The Albequerque crowd catches their breath for a moment, knowing they'll have to gear up for the family-sized finale. LaKeisha Bates, never given enough credit for her intellect and wiles, had used them and her considerable physical talents to bully her way into the title picture with some daring evil-do. She needed to maintain that momentum tonight lest she appear to be an interloper in the championship event.

Leading up to the fight, a fair share of attention had been paid to her opponent's initial singles push and, being LaKeisha, the Nubian beauty had expounded to anyone who would listen and few who didn't wish to, that she was being dissed. From the stirring of the New Mexico masses, they were ready to diss her further and if that meant serious trouble for her opponent, that could be its own delight. Speaking of, Cynthia Mitchell had been thrust into the deep water and, in the media at least, she seemed to be reveling in the swim. The second-generation star was still a youngster, but had more than her fair share of time in the tag title spotlight. She would not be cowed by this particularly bright stage.

The lights dim as t.A.T.u's rendition of "How Soon is Now?" blasts over the PA. Within seconds, Cynthia Mitchell emerges at the top of the ramp. Her purple bikini top both supported and flattered her modest but not unpleasing figure, the fabric rising into a solitary strap over the left shoulder, leaving her right one bare. The short shorts had become more of a set of bikini briefs, exposing more hip, thigh, belly and buttock than her former gear; a very good look on her.

Cynthia makes her way to the ring, slapping hands with as many of the fans as she can. Her expression is bright and cheerful, yet there is clearly an intensity and strength of purpose within her as she heads into battle. And a battle it would be.

Reaching the ring, Cynthia moves toward the nearest turnbuckle. Then, with an assured smile, she scales the buckles. Cynthia launches herself in a twisting backflip into the ring, sticking the landing perfectly, facing the center of the ring, readying for the arrival of what would assuredly be a stern test. If Bethany was using this match as a trial run, she would not let the experiment die after one audition.

As Christina Aguilera's "Can't Hold Us Down" begins to pump over the arena sound system, LaKeisha Bates makes her entrance at the top of the ramp. Ft. Worth's Nubian Princess stands there for a moment, legs slighted parted, hands indignantly on her hips as she disapprovingly views the crowd. She is a golden brown vision in baby blue, a mesh bikini top barely covering her bosom and matching thong bikini bottoms exhibiting the entirety of her long, shapely legs and exquisite glutes, the ensemble finished with matching boots.

As she approaches the ring, her walk is more of a sashay down a Paris runway. Climbing onto the apron, Bates slips one leg inside the ring, then, with one leg on either side of the ropes, LaKeisha bends at the waist, and with one exquisitely slow and smooth motion slides her torso into the ring. She allows one extremely fortunate portion of the crowd a breathtaking view of the weapon she planned to use to send darling Cynthia down to defeat in this ring, and either Ivy or Chrissy in Cancun.

She studies Cynthia with disdain and visions of a brunette version of Nebraska flutter through her devious mind. Unfortunately , she had missed being a part of Sanders' fond farewell, so crumbling this skinny, little cracker FOR GOOD would have to do. The bell brings the match to order, the ref signaling the beauties--both breathtaking in their own way--to battle.

Immediately, LaKeisha gains the center ground and tracks a rotating Cynthia. With a smirk, she raises her hands and offers Mitchell a test of strength, but with a shake of her head and a smile, Cynthia declines.

"Just like I thought, you don't wanna none of this," Bates jabs. "Get outta my hood right now and I won't kick your bony ass back to Cracker Barrel, Carolina."

As she levels her taunt, Cynthia ignores the dusky beauty, instead concentrating on how LaKeisha is stealthily cutting down the ring and her options, while trying to keep her attention elsewhere. Finally cut to a corner with no secure escape, Cynthia offers a test of strength of her own and LaKeisha greedily accepts, interlocking her right set of fingers with Cynthia's left and preparing to do likewise with her free hand. But before that happens, like a bolt, Cynthia sweeps by her, taking the limb along. Mitchell pins the armbar tight against Bates' back, LaKeisha grunting as the brunette ratchets up the pressure.

