The 'girl anthem' 'Walk Away' by Kelly Clarkson starts to pulse through the arena and Kristy Sanders pushes through the curtains, waving her hands to the sellout crowd. She is immediately showered with a resounding ovation from the throng. With each appearance, Kristy gathers more momentum with the fans; her plucky attitude, high-flying maneuvers, and now, successful results regathering Kylie's Corps and then some. Her manager, the aforementioned Kylie, stands behind her in white wifebeater and denim, trying her best to stay out of Kristy's twirling white and pink spotlights. Clearly, the multitudes have taken to the 'Minnesota Nice' Prom Queen turned battling superstar and Kylie is part of the reason why. Kristy, dressed in a diminutive, cutoff, pink tank top leaving much of her tanned midriff bare and similarly-hued tights that travel down to mid-calf, an undersized black, belted, vinyl mini covering the top of the tights, gets a step or two down the ramp in her pink tennies before hopping excitedly, unable to contain herself. The blonde pumps her fist at the crowd and slaps hands on one side of the aisle before treating the opposite side. Kylie hangs well back, nodding and smiling at the fans, her hands outreached, palms up, as if she is presenting her cousin to the Mississippians.

Kristy turns to Ky and races back to her, the cousins exchanging high-fives before Ky directs her charge back toward the ring. Kylie raises an index finger, indicating her fellow blonde battler as being Number 1. The crowd doesn't disagree, as nearly all seem captivated by Kristy's perky demeanor, cute face, and smokin' bod.

Many supportive placards pop up in the audience, several in Kristy's adopted colors of pink and black, one, in the shape of a badge. 'Kristy will send Gata back over the border... believe it!". Another "We love Kristy, We love Ky, the Sanders will crush Gata in a wink of the cat's eye', brings a toothy grin. She's less enthusiastic for a punk in the first row who welcomes her to the ring area with a huge color photo of Gata, and below, in red, 'This CAT has an appetite for mousy little Country Mice. Ask your cuz.'

Ignoring him and the vocal minority who seem to feel Kylie and she are a syrupy duo who deserve to have their asses kicked, Kristy slides under the bottom rope and pops to her feet. She stretches and shadowboxes, traveling the ring with a wave and a smile. Kylie silently, unobtrusively, mans her position in Kristy's corner, keeping an eye peeled for any untoward goings-on.

Bouncing in her corner, Kristy reviews the game plan in her mind and catches an encouraging nod and the pump of a fist from Kylie. She would be carrying her and Kylie's flags tonight. La Gata Diabla's success against her cousin would only provide all the more fuel tonight and the tawny Latina was about to find out how much. Kristy glances at Kylie once more.

"One's not enough, Kristy," Kylie shouts. "We want to string wins. Think about what you want to do and execute. Use her emotions and your own."

Kristy turns back to the ring, her body tensing. Winning streaks didn't start at one. They started at two and tonight Gata Diabla would be numero dos.

With both Sanders in and around the ring, all that's left is for their opposition to make an appearance. Kristy and Kylie stand ready, left waiting as the cheers of their fans begin to fade...

And then the opening chords of Nickelback's "Animals" boom over the loudspeakers.

Soon after, to vociferous boos (and more than a few catcalls), La Gata Diabla comes forth onto the ramp. Her red satin panties conceal little, black leather chaps shielding her outer legs but revealing tempting glances of her inner thighs. Meanwhile, her matching satin push up bra works overtime to give her bosom that little extra "oomph!"

And even a few loyal members of the Kylie Corps respond approvingly.

She makes her way to the ring, making it a point to keep just out of the reach of the ringside throng--yet all the while stokes their fires with each sensuous stride. As much as they might think they like Kylie and Kristy, as much as they might try to convince themselves it was the good girl they wanted to emerge victorious, Gata knew better. It was her that they wanted... and they would long for her as badly as Gata wished them to.

