As the opening theme and title sequence for FAWN fade into a frenzied mass of humanity in the stands, the atmosphere inside the FAWN arena is one of pure pandemonium. Another capacity crowd fills the arena, armed to the teeth with signs and banners. Among the more notable: "IVY BELLE ARMSTRONG IS THE CHAMPION OF THIS COMMON MAN!", "BETSY & CYNTHIA SYXX=A WHOLE NEW MEANING TO PAROLE VIOLATION", "SISTERHOOD OF SEDUCTION 4 LIFE", and "PORTIA FEARS COURTNEY". At ringside, Tammy DeVille and Buck Ansome are set to call the evening's festivities.

Tammy: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first FAWN broadcast of February, 2004. I'm Tammy DeVille, and as always, I'm joined by Buck Ansome...whether I like it or not.

Buck: Tammy, there's no need to pretend. I know I'm your dream guy, but alas, my heart belongs to Chrissy.

Tammy: (under her breath) Among other appendages.

Buck: Pardon me?

Tammy: (moving right along) Tonight, we have another action packed showcase, featuring the semifinals of the tag team championship tournament. The Mitchell sisters, Sophie and Cynthia, will do battle with the Whores on Parole.

Buck: Meanwhile, another pair of sisters, the Dennehys, will obliterate FAWN's very own coalition of the willing, Shea London and Kylie Sanders.

Tammy: That remains to be seen. But up first, we have Maiden America, fresh off...

Buck: (cough) Fluke (cough cough)

Tammy: ...a victory against Sascha Savarino last week, and this week taking on Brooklyn's ghetto princess, Demetria Andrews. So, without further adieu, let's go to the ring.

"American Woman" by Lenny Kravitz blasts over the arena's sound system, and Maiden America appears at the top of the ramp, sporting the look she debuted last week... a blue with white stars top and red and white striped bottom tankini, with white go go boots. As she makes her way down the aisle, slapping the outstretched hands of the fans, she seems utterly confident, but to the trained observer, the glint in her eye betrays her anxiety. Last week had gone a ways in establishing her as a viable threat, but she still needed a more resounding win to cement her position.

Tammy: Perhaps a bit of superstition from Maiden America, sticking with the ensemble she successfully debuted last week.

Buck: Bah! This ain't a Nike commercial. It ain't the shoes. It ain't the bikini. It's ability, that you either have or don't. And Maiden don't.

Tammy: Tonight's Buck Ansome diatribe has been brought to you by the Association of American English Teachers.

As Christina Aguilera's "Can't Hold Us Down" begins to pump over the arena sound system, Demetria Andrews makes her entrance at the top of the ramp. The Brooklyn girl stands there for a moment, legs slighted parted, hands indignantly on her hips as she disapprovingly views the crowd, who boo and jeer the ebony beauty. Demetria looks exquisite, smooth ebony skin already almost glistening under the lights, her not exactly tall frame perfectly filling her burgundy bikini. With a flip of her long dark hair, she begins to saunter and jiggle her way to the ring. Her movements are almost primal, each stride exuding both supreme confidence and an undeniable sensuality. Reaching the ring, she pulls herself onto the apron and then slips into the ring. Standing in the middle with her arms outstretched above her head, her expression is one of supreme confidence. She is not phased by the setting, the crowd, or her opponent.

Tammy: Demetria Andrews certainly looks ready to go tonight.

Buck: Ready to win tonight, you mean.

Tammy: We shall see, me Buck-o. We shall see.

As the bell sounds, the two women move toward each other in a circular path. Despite the obvious contrast in skin tone, Maiden and Demetria are built rather similar: Maiden a couple of inches taller, Demetria a couple of pounds heavier. There was no easily discernable size or strength edge. And so, throwing caution to the wind, both women lunge toward each other, locking up in a collar and elbow tie up. After a few moments struggling for the upper hand, Maiden maneuvers her foe into a side headlock.

Tammy: And the early advantage goes to the Maiden.

Buck: And suddenly, I'm so mind numbingly bored. C'mon, Demetria. Rip some clothes off, already!

Tammy: *rolling her eyes* Demetria, though, forces Maiden back toward the ropes, pushing her off and sending her for a ride...

