It had been a long time since Sophie Mitchell had faced anyone in singles combat. However, if anything, she felt more confident today than she had going into that last singles match.

Then, she was coming off a humiliating defeat at the hands (and backside) of Portia Ophelia VanBuren IV, a match in which Sophie, for reasons she still did not completely understand, had performed worse than someone still enrolled in wrestling school might have. Now, she was a champion. A tag team champion to be sure, but a champion nonetheless. That embarrassment had helped to fashion a new Sophie Mitchell, one who had gone on to best such names as Chrissy Daniel and the Dennehy sisters.

The arena lights dim as t.A.T.u's rendition of "How Soon is Now?" begins to blast over the PA system. Within seconds, Sophie Mitchell emerges at the top of the ramp, arms outstretched to the cheers of the fans. She is dressed for action, in her forest green one piece; scooped back, cut high on the hips, her taut midriff revealed by a cutout in the lycra. Across her shoulder, her FAWN tag team title lies draped. She is alone, sister Cynthia nowhere to be seen as she makes her way down to the ring, slapping hands with as many of the fans at ringside as she can, a bounce in her step.

Reaching the ring, Sophie climbs onto the apron and slips through the ropes, a bright smile on her face as she turns to face each portion of the crowd, basking in their support and adoration. As the Russian duet's music begins to fade, the true blonde turns to look back up the ramp. She had never seen this Cricket before, either in action or on tape. Apparently, she was a hasty and enthusiastic signing by the new management, Bethany Christian.

That was enough to tell Sophie that her opponent tonight should be a challenge.

Eastern European pop is replaced on the PA system by Western European pop, Melanie C's "Yeah Yeah Yeah" trumpeting the arrival of FAWN's newest would-be star, Cricket Munro. And as Munro makes her first appearance before the FAWN crowd and cameras, Sophie too takes in her first site of this woman. Her first thought was that Cricket lived up to the diminutive implications of her name. As she sauntered down to the ring, working the male fans into a lather in a red string bikini that left precious little to the imagination, Sophie could see that Cricket was giving up several inches to her more established opponent.

Still, she exuded enough confidence for a 7 foot tall Amazon.

As Cricket climbs onto the apron and entered the ring, making sure to bend as fully and move as slowly as humanly possible, Sophie shakes her head in amusement. She had the looks. Of that, there was no denying. But looks would only take you so far.

The real question would be, how long could she hang in a match with Sophie?

As the bell sounds, the two warriors move out of their corners, each sizing up the other for the briefest of moments. To Sophie's slight surprise, Cricket throws caution to the wind, and lunges at her. Sophie responds in kind, and the two lock up.

The two struggle for dominance at first, but unsurprisingly, the bigger Sophie proves too much, and quickly has her smaller foe trapped in a hammerlock. Sophie wrenches up the pressure, but finds herself surprised as Cricket almost immediately reverses it into a hammerlock of her own.

Mitchell reaches behind her, looking for a grip on any part of her opponent. But Cricket's lack of height becomes an advantage for her, and Sophie's digits only find empty air. Still, a momentary lapse allows the veteran (relatively speaking) the chance to re-reverse the hold. Sophie wastes no time transitioning into a different offensive, wrapping her arms around Cricket's midsection and lifting her into the air.

Sophie only holds her aloft for a moment before bringing her down, only as Cricket's feet return to the canvas, her crotch slams down across Mitchell's outstretched thigh, Sophie going to one knee as she performs an atomic drop. Cricket offers a moan as she hops away, but she doesn't get far. Reaching out, Sophie spins Cricket around before scooping her off her feet. With the rookie pressed against her chest, Sophie spins on one foot, and then slams her to the mat, Sophie's weight crashing down atop her.

Sophie starts to hook one leg, but Cricket wriggles free before she can. Still, Munro is dazed, and Sophie remains on the attack. Dragging the little sprite to her feet, Sophie whips her into the ropes. This time, Cricket's lack of size is a distinct disadvantage, for as she rebounds back at Sophie, Mitchell's dropkick connects squarely with her chin. Cricket flops to the mat, her ears ringing, her arms sailing to her head.

