TAMMY DeVILLE: Well, ladies and gentlemen, the Birthday Bash is certainly off to an impressive start.

BUCK ANSOME: Indeed so, Tammy. And it's only about to get better. Up next, FAWN's lovable mascot, Cynthia Mitchelle, will team with her mother, southern wrestling legend Natalie Roberson Mitchell, to take on the Amrstrongs, Belle and Ivy. And hanging in the balance, the freedom of Natalie's other daughter, Sophie, last seen at the mercy of Miriam Gaiman. (Pause) So what's all the fuss about?

TAMMY: (incredulous) What's all the fuss about?

BUCK: Yeah. I mean, if I was at the mercy of Miriam Gaiman, the last thing I'd want would be anyone trying to rescue me.

TAMMY: I fear you, Buck.

BUCK: Anyways, it's rather a moot point, don't you think? Cynthia Mitchell is hopelessly outgunned, and no matter how good Natalie Mitchell was 20 years ago, and no matter how yummilicious she looked when we saw her accompany Cynthia for a match a few months back, there's no way she can keep up with a young athlete the calibre of Ivy Belle Armstrong. I doubt Ivy's mom will even need to set foot in the ring.

TAMMY: This is not the same Cynthia Mitchell who first entered FAWN, Buck. She's been improving with each match, and she even held the tag team titles, along with her sister Sophie.

BUCK: Even a blind squirrel, Tammy... True, Cynthia's been showing signs of life lately. But she's still taking baby steps. And Ivy's no baby, make no mistake. As much as I might like to see her playing Baby New Year...

TAMMY: I think tonight's match will be a lot closer than you think, me Bucko.

The arena lights dim as t.A.T.u's rendition of "How Soon is Now?" begins to blast over the PA system. Seconds later, Cynthia Mitchell emerges at the top of the ramp, arms outstretched to the cheers of the fans, many of whom desperately wished Cynthia success tonight of all nights. The gorgeous youngster is wearing a Royal purple lycra bikini top that and short, tight shorts that show off the entirety of her shapely legs. Complimenting the outfit is matching knee and elbow pads and white boots.

Cynthia makes her way down to the ring, slapping hands with as many of the fans at ringside as they can. Though she engages the fans, there's little mirth or bounce to her movements, and understandably so. This was the most important match of her career to date. A win would secure her sister's freedom. A loss would consign either her or her mother to share in Sophie's misery.

Reaching the ring, Cynthia climbs to the top of the nearest turnbuckle, again raising her arms to the air triumphantly. But instead of launching into her traditional pre-match backflip, Mitchell instead hops back down to the mat. There would be no wasted energy tonight. All she had would be necessary to achieve victory tonight.

As Cynthia settles into the ring, EuroPop is replaced over the PA system by country & western. More specifically, by Hank WIlliams Jr. As "Attitude Adjustment" begins to play, Cynthia's mother steps into view.

A collective gasp and cheer of appreciation runs through the crowd at the sight of this stunning beauty, not the least stunning part of her being that she was only a couple of years shy of 50. The tall, bronzed blonde stands on the ramp, clad in a black "two piece", the top something of a cross between a bikini top and a camisol. The ensemble is capped off by loose fitting black "sleeves", extending from mid-upper arm to her wrists, and white boots, each bearing a black "NR" monogram.

Though she understood the grave task before her, Natalie Roberson Mitchell was only human. It had been 20 years since she had stood before a crowd, before television cameras, before the world on the eve of battle. The rousing welcome she was now receiving brought a slight smile to her face. A quick shake of her head returns her focus. As nice as this was, the most important part of tonight was Sophie's freedom. There'd be time to enjoy the ovations later.

Purposefully, Natalie strides down to the ring, and joins her daughter.

Suddenly, a new song begins to play through the arena's speakers. Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" comes roaring in...but this is no version that's been heard by anyone in many years. Back in the 1970's, the members of Skynyrd were big fans of Belle Butler, and during a jam session they wrote some new lyrics for their signature song, recorded it, and gave it to her as a present to use as her entrance music:

Now Belle Butler she is a fighter (hoo hoo hoo)/

And she's been known to kick an ass or two (yes she do!)/

She slams 'em all down on the canvas/

And pins 'em down for the count of three/

Just watch, you'll see/

Sweet Home Alabama...

BUCK: "First of all, big points for the jams! I love a woman who knows her classical music."

TAMMY: "The music is certainly firing up the crowd and getting them on their feet. And anyone who knows anything about the history of women's wrestling over the last thirty years knows to expect a match tonight that should keep everyone on their feet."

Suddenly, the curtains part, and out steps first Ivy Belle Armstrong, followed closely behind by Belle Butler Armstrong.

BUCK: "Waitaminute...where's Belle? It looks like Ivy got her sister to tag with her tonight!"

TAMMY: "That is Belle Armstrong, Buck. And the years have certainly been kind to her."

Ordinarily, Ivy is the center of attention, but in this instance she doesn't mind being upstaged by her mother. And De Ville's assessment is right on the money...the passage of time has done nothing to diminish the beauty of the elder Armstrong. Her body is still incredibly firm and tight, her face bearing only the smallest of crow's feet to mark the onset of middle age. And the males in the crowd are most definitely appreciative of the one-piece suit which Belle wears; looking as if it had been fashioned from a Stars 'n Bars flag, it hugs every curve of her body like a second skin.

As they proudly strut down the aisle, they spot a fan holding a sign that reads, THE SOUTH HAS RISEN AT LAST! Both Armstrongs reward his loyalty with simultaneous kisses on either cheek, causing his knees to buckle and ensuring that he remains the envy of his friends for the rest of their natural lives.

Back up the ramp, there is movement. Two figures emerge from behind the currents, one on her hands and knees, the other on her back.

TAMMY: Oh... my...

BUCK: And there's FAWN's demented sweetheart, Miriam Gaiman, riding tonight's prize, Sophie Mitchell. And what a prize she is. I never quite realized just how delicious Sophie is until now, Tammy.

