Shannen looks across the dressing room at her sister, as she slowly and methodically squeezes the small grip strengthener, deliberate in compressing the handheld stress reliever, and equally deliberate in releasing the spring. Dirty Cathy Dennehy switches hands and slowly begins compressing the spring, her mind a thousand miles away as she prepares herself mentally for what promises to be one of the most callous and brutal matches she would ever fight.

"So which one first, the boobs or the crotch?" Shannen asks, breaking the stillness.

"Huh?" Cathy asks, her mind settling back into the low-lit dressing room.

"Which one first? You gonna slap that claw on her boobs or her crotch first?" Shannen asks again, pointing at Cathy's squuuuuuueeeeeezzzing hand, and slow release.

"Ohhhh. That."

Cathy quickly drops the spring-powered grip back into her bag.

"Ohhhh. I think that little pixie gymnast's little tight love box needs a little adjustment."

"I think I am beginning to hate the wait almost as much as you Cath," Shannen mutters, listening to the raucous crowd cheering and booing the match going on outside. "We're the big show tonight, title-shot match and all," Shannen adds for no one in particular. The Dirty Dennehy sisters fall silent again, calm and collected.

Rubbing in a little baby oil, onto her calves, Shannen adds, "Come on Sis. Chief Bloodynose and the Olympic Gold Medalist in being beaten are going to be crying when the nights over."

Rubbing a little oil higher on her inner thigh, Shannen adds in a breathy, sexy, tone, "I can already feel Juliet's little weasel face nuzzled in between my long thighs, just like Kylie, and her nose up against my."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just hate waiting," Cathy interrupts, also pleasantly visualizing Daly's face as it disappears between her own legs in a match-ending face sit. Cracking a rare prematch smile, she adds. "Just like old times, you and me beating some rookie ass."

Standing, Cathy walks to the mirror, lifts her scuffed white boots to the wooden bench, and bends at the waist to retie them. Satisfied, she runs her hand up her smooth, creamy white thigh to firm butt cheek. A baby blue thong barely covers the subject in front and does nothing to conceal her backside. Straightening up, she again faces the mirror, adjusting her single ponytail, tightening it a little, and brushing back a few stands of jet black hair. Her baby blue sports bra barely covers her medium-sized breasts, but the peaks of her small nipples, pressing against the semi-see-through material, are clearly visible.

She looks back over her shoulder, at Shannen standing behind her, tanned, a full head taller and 20 pound heavier. Her sister's golden brown and blonde hair is tied back in an identical pony tail, and she wears a nearly identical outfit, except in black. Looking up and down her own frame, Shannen is pleased with her dirty blonde hair and wide appealing face, her full bosom, again barely constrained, despite Janzen SportsBra's best efforts. As her eyes trail down her tanned body, she hesitates at the tiny patch of cloth covering her womanhood. Growing more and more used to the "less is more" mantra throughout FAWN, she snaps her waistband, and gives herself a twirl in front of the mirror.

The knock comes to the door. "ONE MINUTE LADIES!"

Shannen turns and heads for the door, her butterflies forgotten. Cathy turns for the door too, heading out to the ring behind her suddenly brazen sister. Seeing her sister's now confident stride, Cathy adds quietly, "Remember last time. Remember how much you hated them. Remember how much you wanted to hurt them, and let it all out tonight."

Shannen turns, holding up her fist, for a little knuckle knock.

"No Prisoners."

The Dennehys emerge through the curtain to no pyrotechnic fanfare or music, but the crowd salutes the former tag champions loudly and aggressively, with a mixture of jeers and cheers. The troublesome Texans stride to the ring without a glance or seemingly a thought regarding the crowd.

Finally, as they reach the ring, a sign catches Shannen's eye, 'Dirty Dennehy Sisters. Ride Cowgirl, RIDE!' She salutes the owner with a pumped fist, then joins her sister, who had already climbed into the squared circle.

Though a Fatal Four-Way and NOT a tag match, there is no reason to pretend the diabolical Dennehys would be anything but teammates in eliminating their competition. With both covering each other's backs, they are the prohibitive favorites to dispense with a diminutive diva in a slump and the rising star who put her there. And while the Dennehys are accustomed to headline matches, it is still a rarity for Juliet Bloodwind and completely unknown to Domi Daly.

Shannen and Cathy's presence commands the ring. After the dismissal of the first two competitors, it was probable they would be there to do so again. What happened at that point was anyone's guess, Shannen versus Cathy, the crowd, no doubt, drooling over the possibility.

Red, white, and blue spotlights swirl through the audience as the Olympic 'Fanfare for the Common Man' erupts from the sound system. When a glaring white beam backlights a tight, but tiny figure at the top stage, the music quickly fades, blue and white light ceding to the growing red filling the ramp and ring, quickly joined by red pyro in a line in front of the figure.

