Other than ethnicity and experience, they really weren�t all that different. Both were of cultured stock. Both possessed refined technical arsenals at their disposal. And both had little respect for anything or anyone other than herself.

Anciline de Cyr was the poster girl for the hopes and dreams Bethany Christian had for FAWN2. Since signing the French aristocrat to a developmental deal, de Cyr had torn through the Birmingham based promotion�s roster not only without ever tasting defeat, but aside from her matches with Krystal Erway, not really having come close enough to smell it. Time and again, she had proven herself to have sharp instincts, tenacious resolve, and the bearing of a champion.

Indeed, some had even said she might be the next Akira Hagawa.

Akira was the embodiment of a professional champion, having achieved glory in every promotion she had ever entered, and normally in a very short time. Already, the talking heads that monitored the wrestling circuit were speculating on just how long it would take her to establish herself as a frontline challenger to LaKeisha Bates, or whoever else might later hold the world title, and assessing the chances of Bates and other contenders to be able to deal with Hagawa. And while there was some question of how Akira would acclimate herself to the �To All Extremes� atmosphere of FAWN, most agreed it was only a matter of time before Akira was headlining.

Of course, she had to defeat Anciline tonight to stay on track, and that was something that no one had proven themselves capable of doing. Granted, there was a noted difference between the likes of an Akira Hagawa and a Sadie Millwood or a Courtney Malcolm. But tonight would be a test for both women; if Anciline floundered against Hagawa in the first test of FAWN2�s ability to prepare talent for the big time, Wendy Landrum�s regional fed might not recover very soon.

If at all.

Anciline struts proudly down the aisle to the ringing sounds of �La Marseillaise,� Mme. Legare at her side. Haughtily, she ignores the fans, both those who cheer her (one sign reads FORGET SWITZERLAND�I LOVE THOSE FRENCH ALPS!) and those who jeer her (particularly one scrawled sign that says WELCOME TO FAWN, A WHOLE NEW PLACE FOR THE FRENCH TO SURRENDER). She displays no sense of distraction from the roar of the mob, her eyes fixed with steely resolve on the ring, her body moving with a grace that only those born to high station and supremely confident in themselves can possess. De Cyr exudes an aura that bespeaks she is indeed superior to all assembled here, and for at least a few moments, many of the fans watching her tonight very nearly believe it to be true.

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.

As the bell sounds, the two proud warriors circle out from their corners, neither allowing their eyes to drift from the other�s for even a second. And as the distance between them diminishes, the Frenchwoman and the Asian finally lunge forward at each other, locking up in a collar and elbow tie up.

Each woman took turns at first, reversing the hammerlock applied by the other, until finally de Cyr scores the first take down of the night. Flipping Hagawa over with a snap mare, de Cyr swiftly drops to one knee behind her, her other knee finding a home between Akira�s shoulder blades as the blonde applies a chinlock from behind.

Dutifully, the ref checks to make sure the hold was legal�like there was much that wasn�t in FAWN�and even asks Akira if she wishes to submit. But everyone in the building, most of all the ref himself, knew it was far too early for that. And if he didn�t, Akira�s silent grimacing glare makes that clear to him in short order.

But Anciline too knew that she would neither collect the win this soon, nor with such a basic hold. Shifting gears, the Frenchwoman breaks the chinlock, and brings Akira to her feet with a healthy handful of hair. Backing the Asian into the ropes, de Cyr begins to send her across the ring with an Irish whip. But Akira was ready, deftly reversing it and leveling Anciline on her rebound with a spinning heel kick. The blonde slides across the canvas before collecting herself, rubbing her chin as she gets to her feet.

Each having scored a blow, and each regarding the other with newfound acknowledgement�if not respect�the two warriors circle each other again, searching for openings. Hagawa then raises one arm to the sky, fingers waving, as she invites de Cyr into a test of strength.