Indeed, there was a lot more of Sophie Mitchell left visible than usual. The blonde was barefoot, and clad in the tiniest of tiny black vinyl thong and a matching bra of the push up variety. Miriam, naturally, is clad in her traditional--relatively speaking--ring atire.

TAMMY: This is utterly demeaning to poor Sophie.

BUCK: Point?

With nary a sound, Sophie carries her rider down the ramp toward the ring. Back in the ring, an enraged Cynthia starts to exit the ring, but Natalie places a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Keep your focus," Natalie whispered. "They're TRYING to rattle us."

Fuming, smoke almost visibly rising out of the brunette's ears, Cynthia withdrawls, and allows the Armstrongs to enter the ring. For their part, Miriam and Sophie take a seat close to the Armstrong corner.

Following the official's instructions, the two teams retreated into their corners, each discussing strategy. On one side of the ring, the Armstrong's quickly came to a conclusion. Ivy slapped her mother on the back, and then slipped through the ropes. Smirking, Belle looked across the ring, and her eyes locked on those of her arch nemesis.

"Take the corner," Natalie said, her voice lacking in volume but not resolve.

Cynthia followed her mother's gaze, for the first time noticing that their opponents had decided on an opening member of the team. "Mom, she knows you," Cynthia countered. "She's never faced me before. Plus I'm younger and quicker. I could throw her off guard."

"Take the corner," Natalie repeated, a little louder and a lot firmer, emphasizing each word.

Scowling, Cynthia realized a confrontation here would be fruitless. She'd get her chance in this match at some point. Reluctantly, the teenager slipped through the ropes, staring daggers at Ivy as she takes hold of the tag rope.

Belle's daughter simply blew Cynthia a kiss.

As the bell sounded, Natalie and Belle made their way in a circular path toward the middle of the ring, warily eying each other. It had been over two decades since either one had wrestled a competitive match, in front of a live crowd, for a televised audience.

For Natalie, at least, this would be a moment that was long in coming. She suppressed a small shiver of delight at the thought of mastering the woman now before her, and in establishing once and for all true superiority. She would not be denied.

Having completed one circuit around the ring, Belle found herself near her corner again. Suddenly, with a grin and a wink to her opponent, she reaches out and lets her daughter slap her hand. Belle, who knew her nemesis better than anyone else in the world, understood how to wage psychological war upon her.

Natalie would be denied, at least for the moment.

The elder Mitchell scowled as Belle stepped out of the ring and Ivy slipped between the ropes. Cynthia again called to her mother, asking to be let into the ring, but Natalie paid her no heed. She would take some enjoyment, at least, at dismantling this whelp before the horrified eyes of her mother, Natalie promised herself.

The two wrestlers circled, the space between them growing smaller with every step, until they were close enough to lock up. They strained against one another for several long moments, and then Ivy suddenly twisted Natalie's left arm into a joint lock. But Mitchell wasted no time in deftly reversing the hold. The redhead gritted her teeth and slapped at her pained shoulder, then slowly yet steadily began to power out of the hold. But, suddenly shifting her weight, Mitchell broke the hold and flung the teenager towards the ropes with an Irish whip.

Ivy bounded off of the steel cables and rocketed back towards her opponent, right arm already raised to deliver a forearm smash. Natalie saw it coming, though, and she easily ducked under it. This little punk would have to do better than that to gain the upper hand, Natalie assured herself.

Which was precisely what Ivy wanted her to think. The forearm smash was but a ruse. Even as Natalie ducked beneath the blow, Ivy spun her body, her momentum adding power to what was now a discus punch. And as Mitchell stood erect and turned around to face her foe, she was met with a fist squarely to the jaw!

Mitchell staggered backwards, stunned as much from the blow as from the shock of having fallen prey to such a tactic. Ivy quickly Irish whipped her momentarily hapless opponent, and as Natalie stumbled back towards the redhead, Armstrong bent forward at the waist, catching Mitchell in a back bodydrop. The blond sailed through the air, landing with a hard bounce on the mat and skidding forward near the ropes.

Belle released her hold on the corner tag rope and almost casually sauntered along the edge of the ring apron until she was facing opposite the downed Natalie on the other side of the ropes. With a voice that stabbed straight to the heart with decades' worth of venom, she cooed, "Now don't you worry, Natty...my little girl is only going to tenderize you a bit. Ah'm still gonna be the one who barbecues your ass tonight!"

Natalie turned hate-filled eyes toward her rival. �The worst mistake I ever made,� Mitchell hissed, �was letting you run me out of theeeeeaaaahhhhhh��

The veteran found her train of thought derailed by an intense burning from her scalp, as she was pulled back to her feet roughly by her hair. Natalie cursed herself, for allowing her emotions to lead her into a rookie mistake: taking her mind off the woman she was in the ring with. Still, she could at least correct that.

Ivy began to spin Natalie around to face her, but Mitchell responded with an elbow that drove into her midsection. Armstrong groaned, bending over at the waist, but her grasp on Natalie�s hair remained firm. Sensing freedom was not too far away, Natalie sent another elbow crashing into Ivy�s belly.

The �Bama brawler was made of quite sturdy stuff. Though the elbows hurt, she retained her wits, and ignoring her pain, she launched a kick that connected flush with Mitchell�s navel. Now it was Natalie�s turn to moan and double over, her arms hugging her battered belly. Ivy decided to give the veteran a helping hand in falling the rest of the way. Never having released her grip on Mitchell�s hair, Ivy simply dropped a seat on the canvas, pulling Natalie down with her. Ivy�s movements were too quick, and Natalie never had a chance to move her arms to break her fall. Instead, the blonde slammed face first to the canvas, her arms pinned beneath her body as she lay between Ivy�s legs. Mitchell�s bronzed left leg gave an absent twitch or two, but otherwise she offered little movement.

