling Park. Now within arm’s reach of the ropes, Yoona grabs the bottom strand and hauls herself up before clutching the middle and then top ropes in succession as she hops on one foot. With her right leg stretched out behind her and still in Fiona’s possession, Park leaps off her left and torques her body around in midair to kick Waterford in the temple with an Enzuigiri out of the blue.
The surprise strike earns Yoona her freedom and both wrestlers collapse to the mat, the older champion clutching her jaw and the younger challenger grasping her mangled toes. Somewhere through the haze of pain clouding her senses, Park hears the referee shout, “FOUR!” and she cranes her neck around to see Her Ladyship getting upright with the help of the turnbuckles in the far corner. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a few rapid, shallow pants of breath to steel herself, then with a forceful twist of her hand, she pops a couple of her toes back into their proper alignment.
No masking the pain this time, Yoona flops to her back and unleashes a primal scream at the ceiling that’s equal parts anguish and hatred. As Nick Castle announces, “SIX!” it seems increasingly unlikely that Park might get to her feet in time to prolong the match, but then Fiona does her a cruel favor in stopping the count by leaping onto the top rope from the ring apron and delivering an Elbow Drop directly into the cleft of her bosom.
SPRINGBOARD ELBOW DROP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOOqGePyftE
Under better circumstances, Waterford might have earned an ovation for delivering a high-flying Springboard Elbow Drop to an opponent twenty years her junior. As it is, she receives nothing but vitriol, though the Duchess dismisses the commoners in her usual manner with a haughty, contemptuous wave of her hand. Fiona turns her attention to her sputtering opponent after giving the FAWNatics the royal rebuke, and she begins hauling Yoona upright with two handfuls of hair.
“You dumb whore...” Waterford hisses into her challenger’s ear. “Nothing you do will ever make her whole again.”
Her Ladyship crouches down and threads an arm through Park’s thighs to lift her opponent’s body across her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. When she tries to rise, however, Fiona’s right ankle buckles, forcing her back down to a penitent crouch to the crowd’s delight. Even so, the Duchess is not to be denied, so she grits her teeth and stands again, only to fall again not even a second later. Evidently Yoona’s Ankle Lock has taken its toll on her, and Waterford mutters a string of curses underneath her breath when she feels the Slim Reaper begin to rouse and squirm in her grasps.
Fiona takes another second to gather her reserves, then she powers to a stand with a keening battle cry that’s not quite regal. Doing her best to shut out the burning in her right leg, Waterford hups her opponent off her shoulders with a smooth, practiced motion while dropping to one knee, putting the posted joint on a collision course with the back of Park’s neck.
WAKING NIGHTMARE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=svwKtzRYbRU
Fortunately for Yoona and the vengeance-hungry FAWNatics, Fiona’s first couple of failed attempts at her signature Waking Nightmare has allowed Park to gain a second wind. As she tumbles through the air, Yoona reaches back over her shoulder to grab the champion’s head with both hands in a Three Quarters Facelock. Using her tether to Waterford for leverage, she manages to steer herself into a relatively soft landing on the canvas while simultaneously crushing Fiona’s chin against her shoulder with an Ace Crusher from left field.
ACE CRUSHER OUTTA NOWHERE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhNEi0xV4Z4
The recoil from the counter sends Waterford bouncing back to her feet and she drunkenly backpedals a few steps before falling against the ropes, kept partially upright thanks only to an arm tossed over the top strand at the last moment. Meanwhile, Yoona lays in the center of the ring, panting heavily after her narrow escape. She flexes the toes on her right foot, grimacing each time against the vile bolt of pain that accompanies every movement, but still she rolls onto her stomach and pushes herself up before Nick can get halfway through his count.
The thunderous pop from the crowd that accompanies Yoona’s resurgence sparks something in Fiona as well, and Her Ladyship staggers away from the ropes in order to meet her opponent in the center of the ring. Park tries the Throat Stab again, though this time Waterford is prepared as she tucks her chin and turns her body to let the blow harmless deflect off her left shoulder. Fiona immediately returns fire with a blistering Right Hook that hits home against Yoona’s left cheek, and the Duchess allows herself a small, nearly-imperceptible grin as the force of the blow sends Park spinning around like an unbalanced top.
Even that celebration is far too premature, however, as the ex-ballerina completes the pirouette with her left arm locked and loaded for a Roaring Elbow. Fiona sees it coming at the last moment, and her look of smug satisfaction turns into one of wide-eyed shock a split second before the bony joint THONKS against her forehead.
