The butterflies were always there. Even Cathy had told her that she had them before every single match she�d ever fought; it was just a question of the size of the butterflies. These butterflies felt like Pterodactyls swooping and looping in her belly, churning up the light breakfast and lunch she had nervously consumed.

Looking around the locker room prior to the match, it suited her well. Nice, bright and bubbly on the surface, but upon closer inspection, dirty and a bit on the dark side, just like her. Shannen was beginning to like this trade, but she knew she had miles to go before she could approach the accomplishments of even her own sister. She had to develop the consistency, the constant ability to perform at a level that brought home the winner�s paycheck every single week, no matter what it took to do the job.

As Shannen tugged her black athletic bra down over her bare breasts, she imagined Shea�s face engulfed between the twin peaks, and smiled to herself, wondering if she would asphyxiate with an English accent. Sniggering to herself, Shannen does her best to shoo away the pterodactyls.

As the younger Dennehy girded herself for combat, Cathy sat in the lounge chair, watching the earlier matches, wearing plain brown shorts and a black t-shirt instead of the baby blue thong that brought fear to the hearts of every one in FAWN. While Cathy would be going ringside, her night would stop at the apron, while Shannen faced the sensational one by herself. Well�mostly by herself. Cathy slyly reached into her pocket, feeling the soft, yet dense sturdiness of the small bag of leather shot she carried. In her other pocket, a small bag of rock salt, in her back pocket, a short piece of taped up rebar and down her cowboy boot � well, the list went on� Cathy knew she had enough with her to beat the crumpet-muncher if Shannen needed a little assistance. If you aren�t cheating, you aren�t trying.

Looking up at the mirror, Shannen pulls her hair back into a severe ponytail, leaving as little of the blonde hair for pulling as she could. Baby Dennehy gave one last tug to her black athletic bra, and let her eyes trail down the mirror past her firm breasts, flat tummy and continue down the scuffed and worn black wrestling boots. Brushing a piece of lint from her tiny thong, she straightens up, her mind racing past her lessons. Keep her down and hurt her bad� Use the ropes and size advantage to keep her gasping for air and eventually she�ll end up face up on the canvas, just waiting for the Milk Run.

If things go bad, bust her in the bush or go for the eyes, but that was universally true. I mean, who didn�t know THAT? Pick a body part and keep up the pressure and keep up the pressure and keep up the pressure. FOCUS.

�You�re up Shan!� emanates from behind the door. With a flutter, some of the pterodactyls settle down to roost, but Shannen flexes in front of the mirror one last time before turning for the door.

�Not a chance� Shannen, she doesn�t have a chance against this,� Cathy adds, slapping her younger sister across the buns. The slap resonates through the concrete finished room as the firm flesh ripples and comes back to rest.

�FOCUS.� Cathy adds, before they head for the raucous arena.

The two pass through the heavy black draperies and into the packed stadium, the crowd already having been worked into frenzy by the previous fighters. Shannen looks straight ahead as she walks, past the ravenous fans, past the sign reading, �THE MILKMAN COMETH!� past every one until she reaches the stairs, and climbs up on the apron. She feels Cathy�s hand on her shoulder as she climbs, but then it falls away, and Shannen climbs through the ropes, alone.

The arena's speakers fall silent. But only for a moment. After the brief hesitation, the sound system booms back to life, posing one question to the amped crowd:

"Do you wanna get rocked?"

Def Leppard's "Let's Get Rocked" pumps over the PA, and Shea London strides from backstage to a thunderous roar from the crowd. The British Bombshell is all smiles, darting down to the ring, slapping hands with the fans as she does so. If she feels any discouragement from her recent setbacks, in both the singles and tag world, she gives no signs of it. The gorgeous blonde wears a dark blue sports bra and a pair of matching bikini briefs, the Union Jack in all its glory across Shea's brassiere, no mutiny for her bounty; the remainder of her outfit, a pair of stylish, red wrestling boots. The Brit gives a wink to one fan holding aloft a sign reading 'NO TEXAN MULE CAN BETTER MY ENGLISH ROSE!'