Anciline hesitates, weighing the options. They weren�t all that different, physically. Akira was a little taller, but while both were clearly powerful, de Cyr at least appeared to have a slight edge in that realm. Slowly nodding, Anciline extends an arm toward her foe, all the while staying alert for sudden moves. Accepting a test of strength left one quite susceptible to a damaging boot to the midsection. It was a trick Anciline knew very well, having made use of it herself on numerous occasions. And she knew Akira would not be above similar tactics.

The fingers of Anciline�s left hand now entwined with Akira�s right, Hagawa raises her left arm, again beckoning the Frenchwoman to accept. Just as haltingly, and staying just as alert for the risk of attack below, de Cyr lifts her arm high above. With no hands free for attack, and with both content to keep their base on the mat, Anciline and Akira pour their power against the other�s in earnest.

Akira�s height gives her leverage, and she takes an initial lead in the contest of wills, the blonde�s knees slightly buckling as Hagawa worked the hold. But de Cyr proves resilient, and soon tilts the tide, Akira gritting her teeth as Anciline�s raw strength threatens to send her to her knees.

And then Akira stops fighting it.

Their hands still locked together, Akira rolls back in a flip, twisting the Frenchwoman�s wrists back on her as Akira regains her footing. Anciline yelps in pain, and instantly curses herself for that display of weakness, as Akira�s not inconsiderable power and the pressure on her aching wrists sends her to her knees.

With de Cyr fallen, Akira relinquishes her dual death grips, but gives the blonde no respite. The moment Akira�s fingers are free of Anciline�s, Hagawa�s knee drives into her chin, sending Anciline flopping backward, full breasts quivering within her bustier top. Again wasting no time, Akira drops to the mat beside her opponent, rolling the Frenchwoman onto her stomach before trapping her in a crossface chickenwing. Now it was de Cyr�s turn to grimace and groan as Hagawa�s hands cupped her chin, violently pulling her head back and placing an almost intolerable strain on her neck.

Almost.

A defiant moan of anguish from the blonde answers the ref�s question about submission, her eyes seeking out the nearest set of ropes, and finding them well out of her reach. Akira was indeed no Birmingham farmhand, and knew better than to make such a basic mistake. Another wrench of the chickenwing brings a muffled cry from the blonde. Even for someone as renowned as Anciline for her stamina, she knew there were few avenues of escape from this hold. Her best bet was reaching the ropes, even if that meant having to drag Akira with her.

It�s slow going, with Hagawa proving to be a most uncooperative passenger. Yet, with agonizing perseverance, Anciline is at last able to claw and scratch her way across the canvas, until finally her fingers can coil around the bottom rope. �Break!� the ref demands.

Akira is deaf to the command.

ONE�

TWO�

THREE�

FOUR�

At the last moment, Hagawa relinquishes her prey. But before she can press her advantage, the Frenchwoman rolls under the bottom rope and slips out of the ring.

The ref backs Akira toward the center of the ring, and Anciline uses her breather to work some of the throbbing out of her neck and shoulder. Despite her arrogance and bravado, a tiny part of her had been forced to acknowledge that she wasn�t in Birmingham anymore. Still, some things never changed. The crowd remained as unsophisticated in Atlanta as they had proven to be in Alabama, and the spotlight was still fixed firmly on Anciline. The stage might be different, but the final act would not be. And having to work a little harder for it would merely make her inevitable victory that much more satisfying.

Not that FAWN officials were ever diligent in applying a countout, de Cyr still climbs back onto the apron. Her focus remains on Akira, however, watching the Asian for any signs of an ambush. Still, de Cyr knows she�ll be vulnerable the moment she starts to slip through the ropes. But she had to get back in the ring, if she wanted to win.

Akira doesn�t disappoint. With de Cyr halfway through the steel cables, Hagawa charges, sending clubbing blows to the Frenchwoman�s back and neck, Anciline already doubled over in the act of entrance and unable to offer much resistance. Pulling the blonde completely back into the ring, Akira presses her adversary�s back against the ropes before unloading with a chop to the chest that echoes through the entire arena.