Even still, the redhead had Natalie�s mane wrapped around her fingers. Slowly, Ivy rose to her feet, dragging the glassy-eyed Mitchell up to her knees with her. For a moment, she simply held Natalie up, the older woman�s face pressed to her denim cut-offs. Then, she turned to her own corner, exchanging glances with her mother. Belle�s face was lit with anticipation, craving the chance to once more lock up with her greatest of enemies.

Ivy dragged a crawling Natalie toward the corner before mother and daughter acted as one. Just as Belle extended her right leg between the middle and top rope, Ivy sent the blonde�s facing slamming into her mother�s boot. The impact sent Mitchell tumbling to the mat on her back, her hands flying to her face.

Belle reached her hand into the ring, and Ivy made the tag.

The crowd roared at the realization that they were at last about to see the resumption of the feud once seemingly consigned only to legend, while back in her corner, Cynthia was literally apoplectic with rage. Ivy caught the eye of her nemesis and gave her an infuriating wink, while all the young brunette could do was fume and pray that her mother could recover enough to tag her.

Slipping between the ropes, Ivy left Natalie completely to the mercies of her mother. Belle took her lifelong rival by the ankles and lifted and split her legs, then came down with a double legdrop flush into Mitchell's inside thighs. The pain caused Natalie's glassy eyes to go wide as saucers and her upper body to sit bolt upright...giving Armstrong the opportunity to unleash a backhand slap to the chest that reverberated throughout the arena, raising a chorus of "Whooooooooo's" from the spectators. Natalie fell backwards to the mat, her face twisted into a mask of pain.

Standing up, the elder Armstrong grabbed her foe by the hair and roughly pulled her to her feet, then led Natalie towards the center of the ring. Releasing her hold on the blonde's mane, Belle snaked her leg and arm around the body of her opponent and locked her into an abdominal stretch. The sudden pain to her midsection snapped Mitchell out of her stupor, and her first instinct was to grab for the ropes, but she was too far away. Natalie knew she was in trouble...she had submitted often enough in the old days to Belle's abdominal stretch, and that was back when Mitchell's body was at its physical peak, capable of withstanding a great deal more punishment. Even now, she was painfully discovering that in spite of how hard she had continued to work out in the health club since she retired from the ring, there were muscles that simply hadn't been worked for a very long time...and Belle was expertly focusing on just those muscles. Just out of pure cussedness, Belle began to dig her elbow into Natalie's ribcage. "Just like old times, huh Nat?" Armstrong breezily asked. "You just let me know when you're ready to say 'Uncle' and put an end to all of this."

But Natalie Mitchell didn't hear the words of her tormentor. She instead had focused her entire attention on a figure outside of the ring. Not her tag team partner, Cynthia, but rather her other wrestling daughter, Sophie. The blond knelt meekly at ringside next to that twisted bitch, Miriam Gaiman, a collar and chain preventing the captive from interfering in the match. Sophie's face was etched with horror at the sight of her mother in such pain...pain which she was willingly enduring in the hope of freeing her child. And the sight of her child in such obvious emotional agony gave Natalie new resolve and new power.

With a warrior's roar, Natalie suddenly flipped Belle over with a hiptoss. Caught unawares, Armstrong was flung to the canvas like a ragdoll. Mitchell also collapsed to the mat, clutching her aching flank and hoping that no muscles had been torn.

She may have been hurting, but Natalie was quickly able to ascertain she had no serious damage. And so, she launched herself on the offense, and launched herself into the air as Belle began to sit up. With agility belying her age, Natalie sailed over Belle�s right shoulder, grabbing Armstrong�s head as she flew by. Natalie�s momentum sent Belle shooting forward, her face slamming into the canvas as Natalie rolled into her corner.

As much as she ached to continue tearing into her hated rival, Natalie realized she needed a breather, to give her venerable body a chance to rest and recover. She would simply have to trust that Cynthia could carry the torch until she was ready to return. Eagerly, her daughter extended her hand into the ring, and Natalie made the tag.

The crowd erupted as Cynthia grasped the top rope and propelled herself over the cable and into the ring. Without missing a step, the younger Mitchell dashed at Ivy�s mother, who again was pushing herself back to a seated position. A low flying dropkick connected flush with Belle�s chest, sending the blonde slamming back once more to the mat.

Mitchell sprung to her feet, and in a heartbeat she was in the Armstrong corner, firing a firearm that sent a surprised Ivy tumbling from the apron to the concrete floor below. Again with nary a pause, Cynthia bounded from the canvas to the middle buckle, and then quickly scrambled to the top. Across the ring, Belle had just made it back to her feet.

But apparently, she was simply not destined to get up. Mitchell landed another dropkick to the chest, this one with much more impressive altitude considering her launching pad, and Belle crumpled to her back. Outside the ring, Sophie drifted a little closer to the apron, but a sharp tug of her leash by Miriam quickly brought her back in line.

Cynthia couldn�t resist the urge to pump a fist, the crowd lavishing the youngster with an appreciation she hadn�t heard in a long time. Now, against a legend of the sport, Cynthia was showing the potential that had made her and Sophie headline news upon their arrival.

Realizing she needed a breather, Belle wisely rolls under the ropes and alights to the ring floor. Cynthia, frustrated that her opponent has left the ring, steps over to the ropes and begins taunting the elder Armstrong. "What's the matter, Minnie Pearl...can't stand the heat? Why don't you come back in here and I'll put you out of your misery!"

By now, Ivy has climbed back up to the ring apron, and from the corner she calls out to Cynthia. "Ah'd be real careful what Ah say if Ah were you, mascot! You wouldn't want to make us mad, now would you?" Mitchell turns her head to respond with an insult of her own...which is precisely what the Armstrong's hoped for. Belle reaches beneath the bottom rope and grabs the unsuspecting brunette by the ankles. And with a sudden yank, Cynthia learns the folly of taking her attention off of the real threat, Belle, as she falls back to the canvas and is dragged out of the ring.