But one grunt begets another as LK shifts her pelvis forward then moves ass back, the butt thrust driving into Cynthia's bikini briefs. The first dislodges her, a second knocks her away, such is the power of the most famous body part in all of FAWNdom. Taking advantage, LaKeisha turns to her foe and grabs a wrist. She Irish whips Cynthia to a corner, Mitchell's back slamming hard into the buckles. LaKeisha quickly follows behind, her bootylicious body charging forward then spinning in a 180 at the last moment to send a butt-first squash home, poor Cynthia flattened between, her 'OOOMPH' audible over the thump of body against booty.

Bootyshocked, Cynthia slides down the corner like a pasty, bug-eyed ooze, La Keisha glancing playfully over her shoulder.

"Wit a big bootycall layta, maybe you should get acquainted with dis playa's tools."

With that, LaKeisha squats down, grabbing the middle ropes on either side of the corner and backs that ass up into Cynthia's features, rubbing in a Stinkface that any man in the joint would love to be smelling. However, Cynthia, most definitely, was not. Her head turns wildly from side to side trying to escape the double-wide caboose to little effect. Finally, her face pops out the side and she takes in great gulps of air. A hint of fear could not be hidden. There were several places you did not want to be within a FAWN ring and this, perhaps, was destination number one.

Rotating forward, LaKeisha gives up her smother and instead extends her legs behind her, encircling the ribs of the second-generation tag specialist. Her powerful thighs clamp Cynthia in a crushing body scissors, Mitchell feeling the air drawn from her body even as pain is inserted in it place.

"AHHH SHEEET!"

"Such language, whateva will your momma say," LaKeisha says between grunts of effort, the Nubian Princess trying to rip Cynthia's hourglass figure into two pieces. She sends another pulse through her thick, muscular thighs, eliciting a drawn out 'OHHH' from Mitchell.

Already leaning against the ropes, the brunette grabs them for further emphasis.

"REFFF," she implores.

The zebra, finally finding a clue, or the nerve, starts his count and, at four, LaKeisha disengages from her scissors.

Quickly, Bates turns to a grimacing Cynthia, trying to pull herself up with the help of the ropes. LaKeisha lends a hand with a two-handed choke, both sets of digits encircling the ex-tag champ's neck, then forcing her to rise as LK powers up from a squat, her glutes easily pressing her to a standing position, Cynthia gagging on tiptoes, her backside brushing against the buckles once more. Despite her predicament, the young veteran doesn't panic. She slips her arms inside of LaKeisha's and lands a set of abbreviated axehandle chops to Bates' plentiful bosom. The sting ties LK's already glistening features in a knot, but she doesn't let go. Cynthia moves her chops from the Rmpshaker's breasts to the inside of Bates' elbows and the brunette finds her boots back on the mat, LaKeisha's grip falling away as she takes a step back to send a knee to Cynthia's midsection in an effort to 'calm' her.

The shot never meets the mark as Cynthia leans into the top buckle and lifts her body, avoiding the blow, and wrapping her stems around the honey-golden strands that frame LaKeisha's fine features. Bates pries desperately as the head scissors tightens, her world becoming one of pounding pressure as the muscles constrict around her braincase. However, Cynthia doesn't remain stagnant for long. She pushes away from the buckles, finally letting her body drop away in a twisting spin that sends LaKeisha flying away like a poorly thrown Frisbee, both spinning and tumbling to a stop several feet away, Bates' eyes belying a state of confusion.

