A million times before...A million times Cathy Dennehy had warmed up in the locker room before steeping into the ring and dishing out her particular brand of misery and pain on whatever poor girl happened to be in her sights tonight. Japan. Mexico. Australia... Cathy had lost count of the places where she had plied her favorite trade. She had lost count of the number of times she had heard her opponent mutter the magic phrases, "I give," or "no more" or "I quit".

...but it never lost its magic.

The butterflies never failed to make their prematch appearances. In the privacy of her personal locker room, Cathy leaned over, tugging at the lower band of her baby blue sports bra, checking herself in the mirror one last time before the start of the match. A strong knock came at the door, signaling her time to head out to the ring had come.

"ONE MINUTE TO CUE!" came the voice through the door.

"Not a chance," the brunette notes to her reflection. "She doesn't stand a chance against this..."

"You know it, baby," comes the reply, as Cathy refocuses on the mirror, seeing her younger sister Shannen standing behind her all smiles.

A strange calm flooded over Cathy as normally did when the time for business was at hand. Shannen was a catalyst, bringing the reaction along quicker. Cathy's shoulders slump in relief as the time to plan and study and worry zips away with each tick of the clock's hand, and the time to scratch, choke, gouge, and (most of all) claw arrives. She was back in her element. Fighting was what she had done all her life, and if she got to do a little more than the fighting, where was the harm?

One last look in the mirror... strong calves, even if she did have a slim scar down the back of one from a dropped branding iron; above - trim, silky, alabaster thighs. Turning her back to the mirror...firm behind, no sag; the butt - a 25-year-old's dream. A small baby blue thong is hardly visible as it disappears between her pale buns. Turning to the front, the small patch of material barely covered her ...well...her...

Her eyes move higher, tracing her tight, but undefined belly up to her modest breasts and her matching baby blue jog bra. Cathy runs her palms over the supple flesh, rubbing her chest lightly, feeling her nipples rise to the occasion. Seeing the dark circles through the thin material, and the rising nubs of her teats press against the lightweight spandex, she smiles.

"That ought to get a few more of the boys in my corner tonight." Snapping her G-string playfully, Cathy heads for the door, "Gonna get some fresh teen meat tonight!"

"It's a done deal, Cath... that Montana Yankee ain't coming home tonight. It's General Hospital for her" Shannen adds.

Opening, Cathy and Shannen are immediately surrounded by a phalanx of bodyguards, necks thicker than Cathy's sleek waist. Walking down the hall at her own lollygagging pace, the guards easily keep pace as the group passes through the curtain and into the brightly lit arena.

The crowd is momentarily caught unaware, as Dirty Cathy Dennehy is guided to the ring with no accompaniment, save her tall, blonde sister. No lights. No music. No pyro. And indeed, next to no applause. Most of the crowd showers her with jeers, clearly recalling how she had treated other girls in the ring. Still, they could not turn away. The pale, yet striking brunette, her hair swept back in a short ponytail, captivates their attention if not their regard or respect.

The diminutive Dennehy finally breaks from her sister with firm pat on the back as they make it to the ring. She clangs up the ring steps, her scruffy white boots lending a certain cowgirl flair, pounding on the sheet metal. A dip of the head and she's through the ropes. All of Cathy's powder remaining dry, her 'fireworks' at the ready for the entrance of her next victim; the Montana Prairie Prinicess herself.

As usual, the DeVille-Ansome broadcast team is situated at ringside. "Now this next match up" Tammy drawls into the microphone, "is between two women who definitely do not like each other. There is some really bad blood between Montoya and Dennehy, isn't that right Buck?"

"Oh yeah, baby!" Buck grins. "These Lone Star honeys hate each other's guts and should make for one real nasty fight! I can't wait!!"

"Agreed, but who has the edge? Dennehy came out on top in a close one the last time they met, but the cowgirl isn't nearly as green now as she was then. This one should be even tighter."

"Tight is good...just ask Timberlake."

"Oh shut up Buck! It looks like Montoya is ready!"

As the gentle strums of an acoustic guitar play out of the over-sized speakers, Montoya steps grimly out on to the top of the steel ramp. Dressed again in her original black ring gear, her face is a mask of determination as she heads down the slope to the warbling of Martina McBride's "Independence Day". Gone are the usual pyrotechnics as well as the mischievous playing to the crowd…tonight she is all business.