The techno-pop beat of Vitamin C's 'The Itch' pumps through the audience and a spotlight falls upon an exotic little brunette with smoky gray-green eyes and ethnic hints from all over the Pacific Rim. Dominique Daly is clad in a red cami leotard, her tawny arms, legs, and feet bare, as well as large swaths of her midriff from several rips and tears in the skin-tight spandex. Her long, dark locks are pulled back into a soft ponytail that bobs as she pumps her right arm to the beat. Domi sways to the music; her taut, little backside swiveling deliciously as she rotates in a circle then moves forward, arms raised high despite the mix of cheers and boos, negative and positive in close tandem.

Trying to win her hometown crowd over, she enters into a tumbling run down the ramp with back handsprings ending with a back tuck flourish and a bright smile. The effort meets more success than usual, but it's hardly more than a 50-50 affair. Despite the show and the 'hometown girl makes good' angle, much of the crowd is unforgiving towards Domi's unsavory past and less than legitimate tactics. It had not only put Dominique in a poor light but the Rose City, as well. Unhappy with the middling response, Daly lets the crowd know she thinks they're #1, with dual middle fingers. The sign language does little to win hearts and minds.

Dominique does spot a member of Domi-Nation along the aisle, the man holding a sign "Domi loves playing with cowgirls and Indians... and beating them". The tiny brunette leans over the barrier and gives the fan a smooch that has the man gasping for air when Daly finally releases.

The ex-gymnast growls at the next placard shoved in her face. "Cheaters never prosper. If the Dennehys don't ride ya, Juliet will deny ya... for the third time!" The next poster features a full color spread of Juliet Bloodwind claiming her prize of Dominique's ponytail as part of her first victory. Not surprisingly, it does nothing to calm the rage in her eyes. Nor do the chants of "0 fer two. 0 fer two".

Still, Bloodwind is the least of her worries. At least, she would play by the book. The two women in the ring would do anything and everything to claim a title shot. Anything to Juliet. Everything to HER. It is a situation she is unaccustomed to and, when she hops up to the apron and vaults over the ropes, her body moving as if on hydraulic springs, she spins to face Shannen and Cathy, her heart beating like a rabbit's.

Where the hell is Juliet, Domi thinks. Get her out here.

She's a rival, and a hated one, but she could relieve her of the focused stares and confident smiles of the sinister sisters.

To the accompanying sonic assault of Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name of", Tempe's Native American temptress, Juliet Bloodwind, emerges atop the ramp, strutting down the steel toward the ring. The pigtailed Juliet slaps hands with the fans sitting along the ramp, her imitation deerskin string bikini and matching knee high boots leaving very little to the public's imagination, and receiving a rousing vocal endorsement. She gives a thumbs up to a group of fans holding aloft a sign, side-by-side pictures of Dominique and Juliet, a red "X" drawn through the image of Daly. Below read the following message: "JULIET BLOODWIND: PORTLAND'S ADOPTED DAUGHTER FOR ONE NIGHT"

At ringside, Bloodwind makes a complete circuit around the ring, continuing to press the flesh with the assembled fans. Her lap completed, Juliet moves quickly toward the ring, gracefully hopping onto the apron. With her back to the ropes, arms draped over the top rope, the nubile Native American gives a suggestive wiggle of her hips before leaning backward, flipping herself over the top rope and landing on her feet inside the ring. She quickly spins, making eye contact with her opponents.

This is going to be one wild, wild night, she thinks, watching as Shannen and Cathy break apart and take the corners to her left, fore and aft. Daly recedes to the corner directly in front of her and Juliet leans into hers, the PA booming to life as the women bounce on the balls of their feet.

"Tonight's Fatal FourWay match will continue until three competitors have been eliminated via pin, knockout, or submission. We will begin with two ladies in the ring and each will have to tag out, so there will be ONLY TWO ladies in the ring at one time."

The Dennehys don't try to hide their feeling that this announcement is comedic in nature and the laughs are not lost on Juliet or Dominique.

"Tonight's match, as determined by FAWN Chief Operating Officer Bethany Christian, will start with SHANNEN DENNEHY in the ring with... "

A moment of silence courses through the arena for dramatic effect, Shannen waiting for a moment to celebrate her selection knowing the provocative nature of her boss could put her in the ring with her sister.

"DOMINIQUE DALY"

Shannen and Cathy run to each other and high-five, the Dirty One sliding out of the ring after their celebration. An apprehensive Domi glances at Juliet, who, with a grin, motions the former gymnast to have at it. The Tempe Temptress takes her place outside and the bell brings this one to order.