As the referee goes over the final instructions, Kristy notices that Gata's eyes never leave her. The look is unmistakable: the feline was sizing Kristy up, as if she were some mouse in the corner. And in her eyes, Kristy could see that Gata viewed her as just as much of a threat as a cat would view that mouse. There was not the first trace of concern, caution, or even doubt in those impossibly blue eyes.

As far as Gata was concerned, it was clear she hadn't even contemplated the possibility she might lose tonight.

Disabusing her of that illusion would be sweet indeed, Kristy thought as the bell sounded.

Still, Kristy held back, in a heretofore unusual display of patience. Rather than rush in, the junior Sanders is content to feel out her rival, and see just how Gata might wish to proceed. But for her part, Gata is in no hurry, either. She saunters out of her corner, hips swaying in a gentle, almost hypnotic manner as she neared the center of the ring.

Stopping just in front of Kristy, Gata raises one arm overhead, wiggling her fingers with one cocked eyebrow, inviting her foe into a test of strength. Kristy hesitates, unsure of whether to trust the shorter blonde's invite. Keeping one eye on Gata, Sanders casts a sideways glance to her manager.

Kylie's nod is measured, and tells Kristy all she needs to know. Be vigilant. Accept at your own risk.

Tentatively, Kristy raises her corresponding arm, her fingers entwining with Gata's. The hellcat raises her other arm, and again, Kristy accepts, on guard for any shenanigans.

But there are none. Instead, Gata pours every ounce of power her diminutive frame possesses into the contest. And, to Kristy's slight surprise, she feels herself being overpowered, the luchadora's efforts causing her legs to strain. Sensing her adversary gaining an upper hand, Kristy throws herself into the contest full force. And soon, it is Gata who's straining, and whose legs are quivering...

... until one of her knees plows up into Kristy's open midsection.

"OOOOOOOOOPH!" Kristy gasps, her knees buckling from the (perhaps foolishly) unexpected blow. As she slumps, the blonde Mexican responds with another knee, this one connecting with the American's chin and snapping her head back. The taller blonde's body begins to follow her head, tumbling away from Gata, and the hellcat allows her to fall sag further away by releasing the gringa's left hand. Bringing both of hands to clasp Kristy's right, the luchadora pulls her rival's arm away from her falling body. Then, she swings one luscious gam over the captive appendage before dropping that leg across her upper arm.

Kristy groans as Gata's legdrop completes her collapse to the canvas and threatens to pop the blonde's shoulder out of socket. But Gata isn't finished. Stretching the limb away from the torso of the Golden Gopher, Gata propels herself up into a handstand, one hand balancing on Kristy's elbow, the other near her shoulder. Sanders offers a pleading shake of her head.

Gata responds with a shake of her own-specifically of her hips, even as she poised above Kristy's arm, prompting a chorus of whistles from the hellcat's fans, and a not imperceptible murmur of approval from a tiny, traitorous pocket of the Corps. And then she slams her knees down into Kristy's upper arms, causing Sanders to howl in anguish as Gata grinds the joints into Kristy's biceps.

Taking a handful of blonde locks, the luchadora hauls Kristy off the mat before sending her into the ropes. But instead of waiting for Sanders to come back to her, Gata takes off toward the perpendicular set of cables. The two combatants criss-cross the ring once, twice, thrice... building up momentum with each pass. On the fourth go, the hellcat springs her trap, dipping down to apply a drop toe hold that sends Kristy down throat first across the bottom rope.

"Guuuulck!" Kristy protests, her tongue popping out of her open mouth for just a moment as she struggles to regain her breath. It's a futile hope, however, as Gata proceeds to introduce Kristy's windpipe to one of the bottom rope's best friends: the middle rope. Draping one shapely leg across Kristy's shoulder blades, the Mexican bears down with all her weight, causing the gringa's feet to beat a furious, desperate cadence on the mat. Sanders flails her arms in front of her, perhaps beseeching her cousin directly below for assistance.

