It wasn�t every weekend that you scored ringside seats from the radio station. But, this week, it happened to me. I�d been to FAWN matches before, but, with my meager college student�s allowance, it usually meant a spot up in the nose bleeds with my dad�s binoculars pressed to my face. FAWN was a guilty pleasure, but one I couldn�t help but engage in every once in a while. Of course, my parents had no idea. I�m a bit of a Kylie Sanders fan, having always been a sucker for the girl-next-door types. Especially the hot ones�so, when the strains of �There She Goes Again� by Sixpence None The Richer break through the darkness, a white pin spotlight breaking upon Iowa�s Girl Next Door, Kylie Sanders, I stood up and began cheering wildly�like a complete mark. The diminutive Kylie - tousled, shoulder-length, cinnamon-hued hair bobbing as she bounds down the aisle - slaps hands with most anyone she can reach. A bubbling mixture of excitement and nervousness keeps her taut little body in constant motion. Sanders struts down the aisle in a body-hugging, black, cotton tank top that leaves a healthy rim of her midriff showing; her little biceps shown with a grin and a pose, Kylie reveling in a pocket of her �Corps�. Below, yellow-gold, satin boxing shorts curve to an end just beneath the taut roundness of her buttocks, the shiny softness clinging tightly. Barefoot as usual.

She disregards, as best she can, the taunts of several Akira fans, one carrying a placard pronouncing �Akira - The Last Samurai. Kylie � The First Sacrifice� Instead, she moves onto a half-dozen of the �Kylie Corps� holding a sign of their own. �Kylie is kool�. Some of my fellow fans, some young teens, weren�t terribly inventive, but their earnest devotion more than made up for it. She blows her fans a kiss and gives the gang a thumbs-up.

Kylie trots the rest of the way to the squared circle and, eschewing the steps, slides in under the bottom rope.

She hops in place, occasionally checking the tension of the ropes, her hazel eyes darting through the crowd and around the ring. She shadowboxes to burn off some excess nervous energy waiting for the inevitable fade of Six Pence. The tension was making her stomach a little queasy, her brow already damp with perspiration. Kylie was beyond making matches into �turning points� in her career. Too many had ended badly to continue on that course. Just find a way to win and shut her up. When everything was boiled down, it was that simple.

The arena goes completely dark. As the audience grows quite, a spotlight shines on the entrance ramp. It moves its way up the ramp, stopping at the top of the ramp. At the head of the ramp, in the glow of the spotlight, is Akira Hagawa. In a flash of white pyrotechnics, she is eclipsed in spark and smoke. As the arena lights go back up, "Kill Your Idols" by Sonic Youth pumps through the arena sound system. The Killing Wind, flanked by the gigantic Keiko Matsudo.

Akira's eyes show nothing but disdain and arrogance. She ignores the fans' out stretched hands reusing to slap any of them. She gives dirty looks to whoever gets close. She stops in front of one fan and grabs his sign from him. She takes the placard, reading "The Killing Wind blows. And sucks!" and rips it in half. She tosses the two halves back over the guard rail. The fans absolutely hate this arrogant woman. They shower her with boos, which she seems to almost enjoy. She flips her hand in a dismissive gesture. She stops to waggle her finger at one fan. Her demeanor is one of total arrogance. She seems in complete control of the situation, despite the debris the fans throw at her.

Akira wears an outfit consisting of loose, shiny black vinyl pants, adorned with red "twisters" and tied with a red belt. She wears red wrestling boots. She wears a Tee shirt advertising her membership in The Hit Squad Japan. It is a black shirt with Japanese writing on the front, and "Hit Squad Japan" on the back. She finishes her look with a pair of shiny silver framed techno sunglasses. Keiko wears black leather pants adorned with the image of a silver Dragon on the legs, and a black short sleeved collared shirt. The short sleeved shirt allows for viewing of her extensive tattoos that start around her wrists and head all the way up her very powerful arms. The intricate tattoos of fires and demons are the marks given to all members of The Yakuza, the Japanese Mafia. She finishes her outfit with black biker boots, and a beaten up, old cowboy hat.