ROARING ELBOW:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpMvPSX3lJA
The brutal, pinpoint strike seems to leave the champion out on her feet, her body slumping and sagging as if her bones had gone soft. Fiona starts to pitch forward and is on her way to a faceplant before Yoona catches her left arm, trapping the limb between both of her own as if performing an Armbar. It’s only for a moment though, as Park promptly and violently lays out on the mat, spiking Her Ladyship’s head into the deck and wrenching her left shoulder with a vicious Single Arm DDT.
SINGLE ARM DDT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6B6N3spRLdY
A spasmodic jerk runs through Fiona’s body at the moment of impact, but the Korean isn’t through. Still holding onto the captured limb and with the Duchess lying facedown and motionless, Yoona kneels at her opponent’s left side. Park pins Waterford’s arm behind her back in a high and tight Hammerlock, then she draws back her right leg before bringing it down in a sledgehammer of a Knee Strike into the exposed left side of Fiona’s ribs.
The crushing blow and the accompanying wave of agonized nausea immediately brings the champion back to her senses. Her eyes nearly bulging out of her head and her right hand clawing and scrabbling against the canvas, Waterford gurgles and gasps in a futile attempt to get air back into her lungs, only for Yoona to hit her again, and again, and again, and again with a particularly vicious variation on the the Korean’s usual Side Mounted Knee Strikes.
The FAWNatics love it, and they grant their Slim Reaper license to kill as they scream, “BOMA YE! BOMA YE! BOMA YE!”
One of the ringside cameramen zooms in on the beleaguered champion’s face, and the audience only grows more vocal in their bloodlust when Fiona’s look of misery and suffering is plastered on the FAWNtron. Finally, after perhaps forty seconds of pumping her knees into Waterford’s ribcage as hard and as fast as she can, Yoona is exhausted. She delivers one final, parting shot, then she rolls to the edge of the ring and uses the ropes to clamber upright. Meanwhile, Fiona does nothing except curls into a fetal ball, coughing and retching with every tortured breath while she drools blood onto the canvas from the corner of her mouth.
Castle begins his ten-count towards a new EurAsian champion, and for the first seven seconds, it seems that Waterford is neither willing nor able to answer the call as she merely curls further into her shell. Park watches from one corner of the ring while she slouches against the turnbuckles, just as expressionless and unreadable as she had been all throughout the match.
The fans, however, have not yet had enough.
“BOMA YE! BOMA YE! BOMA YE!” they continue to call.
Nick shouts, “EIGHT!”
“BOMA YE! BOMA YE! BOMA YE!” the crowd answers, louder and more frenetic now.
Fiona still isn’t showing signs of life, and the official calls out “NINE!”
The FAWN Arena buzzes at a rabid fever pitch with a chant of, “BOMAYEBOMAYEBOMAYEBOMAYE!”
“TE -- OH, GODDAMN IT, YOONA!”
With less than a second to spare, Park surges out of her corner and takes to the air before coming down with a Double Foot Stomp on Waterford’s right ankle, drawing a high-pitched screech from the champion and forestalling the end of the match. Castle is livid and he gives the challenger an earful, but the referee is ultimately powerless to intervene. His orders were to give both wrestlers a wide berth, even more so than normal for a Last Woman Standing match, and to end the match now would potentially spark a fan riot.
As the Korean walks by, he catches her with one hand around her bicep and her murmurs, “What… what are you planning to do…”
Yoona turns her head and gives Nick a silent look that chills him to the bone. After a couple of seconds the official finds that he can no longer meet her gaze, and he averts his eyes down and to the side as Park shrugs out of his grasp.
“God, help me…” Castle whispers to himself.
A few steps away a teary-eyed Waterford tries to ignore what might be both cracked ribs and a severely sprained ankle. Wheezing sobs escape her lips as she uses the ropes to pull off the canvas. She’s able to put her weight on her left foot while leaning into the cables on her right side. The Duchess remains bent at the waist, significantly debilitated by the recent barrage of knee strikes.
Fiona gently embraces her left set of ribs with a covering arm, hoping to provide a hint of protection to her aching side. A wrestler of Waterford’s experience knows the difference between injury and pain and she plunges the fingertips of her right hand into the palm of her left, signaling for a time out, sensing it’s the former.
Her already doubled frame makes for easy access to slip her body between the top and middle ropes, hoping against hope that position will somehow persuade Park to provide Her Ladyship a breather. Newsflash. It doesn’t.