Kristy isn't the only one looking to Kylie.

"I thought YOU were a joke," Gata sneers down at the Iowa coed, her condescending smirk forcing Kylie to restrain the urge to slap it off the luchadora's face. "Little did I know you got ALL the little bit of wrestling talent your family possesses."

Kylie fumes up at Gata, but her retort is halted in her throat by the ref's shout of, "FOUR!" Obligingly, Diabla eases off her prey, raising her arms in a display of innocence that was completely incompatible with the expression on her face. Kristy drops from her knees to her backside with an almost audible 'plop', one hand reaching to massage her burning windpipe. But before she can recover, Gata is back on her. Dragging Kristy up out of her ball, Gata secures Kristy's noggin in a side headlock, and then hooks her foe's right leg with her free arm. In a blinding flash of motion, Gata snaps Kristy off the mat and over into a fisherman's suplex, the Mexican bridging for a pin.

ONE...

TWO...

Kickout.

Despite Kristy's escape, Gata is satisfied that her fire has been sufficiently doused. She takes her time in bending down to hoist Sanders up.

And Kristy draws a startled squeak from the hellcat, as she rolls Gata into a small package!

ONE...

TWO...

TH... kickout.

Sanders attempts to push herself up, but adrenaline can only accomplish so much, and Kristy is still winded from Gata's earlier assault. This allows Gata to reach her feet first, and a quick stomp to the gut adds to the Gopher's breathing troubles.

Dragging Sanders up by the hair, Gata pushes her back into the ropes for a brief moment, before sending her on a ride across the ring. As Kristy bounds off the ropes, Gata ducks down for a backdrop. Having partially disappeared between her cheeks, the luchadora's satin panties provide a sliver of red between her black chaps, a sight that is again greeted with approving shouts and whistles--too many approving ones for Kylie's liking.

Refreshingly, the cheers grow louder as Kristy leapfrogs her adversary, continuing her journey toward the ropes from whence she had came. It takes Gata a heartbeat to first raise up before she can turn around, and that tiny fraction of time gives Kristy all the opening she needs. Leaping onto the middle cable that had so effective cut off her oxygen a few short moments ago, that ropes now serves as the springboard for the gringa's rally, Kristy's crossbody taking Gata down to the mat. Bearing down on Gata's torso, Kristy reaches to hook a leg.

ONE...

TWO...

Kickout.

This time, Kristy does manage to scramble up first, and a stomp of her own-specifically to Gata's temple-keeps the luchadora from following her up. Kicking the Mexican blonde over onto her belly, Sanders goes about tying up Gata's legs, and then bridges back, cupping the hellcat's chin and completing the Muta Lock.

Gata shrieks as the torturous hold sends ripples of agony through her legs, neck and spine... and for the first time in the match, a trace of fear crosses her expressive eyes. Still, the official's request for a submission is greeted with a forceful shout of defiant Spanish.

"Joke, huh?" Kristy hisses, pulling back a little harder on the hellcat's chin. "If I'm such a joke, why don't I hear you laughing?" When Gata doesn't answer, Sanders gives another sharp tug on her rival's chin, prompting a choked hiss from the Mexican. "C'MON, BITCH!" Kristy snaps. "LAUGH NOW!"

Gata claws on the mat, clutching for the ropes, desperate for salvation.

"The only people who are going to be laughing tonight are Kylie and I," Kristy continues, "after we kick your skanky ass back south of the border."

With one more stretch, Gata manages to clutch the bottom rope. Stepping in, the ref calls for a break, Kristy managing to untangle herself from her adversary around three. Free of her torment, Gata starts to use the ropes to pull herself up.

But with a bonzai yell, Kristy Sanders charges toward her, delivering a dropkick that sends Gata through the ropes, crashing to the concrete floor below.