Hitting the cement floor, Cynthia can barely even begin to start to get back up before she is made the target of Belle's boot, stomping away repeatedly at the teenager's body, driving her back down to the floor. Suddenly halting her vicious attack, Belle rolls under the ropes into the ring and immediately begins arguing with the referee, cannily turning his attention away from Cynthia. Natalie screams at the official to pay attention to the outside of the ring, but her command is lost in the roar of the thousands-strong crowd.

And outside the ring, Ivy has jumped down from her perch and grabbed Cynthia by the hair, pulling her up to her feet. With a Cheshire's smile, she guides the brunette nearer to an outside corner, then tries to ram Mitchell's face into the ringpost! But Cynthia manages to plant her foot against the post at the last moment, breaking the momentum. Then grabbing a handful of the startled Ivy's hair, it is Cynthia who slams the redhead's forehead into the unforgiving steel pole! Armstrong crumples to her hands and knees, eyes lolling unfocused in her head.

Cynthia moves to take advantage, but in so doing she has forgotten about her true opponent. Belle reaches through the ropes and fills both fists with Mitchell's long chestnut hair, then hauls the screaming teen back up into the ring by her mane. Once released, Cynthia angrily whirls around to face her opponent...and is met with a standing drop kick that knocks her to the canvas. Shaking off the pain, Mitchell again scrambles to her feet, but is again met by a dropkick from Armstrong.

Pulling the dazed brunette upright, Belle clamps on a side headlock. She grinds away at Cynthia's neck, and expertly manages to turn her body in just such a way that the ref can't clearly see that the blond is also using her forearm to choke the youngster. And just for good measure, Belle throws a few punches to Mitchell's face with her free hand. Looking over at the opposing team's corner, Belle sneers, "How you doin' over there, Natty? Ah hope you're restin' up, because you and Ah'll be havin' our own fun soon enough!" Natalie said nothing in response, merely fumed.

Leading Cynthia over towards the Armstrong corner, Belle tags hands with her daughter, then releases the headlock in order to hold the brunette in a full nelson. Ivy climbs to the top turnbuckle and leaps down, delivering a double tomahawk chop straight to Mitchell's forehead. Belle releases her hold, causing the stunned Cynthia to stagger on uncertain legs, leaving the youngster to the tender mercies of Ivy.

As Belle slips between the ropes, Ivy reels off a right jab, her bare foot stomping the mat in time with the blow�s impact with Mitchell�s jaw. A left follows, Cynthia wobbling, but not falling down. With a crooked grin, Ivy cocks her right arm before firing one final punch. However, instead of driving into Cynthia�s jaw, this one is thrown directly to the tender flesh above Cynthia�s heart.

Cynthia�s eyes first cross, and then roll back, the brunette slumping to her knees before flopping face first to the canvas. Grabbing Cynthia by the hair, Ivy pulls the dazed youngster up to her hands and knees, and drags her crawling toward the ropes. Shoving the brunette�s head through the ropes, Ivy uses her weight to press Cynthia�s throat down into the middle cable, Mitchell�s limbs thrashing and jerking as the �Bama brawler choked out the teenager.

�Get her off the ropes, Ivy!� the official scolded. Ivy responded with little more than a laugh.

Not to be outdone, the ref had a response of his own. �One! Two! Three! Four!�

With a most dramatic of sighs, Ivy released her prey, spinning to address the official. �What part of FAWN don�t you get, sugah?� the redhead asked. �FAWN�s all about giving the fans what they want, as much as they want. No one comes here to see a DQ. So why oh why are you threatenin� me with one?�

Away from this unscheduled meeting of the FAWN debating society, Belle Butler Armstrong hopped off the apron. Standing directly between the elder and younger Mitchell siblings, Belle grabs the back of her head, and yanks down with all of her might. Cynthia�s eyes bulged, her face taking on a more bluish tint with each passing moment as her boots frantically kicked at the canvas. Belle glanced over her shoulder at the helpless Sophie. �Ah don�t think you�re bein� released tonight. Do you?�

Sophie�s eyes flickered with rage, for just a moment. It would�ve been so easy to just reach out. Belle was close enough to her that she could strike, and gain Cynthia a moment�s respite. But the moment she did, Miriam would�

Just as quickly as it had come, the rage in the young blonde�s eyes dissipated, replaced with resignation.

Across the ring, Natalie Mitchell had seen enough. Though not fully recovered from her earlier wounds, she burst through the ropes, stalking purposefully toward the Armstrong corner. But Ivy had the advantage of facing Mitchell territory. Seeing Mama Bear on her way, the redhead immediately alerted the official to her charge. And as the zebra intercepted the livid woman, Ivy turned back to Cynthia.

�Ah told you not to make us mad,� Ivy taunted. While Belle continued to strangle Cynthia with the middle rope, Ivy offered her mother a helping hand. Or rather, helping knees. Grabbing the top rope to steady herself, Ivy planted her knees between the brunette�s shoulder blades, her full weight driving Cynthia�s throat deeper and deeper into the rubber coated steel cable.

With a quick look back, Ivy saw that the ref had almost succeeded in getting Natalie back to her corner. With a nod to her mother, Ivy dismounted her foe, and Belle released Cynthia�s head. Ivy then moved her hands from the top to middle rope, and with a tug sent the younger Mitchell floundering to her back, wheezing and massaging her throat.

With Belle back on the apron, Ivy made the tag. Methodically, the blonde circled her prey, Cynthia weekly rolling onto her stomach. Even through the haze in her oxygen-starved mind, Cynthia understood that she needed a tag. Pawing at the canvas, the youngster began to drag herself toward her corner and safety.

Unfortunately, her path brought her straight to Belle.

Cynthia�s hands slapped meekly at Belle�s boots, and then her calves as Mitchell began to pull herself upright. Belle needed no further invitation, savagely pulling Cynthia�s head between her thighs. The standing headscissors secured, she then wrapped her arms around Cynthia�s waist, before hoisting her off the mat.