Sophie springs back to her feet, energized by the crowd's support of her efforts thus far. She advances on her foe, and entwining her long, shapely legs with Cricket's shorter yet no less aesthetically pleasing models, Sophie secures a figure four leglock.

Cricket immediately sits up, howling in agony. Dutifully, the ref asks if she wants to concede, but Cricket's look of disgust is more than enough to answer that question. Cricket was not about to let some third rate, second generation working class stiff better her, let alone GIVE her the victory by submitting. Still, the pain coursing through her legs as Sophie jerked on her captive ankle causes her to fall back, clutching at her own hair.

Even as her fingers tug at her scalp, her shoulders touch the canvas. The referee slides down beside them, slapping the mat twice before Cricket realizes what is happening and raises one of those shoulders.

"Look, Cricket," Sophie says with another twist of Cricket's ankle, "I don't want to hurt you. Let this one go, so you can fight another day."

"Fuck you, peasant!" Cricket snaps in anger, even as her body sags back to the mat, her shoulders again down for the count. Sophie relaxes the hold, just slightly, as the referee starts to count the pin.

And that's when Cricket springs into action.

With a scream of both pain and resolve, Munro shoves herself back off the canvas, turning her body as she does so. Caught off guard, it takes Sophie a moment to realize what is happening, and it's a moment too long. Before she can react, her body is being turned, and the agonizing pressure that had been tormenting Cricket now flowed through her own legs, the figure four reversed.

As the referee crawls over toward Sophie, Mitchell grimaces in utter anguish. While the referee is checking on the taller blonde, Cricket looks up, and finds that her reversal has come with an added bonus: she now finds the ropes within her grasp. At first, Cricket grips the middle cable with her right hand, bringing a louder cry from Sophie's lips. But then, in an impressive display of upper body strength, Munro latches on to the rope with her left hand as well, holding her upper body airborne.

"GAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Almost immediately, tears began to streak down Mitchell's cheeks as her legs experience a wave of pain unlike any she had ever experienced before. The official moved a little closer to Sophie, concern evident on his face. "You wanna give, Sophie?"

"Uggghh," Sophie moans. "Yeuuu.. uhh! noooo!"

Cricket smiles. Peasants always make such pleasing noises when they break.

"You sure, Soph?" the ref asked again.

"No. I'm not suhhh!"

Cricket tugs on the middle rope, more and more forcefully.

"UAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!! PLEEAASSSEEE UHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!!"

Only then does the referee suspect. Looking over his shoulders, he spots Cricket's activities and orders a break. Only at the count of four does she comply, Sophie Mitchell pulling herself into a fetal as Cricket leans back casually against the ropes.

"Now THIS," Munro purrs, "is how it should be."

Crawling toward Sophie, wiggling her hips to the delight of a vocal minority of the crowd, she pulls an unresisting Mitchell into a headscissor. "Hey, Sophia," Munro asks breezily, "wanna learn how I got my nickname?"

While still crushing the blonde's head between her succulent thighs, Cricket begins to do something no one could remember seeing done as part of a headscissor: she begins to rub her legs together! Or, at least, as much as she could with Sophie's head between them, Mitchell's face being rubbed and rolled within their warm, moist fleshy vice. Her head already pounding, Sophie now found dizziness setting in as well, and setting in quickly.

Cricket quite possibly could have gotten the submission a few moments later, had she chosen to keep her unique variation on the hold in place. But if this match ended too quickly, Sophie might not have learned not to challenge her unquestioned betters.

Cricket couldn't allow that.

Releasing her foe, Munro goes back to her earlier target: Sophie's legs. With the precision of a polished veteran, the rookie traps her taller adversary in an STF, Sophie squealing into Cricket's hand as Munro pulls back on her chin. Once more, Mitchell finds the muscles of her legs and the ligaments and tendons of her knee burning and aching. Sophie didn't want to concede the match to this upstart, but how long she could hold out!