While the official keeps Kristy from following her foe out of the ring, Gata struggles to shake some of the cobwebs out of her head. Pushing herself up to her hands and knees, the Mexican suddenly finds in her line of vision a pair of shins. Casting her gaze upward, she notices Kylie Sanders in front of her, the ex-FAWN star's face sporting an infuriatingly pleased grin.

"Enjoying seeing your cousin do what you never could?" Gata taunts, lunging up and taking a swing at her opponent's manager.

Kylie saw it coming, however, and ducks under the blow's wild arc. Her battle instincts kicking in, Kylie wraps up Gata around the waist, and without a thought hoists the hellcat into the air, driving her head and shoulders into the floor with a German suplex!

Remaining seated on the cold concrete beside Gata's twitching form, Kylie's eyes are widened in surprise, even as she offers a joyous smile, the Corps rallying behind her handling of the Mexican blonde. Glancing over her shoulder into the ring, she sees the ref still talking with Kristy, apparently oblivious to what had just transpired outside the ring. For her part, she couldn't tell if Kristy had noticed the goings-on, either. But regardless, Kylie decided to take advantage. With a soft grunt, the Iowa coed scoops Gata up, and then shoves her under the bottom rope.

First noticing that Gata is back in the ring, and then noticing that she is not moving, Kristy bypasses the downed luchadora. Instead, she slips through the ropes, and makes her way up to the top turnbuckle. She then takes but a second to steady herself, before launching into a frogsplash that connects perfectly with Gata's belly, the blonde hellcat's body jackknifing around Kristy's before falling still. Quickly, Sanders hooks the right leg.

ONE...

TWO...

THRE... NO! Gata's left foot finds the bottom rope.

"Stupid... !" Kristy scolds herself, slapping the mat with both hands. Peeling Gata's slick, senseless form from the canvas, Kristy sends her into the ropes, taking her down on the rebound with a Lou Thesz press. Sanders remains mounted on Gata's abdomen, sending closed fist after closed fist to the Mexican's face.

Ending the barrage at four, Kristy bounds back to her feet, sprinting towards the ropes. Taking flight once again, the nimble blonde propels herself backward, connecting with a Lionsault. Again, Sanders hooks the leg.

ONE... TWO... THR... shoulder up!

"That's it, kitty," Kristy mutters, helping herself to a handful of Gata's golden mane. "I can take all night to declaw you, if that's what you want."

Sending the luchadora into the ropes, Sanders swings her arm toward the charging hellcat for a clothesline, but Gata manages to duck the incoming blow. More amazingly, however, Gata manages to stop on a dime behind Kristy. No doubt unaware of this, Kristy takes a little too long to turn around, and by the time she does, Gata is already reaching both hands for Kristy's head.

And before Kristy can even realize the tide has turned, Gata's X-Factor very nearly sweeps her consciousness out to sea.

With Kristy Sanders splayed face down between Gata's parted legs, the luchadora slowly licks her lips in anticipation. Pushing up to her feet, she then scoops her rival's barely resisting form into her arms, only to drive her back into the boards with a ring-shaking Juvi Driver. Reaching across Kristy's body, Gata grabs both of her ankles, folding her legs up into a matchbook pin.

ONE...

TWO...

THRE... SHOULDER UP!!!

The crowd roars in delight as Kristy displays the fighting spirit the elder Sanders had been known for, and Kylie, too, approvingly pounds the apron with both hands, trying to rally her cousin back into the fight. Almost immediately, the crowd picks up Kylie's rhythm, stomping and clapping along.

Her hands pressed against her thighs, the kneeling Gata seems only the slightest bit perturbed by Kristy's refusal to accept defeat. Rising imperiously, the Mexican backs into the nearest corner, and then starts to scale the ropes.

Outside the ring, Kylie knows what's coming. She had been on the receiving end of Gata's acrobatic finisher on more than one occasion. "Kristy!" Kylie yells, hoping her cousin can hear (or better yet, understand her). "She's going up top! She's going up top!"