Domi skips away from a Shannen charge and begins circling, her chocolate ponytail barely escaping the grasp of Shannen's sister from the outside.

"Come on, Munchkin," Shannen goads. "Let's get you over with and move on to the main course of red meat."

Dennehy rushes the little devil and Dominique uses Shannen's momentum against her, whipping her to the mat with an armdrag takedown. Shannen rolls to her feet, her face twisted in anger. She speeds back in the opposite direction, but gets more of the same, Domi looking quite pleased with herself as Shannen pushes to her feet a little more slowly this time. The former tag champ steadies herself on one knee to gather her bearings. Daly uses the opportunity, stepping up on Shannen's extended knee and clocking her on the back of the head with a Shining Wizard.

Shannen flops face-first to the mat, holding the back of her head, cursing. Meanwhile, Dominique puts her tight, little body into overdrive, racing to the nearest corner and up she goes. Juliet leans back, yielding her buckles to the girl who had unwillingly pushed her to FAWN stardom.

As the younger Dennehy rises, Domi steadies and leaps into the air of the Rose Garden, Daly catching her target across the chest with a flying crossbody, but after staggering a couple steps, the dirty blonde keeps her feet. The diminutive, spandex-clad brunette is held aloft in Shannen's cradled arms, perpendicular to Dennehy's body. She squirms in the Shady One's grasp, trying to find some way to regain momentum, or at least break free, but it's not happening and Shannen turns with Domi in her arms and trudges back toward Catrhy's corner, Domi becoming panicky in her struggling.

"You're in the bigtime, little punk. Not a good place for you to be. Cause, to be honest, all three of us can own you any time we want."

As if to emphasize the point, Shannen drops to one knee, sending Daly's spine crashing over her upper leg, Daly yipping in pain, her exotic features distorting as Shannen pushes down on either side. Domi's body could bend in a lot of ways that a normal fighter's couldn't, but the veteran knows there's only so far vertebrae could be pushed before the pain pushed back. She curls the little brunette around her joint to ghastly proportions and Daly begins to sing.

Having reached her goal, Shannen pushes the limber minx off her knee and stands. She yanks Daly to her feet with a tug of her ponytail and, collecting Domi with a hand in each armpit, she tosses the brunette through the air like a well-shaped medicine ball, one that slams into the buckles with a girlish squeak.

"How do you like my little dolly?" Shannen asks her sister.

"She is a cute one," Cathy notes, grinning evilly. "Let's see what we can do about that."

Cathy reaches from behind and rakes Domi's eyes, eliciting a loud cry from the ex-gymnast. Her hands then quickly shift to Domi's arms, trapping them behind, as Shannen closes in. Perhaps luckily for Daly, all she can see through watering eyes is a big, beige blur, then darkness and a feeling of cool softness that soothes her burning eyes, but when the 'cool softness' begins to cover her breathing passages, Domi is unnerved. She tries to flail free of Cathy's grip, but cannot and the scariest weapons in the game are already sapping her, Shannen giving her a taste of dairy to come. Thankfully for Daly, the four-count comes and she is freed from both bondage and asphyxiation.

The younger Dennehy backpedals to the far corner, flashing her perfect pearlies as she puts her powerhouse frame in reverse, Dominique still slumping breathlessly against the buckles. Shannen turns to Juliet as she reaches her corner.

"We're going to get rid of your little friend. But don't think we won't have something special cooked up for you, Bloodynose."

"She's not my friend," Juliet protests, "do what you want."

Shannen scoffs at the bravado. She knows AND knows Bloodwind knows that Daly's chances are inextricably linked with hers. So they weren't friends. Juliet did NOT want to be alone and that's exactly what she was going to be.

Howling a rebel/cowgirl yell of sorts, Shannen puts her body into gear. Domi, having regained her wits, tries to push out, but Cath has captured her from behind once more. She thrashes in the dual armlocks, her eyes growing wide in terror as the steaming locomotive barrels toward her. There is no escape. Shannen leaps into the corner splash, her body at once enveloping and crushing the mighty mite. As Dennehy peels off, a drooping, shellshocked Domi is kept upright only at Cathy's leisure. When the count hits four, she is released. Domi slides to the floor, her tight little backside meeting canvas, her body, usually so full of kinetic energy, already a wet noodle.

With the nonchalance of someone in complete control, Shannen tags in her sister. But as Cathy enters, Shannen is slow to leave, very slow. In fact, the Texas twosome each grab a limp arm and pull Domi to her bare tootsies. They lift her overhead, as though she were a feather, stalling out with Domi's feet at 12 o'clock, the near-Olympian's blood rushing to her head. The duo parade in a circle with Daly so extended, then, after five seconds, they drop her chest-first in an inverted suplex, Domi's body literally bouncing a few inches off the mat. Having noticed the ref is simply scolding them and has not started the count, the siblings pull a writhing Dominique off the mat and send her to the ropes. She rockets back to them, out of control, and more than available for a double back bodydrop that nearly puts Daly in the rafters before gravity takes over and slams her to a ring-rattling 'THWAP'. The diminutive brunette's body arches in agony, her hand reaching for her back, face twisted as she sobs.