Though in utter torment, Sophie's eyes brighten as she notices a rookie mistake. She reaches out, claiming the bottom rope in her right hand.

"Break it, Cricket," the ref orders. Predictably, Cricket refuses, waiting until the very brink of the five count to comply. Rising from Sophie's writhing body, Munro turns her attention to him.

"Listen, Frito Bandito," Cricket sneers at him, "watch your step. One call from me, and you'll find yourself back in one of Father's sweatshops. Comprende?"

She doesn't even wait for an answer. Instead, she turns back to her prey, Sophie now lying on her back. As Cricket eyes her plaything, the diamond cut out around Sophie's navel proves too inviting a target. Dropping to her knees, Munro digs her fingers into the unprepared abdomen of Sophie Mitchell.

Sophie moans anew, Cricket's talons ripping at her abdominal muscles, but also her resolve. But, just like her headscissors, Cricket breaks the hold on her own. Climbing back to her feet, Cricket again uses the hole in Sophie's one piece as a target, this time placing her right boot on the reddened flesh. Then, transferring all 110lbs of her sensual frame to that foot, she steps across Mitchell's torso. Sophie jackknifes off the canvas, her arms covering her abused midsection as soon as Munro is clear.

Grabbing a handful of hair, FAWN's newest arrival pulls Mitchell to all fours, and drags a crawling Sophie along the ropes before shoving her into the nearest corner. A boot to the sternum keeps Sophie placated, long enough for Munro to retreat into the opposite corner. Then, with a running start, Cricket launches her own version of a bronco buster, her "Bitch Breaker."

As Cricket's pelvis slammed repeatedly into Sophie's chest and face, more and more of the crowd seem to accept the growing inevitability of this upstart's victory, and give voice to their enjoyment of this spectacle.

Helpless in the corner, Sophie is rapidly growing overwhelmed. Her chest was throbbing from the repeated blows, but beyond that, Cricket's scent filled her senses. It was all too much for her.

Too much!

Bringing her triumphant ride to a close, Cricket pulls a depleted Sophie up to her feet, and looks into the glassy eyes of this so-called "champion." "Utterly worthless," Cricket spits contemptuously. "I guess we've found your weakness, little girl. You're just destined to be a socialite's bitch. First Portia, and now me."

Portia!

The word seemed to have a magic effect on Sophie. Immediately, her mind snaps back into focus. This little kid might have fancied herself the second coming of baby VanBuren, but she WASN'T. And Sophie had come so far since that humiliation.

She couldn't let that happen again.

Lackadaisically, Cricket begins to send Sophie for a ride into the other corner, but Sophie has other ideas. Instead, she puts on the breaks, and catches Cricket by surprise. But instead of sending Cricket into that corner, Sophie whips Munro into a short arm clothesline that nearly decapitates her. Cricket flips in mid air before crashing to the mat.

The crowd erupts at this renewed spirit from the taller blonde. Willing herself out of the corner, Sophie swoops in on the little brat, and pulls her into a standing headscissors. As Mitchell hooks Munro's arms behind her back, everyone in the arena knows what's coming next.

And then the lights went out.

Not just for Cricket, but for the entire arena.

In total darkness, the crowd murmurs in confusion. Sounds of a continuing fight can be heard from the ring, but soon there is only silence. As one, the crowd grows still, as if focusing all their energies into spying something through the darkness.

No one was prepared for what they say when the lights came up.

In one corner, Cricket Munro lay in a heap, unmoving, out cold. In another corner, in a crumpled but stirring heap is the referee. But in the middle of the ring!

A full length Confederate flag lays draped over... something. Though dazed, the referee crawls toward the Stars & Bars, and pulls it away, to reveal Sophie Mitchell below. Both the referee and much of the crowd gasp at the sight.

Not only had she been rendered unconscious during the black out, she had also been stripped naked, and her arms left folded across her chest in a manner befitting the dead.

Shaking himself fully away, the ref frantically signals for assistance from backstage. And while everyone is left to wonder what they had just witnessed, the broadcast goes to commercial.

RESULT: NO CONTEST