Cynthia takes a few breaths to survey her already aching body. Pain, but no injury. Business as usual. She hops to her feet in time to collect a shakily rising LaKeisha around the head from behind. Racing forward, with Bates in tow, she skies to the top ropes and uses her sleek, slender gams to piston away from the strands, picking up incredible momentum before planting the Nubian beauty's forehead to the canvas with a springboard bulldog. LK's body shudders and falls still, but the ex-tag champ doesn't even think of a pinning attempt. Instead, she pulls a staggering Bates to her feet and whips her to the ropes. Cynthia meets the lurching freight train with a leap and legs extended, the limbs surrounding LK's head. But before the hurricarana can be completed, Bates' arms do some surrounding of their own, working their way loosely around Mitchell's legs, rana turning to powerbomb. But in the blink of yet another eye, Cynthia can feel things going bad and hits the panic button. Slipping out of LaKeisha's grasp, she forces her upper body over that of a befuddled Rumpshaker, swings an arm around the girl's head and pulls her down into a spectacular DDT that draws a piteous gurgle from LaKeisha as her noggin splats on the mat, and an eruption from a crowd now believing. Bates' body jerks violently upward in spasm, nearly to a full kneel before flopping lifelessly back to the canvas. The game of counters had undeniably ended in Cynthia's favor.

But again, perhaps curiously, at least to the crowd, Mitchell does not go for the pinning combination. Instead, she shoves a dozing LaKeisha to her back, skips over her body, leaps into the middle ropes and returns to the scene of the crime with a graceful and picture-perfect lionsault that dissects the coffee-n-cream-skinned beauty, LaKeisha with no answer to the whirling dervish of a weapon Mitchell had made her body. Bates' frame spasmodically jackknifes around the 'saulting Cynthia then reclines spreadeagled. Still, despite the increasing pleas of the New Mexico faithful to send the Rumpshaker south of the border with a loss NOW, Mitchell eschew the 1-2-3, and rises to her feet judging the success of her run.

Apparently unsatisfied, she clambers to the nearest corner and scrambles up the buckles as if she were born to the job, which, in a way, she was. Quickly gathering her balance, she launches into a skyscraping frog splash that finds its lily pad, LaKeisha offering only a futile push of her leg against the canvas that make the acrobatics a 9.9 instead of a 10. Again, the nubile Nubian body jerks from another Mitchell bomb, Cynthia turning this thing into a blowout, the crowd exploding, LaKeisha looking up through dark, glassy eyes with a mixture of bewilderment and dismay.

"OK," Cynthia whispers to herself.

Climbing atop LK in a full-body pin, breasts to breasts, belly to belly, crotch to crotch, Mitchell grapevines LaKeisha's legs and pins her wrists to the mats, shoulders forced to accompany. The crowd rises in anticipation while Cynthia glares at her downed foe with a determination never seen.

ONE

TWO

THR...

NOOOOO.

The word echoed through Mitchell's mind and it took all her effort not to scream it out loud. Somehow, LaKeisha had forced one wrist free and rolled the shoulder up less than three inches from the final slap of the mat. Cynthia stares at the Rumpshaker in amazement, even moreso when Bates starts to turn their interlocked bodies toward a reversed position. Disengaging from her grapevine, Cynthia pulls up a knee that perhaps was meant for LK's midsection but only makes it to the juncture between her legs. Simple mistake or no, Cynthia didn't seem in the mood to apologize nor regret LaKeisha's balled body. Instead, the slender, ivory hellion skooches her legs toward Bates' pained features, seeking to swallow them up in a draining head scissors.

But as the blue-eyed beauty, lifts LaKeisha's head to slip her leg beneath, an arm explodes out of Bates' ball, away from tending her pussy and to tending Cynthia's, if in an altogether more violent manner. The squeezing, ripping, delving digits put a halt to Cynthia's plans in a hurry, the lovely brunette shrieking as perhaps LK's last defense turns to a vigorous offense. Mitchell tries to pry the purple bikini briefs, and the tender tissue beneath them, free of Fort Worth's most bootyful, but the choking, penetrating grasp is cinched in tight.

Replenished by the sounds of Cynthia's suffering, LaKeisha emerges from her cocoon and grapevines Mitchell's right leg. She then stretches her body perpendicular to that of Cynthia, forcing her left in the opposite direction, IN BEWTEEN, groin-stretching splits, and the mauling of Cynthia's love flower continues unabated, LK only taking a break to sneak her digits below Mitchell's tiny patch of cloth, so nails could meet flesh directly.