"Guess you can take it from here," Shannen jokes, slapping Cathy on her backside.

As the Shady One exits, Cathy pounces on her victim, pulling Domi to her feet by the all-too-accessible ponytail. She hair-mares the tight, little package one, two, three times, Daly going from screaming at the ref about her hair to looking very bewildered. After the third flip, Cathy peels Domi off the mat and escorts her to the ropes where she leans Daly over the top and starts choking away the life that remained. Domi's body spasms as she gags and gurgles, the old pro applying the choke for four seconds then breaking, only to pick it up once more. Satisfied when Domi is a gasping heap, Cathy relents, but only from that particular form of abuse. Instead, she grabs Domi by the wrist and whips her to the far ropes, The Dirty One following behind to the middle of the ring. Cathy ducks as Domi approaches, setting up for a back body drop of the single variety, but the ex-gymnast finds the energy to spin over the doubled Cathy in a sunset flip. But Daly's size and, even more, her weakened state, leave Cathy tottering above her, instead of pulled down for a pinning combination. Recapturing her balance, Dennehy drops to a schoolgirl press and sinks dual breast claws into Domi's modest but succulent flesh. The brunette wails uncontrollably as Cathy does her worst, her unrivalled talons clutching the tender tissue, a couple fingers punching holes in the worn spandex.

Unsure as to whether to count or ask for a submission, the ref falls to Domi's side and slaps the mat... once... twice... Domi kicks out of the pin, but not out of the claws.

"PLEEEASE GAWWWWD," she cries.

Cathy, her teeth gritting and grinning at once, bares down for a moment longer, finally giving a final anguish-inducing twist before she releases, Domi sobbing and sighing as she cups her ravaged tits. If this was the bigtime, Domi didn't know how much she could stand.

But Cathy is driven to make her stand some more. She pulls Domi to her feet with a tug of her wrist and buggywhips her to Shannen's corner, the bigger, beefier Dennehy adding a kick to the kidney to the blistering impact of the buckles against her spine. Domi's lips open in a wide 'O' as she reaches for her back, but a chop to her chest from the newly arrived Cathy shuts her mouth, a spit missile sent flying over Cathy to the middle of the ring.

"Knocked the spit out of her Shan," Cathy says with a grin as she rears back and lands another nasty, reverberating chop to Domi's chest.

"I saw. Now, let's see if we can knock the shit out of her and get this down to three."

Shannen pulls Domi's head back by the ponytail while Cathy places her hands over either hip and lifts Daly to a seated position on the top buckle. Cathy tags Shannen and the Shady One climbs the buckles from the outside, her boots finding footholds on the middle ropes on either side of the corner. She gathers up Domi, again cradling the brunette in her extended arms as she had earlier in the match, but this time, instead of dropping her across her bended knee, she waits for Cath to roll on to her back, both knees pushed skyward and tosses the wriggling flyweight deadweight from the precipice. A frequent flier, often described as a bird, Domi never looked so much like a sack of cement and when her back comes down across Cathy's knees, a brutal backbreaking impact is the only sum of the equation. The crowd 'OOOHS' as Domi flops away, wailing in anguish, her body wrenched out of alignment, the once sleek frame maimed as only two Dennehys on a mission could do. But Shannen, still up in the ropes, feels no compunction regarding overkill. She vaults off the middle buckle and squashes the midriff and chest of a mewling Domi, a great gust of breath escaping as she falls lifeless.

As Cathy slides out of the ring, immensely pleased, Shannen sprawls across the wreckage. Plan A executed and with it Dominique Daly. The dairy pusher hooks a leg.

ONE

TWO

Suddenly, Shannen's body pitches away from Domi, the result of a kick to the back of her head from a saving Juliet Bloodwind. In no way was she going to sit idly by and see this match degenerate to two-on-one, well, against HER anyway.

As the ref escorts Juliet back to her corner, Shannen shakes some cobwebs. Instinctively, she reaches to Cathy and tags her sister in, the vicious veteran glaring down at Daly as she enters.

The bitch has no quit, Cathy thinks, Daly already up to all fours. But a punt to the gut ends that excursion, Dominique sent tumbling to the canvas hugging her taut tummy. Dennehy stalks the pile of crimson and cream, Domi rolling to her back, eyelids clinching, lips pursed.