Akira and Keiko reach the ring and Akira and Keiko exchange bows. Akira removes her sunglasses and hands them to Keiko. Following this ritual Akira climbs into the ring. She stands in the center of the ring and offers a bow to the fans. She then turns to the left and offers a bow. She completes this ritual until she has bowed to all four sides of the arena. Finally, she offers a bow to the referee. Having completed all the formalities of the pre-match, she goes to one corner and stretches for the match.

I have a sinking feeling as they lock up, because Kylie looks typically nervous. She comes out like a house on fire, though! She lost the lockup but before she could be forced backwards, she pulls off a slick little head lock into an arm bar takedown. The arrogant Asian bitch look annoyed when Kylie really wrenched her arm. I hope it hurt.

Well�the next move must hurt! Kylie slams a foot into Hagawa�s midsection�I swear I heard the echo! A gutwrench suplex by Kylie puts Akira down and she goes for a cover.

Damn�only a one-count. Kylie drags Akira up, and executes a beautiful judo throw! That must make Akira happy�having her own game thrown right back in her face! It seems the Kylie Corps is well-represented, as they (we) rock the arena. The Killer Cutie follows the judo move up with a bulldog, bouncing off the ropes, her sexy C-Cups (I�m not a fan just because of Kylie�s athletic prowess, you know) bouncing as she rebounds of the ropes and drives the Japanese snob into the canvas, face-first!

�GO KYLIE!!!!!!!!!�

A rapid fire sequence of kicks and punches followed by a snap mare put Akira on the mat. From my vantage point, I can hear the wet smacks and muffled thuds of their bodies colliding�and the metallic sounds of their footsteps in the ring. Then, I can hear Kylie, just barely through the crowd�s din.

�I�ll teach you a lesson that Harvard couldn�t!� she said. She�s AWESOME!

Akira fights back, though. Maybe Kylie�s taunts were something that she couldn�t suffer�whatever, a kick to Kylie�s knee staggers her and the Wicked Witch of the Far East is up, red-faced, hair messed, and looking really pissed. LOW BLOW! Oh, no. Kylie is reeling, and Akira makes things exponentially worse for her�hitting her with a wicked move I�ve never seen before�some sort of back breaker.

�What the hell was that?� I asked my buddy, Mark�who favors Miriam Gaiman and Ivy Belle Armstrong.

�It was bad ass is what it was!� he exclaimed. What an asshole.

�No, I mean the move�what was it called?�

�Oh..uh�Argentine back breaker, I think.�

I didn�t realize Argentina exported such wicked moves. My attention is dragged back toward the ring as Kylie is hauled up and planted by a spinning backfist from Hagawa�who I will now refer to as the Hag!

"Perhaps you should consider an alternative means of employment,� I hear the Hag say to Kylie. Bitch.

She�s punishing Kylie, now. An STF can�t wring a submission from Kylie�her heart�s too big for that, I think. A cross face chicken wing is painful, but my girl manages to get to the ropes. A knee to her taut little tummy sends Kylie tumbling to the canvas.

"Never, in my many years, have I encountered one as hapless as you appear to be,� taunts the Hag. Mark was digging it. Asshole.

Involuntarily, I shoot out of my seat, cheering wildly! The Hag let Kylie get back to her feet. She was probably ready to assault her with some stunningly arrogant put down, but Kylie, red-faced and wobbly-legged, suddenly sprung to life and took her down with a shoulder tackle. She quickly follows this up with a series of face shots, then drags the hag up�and puts her back down with a spinning neck breaker.

�For being my better, you sure look a lot worse!� Kylie taunted. Those of us Kylie fanatics within earshot collectively roar our approval as she hauls the Hag up and flips her back to the canvas with a fireman�s carry. A leg drop keeps the Hag down�until Kylie decides to pull her back up to her feet. The muscular Asian is whipped into the corner, and Kylie is on her like white on rice! She grabs a fistful of Hag hair with one hand and pumps the other into the air in a fist. She hops up to the second rope and monkey flips the Hag out of the corner. After Akira skids to a stop, she tries to rise, but dizzily crumples to the canvas.

Kylie, her face radiant and exuberant, pumps her fists in the air wildly. And every Kylie mark in the place goes nuts! She starts clapping rhythmically, getting us all pumped up. A suplex leads to a pin�

�Light�s out, you bitch!� Kylie yelps. I scream something completely incoherent�kind of like something out of Teddy Kennedy�s greatest hits.