Cynthia wails in anguish. If this were some new perverted finisher to replace the Rumpshaker, the ex-tag champ couldn't deny it had her balking body on the verge of surrender. In desperation, the brunette forces her way to a seated position and sends a fist into the slightly spongy midsection of the darker-skinned warrior. Cynthia can feel no lessening in the formidable waves that seemed close to drowning her. She sends another fist, and another, not so much picking the lock to the excruciating hold, but breaking it down in stages. LaKeisha, finally bluffed into deciding the situation is a stalemate when Cynthia knows better, disengages both the splits and the claw for another plan of attack. This time it is Cynthia collapsing into a fetal position.

LaKeisha rises unsteadily, stopping for a moment, with hands on knees, to unashamedly pant and let her screaming muscles and nerves mute their protest with a brief respite. She recovers, as does Cynthia; the grueling pace leaving Bates far out of her comfort zone. Needing to slow the match down she curls her way behind a rising Cynthia and lets the brunette present herself for an abdominal stretch. LaKeisha locks the glistening, pale beauty in place, their bodies merging, skin on skin, muscle straining against muscle, LaKeisha for control, Cynthia for relief. As Bates increases the pressure, and the seconds tick by, a pitiful coo escapes Cynthia's lips. Again, it feels as if this power-packed bee-yotch was ripping her in half, if in a different way. In a futile attempt against type, the brunette tries to force her way free with a hiptoss, but an anchored LK is barely budged and scoffs at the effort.

"You don't tell THIS strong black woman where to go, little Miss Trailer Trash 2006. I tell you."

Bates releases Cynthia, spins her into a front facelock and, before the bony bitch can counter and ruin things, the Rumpshaker has her heavenward, holding her impressively still in a stalled suplex, the blood rushing to Cynthia's reddening face. The Nubian beauty savors the moment and the silence of the crowd then collapses to the mat, planting Cynthia's skull into the canvas with a brainbuster, the weight of her own body providing much of the concussive force of the blow.

Despite a stilled, spreadeagled Cynthia before her, LaKeisha attends to further labors of love, feeling Cynthia needs more work done to keep her subdued for the three-count or, perhaps, what remained is just for fun. With Bates' spiteful streak, it's never clear. She rises, grabs Cynthia's legs by the ankles and spreads them wide. A fierce boot to Cynthia's left knee wakens the youngster from her semi-slumber with a shout, one that is only heightened with a boot to the opposite knee. LaKeisha then treads farther down the luscious leg, jamming her heel into the glossy slender thigh of Mitchell, a yelp of protest joined by another, when again, LaKeisha follows suit on the opposite limb. With a twinkle in LK's eyes, Cynthia knows what is coming next and she holds out her hands in a plea, knowing full well she is before a hangin' judge. Bates hangs'em high with a vicious stomp to Cynthia's pussy that vaults Mitchell's upper body off the mat, her beautiful features twisted in agony, only moreso when LaKeisha grinds shoe leather into the sensitive lovebox, the brunette's bikini briefs stroked down to a low-riding hip hugging position. But Fort Worth's finest is far from done. Having garnered Cynthia's attention, she entwines her legs with those of the tag stalwart and locks in a Figure-Four scissors, desperate flailing joining the screams of anguish. Cynthia's writhing and her skidding to the ropes for escape also has the unfortunate aspect of working her way free of her lower covering. However, when she grasps the strands and the ref calls for her freedom, the fact that her briefs are around her knees are not of the utmost concern.

Releasing her hold at the count of four, LaKeisha is on Cynthia's clothing like her legs were a store on Rodeo Drive. She pulls and pilfers the garment leaving Cynthia bottomless, something of a breach in protocol for FAWN matches, considering her top was still in place.