�WHOO!� screams the crowd. Akira turns a disdainful gaze on the crowd. She was a wrestler beyond any comparisons to any others.

A second chop elicits a second �WHOO!� from the crowd, but also seems to elicit a second wind from her opponent. Anciline�s left hand flashes forward, her talons raking across Akira�s eyes. With a hiss of pain, Hagawa staggers a stride backward. Blinded by the eye gouge, she doesn�t see Anciline�s right hand shooting forward, until she feels the fingers thrust sharply against her windpipe. Gagging and sputtering, Akira stumbles backward a few more steps, giving Anciline enough separation to back off the ropes before launching a kick into the Asian�s midsection.

Akira folds over, and the Frenchwoman needs no further invitation. Roughly tugging Hagawa�s head under her arm, Anciline drops to the mat, planting her foe with a crisp DDT. Akira lies motionless and face down, until de Cyr rolls her over and goes for the cover.

ONE�

Kickout.

De Cyr nods in appreciation of her opponent�s display of her own resiliency. Quickly, Anciline slithers across the canvas, taking a seated position behind the Asian, before snaking her legs around Akira�s midsection. Clenching the scissors tightly shut, Anciline then slips her arms under Hagawa�s, applying a full nelson as well. The Asian�s arms flail as de Cyr�s gams rhythmically squeeze the life out of her, but she still refuses to concede the battle.

The blonde rocks her body back, bringing Akira�s body off the mat. But only for a moment, before sending her crashing back down with a keister bump that threatens to pop Hagawa�s eyes from their sockets. Akira�s mouth hangs open, her arms straining to break de Cyr�s powerful nelson, but without success. Once proves insufficient for the Frenchwoman, and she rocks backward again, repeating the keister bump with much similar results.

Growing bored with this approach, however, Anciline relinquishes her opponent. Climbing to her feet before assisting Akira to hers, Anciline stands with her body pressed to Akira�s back, wrapping her arms around the Asian�s waist. The blonde then hoists her into the air, only to deposit her groin first across the outstretched thigh with an atomic drop that sends Akira tumbling into the nearest corner.

Anciline stalks in after her wounded prey, but proving the old adage correct, Akira demonstrates that she is still most dangerous. Anciline repays low blow for low blow with a vicious uppercut fired up between de Cyr�s legs, and then slips the fingers of her other hand inside de Cyr�s black lace & satin panties, sending the debilitated Frenchwoman shooting through the ropes and out of the ring.

Though FAWN had staked its reputation on a permissiveness that bordered on anarchy, the officials often at least kept up the pretense of order, and so the referee begins to admonish Hagawa for her underhanded tactics. Still recovering, slumped in the corner, Akira proves all too eager to exchange her views on the subject with the official.

One could feel free to debate, after all, when one had a LOT of Japanese muscle outside the ring to do one�s dirty work.

Just as de Cyr had almost successfully soothed the pain out of her aching loins, she feels two large hands constrict around her throat. With relative ease, Keiko Matsudo pulls Anciline first to her feet, and then off them with a chokelift. Anciline�s hands paw and tear at Keiko�s, but she doesn�t gain her freedom until Matsudo hurls her into the steel ringpost.

The dirty blonde crumples to the concrete floor. She can only pull herself up into something of a three point stance, her right hand pressing against the small of her back as her hair hangs in front of her face. Keiko lifts her again, but this time, perhaps more mercifully, merely rolls her back into the ring.

Akira�s discussion with the ref concluded, she grabs Anciline by the hair and tugs the ailing Frenchwoman up. Spinning her around, Akira�s arms coil around Anciline�s midsection before the Asian flips her overhead with a German suplex, de Cyr�s body remaining perpendicular for a moment before flopping lifeless to the mat. Akira then rolls her over and hooks a leg.

ONE�

TWO�

Shoulder up.