Belle held her aloft, upside down, for several moments, allowing the blood to drain to the youngster�s head. Only was she was satisfied did the veteran drop to a seat, nailing Mitchell with a piledriver.

Belle�s eyes never left Natalie�s as she rolled Cynthia�s lifeless body onto her back. Draping herself across the brunette�s chest, Belle hooked Cynthia�s leg with her right arm. Belle�s left hand slapped the canvas three times, a sadistic smirk on the blonde�s lips all the while.

�Your girl here don�t get off that easy.�

Beneath her, Cynthia�s body gave a convulsive jerk in an instinctual effort to throw her tormentor off. Belle was actually impressed that the youngster was still making the effort to resist. �Well now,� she called to Natalie. �This is one feisty filly you�ve got here, Natty. Seems she might just be made of stronger stuff than your oldest, you reckon? Ah know...let�s find out!�

Getting up, Armstrong grabbed Cynthia by the hair and arm and hauled her up to her feet. Then she wrapped her arms around the brunette and lifted her up so as to place Mitchell�s lithe body across her shoulders in a punishing rack hold. Cynthia offered no resistance, her body as limp as a ragdoll...until she was up on Belle�s shoulders, but before the blond could begin applying the pressure. Suddenly springing to life, Mitchell twisted her body and slid down Belle�s back, simultaneously reaching with her hands so as to cup them around Armstrong�s chin. Landing in a seated position, Cynthia�s momentum brought Belle down as well with a crude reverse neckbreaker.

From her corner, Ivy�s eyes went wide with disbelief. How the hell had the mascot managed to pull that move off, she wondered? Perhaps the only person in the arena who was more bewildered by Cynthia�s unexpected expertise was Natalie Mitchell.

Both wrestlers lay on the canvas for long moments, stunned. Finally, Cynthia forced herself to get to her hands and knees. She began to slowly crawl over to her corner, even as Belle regained her wits, got to her own hands and knees, and tried to head her off. With desperate power, Cynthia lunged towards her corner, her hand slapping with the outstretched fingers of her mother. Natalie was in the ring in an instant, energized by the opportunity to deliver some payback to two generations of Armstrongs.

Belle saw the look in Natalie�s eyes and knew she needed to get out of the ring and let the refreshed Ivy deal with her. The blond scampered on all fours towards her corner, but just as she was mere inches away from making the tag, Natalie managed to grab her foot and drag her back towards the center of the ring.

Still holding Armstrong�s right foot, she elevated the leg until it was nearly perfectly vertical, while using her foot to pin Belle�s other leg to the mat. The FAWN fans were urging the veteran to deliver a kick straight into the �Bama brawler�s nether regions, but the ways of FAWN were not Natalie Mitchell�s way. Instead, she dropping to her knees, drilling both of them into the side of Armstrong�s own pinned limb. Belle screamed in pain from the blow, bringing a smile to Natalie�s lips. �It�s been a long time since I�ve heard you cry, Belle. But I have to tell you, it�s still music to my ears.�

It immediately became apparent that Natalie�s plan was to methodically work on a single weak spot. Having injured Belle�s knee, her longtime rival compounded the pain by wrapping the blonde�s leg around her own in a figure four lock. Mitchell howled in agony as her leg was punished to the threshold of endurance and beyond. She pounded the mat with her fists, shut her eyes tight against the pain, refusing to even contemplate submission, but knowing that she could not endure such damage for long without suffering a lasting injury. Ivy cheered her mom on with words of encouragement, but from the tone of her voice, it was apparent that she was frightened. Not only might they now lose this fight, but her mother could be crippled. The young redhead had never seen her mother...her idol, the strongest person she knew...so helpless. The sight of Belle�s helplessness made Ivy�s blood run cold.

But Belle was not helpless. She had one slim chance for escape, but it would mean assuming the burden of even more pain to accomplish it. But she simply had no choice...Natalie wasn�t about to release her figure four until Belle had swallowed her pride and surrendered. And maybe not even then.

With a roar of defiance, Belle began to slowly, oh so slowly, twist her body to the side. Natalie resisted with all of her might, but Armstrong would not be denied. After what seemed to be forever (at least to Belle and Ivy), the blond succeeded in rolling over onto her stomach. The end result was that Mitchell�s body rolled over as well, and all of the pressure from the figure four immediately reversed. Now it was Natalie who was suffering, her cries of pain which brought distress to a daughter�s ears.

But Natalie was just near enough to the ropes to hold out hope of having the hold broken. With all of her waning strength, she slowly began to drag herself and Belle towards the edge of the ring. Finally, reaching out as far as she could extend her arm, she managed to grasp the bottom cable. The referee immediately order Armstrong to break the hold, and after keeping in applied for a few more seconds, the blond consented to the command.

Cynthia still felt as if she was going to collapse...she needed more time to recover. But she dutifully held her hand out for the tag. Yet Natalie paid her no heed, instead using the ropes to pull herself back up to her feet. By God, she wasn�t going to let this setback stop her from meting out some much-deserved punishment to Belle!

Seething with righteous fury, Mitchell grabbed her nemesis by her sweat-matted mane and pulled her up to her knees. Looking down into the eyes of her foe, Natalie sneered, �You always were poor white trash. Here�s where you learn once and for all who your better is!�

�Y�know what Ah know?� Belle wheezed through gritted teeth, her lungs gasping for breath. �There may just be someone better than me in this world...but it sure as hell ain�t YOU!�

To punctuate her reply, Belle arced her right arm up, nailing Natalie flush in the groin with her forearm. Mitchell�s eyes rolled and her mouth made an �O� shape without any sound escaping, and then she doubled over and fell to the canvas, where she curled into a fetal position, her sobbing causing her battered body to quiver.