Tossing the sweat-soaked briefs aside, she reaches down to collect her prey, but backed into a corner, Cynthia drops the pretenses and LaKeisha with a rake of the Nubian's eyes. Falling to her knees next to Mitchell, temporarily blinded, her flat, undefined midriff once again becomes an inviting target. The brunette indulges, sinking in a stomach claw that immediately has Bates' attention, LK chirping in pain and prying at the invading talons as she curses Mitchell's lineage. Unable to dislodge her, LaKeisha turns to the ropes that had saved her rival moments earlier and the referee calls for the break, Mitchell only obliging with a second to spare, Cynthia raking the coffee-n-cream skin of LaKeisha's tummy as she does, bringing a squeal from the Rumpshaker.

Both women, in desperate need for a second wind, fall to their backs. They lie next to each other, sucking in oxygen to an ovation from the appreciative crowd. Unsurprisingly, it is the slender brunette beauty that revives first, unbelievably kipping to her feet, eliciting a roar--and hope--from the throngs. Mitchell pulls LaKeisha to her feet and grabs a wrist. She flings LK toward the far corner, but Bates puts on the brakes and reverses, sending Cynthia chest-first into the near buckles only a few short steps away. She bashes into the corner from point-blank range and drunkenly stumbles backward into an awaiting sleeper hold that surely would sap the remaining reserves from this 'Energizer cotton-tailed cunt', as LaKeisha so eloquently whispers in Cynthia's ear. But the rabbit had one more hat to jump out of, Cynthia dropping to her backside and dislodging LaKeisha with a superb jawbreaker that not only saved her, but suddenly put her back on offense.

LaKeisha wavers in a wide arc, massaging her jaw. Steaming, she returns to an unexpectedly ready Cynthia who drives a boot deep into her already aching belly. Unable to deny the reflex, Bates doubles at the waist, providing Cynthia the perfect opportunity. Pulling the honey-golden haired Nubian beauty to her, she inserts LK's dipped head between her thighs and locks her arms behind her, the crowd rising as one to see the final Drop Out and Cynthia's ascendancy to the top echelon of the singles ranks. Instead, what they get is a member of the old guard, saying 'no', LaKeisha powering her way upright, backflipping Cynthia up and over, a thwarted Mitchell landing with a heavy thud. Her back arches in pain, but is quickly realigned to the mat when LaKeisha drops her butt down on Cynthia's chest, flattening her already modest cleavage, perhaps, with the power of the booty, inverting them. In any case, with Cynthia trapped in a schoolgirl, Bates goes to work with her fists, the slender brunette intercepting as best she can. Soon, however, she is overwhelmed, her head rocking from side to side as she is clipped by right and left crosses

With her enemy subdued, second wind blown away with the hailstorm, LaKeisha pushes to her feet and brings a sagging Cynthia with her. The bottomless, ivory-skinned beauty leans into Bates and digs in a right uppercut to the ribs that LK shrugs off.

"Is that all the bite the little cracker has left? Hell, all you're good for now is to show these people that white girls don't have no asses."

Indeed, Cynthia's bare bottom was on display, but the crowd didn't seem at all unhappy at the sight of the tight little derriere. On the other hand, the sight of Cynthia being effortlessly lifted into another stalled suplex had them plenty discouraged. Walking to the nearest set of cables, LaKeisha drops Mitchell in a front layout suplex atop the ropes, simultaneously gutting poor Cynthia, while driving all the air from her lungs. But more impressively, LK cleverly sneaks both hands underneath and use the upward momentum of the rebound to power a weakly flailing Cynthia into a Gorilla Press, Bates walking the ring with Cynthia high above, the ultimate testament of power over speed. A pleading Cynthia sobs for release and LaKeisha obliges, slamming her to the mat with such force that the slender speedster bounces clean off the canvas.

The crowd 'oohs' and 'aahs', some even breaking down into respectful applause for the impressive display. But the admiration only grows when, much to Cynthia's detriment, LaKeisha peels Mitchell off the mat and pulls her head between those cracker-crunching thighs then alley-oops the brunette up into powerbomb position and then some, catching the ex-tag champ in a crucifix position behind and above. Bates then leans forward into a ring-rattling, razor's edge powerbomb that relieves Cynthia from the little of her consciousness that remained.