Reaching the ring, Shea climbs onto the apron and, gripping the top rope with both hands, propels herself up and into the ring, her cat-like agility on display, the crowd erupting. London beams, bouncing energetically on the balls of her feet. As Shea settles into her corner, testing the elasticity of the ropes, her mind continues to contemplate her upcoming opponent.

Shannen wasn't the Dennehy she particularly wanted to face. After all, it had been Cathy who had knocked her out, with assistance from a collection of coins. And it was Cathy who had not missed an opportunity to talk some smack about the outcome ever since. That wasn't to say she didn't have any issues with Shannen, though.

Any friend of Kylie Sanders would have issues with Shannen Dennehy.

And, like the good friend she was, Shea was about to give her all in the name of achieving justice for her fallen friend.

And that justice, Shea decided, wouldn�t wait a second longer than necessary! Shea heard the bell and dispensed with the lock up. The haughty Texan swaggered out to the center of the ring with a smirk on her face. No doubt, the big blonde had more to gain than Shea here�and she looked forward to getting off to a quick start by overpowering the beautiful London and getting the first shot.

Screw that, thought Shea. The magnificent high-flyer launched herself out of the corner and brought Shannen down with a devastating spear. Shannen squawked in surprise and pain as she surrendered her wind twice�first as Shea�s shoulder struck her taut stomach, and once again when the canvas greeted her back with coldest of welcomes. She scrambled to her feet, already unsteadily, and absorbed a stiff right from the vengeful Shea right in the jaw. Too tough to be felled by such a blow, Shannen staggered backwards, Shea in pursuit, delivering righteous anger unto the younger Dennehy in the form of repeated blows to the face.

Before Shannen could register what was happening, she was in the corner. The whirling blonde hurricane whom everyone knew as Shea London launched a kick to Shannen�s stomach. Recovering, Shannen, already winded, managed to block a left to her face. But a right to her left breast scored, as did a quick elbow to her jaw.

Playing the part of Cyclone to Kylie�s Hawkeye, Shea whipped Shannen out of the corner, and into the ropes on the far side of the ring. As Shannen stumbled back, Shea took flight, twisting the Texas bitch back to the canvas with a highlight-reel hurricanrana.

The crowd by now was whipped into a frenzy. Chants of �POSTER! POSTER! POSTER!� rained as Shea did indeed put on a show that would undoubtedly be immortalized in the posters the FAWN vendors sold for $9.95 plus tax at every event.

Shannen skidded to a halt. She could hear her sister pounding on the mat, but the screaming crowd easily overwhelmed any verbal exhortations from the elder Dennehy. The only place she could go was up�back onto her feet. Eventually, she got there. Unfortunately for her, she was facing the woman who was probably the fastest in FAWN. From Shea�s perspective, she�d seen shopping centers go up faster than Shannen. Her sluggishness afforded Shea to scale the nearside turnbuckle. The British angel stood atop the corner, eyes wide�she was a cocked pistol, ready to deliver the next devastating blow.

Shea pulled the trigger and her patented missile dropkick knocked the big Texan silly, violently snapping her head back. Shannen fell limply to the canvas, and Shea rolled her over, hoping for a quick victory.

ONE

TWO

Kick out. A strong one. Shea was on her feet in a flash, measuring Shannen for her next move. Shannen, for her part, was relying on instinct to pull her through this tough spot. If there was a physically tougher, more powerful woman on the FAWN roster than the Shady One, she had yet to make herself apparent. And it was that instinctive toughness that took over now.

Shea sprinted forward, trying with all her might to clothesline this brat�s head right off her shoulders. This time, however, Shea�s nearly irresistible force met Shannen�s utterly immovable object. The ailing Texan scooped a surprised Shea up and spun her, driving her back into the canvas with a power slam that brought the London Express to a stop.

Shannen stood shakily, as Shea rolled onto her side and began getting up. She was up to her hands and knees when Shannen�s foot met her sexy stomach with horrible force. The referee absently glanced upward, subconsciously expecting to see a 50-yard punt with a hang time of 4.8 seconds in progress. Instead, Shea squawked in pain as she was knocked over onto her back.