Belle wanted nothing more than to finish her off, here and now, once and for all. The temptation was mighty. But the blond knew she desperately needed to recover. With more than a little reluctance, she rolled over to her team�s corner and slapped her daughter�s hand.

Ivy slipped into the ring, her movements deliberate as she approached the fallen veteran. As Natalie rolled back onto her stomach, hands still wedged between her legs, Ivy stood directly behind her. With a broad grin, the redhead took three strides back and then one to the left. And then, in what could only be described as an audition to become the place kicker for her Crimson Tide, Ivy fired a kick that split Mitchell�s uprights. The force of the barefooted kick managed to lift the blonde from the canvas, Natalie falling to her side before rolling onto her back, still unable to vocalize her anguish with more than a mild whimper.

Her movements slow and undeniable sensual, Ivy bent over to pull the struggling legend to her feet, Natalie steadying herself along the ropes as Ivy did so. Pressing the blonde back into the cables, Ivy unloaded a chop that echoed through to even the far reaches of the arena.

�WHOO!� responded the crowd.

Ivy leaned into her foe, their sweat mingling as her body pressed against the blonde�s. �Ah thought this was gonna be the biggest challenge of mah life,� the redhead whispered, the malevolence of her voice dripping like honey. �But ya know what? You�re even easier to beat than the jokes you call daughters.�

The words cut through Natalie�s misery like a dagger, and brought a clarity to her pain addled senses. Snarling, Mitchell grabbed Ivy by the shoulders, their bodies still practically one as the blonde rolled to the side. Now it was Ivy whose back was forced into the ropes, and Natalie who unloaded with a chop to Armstrong�s chest.

�WHOO!� the crowd erupted, a little more emphatically than only moments ago.

Taking Ivy by the wrist, Natalie Mitchell sent the youngster for a ride via an Irish whip. Ivy darted into the ropes, unable to halt her momentum, and unable to get her arms to grab the ropes before she was sent rebounding back at the enraged legend. Still, her mind sought a way to turn this series of events to her advantage. As she neared Mitchell, Ivy launched herself into the air, intent on taking Natalie down with a Lou Thesz press.

Instead, Natalie caught the sailing hellion, and in a blindingly swift motion, the blonde spun on her heel and dropped to the mat, hitting Ivy with a spinebuster that nearly buried the teenager.

Natalie remained draped across Ivy�s lower torso at first, Armstrong�s shapely legs parted around Mitchell�s waist as Natalie�s head rested between the redhead�s breasts. With the wave of adrenaline fading, it took Mitchell a moment to push herself off of her opponent and onto her back.

�C�mon, Mom!� Cynthia screamed, her feet planted on the bottom rope as she leaned into the ring, straining to extend her arm as fast she could. �Tag me in!� she practically ordered, absolutely aching for the chance to get her hands on a helpless Ivy.

�Ivy Belle!� Belle Butler urged from her corner, stomping the apron as she cheered her daughter back to her senses. At the moment, neither showed many signs of life.

But Natalie had been in this situation countless times before, and while it may have been more than a score of years since then, she still possessed an innate battle instinct that flared to life, animating a body that was not at the moment under the direct control of Mitchell's consciousness. The blond managed to sit upright, albeit not without some swaying, and through heavily-lidded eyes, she saw the barely moving form of her opponent laying next to her on the mat.

Getting to her knees and facing Ivy's prone body, Natalie raised her hands in the air as would a master pianist in the moment before pounding a crescendo on the keys. Then, she drove those hands down, he fingers gouging deep between the muscles of the redhead's taut abdomen. The sudden shock of pain from the stomach claw snapped Armstrong out of her stupor, and her shrieks seemed to invigorate Natalie as well, with the veteran pouring more and more pressure into her clawhold. The agony was nearly paralyzing, with futile squirming the most resistance which the teenager could muster.

Belle winced at the sight of her daughter's suffering; she had been the victim of Mitchell's claw often enough in the past to know just how devastating it could be. And she was not about to stand passively by while Ivy needed her. Slipping through the ropes, Belle illegally entered the ring and grabbed the startled Natalie from behind by her hair, causing the elder Mitchell to break her hold. Yet before Armstrong could follow up with any further action, she was met with a clothesline from Cynthia Mitchell, who had likewise jumped into the ring the instant she saw Belle enter.

Belle fell back to the mat, but even as Cynthia moved to pounce on her, the referee grabbed the young brunette and forced her...not without angry resistance, back to her corner and out of the ring. Meantime Belle, realizing that discretion is the better part of valor and having accomplished her goal of getting her daughter released from Natalie's hold, rolled out of the ring and resumed her place in her corner.

Ivy, one hand clutching her throbbing abs, had managed to sit up, propping herself up with her other arm. Natalie took her by the hair and helped her back up to her feet, then Irish whipped her across the ring. Armstrong hit the ropes and recoiled backwards...straight into a back bodydrop. The ring shook from the impact as she crashed to the mat, and from her corner, Cynthia shouted an enthused "Yeah!" Ivy desperately reached out with her hand, hoping to tag with her mother, but several inches between them could not be gapped, even with Belle standing on the bottom rope and leaning out over the top cable as far as she could without tumbling over. Mitchell again pulled Ivy to her feet and again launched her across the ring with an Irish whip.

This time, however, the redhead was met with a knee to the small of the back even as she was flung backwards into the ropes, courtesy of Cynthia. With a moan, Armstrong collapsed to her knees. But Natalie did not take advantage of this opportunity. Indeed, she instead matched over to the ropes and upbraided her child. "That is NOT what we do!" she said sternly. "That is the sort of thing their kind does." Cynthia Mitchell's cheeks flushed red, a combination of embarrassment and anger, and she almost meekly returned to her corner.