Circling the ring, with arm raised, LaKeisha picks up a little more of the crowd, though the boos are still in the majority. She strolls back to Cynthia's carcass, turns the brunette's head one way then the other with the tip of her boot, then taps her on the cheek with the sole of her boot leather. Cynthia emits a gurgle that becomes a breathy sigh when Bates moves her boot to daintily brush the brunette's pelvic mound. When Cynthia manages a slightly more wakeful "Where?", LaKeisha gathers her up by the hair. The yanking of her locks brings Cynthia around all the more, only to discover a faceful of thong-covered undercarriage filling her view. Knowing all too well what this means, she feebly tries to break free, but quickly her face is encased in a moist, dank, pressurized darkness.

Hope flittered away. She was doomed. All that remained is the drop to the bottom floor and, in an instant, LaKeisha provided the final ride that concluded the Rumpshaker finisher and the match. As LaKeisha enjoys a nice booty grind atop the features of her victim, the ref counts.

ONE

TWO

LaKeisha rises to her knees, pulling Cynthia's shoulders off the mat, continuing to force-feed Mitchell her pussy through the gauze of her g-string.

"A KO. Sucka!" she tells the ref.

The ref obediently grabs Mitchell's arm. He raises it once, twice, three times, each resulting in a leaden drop. The man motions for the bell to the catcalls of the audience and the PA chimes in to tell the masses what they already know.

"Your winner by KNOCKOUT. LAKEEEESHA BAYYYYYTES."

LK lets Cynthia's head slam back to the mat. Slipping an index finger into the cleft of Mitchell's modest bosom, she rips away what remains of Cynthia's outfit and pride, leaving the broken youngster and wannabe singles threat bare-ass and bare-chest naked, only her boots remaining to thwart any foot fetishists.

Struggling to her feet, LaKeisha whips the top away with a tired toss then raises her arms in triumph. Earning the victory had been draining work, now it was time for pleasure, time to send a message to those two chumps who thought they could keep her away from the World Championship that so rightfully belonged strapped above her black, breathtaking, bodyquaking, rumpshaking ass.

Reaching down to Cynthia, LaKeisha tries to slap her awake, the smacks reverberating through the arena, but the effort is met with little success. Only when she pulls the poor battered brunette to her feet and choke lifts her off the canvas, do twitching arms and legs, and bulging eyes denote Mitchell's return to consciousness. Keeping a choke in place with her right hand and cradling Cynthia's body with her left arm, LaKeisha carries the gagging Mitchell to the ropes. With a heave, she sends the naked beauty, half-over, half-not. Squeals emanate from the crowd, but Cynthia can only open wide, the pain from her pussy preventing any sound, LaKeisha cruelly increasing the indescribable agony by pulling the rubber-coated cable up and down, thrusting it into her crotch time and time again until Cynthia appears close to fainting once again. Seeing this, LaKeisha reclaims her choke, pulling Cynthia back into the ring and slamming her to the canvas.

Still not satiated, LaKeisha leaves the demolished Mitchell and moves to the ropes, sliding through the strands, and dropping to the floor. She moves with purpose to the timekeeper, the man wisely rising from his folding chair and backing away. Bates borrows the steel chair and returns to the ring, the bell seemingly on an endless toll. Dramatically, she places it in the center of the ring and collects Cynthia once more, pulling the pitiful rag doll between her thighs, face up. Once inserted, she crashes down with the Rumpshaker atop the steel chair, the crowd turning from boos and catcalls to shrieks of concern for the safety of the unconscious Cynthia.