Outside the ring, the Dirty One smiled to herself. Clearly, she approved. Her kid sister was damn good. And a win here tonight would validate her as a FAWN power on the rise.

Shea was momentarily able to put her throbbing back and aching stomach out of her mind due to her scalp erupting in fiery pain as she was dragged to her feet by the hair. A brutal roundhouse left from Shannen spun Shea into the corner.

She�d absorbed worse in her career from the likes of Chrissy Daniel and company, Shea thought. And she wasn�t going to take much more of this. Not from this tramp from the big, bleached, and sprayed-hair capital of the universe. The lion-hearted warrior stepped out of the corner, delivering a punch to Shannen�s face�

�and Shannen shrugged it off, knocking Shea back into the corner with a shot to the stomach. The beautiful Texan knew that the corner would be one of the last places Shea wanted to be against her. So, Shannen obliged, sending Shea crashing into the center of the ring with a beautifully executed belly to belly suplex.

The sequence made the crowd gasp. The collective consciousness of the crowd realized a split second after Shea that Shannen Dennehy was a powerhouse�probably FAWN�s preeminent one.

Shannen went for the cover.

ONE

TWO

Shea kicked out.

There was fire in Shannen�s eyes�and Shea�s blood in the water. Pressing her advantage, Shannen picked Shea up.

Shea knew she was in trouble. The Brit had landed more blows than her opponent, but Shannen had done terrific damage with her few blows. It was typical quandary that high-flying, speed-dependent wrestlers faced when they fought power houses. Adding to her trouble was the cumulative fatigue of last week�s match and her brisk workout with Cassie. Her predicament worsened as Shannen dragged her face across the rope, adding the searing pain of rope burn to her growing list of ailments.

Shannen was focused. She knew what she needed to do: Stay on her. Don�t give her a chance. This bitch was resilient as hell and wouldn�t quit. Well�the precise thought that went through Shannen�s mind was �Too stupid to know when she was beat, and just slippery enough to make her dangerous.�

In truth, Shea was a magnificent instinctual wrestler in her own right. Her mind was working, now, along with her instinct. So, when Shea absorbed a knee lift, she remained composed, even though her stomach appeared to be turning itself inside out. When Shannen went to the well once again, Shea pivoted, taking the knee in her side. It hurt, but not as bad. Shea spun with the knee; spinning inward toward Shannen, and she capitalized, taking down her beautiful and vicious tormentor with a leg sweep.

Shannen was on her way back to her feet, when Shea decided to take a detour�before Shannen would get to her feet, her face would meet the canvas with most unfavorable velocity and unaccommodating direction of arrival. It was Shea�s bulldog. She turned Shannen over and went for the cover.

ONE

TWO

Strong kick out by Shannen.

Shea got to her feet once again, and dropped an elbow into Shannen�s magnificent chest. The Texan cried out in pain, and Shea smiled. She hoped it hurt. A second later and Shea was on her feet, Shannen not far behind. Showtime, thought Shea.

Shea uncorked a handspring elbow, but Shannen was ready. The elbow found its mark, but Shannen absorbed it, pain racking her jaw, and grabbed Shea in a reverse bear hug. The bear hug was only a transition, however. Before she could blink, Shea was hauled up, and spun. She didn�t know where she was. It was a blur. Her bearings were abruptly returned to her when her knee struck the point of Shannen�s knee.

Oh�that way is down, thought Shea as her mind and back exploded in pain.

Down is where she�d want to go. But it wasn�t where Shannen was inclined to send her. The powerful Texan, prey in her sinister embrace, stood. Shannen was going for the jugular. She unveiled her Oriental Spike Sleeper. First pain�Shea cried out�then the haze.

Shea struggled, but it was no use. With her consciousness fading and her mental acuity diminishing by the second, Shea inventoried her options. Shannen continued to bear down, bleeding the ability to fight from her trapped opponent.

Desperation. Shea thrashed. An opening? No. Over�done�beaten�rope�ROPE? The thumb in her throat was agony�but where was the rope? Shea slumped. Her arms were immobilized. There! The rope! Shea kicked out. She felt it.