Not missing a single second of this opportunity, Ivy scrambled on all fours across the ring towards her corner, where she managed to tag out to her waiting mom. But even as Belle charged at her, Natalie was ready. Armstrong threw a roundhouse right which Mitchell blocked, then retaliated with a fist of her own, belting the blond solidly to the chin. Belle's head snapped violently, but she returned the blow with another swing of her fist...and it, too, was blocked. Natalie smashed another punch to Armstrong's face, the another, and another. Belle's legs grew wobbly as she was battered by the relentless barrage of fists. With a wicked smile, Natalie said, "I'd forgotten how much fun it is beating you senseless, Belle. It just goes to show that you never grow tired of the things you love to do." The only response from Belle Armstrong was a low groan and a trace of spittle at the edge of her slack mouth.

But while Belle may be on the seeming verge of being down, she was not yet out. Suddenly grabbing the straps of Natalie's suit with both hands, Armstrong threw herself backwards, pulling Mitchell along with her. What Natalie hadn't realized was how close to the ropes they were, not had she taken note of the fact that Ivy was waiting on the other side of those ropes. With the momentum sending the blond sailing towards the teenager, Ivy stopped Natalie dead with a palm blow to the chin. The impact caused Mitchell's head to snap backwards violently, and she staggered backwards, dazed on her feet.

Marshaling her waning strength, Belle shook the cobwebs from her head and beckoned her daughter to join her in the ring. This Ivy did, and together the two Alabamians each took one of Natalie's arms and whipped her into the ropes; when she returned, it was to a linked arm clothesline from her opponents, the impact from which sent Mitchell through the air and crashing to the canvas.

Now it was Cynthia's turn to jump into the ring, but she was met with a kick to the midsection from Ivy that halted her in her tracks. A scoop and a bodyslam planted the brunette teenager on the mat along with her mom. With a devilish twinkle in the eyes of both of them, Belle and Ivy positioned the bodies of their stunned opponents so that their feet pointed towards one another as their bodies lay on some imagined line. Next, the Armstrong sat down so as to plant the soles of their own feet together, and then to grab the ankles of their foes. With a shared laugh, mother and daughter began leaning backwards, in so doing pulling the legs of the Mitchell's in a "row boat" fashion. Both Natalie and Cynthia sat bolt upright with a yell of pain every time their rivals sat back, the motion stretching muscles in the victims' inner thighs to nearly the snapping point!

The referee finally made it clear that he would indeed disqualify the Armstrong's if they didn't break it up, making a most persuasive argument with, "The fans have gotten a good show already...the won't mind a DQ so much now, and you two know it!" Standing up, Ivy pulled Cynthia up to her feet as well, then grabbed her by the hair with one hand and administered a wedgie with the other by jerking up on her briefs, using her handholds to unceremoniously throw the brunette through the ropes and to the hard arena floor. The redhead then sauntered over to her corner and stepped out through the ropes, leaving Belle and Natalie alone together.

Natalie was propped up on one elbow, her other hand running through her disheveled hair as she tried to force the fog out of her skull. Belle stood proudly over her, the look on her face one of pure satisfaction, and a look that completely belied the obvious pain and exhaustion that wracked her curvaceous body. Looking down at the battered woman at her feet, Armstrong could not resist another taunt. "Y'all remember what Ah said before about barbecuing your ass, Natty? Well, get ready to kiss the cook!" And with that, she brought her hand up to her mouth, kissed her fingertips, spun her body around, and with a mocking look over her shoulder, planted her kiss squarely on the right side of her butt.

It was the briefest of openings, but Natalie made do with what she was given. With Belle facing away from her, Mitchell brought her boot up, planting her foot where Belle's fingers had been just moments before, and shoved with all the strength she had left. Caught by surprise, Belle stumbled away and into a neutral corner, Armstrong sagging to her knees after her chest slammed into the buckles. Natalie quickly scurried to her corner.

Cynthia had only just pulled herself back onto the apron, shaking her dazed and muddled head, still feeling the throbbing in her leg muscles and the ringing in her ears. She barely noticed the slap to her right forearm, at least not until the referee spoke.

"Come on, Cynthia. You're in."

As Natalie slipped through the ropes, Cynthia glared at the official uncomprehendingly. "Huh?" she grunted. "What are you talking about?"

"Tag was made, Cynthia," the ref continued. "You're the legal woman now. So you need to get in the ring before I count you two out."

Still in utter bewilderment, Cynthia turned her attention to her mother, who was impatiently pointing to the ring. "I didn't�" the brunette stammered. "You wouldn't...and now?"

"Cynth," Natalie began, but found herself interrupted.

Cynthia too found herself interrupted, both by the same cause: Belle Butler Armstrong. With a firm hold on each Mitchell's hair, Belle thrust mother and daughter's heads forward, their foreheads smashing into each other with a loud thud.

"Ah noticed the two of you were a mite confused, so Ah figured a meeting of the minds was in order," the blond said with gleeful contempt.

Belle smiled as both women's knees buckled, blond and brunette recoiling away, Natalie holding onto the top rope to keep her balance while Cynthia collapsed into the cables. Releasing Natalie's mane, Armstrong brought both hands to Cynthia's, and flipped the youngster over the top rope. With a squawk, Cynthia tumbled into the ring, landing hard on her back.

Cynthia sat on the canvas, her left hand clasped to the small of her back. Pulling the teenager up, the blond veteran held her facing away, looking into the Armstrong corner. She then wrapped her arms around Cynthia's slender waist, and hoisted her into the air. She didn't hold her there long, instead dropping to one knee, slamming Mitchell down crotch first across her outstretched thigh.

Mitchell practically flew off of Belle's leg, comically staggering on her tippy toes away from her tormentor�and toward Ivy in her corner, who greeted Cynthia with a punch that caused a spray of sweat and saliva to fly from the embattled teenager's face. Pivoting on her heel, Cynthia swayed drunkenly, tumbling into the waiting arms of Belle. With a grunt, the legend scooped Cynthia off her feet, and then drove her down to the canvas with a ring-rocking powerslam. The brunette lay there, eyes staring uncomprehendingly at the ceiling of the arena, her body too wracked with pain to move.