Yoona reaches over the top rope and wraps an arm under Fiona’s chin and around her throat. With Waterford pointed toward the roaring crowd, Park straightens up the regal brunette then stretches her into an agonizing arch, spine pressed tight to the uppermost cable behind her. With Fiona’s top hard pressed to keep its contents in place from the degree her chest is thrust forward, Yoona starts SLAMMING clubbing forearm blows into her foe’s cleavage from over Fiona’s shoulder. The Muay Thai expert adds some alternating knee strikes to the already damaged port side of the blasted Brit.
After a half dozen shots, a sagging, sobbing Fiona is left to slump over the middle rope when the Korean releases her grip, looking like a wet rag hung over a clothesline, alabaster tummy pressing into the rubber-coated steel of the middle cable.
The steely focus remains in Yoona’s eyes. The challenger turns and sprints to the opposite strands. She throws her body into the ropes and rebounds with a slight limp from her crumpled toes, the adrenaline and the thought of Camille overcoming any pain. Barreling down on Fiona’s royal derriere, the ass practically placed on a platter, Park leaps into a forward knee strike between where God split Lady Waterford and CRACKS into the tip of Fiona’s tailbone.
The previously flaccid Waterford howls in pain as she’s launched through the cables, crashing atop the mat outside the ropes before dribbling to the floor, ending like a fractured doll in a heap of broken parts, groaning weakly, the moans increasing when she tries to move in the slightest.
Apparently no longer caring whether crawling backstage on all fours is either dignified or starts the ten-count to the end of her title reign, Her Ladyship makes it to hands and knees and moves in slow motion toward the ramp. If it’s possible to limp on all fours, Fiona does it, every stretch of her ribcage throbbing when she moves her left hand and knee forward, nearly causing her to collapse in agony.
Her face turns fearful at the volume of the crowd rising, knowing what and who’s coming with it. Fiona coughs out a raspy “I quit,” hoping both her foe and Castle can hear. Nick starts to clarify the rules of the Last Woman Standing stipulation, though a moment later, Yoona provides the Duchess with a much more painful reminder with a savage punt to the side of her injured ribs, sending her barrel-rolling to the base of the entrance ramp. Too hurt to even scream, Waterford wheezes and hacks uncontrollably, staining the steel walkway with droplets of red from her mouth. To her dismay, the referee restarts his ten-count from the beginning as the Slim Reaper stalks towards her with murder flashing in those dark eyes.
“It… it was an accident...” Fiona sputters, holding up a placating hand as she lays on her back and kicks her legs against the ground to inch her way up the ramp. “I never meant to hurt her… You have to… have to believe me…”
The crowd makes loudly informs Her Ladyship that they do not, and a look of utter despair flashes across the champion’s face before Yoona surges forward and cracks another stiff kick into her ribcage. Sent rolling away a second time, Fiona comes to a stop on her back near the middle of the entranceway, just a couple of feet from where Camille had met a tragic fate one month ago. Park momentarily halts the assault to grab a video camera from a nearby cameraman, a professional piece of equipment that weighs a dozen pounds and carries a five digit price tag. She mounts it on one shoulder, focuses in on the whimpering Duchess, and stomps forward once more.
“Please… please stop…” Waterford groans, realizing that trying to escape would be futile. “I’ll… I’ll give you anything you want… I… I… I swear I’ll find Camille the best doctors money can buy… I’ll fix her, I swear! I sweaaAARRRGH!”
Park apparently isn’t interested, and she kneels down at her opponent’s side, one knee planted on Her Ladyship’s chest. The agony causes Fiona to thrash wildly for a few seconds as if she were suffering a seizure, and then she falls still save for the sounds of her shallow, tortured breathing, utterly spent and unable to resist further. Yoona sets her purloined camera between the soon-to-be ex-champion’s thighs, then to a massive, massive pop from the crowd, she tears away Fiona’s panties to expose the royal’s naked undercarriage to the lens.
A dirty-minded member of the production team immediately puts the feed onto the gigantic FAWNtron plasma screen, giving the entire arena a crystal clear close-up view of the Duchess’ bare womanhood. Park quickly settles into a straddle across Waterford’s hips while bringing Fiona’s right leg up at a ninety degree angle and hugs it to her chest. Everyone in the building knows what’s coming, including Her Ladyship, though all she can do is croak a soft, wordless plea before Yoona leans forward onto her, stretching her foot up over the top of her head. Battered ribs be damned, Fiona unleashes a high-pitched howl as her hamstring and groin muscles nearly snap from the strain. The FAWNatics still want to see more, however, and they start a rumbling chant of “SNU SNU! SNU SNU! SNU SNU!”