Cathy reaches for a handhold, but as she does, Domi upsets the apple cart with a drop toehold that trips the Dirty One to the canvas. Domi scrambles on top of her back and applies a choke of her own that quickly has Cathy's face a deepening rosy hue. Daly makes her way to her feet, bringing Cathy with her, the choke still in place, the ref apparently giving her some leeway after all she'd been through. But the resourceful Cathy breaks it for herself, sending an elbow back, the joint crashing into Domi's cheek. One loosens. The second one sends Dominique stumbling away. Perhaps confused, she turns and reaches for a tag, but an astonished Shannen avoids Daly's swipe.

"Nice idea, pipsqueak. It ain't happening until you're LONG gone."

Thwarted, Domi turns back to the ring just in time to see a charging Cathy dip her shoulder. Domi leaps over the spear and Cathy hits nothing but a whole lot of steel ringpost, Shannen and the crowd having distinctly different reactions to the turn of events. As Cathy half-curses, half-whimpers, favoring her right shoulder, Domi tumbles to Juliet's corner and tags her in, Bloodwind accepting Domi's desperate push of the 'Eject' button gracefully.

An injured Cathy doesn't accept Shannen's offer of a tag and turns to wreak vengeance, but instead finds a springtime fresh Juliet Bloodwind who grabs a hold and monkeyflips her to the mat. Cathy skids to an ignominious stop, her butt cheeks reddening from their braking. She is up quickly, growling, ready. Or not. She turns into a picture-perfect dropkick to the chin that puts her stumbling in reverse. Cathy crashes into the buckles. Through the sting in her back and backside, she stares out at a fired-up Bloodwind, begging her to come out and play.

Instead, cleverly, she turns to the other occupant of the corner, a bruised and battered Domi Daly, still leaning against the post, head bowed, in full recovery mode. Cathy slaps her hand and the smack wakes Dominique out of her stupor.

"NO... NO... NO," she cries, first looking at Cheshire Cathy, then at the ref.

The zebra slaps one of his hands against the other and nods his head, bidding Domi entry, but she continues to beg off, shaking her head wearily and pressing her hands together in prayer. It goes unanswered, the ref beginning his count. Domi gingerly slips through the ropes at four as Cathy makes her exit on the other side of the corner.

She hadn't been able to handle this girl on an even footing, Domi thinks. Now this?

Daly forces a dropkick out of her aching body, but Juliet brushes it aside. She pulls Dominique to her feet and up into a front bearhug. The ex-gymnast squirms and gasps in Juliet's control, her head falling back, legs grapevining around Bloodwind's, so as to reliev a little of the pressure.

"Uhhh... nuhhh," Domi mewls, her already-battered back and belly being turned to jelly by Juliet's strengthening embrace. The piteous moans are only multiplied several decibels when Juliet spins bearhug into over-the-knee stomachbreaker, Domi gutted by the Native American beauty. She pushes the gurgling beauty to the mat where she curls in a fetal ball.

"Maybe now you'll get it through that thick skull, you can't beat me."

Domi only groans in response, negative or affirmative, it was impossible to tell.

Bloodwind pulls Domi out of her shell and to her feet. She slaps on a side headlock that Daly weakly pushes against, not close to escape. Juliet races forward with Domi in tow and hops up into the ropes. She springs back toward the center, twisting Domi with her, and plants Daly's head into the canvas with a springboard bulldog. As Juliet sits next to a twitching Dominique, she can't help but feel how great it is to completely dominate the person who was supposed to be her rival. She pushes Domi to her back, not bothering to hook the leg. There was no need.

ONE

TWO

Juliet pulls Domi's shoulders off the mat to the disgust of both Dennehys. She turns to Shannen.

"I don't take charity. If you want to eliminate this, you'll have to do it yourself. But first, why don't you give me a try?"

The Arizonan pulls her pathetic sagging ragdoll to its feet and tosses it to Shannen's corner, where a scowling Dennehy tags the wilting hand of the leftovers and slides in.

Feeling full of herself, Juliet eschews hit-and-run and ties up in a collar-and-elbow hook-up, which is quickly proven to be a mistake. Going from Domi to Shannen was like going from Hyundai to Hummer and Dennehy quickly bodies Juliet into reverse. Gaining the upperhand, Shannen sends a kneelift deep into the pit of Juliet's belly, doubling her up with a telling grunt, but it is only the first. Shannen follows with another and another. She encircles the waist of the folded Juliet and heaves her up for a powerbomb, but as Juliet ascends, she breaks the grasp and soars into a tilt-a-whirl tornado DDT, planting Shannen's head to the canvas with such extreme violence that an 'OOOOH' moment is created, the crowd reacting as one. The 'OOOH' moments being, as a rule, out of the ordinary, Juliet feels a chill down her spine, especially when she feels a tremor travel through Shannen's body. She rolls Dennehy to her back and climbs aboard in a full body press.