"Lacey is back in her old getup" Tammy notes, "but looks like she is in the best shape of her life and ready to rumble. I wonder what the double D's on her top and chaps represents though?"

"Maybe her cup size?"

"Real classy Buck."

Lacey, now at ringside, continues her purposeful saunter about the squared circle. Her face still joyless, she high fives the few stunned but nervous fans who timidly offer their hands up to her before stopping directly in front of the announcer's table and casting a very hard stare at Ansome...

"That isn't a happy to see you look surely," Tammy whispers into the mic.

"Ah, you worry too much. Lacey still loves...HEY?!"

...only to have the raven haired rodeo queen turn her back on Ansome and slide into the ring, totally bypassing her traditional good luck kiss. Pacing over to her corner, Lacey begins to stretch and loosen up with an intensity not seen by her before.

"Looks like Montoya is very focused tonight, and she will need every bit of it to win."

"Without my kiss, she is sure to lose. Mark my words! She just handed the match to Dennehy as sure as I am sitting here!"

"You are a sad little man, aren't you Buck?"

"I don't think so!"

. As the bells sounds, the two Texan tigresses exit their corners, each sizing up the other as they make their approach. There's little wariness, little apprehension as both lunge forward, struggling to gain the upper hand. It is a struggle that, perhaps unsurprisingly, is won by the larger Montoya, who works Dennehy's right arm into a hammerlock.

Grimacing as her right arm is wrenched back painfully, Dennehy swipes her free arm behind her, searching for a handhold on her opponent, but finding none that are effective. But while Lacey currently enjoys the upper hand, she knows she needs to do more. So, spinning Cathy around to face her, the hammerlock still in place, Montoya swiftly scoops the veteran off the mat before forcefully slamming her down onto the canvas, and onto her own arm.

Cathy arches her back off the canvas, sliding her arm out from under her as she offers a moan of anguish. Still, Lacey is not done. Backing into the ropes for momentum, Montoya rebounds back at her prey, and drops a long leg across Dennehy's throat. Cathy's body spasms on impact, her legs momentarily jerking up from the mat, before falling still.

Slithering across the mat, Lacey drapes her body across Cathy's, chest to chest, hooking the Dallas girl's leg. It's a quick cover, and receives a quick kick out before the ref's hand hits the canvas a second time.

Lacey is not surprised, but is also not deterred. Quickly rolling her foe over, Lacey straddles Cathy's back, hooking Dennehy's arms over her thighs as she cupped Cathy's chin with her hands. The camel clutch now in place, Lacey is content to simply work the hold, rocking back on her ride as Cathy groans in agony.

"Wanna give, Cathy?" the ref asked. The tortured brunette's replied is muffled, but sounds as if it wouldn't meet FCC standards of decency.

"C'mon, shug," Lacey scolds her opponent. "Now that's no way for a lady to talk to a gentlemen who's just doin' his job."

Cathy's response is a further groan, but Lacey's hold keeps her fairly immobile. Aside from some ineffectual thrashing of her arms, Cathy wasn't going anywhere or doing anything until Lacey released her.

Somewhat surprisingly, Lacey did just that.

The clutch was no doubt effective, but Lacey knows that it will take more still to do in someone as tough as Cathy. Guiding the shorter brunette back into a corner, Montoya sends her for a ride across the ring, Cathy's back slamming hard into the buckles. Dennehy remains upright, but only for a moment, before slumping to a seat against the bottom buckle.

As Lacey stands in the opposite corner, the glint in her eyes tells the crowd exactly what she's about to do next. But, as she starts to dash across the ring, she is surprised to find one of her feet not taking the journey. Looking down and back, she sees the reason: a pair of hands extending through the ropes, grasping her ankle.

Those hands were attached to a set of arms, and those arms were attached to one Shannen Dennehy.

"Patience, yearling," Lacey says to the younger Dennehy. "But, if you're so eager..."

As Shannen sees Lacey dropping to the mat, she knows what is about to happen. And instead of waiting for the cowgirl cutie to reach her outside the ring, the tall blonde takes off around the apron.