Suddenly, their hoots turn to cheers, unfortunately tipping LK to the arrival of the Mitchell cavalry. Sophie Mitchell, still in recovery mode from her battle with Kiora Donovan, races down the ramp and slides into the ring only to be met with a vicious pounding on her back as she attempts to rise. One final potent uppercut staggers the tall blonde into the ropes and LaKeisha, feeling unstoppable, sends her for the ride to the far side. Waiting in the center for Sophie's return, she sends a scythe of a clothesline at Cynthia's sister, but the elder Mitchell ducks the effort and throws herself into the opposite ropes. She rebounds back at a startled, spinning Bates, but LaKeisha closes the gap between them and catches Sophie off guard with the move. She is ill-prepared as the burnished, bronze beauty dips and separates Sophie from the mat with a huge back body drop that sends the big blonde hurtling through the ring's airspace, landing roughly on her head and shoulders.

Still, the angered Sophie is up quickly. She turns to end LaKeisha and her day, but instead, graciously offers herself to a dipping Bates. LaKeisha gathers Sophie up with an arm between her legs and slams her to the mat. Again, Sophie rises, this time slowly, this time wobbly. Again, she turns to stop the Nubian Queen. Again, LaKeisha is more than ready, reaching an arm out and finding a chokehold around Sophie's swan-like neck. LaKeisha struggles to get the big girl up and off the mat, but manages to do it, then spins and chokeslams Sophie ferociously atop her sister, both sisters now relegated to bedmates, Sophie napping in an arch over her spreadeagled sister.

LaKeisha falls to her backside in exhaustion, but also to review a bigger and better statement than she could've ever dreamed. Again, the wildly tolling bell is interrupted with a chattering from the audience, though not everyone in the audience seemed to know the newcomer to the party. But as LaKeisha pulls herself up with the help of the ropes, she recognizes the woman, or thinks she does. Maybe, she was tired enough to be hallucinating. No. It WAS her.

She moves toward Belle Butler, but seeing a fire in the old bird's eyes and sensing her tank at empty, she backs away, hands raised.

"Take'em, old woman," LaKeisha says between deep breaths. "I'm done with 'em. But do me a solid and tell your daughter, she's gettin' the same in Cancun."

Her cocked fist opening, Belle moves to the Mitchell sisters, removing the draped Sophie from Cynthia's chest. She taps the brunette on the cheek.

"Are you OK, child?"

It's the only question she is allowed, as an exiting LaKeisha stops at the ropes, shakes her head, and rushes back, driving a double axehandle blow between the stooping Belle's shoulders. The fortyish blonde legend stumbles over the sisters Mitchell and lands face-first on the mat. LaKeisha kicks the steel chair out from under Cynthia as she approaches.

Scooping Belle off the mat, she flings Ivy's mother to the ropes and captures her in a front bearhug upon her stumbling return. Bates plans to squeeze Belle lifeless, but an effective earringer delivered by the old pro changes her plans. A wobbling LK is able to keep her feet, barely. She races to the nearest corner with Belle still in her arms and splashes the vet into the corner with devastating force. Seamlessly, she tosses Belle to the mat with a belly-to-belly suplex, climbs the buckles, and plants a butt drop into Butler's sternum that seems to take the remaining starch from Ivy's mother.

Waving her arm in the air, she motions for yet another finale, LaKeisha herself amazed at her own performance, the crowd increasingly in agreement, realizing they're seeing something special, though many of those she'd won over turn back when LK strips Belle of her top, Butler's bosom in miraculous shape for her age.

Lifting Belle to stooped feet, she pulls the blonde's head between her thighs and hauls her up into piledriver position over the steel chair. It is now left to the crowd to plead the case, but Judge Bates will hear none of it, planting the retired star into the metal, and into dreamland, a skull-sized dent in the chair obvious when LaKeisha lets Belle melt to her side, unconscious. She pushes the body atop both Cynthia and Sophie increasing her pile of victims.

Exhausted, LaKeisha celebrates on her knees this time and scoots out of the ring before another interruption can come. She'd come to New Mexico to make a statement and she'd ended the night with a paragraph in ALL CAPS. She was the biggest, baddest, bootiest threat in all of FAWN. After today, Ivy and Chrissy both knew that, but soon they would be reminded in person.

WINNER: LaKeisha Bates