Undiscouraged, Akira lifts the Frenchwoman�s dead weight again, this time sending her into the ropes. Upon her return, the Asian levels her with a spinning back fist. Another cover.

ONE�

TWO�

THR� shoulder up.

Akira scowled. This rookie�s ability to stave off pinfalls was beginning to make her� angry. Very, very angry. Pulling Anciline up again, Akira locks in an abdominal stretch with an expert�s precision.

The fire in her straining stomach muscles seems to revive de Cyr a bit, but this only allows her to vocalize a few protests. Akira�s hold is cinched in all too well, and try as she might, the dirty blonde can find no escape.

Escape comes from Akira, though hardly in a way beneficial to the Frenchwoman�s cause. With Anciline sufficiently softened up in the eyes of Hagawa, the Asian simply transitions from the abdominal stretch into her Dark Dream dragon sleeper, almost seemingly without releasing the first hold. Anciline�s arms thrash and wave as her back is arched back, her breasts threatening to escape their lace & satin confines, her body growing more and more limp with each second.

Finally, her arms stop waving.

Moving in, the official applies the academic test of the Frenchwoman�s arm, raising the limb and allowing it to flop lifelessly to her side once, and then twice.

But, to the amazement of all, before he can lift Anciline�s arm a third and final time, de Cyr lifts her leg, using her remaining reserves to launch a mule kick up between Akira�s leg. The official and the crowd are both incredulous, as Akira too would be if she weren�t in so much pain. Relinquishing the Dark Dream, Akira drops to her knees, while Anciline tumbles to all fours, somehow finding the will to keep from collapsing entirely.

It hardly surprises anyone when the Asian is the first to recover. It barely surprises anyone when Anciline answers Hagawa�s approach with a punch to the midsection. But Akira puts down this wave of resistance with an eye rake. The Asian sends a barely protesting de Cyr into the ropes via an Irish whip.

Hagawa doesn�t duck too early for her backdrop, but still Anciline finds the wherewithal to leapfrog her. And before Akira could turn around, Anciline dropped the Asian with a bulldog that left her face down and spread-eagled.

The Frenchwoman rolls Akira over, hoping to end the match.

ONE�

TWO�

THR� shoulder up.

Drenched in perspiration, Anciline pulled herself up by her bootstraps. The endgame was clearly approaching rapidly. Slipping through the ropes, the dirty blonde propelled herself into a somersault legdrop that caused Hagawa�s body to jackknife before falling still. The Frenchwoman went for another cover.

ONE�

TWO�

THRE� shoulder up.

Ample chest heaving, de Cyr on the brink of exhaustion, Anciline knows it�s now or never. Struggling to her feet, she shoves Akira�s head between her thighs, locking in the standing headscissors. From there, she hoists her prey into powerbomb position, her fatigued legs quivering with the strain. Still, Anciline has just enough left to hit the move, and a sluggish though effect shimmy of her body afterward transitions her into the grapevine pin that completed her Maginot Line finisher.

ONE�

TWO�

THRE� what the�?

Anciline�s body flew off of Akira�s, the Asian�s shoulder spasming off the mat as she did so. But it was hardly that movement that had dislodged the dirty blonde. Keiko Matsudo was responsible for that, and pressed on her assault by hurling the hurting Frenchwoman into the nearest corner. The hulking Japanese woman hadn�t given a second thought to saving her boss. First thoughts were difficult enough for Keiko. But she knew Akira, and knew how she would react to the prospect of being pinning by a rookie such as de Cyr.

Even the �Anything Goes� world of FAWN drew the line at outside interference, and the official immediately calls for the bell. Little did that matter to Matsudo, who continued to drive shoulder after shoulder into the dirty blonde�s midsection, even as security descended upon the ring.

As several guards hauled Keiko out of the corner, Anciline slumped onto her haunches. She may not have looked triumphant, but still, she had made a statement or two this evening. FAWN2 developed its talents well, and Anciline de Cyr was truly ready to claim her destiny.

WINNER: Anciline de Cyr (by disqualification)