Indeed, Demetria has managed to escape the headlock, and has sent Maiden America into the ropes. The ghetto girl braces herself as Maiden rebounds at her, but even still, a shoulder block from the star spangled cutie drops Andrews to the mat. The crowd voices its approval. As Demetria scrambles back to her feet, Maiden again rushes into the ropes, this time of her own accord. The cables send her rushing back at Demetria, and as the Brooklyn girl regains her footing, maiden goes airborne, twisting her body and catching the ghetto girl with a flying cross body block that sends them both crashing to the mat, maiden's weight slamming down across Andrews' torso.

Tammy: Maiden hooks the leg, but only gets a one count.

Buck: It will take a lot more than that to put Demetria away.

Tammy: I agree, Buck. Especially when Demetria resorts to eye gouging, like she did just then.

Maiden America staggers back a step, her hands flying to her eyes to ease the sting of Andrews' nails. But soon, Maiden has other worries. From her knees, Demetria fires a vicious uppercut directly between the blonde's parted thighs. With an agonized squeak, America drops to her knees. A headbutt from Demetria sends her the rest of the way to the canvas.

Tammy: And with a couple of underhanded shortcuts, Demetria Andrews has gained control of the match.

Buck: Underhanded? Nonsense. I believe St. Francis of Assisi said it best, when he said, "Never give a sucker an even break."

Getting back to her feet, Demetria tugs Maiden up with her roughly by her golden tresses before sending her into the ropes. As Maiden charges back at her, out of control, Demetria levels her with a clothesline. Maiden lies on her back, right hand massaging her throbbing windpipe. But Andrews knows better than to give her time to recover. Instead, the ghetto girl scoops her up, taking advantage of their similar size to show some power she didn't often get to display. Andrews holds her pressed to her chest for a few seconds, before spinning on her heel and slamming the Maiden to the canvas.

Tammy: And Demetria Andrews is now firmly in control.

Buck: Was there ever any doubt?

Tammy: The match isn't over yet, Buck. Don't count out Maiden America.

Buck: I'd never dream of counting out Maiden. That's the ref's job.

As Maiden lay on the mat, her left arm reaching under her to sooth her back, Demetria turns her attention to the jeering masses at ringside. Andrews lets loose with a stream of colorful metaphors for the crowd, giving as good as she has been receiving.

Tammy: Demetria's making a mistake here. She has Maiden reeling. She's not going to beat her by jawing with the crowd.

Buck: She's already beaten Maiden, just by stepping in the ring. It's all window dressing now.

Finally turning back to Maiden, Demetria reaches down and wraps her fingers in the blonde's hair, pulling her to unsteady feet. She pulls her arm back, and unloads a punch… which Maiden intercepts with her left arm, using her right to unload a chop to Demetria's chest that reverberates throughout the arena.

Crowd: WHOO!

Staggering back and grimacing, Demetria is undaunted. She fires a second punch, which Maiden is again able to block. And again, Maiden follows up with a resounding chop.

Crowd: WHOO!

Demetria stumbles backward, into the ropes. Maiden grips her by the wrist, preparing to Irish whip her.

Tammy: Maiden America rallying now, sending Demetria for the ride...

Buck: No, Demetria revers... Wha...?

Tammy: Maiden RE-reverses, and nearly takes Demetria's head off with a short arm clothesline.

The crowd roars as Demetria's body does almost a complete 360 as she crashes to the canvas. Maiden wastes no time, and runs towards the nearest ropes. Before she gets to them, she leaps into the air, her boots landing on the middle cable. Propelling herself backward, Maiden nails the Brooklyn brawlerette with a springboard moonsault.

Tammy: Cover by Maiden! 1...2...

Buck: No! Demetria kicks out.

Tammy: Maiden, though, presses her advantage, pulling Demetria up and whipping...

Buck: Demetria reverses again, and this time, no double reverse crap from the Maiden.

Buck was right, but that didn't mean Maiden was without a counter. As Maiden America charged back at Demetria, she left her feet, wrapping her legs around Demetria's head and snapping her over with a hurricarana. With impressive agility as they crash to the canvas, Maiden lands in a schoolgirl pin across Demetria's shoulders, and reaches back to hook her legs.