Lacey gives chase, and though Shannen is not slow, Lacey proves to be the quicker of the two. On their first lap around the ring, Lacey manages to close the gap between herself and the younger Dennehy considerably. Shannen's lead is trimmed even further on the second lap. Her prey in reach, Lacey reaches forward with an arm...

...but instead, Montoya finds herself savagely yanked backward by her hair.

Having passed perhaps too close to the corner Cathy had been left in, dazed and forgotten, the elder Dennehy sister uses the chance to reach through the ropes and take hold of her foe. The whiplash of the force with which Dennehy was able to pull back on a sprinting Lacey was painful enough, but Cathy doesn't stop there. With that handful of hair, Cathy drives Lacey's face down HARD into the ring apron.

Montoya immediately crumples to the cold concrete floor.

Now content to turn and face her fellow Texan, Shannen strides back toward lacey, and then sends a boot slamming into Montoya's midsection. "The fight's not out here, shug," Shannen sneers, adding extra emphasis to the last word to mock Montoya. Reaching down, Shannen scoops up the coughing cowgirl, and rolls her back into the ring.

"It's in there."

As Lacey rolls back to Cathy, the elder Dennehy also aims her attacks to the stomach with repeated stomps, Montoya struggling in vain to block the onslaught. One final stomp, skillfully landed to the temple, halts those defensive efforts, leaving Lacey lying still. This time, Cathy is the one to rush back into the ropes for momentum, coming back at Montoya and dropping an elbow to her sternum.

Climbing to her feet, Cathy wraps Lacey's long, dark hair in her hand, and drags the cowgirl on her hands and knees toward the ropes. Pressing Lacey's eyes down into the middle cable, Dennehy takes her for a crawl along the ropes, Montoya shrieking all the while as her eyes burned from the abrasive effects of the cable.

"Hush now, darlin'," Cathy coos soothingly, lifting Lacey's eyes from the rope, and her head as well. With Lacey's throat now over the middle rope, though, Cathy presses down again. Lacey's eyes snap open as the steel cable cuts into her windpipe, and cuts off her airflow.

"Break it, Cathy," the referee instructs.

"Make me, zebra," Cathy snaps back, bearing down even harder, Montoya's limbs flailing as she struggles for breath.

"I mean it, Cathy!" the referee barked back, and receiving no further response from Dennehy, he begins to administer the five count.

Just after four, Cathy finally relents, turning around to face the official. "Look, buster, you and I both know that FAWN isn't about rules and regulations," Cathy argues. "We're here to give the fans what they want to see, and they DON'T want to see DQs. They want to see decisive finishes, and lot's of punishment. Right?"

"Look, Cathy," the ref responds, "I'm employed to enforce the rules. And the rules say you can't use the ropes to choke an opponent."

What the referee fails to notice is that Cathy still IS using the ropes to choke her opponent. The whole time she has been arguing with him, she has also been reclining against Lacey's back, keeping her throat pressed deep into the unyielding cable. Lacey's thrashing and flailing was now beginning to take on a tone of desperation, and finally the official saw what was happening. "MOVE IT, CATHY!" he commands forcefully.

Once more, Dennehy waits until the count of four before easing off her rival, Lacey instantly and greedily gulping down the oxygen finally afforded her. But her freedom is short lived. As Cathy moves back toward the center of the ring, she turns to face Lacey as she continues her protests with the official. Likewise, the official turns to keep facing Dennehy, turning his back on Lacey Montoya... and on Shannen Dennehy.

Shannen grabs hold of Lacey's head, and again pulls her down throat first into the middle rope. Standing outside the ring, her leverage allowed her to exert even more force than Cathy had before, and Lacey quickly finds herself growing lightheaded, her boots frantically stomping the canvas, even as her arms begin to grow ever more heavy.

Freedom comes in a blur of movement.

A shoulder slams into Shannen's exposed side, sending her tumbling to the floor, with a Navajo warrior on top of her. Lacey's tag team partner had been in the locker room, and she had seen enough. Though she respected Lacey's desire to fight her own battles, she could no longer sit back and watch Lacey continue to be double teamed. Lacey sags off the ropes, falling to her back, her chest heaving as she tries to recover. Outside the ring, Shannen and Juliet continue to roll across the floor, fighting for dominance.