Park readily obliges, rocking back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth, grinding her groin against Waterford’s as the FAWNtron in combination with Yoona’s strategically placed camera affords the live audience an unprecedented up-close and personal view of her Death by Snu Snu finisher. For her part, Fiona burbles incomprehensibly as the combination leg split and crotch grind overwhelms her with a mix of agony and ecstasy unseen since the heyday of Miriam Gaiman. Even as each salacious sweep of Park’s hips brings her closer to an explosive orgasm, the muscles in her body flex and spasm, dramatically increasing the strain on her leg that’s already stretched well beyond its normal limits.
After scarcely a minute, Fiona can hold back the tide no longer. A tremendous climax rips through her body, culminating in a gushing discharge that splatters against the nearby camera lens to one of the loudest ovations in years at the FAWN Arena. A moment later, the aftershocks of Waterford’s orgasm tear apart the sinews in her right leg, though the crowd is so loud that her blood-curdling shriek is entirely obscured. Judging from the sudden lack of resistance in Her Ladyship’s leg, however, Yoona knows that her hated opponent has suffered at minimum a torn hamstring, a debilitating injury even for a young wrestler and likely a career-ender for one of Fiona’s age.
Park lets the shredded limb flop to the ground, and scoots forward to sit on Waterford’s stomach. The Korean reaches behind to grab the camera, then resets it next to the Duchess’ head before palming the side of her face and forcing her to look directly into the lens. The fans in attendance get to see Fiona’s terrified visage -- openly sobbing and twisted in anguish -- magnified on the FAWNtron, and the cheers quickly peter out as what seemed to be a titillating pornography moments ago now seems to be an appalling snuff film when they’re literally faced with the aftermath.
“Yoona, please… she’s finished…” Nick Castle softly murmurs from just a couple of feet away. “Please, just… just step aside…”
The Korean doesn’t move a muscle for several long, long seconds, then Her Ladyship gathers what remains of her strength and croaks, “M - M - Mercy… mercy…”
The word immediately curdles in Yoona’s ears, and her brow twitches in anger. She had offered mercy to Adelaide Brewster in the Spider’s Nest and been rewarded with injury and humiliation. That degrading memory fresh in mind, she leans down and puts her lips just fractions of an inch away from Fiona’s ear. As the battered Duchess visibly trembles with fear, the Slim Reaper whispers her first, last, and only word of the night.
“No.”
“Oh, God…” Waterford sobs moments before Park grabs the camera and smashes into lens-first into her face.
The impact thankfully brings an end to Fiona’s prolonged suffering by immediately rendering her unconscious, but Yoona isn’t done. She raises her makeshift bludgeon and brings it down again, the blow shown in grisly, first-person detail on the FAWNtron. There’s a smattering of gasps from the capacity crowd, but mostly they watch in silent, mesmerized horror as the image becomes blood-stained from wounds opened on Waterford’s forehead, cheek, and lips.
After a couple of strikes, the lens portion of the video camera shatters. Holding the remnants of her weapon, Yoona rises to her feet and viciously spikes what’s left of the ruined camera into Fiona’s head as a final shot. Panting heavily and her whole body shaking with an overload of adrenaline, Park stares down at the brutalized wrestler lying at her feet, the rapid fluttering of Waterford’s throat with every breath being the only sign of life. Even now, looking at the Duchess still fills Yoona with hateful rage, so she forces herself to squeeze her eyes shut, all sounds from the outside world drowned out by the noise of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
She could have stood there until the end of the show were it not something gently prodding her arm. Park opens her eyes and turns her head, coming face to face with an apprehensive looking ring attendant standing at arm’s length and offering the EurAsian title belt to her. She turns her head the other way in the direction of the FAWNtron, and displayed on the massive screen are the words: NEW EURASIAN CHAMPION: YOONA PARK. Evidently, she had been so lost in her own world that she had missed both the referee’s final ten-count and the ring announcer’s official proclamation.
The ring attendant nudges her again with the belt, and when Park fixes her gaze on him, the young man looks like he just wants to turn and run. His courage holds -- just barely -- and after a couple of tense seconds, the new EurAsian champion takes the heavy strap from his hands. Rather than holding it up high or showing it off to the audience, Yoona merely clutches it at one end and lets it drag along the walkway behind her while she trudges towards the backstage area. As she passes by the fan who had demanded the murder of Fiona Waterford at the start of the match, she shoots a sideways glance at the young lady without breaking stride.
Rather than righteous fury, this time the girl shows only fearful revulsion, slinking back into the crowd to hide behind some other fans to escape Park’s line of sight. The rest of the building remains in shocked silence all throughout, not daring to make a sound until well after the Slim Reaper had disappeared from view and the medical personnel had carted away the bloody and battered wreckage of Fiona Waterford.