Yet instead of pressing her advantage, Belle casually sauntered over to her corner and tagged out to her daughter. Instead of immediately stepping into the ring, however, the redhead climbs up the turnbuckles until she stands perched on the top ropes. Her mother then grabs her as she would an opponent to slam to the mat, and this Belle proceeds to do...but with the precision to have her daughter splash directly atop Mitchell's torso, and with Ivy landing so as to have all of the impact absorbed by her victim. Cynthia's body jackknifed and she let out a pitiable moan as the air was knocked from her lungs, then she lay still.

Sitting at ringside, Sophie Mitchell's body visibly stiffens, as if she's coiling herself to lunge. The sight of her sister being mauled this way caused her blood to boil. Yet without ever taking her own eyes off of the action in the ring, Miriam sensed what was racing through her pet's mind. She said nothing, made no verbal threats. She didn't have to. She simply placed the tip of her index finger on the blonde's bare leg, and slowly traced it down to her inner thigh, then closer still to Sophie's womanhood, guarded by nothing more than a scanty thong. Suddenly, the soft caress of her finger was replaced by the bite of her fingernail into the tender flesh. The implication was clear: Miriam could bring pleasure, or she could bring pain, and it would be up to the blond which it will be. Mitchell bit her lower lip, but made no sound. Her body relaxed and her shoulders sagged; there would be no cavalry ride from Sophie Mitchell to save the day for Cynthia.

Ivy could have easily gone for the pin, but instead she grabbed her opponent by the hair and hauled her up to her feet. It is only with the redhead's support that Mitchell is even able to stand on her own two feet, but one look into her eyes makes it obvious that the brunette is literally dead to the world at the moment. Armstrong guides her ragdoll foe nearer to Cynthia's own corner, then, astonishingly, grabs the brunette by the wrist and swings her arm so that the brunette tags with Natalie!

And Natalie Mitchell...hesitates. She simply stands frozen, with what could perhaps be taken as a trace of trepidation in her eyes. After a moment of shocked silence from the crowd, many fans begin to boo Natalie for the seeming abandonment of her child. At ringside, Sophie looks stricken and dumbfounded. With a sneer, Ivy says, "Well, Ah reckon you won't be winning the Mother of the Year prize, huh?" And from her corner, Belle adds to the mocking with, "Just remember, Natty...what happens to your little princess now is all because of you!"

Wrapping one arm around Cynthia's throat in a chokehold, Ivy drags her back towards her own corner, out of the reach of Natalie. Suddenly, with an angry cry, the elder Mitchell slips through the ropes and charges at the younger Armstrong. But before she can reach her target, she is intercepted by Belle with a clothesline, knocking the veteran to the mat.

Belle steps out of the ring as Ivy props Cynthia up in the corner, arms draped over the top ropes, Belle holding the teenager by the hair so as to keep her head up so she can watch what comes next. Ivy begins by jumping up into the air and landing with both feet squarely on Natalie's abdomen, a whoosh of air escaping the blonde's lips. The redhead then pulls her victim upright to her feet and Irish whips her into the corner opposite Cynthia. Natalie's body sags, but she still manages to keep herself from collapsing by clutching the ropes. Walking over to the blond as if she didn't have a care in the world, the smiling redhead gave her opponent an almost playful little pat on the side of her face, then she grabbed the front of Natalie's one-piece suit and tore it away, exposing the blonde's breasts! The crowd roared its approval, then let loose a chorus of "Whoooooooooo's" as Mitchell delivered a series of backhand chops to the now-exposed chest of her foe, the sound of each blow echoing to the far reaches of the cavernous arena.

A bulldog then brought Natalie face down to the center of the ring, the only sign of life her right leg absently kicking at the canvas. Ivy jumped to her feet and slapped hands with her mother, then took her place outside the ring, holding Cynthia in place to watch the final destruction of her mother.

The blond circles her fallen nemesis like a shark, then sits down on the mat just above Natalie's head. She then snakes her legs around the blonde's head in a manner that's most familiar to fans of her daughter.

BUCK: "Southern Charm!!! Belle is using Ivy's own finisher on Natalie!"

TAMMY: "I can't think of anything more degrading for Natalie Mitchell...and I don't think Belle can, either. Otherwise she'd be doing it."

Legs futilely thrashing as her head is both simultaneously crushed between her foe's thighs and her face is smothered into Belle's crotch, wrists tightly held by Armstrong, preventing Natalie from using her hands to try and pry free, the blond has never looked more helpless, not in a lifetime of battles. Still obediently seated at ringside, Sophie is nearly in tears at the spectacle. But Cynthia's face, although etched by pain and exhaustion, seems almost impassive, as if her emotions are conflicted and none of them can be expressed.

Legs tightened like steel bands, Belle feels her victim's hot breath against her womanhood, can feel the last vestiges of power draining from the body of the woman whom she has hated with a blazing intensity for many years. She can hear the choked sobs as Natalie at long last realizes all hope is gone.

Ordinarily, Ivy applies the hold until her victims are unconscious, preventing them from tapping out by holding their arms. But Belle instead releases Natalie's wrists, letting her arms flop to the canvas. Mitchell does not try to pull the legs encircling her head apart, as Armstrong knew she would not. Not now. Belle knows just what Natalie will do.

Natalie taps out.

The referee calls for the bell, then has to warn Belle that he'll reverse the decision if she doesn't release the Southern Charm. By this point, Natalie has ceased to move at all. Ivy releases her hold on Cynthia's mane, and the teenager sinks to her knees.

The Armstrong's hug and high five in the center of the ring, then turn to Miriam at ringside, who tosses Belle a collar and chain identical to the one worn by Sophie. Belle looks at Natalie, who is just beginning to stir, and a wicked grin crosses her beautiful face.

WINNERS: IVY BELLE AND BELLE BUTLER ARMSTRONG