At first, Cathy hadn't noticed the new arrival. But as she becomes aware of Lacey now being unoccupied, she knows something must be wrong. With an expression of alarm, Cathy points out to ringside. "What's going on out there?"

The official follows her lead, and spots the fracas. "They don't pay me enough," he mutters under his breath, before exiting the ring. He simply had to regain control of this match, inside the ring and out.

"Thought he'd never leave," Cathy whispers to herself, and then reaches a hand into her modest cleavage and inside her sports bra. When her hand returns to view, there's clearly something inside her fist, but what it might be was anyone's guess. Sauntering over to Montoya, Cathy pulls her up, and sends her into the ropes. As Lacey rebounds back at her, Cathy fires a sweeping punch...

...but she only hits air, Lacey ducking under the arm as she passed by. As quickly as she can manage, Cathy turns around, but she is not quick enough. Lacey is already flying back at her, and Montoya nails her with a springboard lariat that sends both women down.

The crowd is roaring in support for Montoya as she pushes herself back to slightly unsteady legs. She's clearly dizzy, but the advantage is once again hers.

Dragging Dennehy back to her feet, Lacey Irish whips the smaller brunette into the ropes, only to catch her with a superkick that almost decapitates Dennehy. Cathy drops to the canvas, flat on her back, spread-eagled and motionless.

Feeding off the support of the capacity crowd, Lacey springs back to her feet, slipping through the ropes and climbing to the top of the nearest corner. Steadying herself for just a second, Montoya propels herself skyward, pumping her body in mid-flight before slamming down across Cathy's abdomen.

Lacey's body bounces off of Cathy's at first, but this only serves to give the frogsplash more impact as she again slams down atop Cathy. Ignoring her own pain, Lacey hooks the leg.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

With her free hand, Lacey slaps the mat three times herself in frustration, not knowing what's going on. Rising from her beaten foe, the cowgirl heads over to the ropes, and finds the referee trapped in the middle of a pair of warring hellcats.

"Hey!" Lacey shouts, but it seems that the sounds of both the crowd and Shannen and Juliet's fight is overpowering her voice.

Cathy, meanwhile, has started to come around, and her eyes are scanning the canvas. Spotting her query, she grasps fro and reclaims the object she had initially sought to use against Montoya. Next, she looks for Lacey, finding her along the ropes.

Perfect.

Cathy drags herself quietly across the canvas, ignoring her own pain, until she is just behind Lacey. Then, with the aid of her little friend, Dennehy fires a savage uppercut between Montoya's legs.

Lacey's eyes go wide, her mouth opened in obvious anguish, yet no sound emerges from her lips. The tall brunette falls to her knees, and then to her side, her hands reaching between her legs. Smirking, Cathy skillfully works to remove the cowgirl's Daisy Dukes, Lacey in too much pain to really resist.

The bottoms removed, Cathy brushes Lacey's hands away from her aching womanhood. "Double your pleasure," Dennehy muses, firing a second vicious punch to the crotch, this time resulting in a loud moan from the cowgirl.

Sending her little helper flying, landing not too far from the ringside melee, Cathy fashions her right hand into a claw, holding it aloft menacingly. "Double your fun," she purrs, and then locked on arguably the most dreaded hold in FAWN, her Cat's Claw.

"UUHHHHH GAAAAWD," Lacey screams, bolting upright for a moment before again falling back to the mat. "AGGGGGHHHH!!" Though no one could deny Lacey's toughness, least of all Dennehy, the earlier efforts to soften up this weak spot had been far too effective for Montoya to ignore. "STTTOOOOPPPP!!!" she wailed. "I GIVE! I GIVE, GAWDAMMIT!!!!"

The submission came with such volume that it was hard to imagine anyone in the arena NOT hearing it. It was certainly heard by the referee, who turns his attention from the ringside battle long enough to look into the ring, and then call for the bell. It was also loud enough to catch Juliet by surprise, leading her too to look toward the ring... and to allow Shannen to thrust the Native American hard, chest first into the apron.

Inside the ring, Cathy smiles in satisfaction. Against Montoya, this was no double W's for the Double D's.

WINNER: CATHY DENNEHY