ONE

TWO

Cathy, in the nick of time, scrapes Bloodwind off her sister and keeps her in the match. It's a sizable accomplishment, but not one that doesn't have a price. For as Cathy rises to put boot leather to Juliet, the elder Dennehy leaning against the ropes for support, Dominique reenters the fray in what was, before this match, her typical high-flying manner. Connecting with a precise missile dropkick, Daly sends Cathy flying out over the top rope, the Dirty One pinwheeling over the cables, bouncing off the apron and landing hard on her right temple and bad shoulder, the light padding over the cement floor offering next to no protection from the impressive tumble.

Instead of following Cathy out, Domi watches with interest as a punchdrunk Shannen reaches for a rising Juliet, hoping to snare her in a bearhug, but Juliet slips out of the embrace, plants her left foot and spins into a wheel kick with her right that catches Shannen flush on the chin. The powerhouse staggers, her arms swinging in wide circles to keep her feet. She manages to stay upright, but her body is arched back when she does so, providing an ideal opportunity for Juliet to ensnare the front of Shannen's neck in the pit of her arm, Juliet pulling her back further still to make sure she stays off balance. She glances down at the wide brown pools of Shannen.

"Who's in over their head?"

Not waiting for an answer, she hits a Scorpion Death Drop, again driving Shannen's skull into the lightly-covered plywood, this time the aft region of her brainbox impacting with a heavy 'THUMP'.

"HEY."

Juliet hears a scream from somewhere. Above? She searches the corners and, in the nearest, is Domi, balancing easily on the top buckle, her back to the ring. Their eyes meet for a moment and Juliet nods. It is all the approval the slick little brunette needs and she launches from her perch in a long, looping moonsault, the grace and precision of the flight finally showing why Daly was in the ring with the three other warriors. With fatal accuracy, Domi 'Sticks her Dismount' directly into the open midsection of the spreadeagled Shannen. The luscious body of the larger Dennehy jackknifes around Domi's vindictive and violent two-point landing then settles back to earth.

Before Domi can move to her handstand and the coupe de grace of the splits, she hears a shout of her own.

"Look out Daly, My turn."

Already bouncing into the middle rope, Juliet hops to the top turnbuckle before propelling herself backward, delivering a moonsault across the midsection of her foe, an equally devastating variety, her body crushing Shannen's tummy on a horizontal plane. Dennehy's body barely jerks from this second, overwhelming finisher, the Bloodhawk Drive removing the rest of Shannen's wind and will from her concussed body.

Nearby, Domi watches Cathy struggle to her feet, grasping at the apron in panic at the sight. The ex-gymnast turns to enjoy the results of a Bloodhawk Drive thankfully where she is not on the receiving end.

Juliet hooks both legs to be safe and hopes for the best.

ONE

TWO

The back-to-back finishers are all too much for Shannen, who accepts her dismissal with not so much as a twitch.

THREE

Juliet rises from her pin with a pumped fist for the crowd. No more Dennehys, plural. Only one remained. And...

"UHHHHH... NNNGGH"

As Juliet had turned to find her next victim, Domi wraps her up in a loose bearhug, lifts her a few inches off the mat, and deposits her harshly atop bended knee with an inverted Atomic Drop. A knock-kneed Juliet gazes into the suddenly luminescent Domi, her mouth forming a silent 'O' that Domi matches out of spite.

"I know you forgot me, bitch, but I sure didn't forget you," Domi hisses. "Guess I haven't had it knocked into my noggin that I can't beat you."

Suddenly, Domi's head is pulled back, her chin jutting forward.

"Let's see what we can't do to knock something in there," Cathy screams.

Collecting Juliet's head in a similar manner, Cathy smashes Domi's forehead into Juliet's and vice-versa. They snap back violently. The faces of both women show numbing pain, but a lingering awareness, so Dennehy forgoes the rinsing and simply repeats.

'WHAM'

After this forced headbutt, both Jules and Domi seems barely conscious, Cathy having trouble keeping them upright.

"One more for Shannen's sake," Cathy roars, anger mounting as she sees attendants pull her sister's lifeless body under the bottom rope and begin to usher her backstage.

Pulling both heads back even further this time, Cathy throws them forward. The skulls collide ferociously, heads whiplashing after impact, dark pigtails and ponytail whipping in one direction then the opposite. Releasing both from her grip, Juliet seems to melt to the canvas while Domi sways like a sapling tree before timbering spectacularly to the forest floor.