ONE

TWO

And a collective groan goes up from the Corps as the Hag gets a shoulder up�much to my asshole buddy�s pleasure. Kylie drags her up back up.

The Hag strikes again�a low blow and a rake of the eyes has Kylie reeling. A punch to Kylie�s adorable face drops her. I groan as the Akira section of the crowd finds its second wind. A Japanese Ocean Cylon Suplex turns Kylie�s suddenly deteriorating day from bad to worse, and the Hag�s much ballyhooed Air Raid Crash looks like Kylie�s finished. The Hag covers my sweat-slicked, exhausted heroine.

ONE

TWO

Kylie got a shoulder up. Once again, Akira stands and arrogantly motions Kylie to stand.

"Rise and face me, you ill-mannered, poorly-bred, foul-mouthed ragamuffin!"

I decide that I hate the Hag. She�d say the same thing to me without a second thought. I cheer�screaming madly for Kylie to get back up�now finding a personal stake in the outcome of this match for myself.

Kylie complies�you can see her digging deep within herself. She throws herself at the Hag and they go back and forth, trading punches and moves and countermoves. Chicken Wing by the Hag, counter by Kylie followed by a hip toss. Elbow by Kylie misses, but she rolls out of the way, returning the favor as Akira�s elbow finds the canvas. Eye gouge by Akira, snap suplex. Kickout by Kylie.

It goes on for several minutes, but my heart sinks as I realize Kylie is falling behind. She�s losing ground�and you can see in her eyes that she realizes it�but she fights on, pouring her heart and soul�something which I�m quite convinced by now that Akira lacks.

"Your attack was off balance and poorly conceived," taunted Akira.

Involuntarily, in a moment I will relive over and over again in my dreams, I scream wrathfully,

�ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US, AKIRA!�

Which was absurdly xenophobic and inappropriate�since Akira�s grammar was undoubtedly better than my own�but, hey�I was pissed. Anyway, my epithet is drowned out by the cacophonous roar of the crowd, never reaching either Akira�s or Kylie�s ears, save for part of the unintelligible roar.

Kylie flashes once again, driving Akira back with kicks and punches. She manages to scoop the muscular Asian up and drive her to the canvas, but Akira is back up in a second, while Kylie, though bravely fighting on, is a bit unsteady. The girl whose heart is as big as Iowa, gets the upper hand with a head lock, but Akira delves back into her bag of dirty tricks with a fist between Kylie�s legs.

It seems to take the rest of the wind out of Kylie�s sails, as Akira sends her into the ropes and catches her, applying a Dragon Sleeper.

I scream for all I�m worth, trying to empower Kylie, but it�s no use. The barrage of eye gouges, chokes, and low blows, coupled with the Hag�s undeniable skill and power are too much and Kylie is fading quickly. A few seconds later, she�s out�her toned arm falling limply for the third time, officially ruining my�and Kylie�s�night.

With Kylie beaten and tiring from the Dragon Sleeper, Akira removes the beaten girl's shorts. That yeti, Keiko, enters the ring, Akira hoisting Kylie up and placing her in a "tree of woe." I feel my face go pale and knot form in my stomach as the Hag is handed a feather and a microphone.

"As I mentioned, we in Japan take a more perverse view of sexuality. Kylie Sanders, I have seen some of your previous...stimulations...following your losses. Though they must have been excessively humiliating, I am certain you found the experience...satisfying...in some sick way. I am sad to say you shall receive no such stimulation from me."

Then, Akira begins tickling Kylie with the feather. First her trunk, then armpits, then legs and finally her round, firm breasts and sex. The effect is devastating as Kylie squirms in what must have been the most perverse combination of pain and frustration. In a move that would make my asshole friend Mark and Miriam Gaiman proud, the Hag stops, and abandons my poor, devastated Kylie. Just stimulated enough to be consumed by the fire of her arousal, no doubt, yet humiliatingly spared the mercy of release, Kylie, apparently incoherent, brushed her hands across her thighs as the referee struggles to free her.

What a night.

�GREAT MATCH, HUH?!� shrieks Mark, clapping me on the back.

Asshole.

WINNER: Akira Hagawa