Tammy: That's it! The Rocket's Red Glare!

Buck: No...

Tammy: 1...

Buck: No!

Tammy: 2...

Buck: NO!!!

Tammy: 3!!!

DING! DING! DING!

Elated, Maiden America rises from atop her fallen foe and, with a burst of adrenaline, jumps onto the middle ropes of the nearest corner, fists pumping in the air to the cascades of cheers from the thousands-strong crowd.

TAMMY: The Maiden is certainly enjoying her moment in the sun! Two straight wins against two very determined opponents...we may just be seeing her turning her career around and being a genuine force in this league at last.

BUCK: I've gotta admit, I don't like the little poser all that much, but she was impressive tonight. Of course, that'll all change the minute she faces some real opposition around here!

As if on cue, a solitary figure appears at the top of the aisle, and then makes her way towards the ring with strong, purposeful strides. At first, most fans pay her little heed; they don't recognize her, and as she's wearing street clothes...a pair of black slacks and matching blazer, black blouse, black stiletto boots and a long black leather trench coat... the immediate assumption is that she must be some nondescript FAWN staffer. No spotlight trails her march to the ring, no theme music blares through the PA.

But as the brunette nears the ring, her stride suddenly speeds up, until she is very nearly running. With a gazelle's grace, she leaps and slides under the ropes, then springs to her feet behind Maiden America, who is still playing to the audience and unaware of her sudden visitor.

She is made aware... painfully aware... of the intruder's presence as one hand grabs the blond by the hair near the nape of her neck, while the other reaches between the Maiden's legs and clamps itself firmly to her crotch. Eyes gone wide as saucers, mouth forming an 'O' shape but releasing no sound, the blond is momentarily paralyzed by the sudden violation. An instant later, she finds herself hoisted off of her corner perch and flipped bodily through the air, until she lands face-first upon the canvas with a grunt.

TAMMY: What is this?!? Some unknown assailant has entered the ring and attacked Maiden America!

BUCK: Is she even a wrestler?

TAMMY: I didn't hear anything about there being any new wrestler in the league right now! I...I think she's just someone off of the street!

BUCK: Well, that may be...but just look at the job she's doing on the blond!

The mysterious brunette grabs her victim by her golden mane, lifting her upper body up off of the mat...and then savagely drives the Maiden's face hard into the canvas! Maiden America's arms flop at her sides, offering no resistance. And the battered battler does not struggle as her assailant then unhooks the blonde's halter and removes it, then slides her briefs down her legs and yanks them away. Within the span of a few heartbeats, Maiden America is stripped naked.

The referee finally decides that his verbal protestations aren't going to accomplish much, so he tries to forcibly restrain the brunette...and is rewarded with a knee to the groin that drops him into the fetal position and renders him even more irrelevant to the activity in the ring, if that's even possible.

Then, in an impressive display of raw power, the ebony-haired attacker scoops the limp body of the good girl up into the air, then brings it down upon her knee, the blonde's back taking the brunt of the impact. The Maiden groans in agony, then slips into semi-consciousness, this unexpected assault proving to be too much for her to withstand following the grueling match she has just endured. The brunette pushes the rag doll body off of her knee, letting it fall to the mat with a dull thud.

Standing over Maiden America in a straddle, the mysterious woman looks down at the unmoving figure beneath her and sneers. Then, she raises her right foot and brings it down upon the blonde's left breast, the areola providing a bull's-eye for the narrow three inch heel! Maiden America's eyes open wide and a rasping scream rips from her throat as the heel digs into her tender breast...and then she blacks out again from the pain.

At long last, FAWN security swarms the ring, separating the two women and escorting the brunette from the ring and to the backstage area. But even surrounded by a dozen burly bouncers, this feminine enigma is clearly exuding an aura of power and self-satisfaction that dwarfs all others. In an arena full of thousands, she is a giant among the ants.

BUCK: Wow! That was... wow!

TAMMY: I've got to admit, Buck... whoever that woman is, she just made an incredible impression on everyone here!

BUCK: She's... wow!

TAMMY: Always a pleasure to see you put your RADA training to work in the color commentary, Buck.

BUCK: WOW!!!