Both women lay spreadeagled at Cathy's feet, perhaps in pinnable condition, but all Cathy can feel is the rage from her sister being eliminated. A 1-2-3 would not be sufficient. The raven haired-beauty scours open a space between them just below the hip of each. Dramatically, she raises BOTH hands, forming the digits into claws. The crowd roars in anticipation, if not outright approval. A split-second later, one hand slips beneath the crotch of Domi's red spandex leotard, the other beneath Juliet's faux buckskin bikini bottoms and, in an even shorter split, Dominique and Juliet reappear into consciousness, both hysterical, shrieking and squealing as Cathy delves deep into the tender tissue of each pussy, the Cat's Claws working their sadistic magic. As both writhe under the twin torture of Cathy's attention, it becomes clear that controlling both with one hand apiece will be near impossible, at least in this configuration. Cathy would have to choose and there really was no choice. She had to get rid of Juliet. She was the immediate danger. She was bigtime. She was...damn... inches from the ropes. Her claw into Juliet's sweetmeat intensifies, Dennehy trying to persuade Bloodwind the safety of the strands weren't such a good idea, but fate had put her close and with one final screaming grasp, she had taken advantage. Cathy gives one final ripping twist before four and releases. Juliet pushes herself under the ropes completely, nearly off the apron altogether to make sure she's out of the terrifying reach.

Meanwhile, within, poor little Domi is now the focus of Cathy's work. Her eyes already red from tears, Daly pulls at her ponytail in agony, opening her long chocolate tresses, the strands spreading wide as she tries to spread the pain shooting through each nerve of her body. Cathy, having kept Domi frozen with a controlling grasp on her sex while trying to keep Juliet in check, now leans into Domi's body and her stock and trade, digging her digits into the ripe womanhood, poking a middle finger into her canal and fastening a curled fishhook inside.

"This is where I really make you scream," Cathy says, the former gymnast responding on cue, despite her wishes to deny Dennehy.

Cathy adds a vicious claw to Domi's tight tummy for good measure, but it is the cruel tearing at her inner sanctum that is driving the brunette over the edge. She reaches for the ropes, but they are a good 24 inches from her outstretched fingers, the two feet that Bloodwind had somehow found. Again, in a very real way, Juliet had beaten her once more, leaving her to certain...

"AHHHHHH. I QUIT. I QUUUIIIIT," Domi weeps. "PLEEEASE MAKE HERRRR STAHHHP."

Cathy gives one final scraping search of Daly's sugar walls and lets the pathetic wannabe wrestler curl into a sobbing ball, Dominique's hands immediately fly to her throbbing cunt, barely able to touch the enflamed region without causing herself more intense pain. Everything people had said about the Cat's Claw was true AND MORE. She'd failed again, but those thoughts would haunt her later. Now, she just wanted out of the vicinity, in case the bitch changed her mind and wanted back into her box. Domi tries to close her thighs together but the pain is immense and they remain open wide as she is pulled to safety by ring attendants.

Cathy watches with satisfaction on hands and knees, as her victim is dragged from her ring. Now, the second verse would be the same as the first.

"UGGGHH"

Or not.

Juliet, forcing her way through the scalding fire between her legs, had pushed her way back in the ring and leapt atop Cathy's back, crudely trying to fashion a Camel Clutch of sorts. While moving from a lying position atop Cathy to a seated stop, where she could garner some leverage, Dennehy is able to flip her off. She stares down at the grimacing Juliet, eye to eye.

"Now, it's just us, injun."

Cathy scrambles to her feet, making sure the point of her knee finds Juliet's temple as she does. Grasping Juliet by the ankles, she pulls Bloodwind to the nearest corner. Spreading Juliet's legs wide, she sends a stomp into her crotch, the already-ravaged sex blazing anew. Reaching her destination, Cathy pulls Juliet's legs skyward and pins her ankles between the middle and top ropes, the tips of her boots locking her into the Tree of Woe.

"I could just stomp your head until you didn't know your name," Cathy says, "but this way's so much better, just ask the little gnat."

With that, Cathy sinks her Cat's Claw in once more, the Tree of Woe providing her with unlimited access, Dennehy scratching and clawing, pinching and probing, at her leisure. Only that bothersome...

'RIP'

The faux deerskin bikini bottoms fly off with the greatest of ease, Cathy discarding the already moist garment to the middle of the ring. Now, she really tucks in, sending the most feared fingers to work. Dirty Cathy plays Juliet like a Stradivarius, the ref so captivated by her mastery, he forgets his duties and becomes one of the thousands of spectators. In less than a minute's time, Juliet's screams change in pitch and volume as her last defenses fail her. Cathy was the Queen of the Claw, of the Range, of the Southwest, of whatever Juliet could give her. Let the Frenchwoman feels this, BUT NOT ME.

"I GIVE. I GIVE. GET HER OFF OF ME. GET HER OUT OF ME."