Cathy was all smiles outside the ring. Until she saw Shea kicking out. It was her sister�s first �rookie� mistake of the match. Instead of applying the hold in the middle of the ring, she applied it too close to the ropes. Cathy ran around the ring. If Shea�s foot hooked the rope, Cathy would make sure it didn�t stay there long enough for the referee to see it.

The foot hit the rope. Cathy was there. So was the ref. He saw the rope vibrating. He saw Cathy staring intently at the rope. Shea kicked again. Cathy reached out. Shea�s foot grazed the rope. Cathy slapped at Shea�s foot, but the referee had seen enough.

�Break!� he called.

�I was thinking�of�stopping�at�a sprain,� grunted Shannen. �But�if you insist!�

�Break the hold now! Break it or you�re D.Q.ed! Her foot hit the rope.�

Shannen cursed and released the hold. She turned toward the referee, fuming. Animatedly, Shannen pled her case, but the referee shrugged. Behind her Shea, had fallen to her knees, holding her neck.

Shea was almost beaten. She was resourceful, but Shannen�s power had surprised her. The blonde Texan was much better than she�d been in their last encounter. But Shea had never seen anyone win an argument with a ref. It never won a match. And that made it a mistake. Champions capitalized on those. Borrowing just a little more strength with her own heart and soul as collateral, Shea reached her hand between Shannen�s legs, and pulled her down. Shannen resisted, but was a split second too late. She tried to roll through the pinning attempt, thus making her second rookie mistake of the night. Shannen felt herself roll, but Shea had just enough energy to stop her. Shannen felt herself pass just past the point where she had control of her own mass�and the scale tipped ever so slightly over the threshold where she was pinned not just by Shea�s weight, but by her own, as well. Shea, with all her failing strength held down, as Shannen frantically tried to reverse the pin, to roll out of it. As the referee slid into position, Shannen�s 125 pounds, Shea�s 120 pounds, and the last of Shea strength held down.

ONE

TWO

Thrashing wildly, Shannen felt the scale tip. She tried to kick out.

THREE

And she kicked her way free less than a second too late. Shannen sat up, her face wearing a look of stunned disbelief. Shea, for her part, was finished. She�d need help standing, having exhausted herself to escape with the win.

Cathy flew into the ring, intent to tearing the referee�s face off. Shannen, on the other hand, had darker intentions. She picked up the victorious London by her hair. The picture was the exact opposite of what one had come to expect from FAWN matches�the victor, unable to stand, at the mercy of the defeated.

Shannen whipped Shea into the corner, and followed, plastering the stunning blonde into the corner. Shea�s eyes weren�t quite vacant. She was hurt and exhausted. But she was alert. She�d underestimated her foe, yet still emerged victorious�not that that mattered now.

Shannen leaned in, and slapped Shea�s face.

�I kicked your ass, Limey,� sneered Shannen. �Look at you�you can�t even stand up. I own you! You didn�t beat me.�

A punch to Shea�s stomach punctuated the insult, and Shea fell to her knees. She looked up at Shannen, defiance burning in her eyes. Shea smirked.

�Moral victories are for losers, Shannen,� she huffed. �Go �ead an� �ave your fun. But you don�t own a damn thing�not me�not the win.�

Goaded by Shea�s defiance, Shannen hauled her up and threw her to the center of the ring. Shea�s gorgeous body, slicked with sweat, chest heaving, lay in the center of the ring. With no regard for the woman who�d just bested her, Shannen grabbed Shea�s blue sports bra and removed it, once again letting FAWN see the Sensational One�s breasts. Shannen removed her own sports bra, exposing her own breasts and straddled the exhausted London. Their eyes met one final time, each woman knowing in her heart that she was the better woman. Shannen leaned forward, claiming her own victory with the Milk Run, and sealing Shea�s Pyrrhic victory. One beautiful woman lay atop another, and Shea succumbed to two week�s worth of beatings and Shady Shannen Dennehy�s patented Milk Run.

Winner: Shea London by Pinfall