Juliet's surrender brings disappointment from the crowd, but Cathy shows no emotion. Though while the admission is pleasing to the ear, with Juliet in the ropes, it carries no significance as to winner and loser. That impetus is enough to pull her claw free and loose the Injun from the Tree, Juliet spilling to the mat ass over tea kettle.

Rising over her sobbing foe, Cathy revels in the Claw yet to come. She would get three submissions for the price of two and claim her title shot in the process.

But, as she's being escorted away, a limping, five-foot-nothing, 100-pound loser has other ideas. Reaching under the ropes, Domi pulls Cathy's feet out from under her and the startled raven-haired beauty suffers a chin-rattler. Breaking free of her escorts, Daly even gets one punch in, it's weak and half-cocked, but it finds some tender tissue in Cathy's undercarriage, and it provides a slight modicum of payback, Dennehy forced to tend to her own for long seconds of considerable pain.

Cathy claws at the mat, then the ropes, screaming at the officials to get Daly out of the area like they had so efficiently removed her sister. They do. Turning, she falls into Juliet's ready and open arms, the Native American/French beauty pivoting into a resounding spinebuster that takes the starch right out of the crafty vet.

Leaning into the ropes, Juliet gathers a little more recovery time and tracks down her bottoms, slipping her legs through and pulling them tight with a wince and a tippy-toe. Disregarding the damage between her legs, Juliet races past an exhausted, but ascending Cathy. She hops into the middle ropes and vaults back to the wobbling raven-haired beauty with a springboard clothesline that nearly removes Dennehy's head from her shoulders.

Juliet holds her hand high, circling it in the air like she's swinging a lasso. The crowd responds, not exactly sure what she's going to do, but hopeful they'd appreciate it. Bloodwind, sucking wind nearly as badly as the worn Cathy, stands side-to-side and slightly behind Dennehy, facing in the opposite direction. She reaches around the victim's torso with her right arm across the victim's chest, her right hand holding onto her left, which is behind Cathy's head. Locked in, Juliet falls backward, diving Cathy into the mat face-first, her first application of the Bloodhawk Slam depriving Cathy of what remained of her consciousness.

Peeling and turning the lifeless Cathy is a special thrill and it reflects quite clearly in Juliet's sparkling, dark pools. She lies across Cathy's chest, grapevining Dennehy's right arm with her legs, while holding her left down with both hands. Despite Cathy's sleepy appearance, it is not the time for taking chances.

The ref quickly slides in for what might be the last three seconds of a FAWN masterpiece, one that rising star Juliet Bloodwind could claim as her own.

ONE

TWO

THREE

At the third slap of the mat, Juliet sighs deeply, all tension leaving her body. She falls comatose atop the remaining Dennehy, smiles wide and turns to her back, lounging on Cathy. Realizing, she had not only survived, but had won AND pinned both Dennehys, she raises an arm in victory as the PA blares the news for all to hear.

"YOUR WINNER OF THE FATAL FOUR WAY AND CHALLENGER TO THE TELEVISION TITLE AT SPRING BREAK... JUUUU-LIET BLUUUUHHHD-WIND."

The Tempe Temptress rolls of Cathy and pushes to her feet, taking a victory lap, and enjoying a Portland Party with 16,000 of her closest friends. She tries to climb a set of buckles, but the burning from her crotch prevents it. Juliet turns with a look of mischief back to Cathy and strolls to her, offering the fans a wink and smile. Kneeling next to Cathy, she catches much of the audience by surprise when she slips a hand under Cathy's baby blue thong and clamps on a crotch claw of her own, driving her slender digits into Cathy's kitty with gusto, rousing the beaten Texan.

In moments, it is Cathy gritting her teeth and squealing under the intense searing throbs of each clench.

"Not bad for a beginner, hey Cath," Juliet chides.

Dennehy's only response is a throaty 'uhhhh'.

With Cathy's hand hovering over the canvas, a burst of noise emerges from the crowd, causing Juliet to rotate. Her eyes grow wide, an 'oh shit' escaping her lips. Giving up her claw, she scrambles to the opposite side of the ring from where Shannen and Natalie Dennehy enter and slides out. In a sprint, she makes it to the ramp from whence the other Dennehys had just come, Shannen and Natalie tending to sister and cousin. Both women point at Juliet as she recedes, but the Native American/French beauty can only grin broadly. Against all odds, she had overcome three rivals who had personal grudges and professional goals, emerging victorious in a flagship FAWN match. Realizing how far she'd come, she begins to cry tears of joy as she waves to the roaring Portland crowd. So far, and yet Anciline was left to conquer. It would be the tallest task of all, but it would be done.

WINNER: Juliet Bloodwind