Laboriously, Kristy struggles to will herself back to her feet. Her head is in a fog, thanks to the X-Factor and Juvi Driver. Her legs falter, the dazed blonde having to take a moment to catch herself.

Behind the swaying blonde, Gata remains perched on the top turnbuckle, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"BEHIND YOU, KRISTY!" Kylie exclaims. "BEHIND YOU!"

"Ky... Kylie... ?" Kristy mumbles, eyes blinking as she struggles to focus. Where was... ?

At that moment, Kristy feels a pair of hands grab the back of her head. For just a moment, she catches a glimpse of Gata's body somersaulting over her shoulder, the Mexican's grip on her head taking her quickly down...

Gata's back smacks against the canvas a fraction of a second before Kristy's face follows suit, the luchadora's La Trampa del Raton del Diabla vanquishing the valiant Gopher for a certain three. Gata shifts herself to all fours, leisurely crawling back to Kristy's broken body before rolling her onto her back.

ONE...

TWO...

THRE... SHOULDER UP!!!!!!

This time, however, the crowd reacts not with boisterous cheers, but with resounding boos. The reason is obvious, as Kristy's head lolls limply toward her chest, Gata's fingers still grasping the right shoulder of her foe's tank top.

The ref admonishes Gata, but her eyes look past him, and outside of the ring. Kylie returns her stare, seething in rage, but unable to speak. So Gata breaks the silence.

"That move is old news for you," the hellcat taunts. "When I learned I was coming to FAWN, I cooked up something... a little more appropriate for this place. Just for you. Wanna see?"

If looks could kill, Kylie Sanders would have been serving 25 to life, starting that evening.

Hauling Kristy's deadweight up, Gata shoves the devastated blonde back into the ropes. Indeed, Kristy almost falls through them, but with a playful shake of her head, Gata keeps her relatively upright. With her right hand, she grabs Kristy's wrist. She then brings her left index finger up to her mouth, extending her pierced tongue to lick the tip. She then touches the moist digit to the bared curve of her right button, just between the red satin and black leather.

She then whips Kristy into the ropes.

Again, in something of a testament to the renowned Sanders fighting spirit, Kristy stumbles along, somehow refusing to fall in spite of the punishment she had endured. Unfortunately, that fighting spirit has no answers as Gata's legs snake around her head, whipping Kristy off her feet. Nor does it have any counter as Gata's backside lands atop Kristy's face at the conclusion of the hurricarana, a sudden moisture beginning to seep through the Mexican's panties even as she begins her victory lap. With a soft pant as Kristy's shallow breath tickles her womanhood, Gata reaches back to hook both legs.

ONE...

TWO...

THREE.

DING! DING! DING!

Gata releases Kristy's left leg, the limp noodle of an appendage dropping back to the canvas as the ref raises Gata's arm in triumph. Yet she refuses to cease her ride. "I hope... uhhh... that cousin uhhh... of yours... is haaaahhh... aaallf... as good at this... as you ahhhhhhh... ahhh... ahhhre, Krrriiiisssss... "

"WHY DON'T YOU FIND OUT, BITCH?????"

Kylie's words announce her arrival just before her shoulder connects with the distracted Gata's bosom, knocking her from astride Kristy's slumbering face and sending the two blondes rolling across the canvas. As one, they roll toward a corner, trading blows. But as the fresher woman, Kylie soon manages to land two for every one of Gata's.

And then three.

And then four.

Finally, Kylie pulls the fading luchadora up to her feet, and shoves her back into the corner, the Corps going wild to see their beloved Kylie back in the ring, and imposing her will to boot! Straddling Gata's hips, the Iowa coed climbs onto the middle rope. With one hand, she takes a handful of the Mexican's hair and pulls her head back. With the other, she continues her onslaught of punches, the crowd picking up the count immediately...

"ONE...

TWO...

THREE...

FOUR...

FIVE...

SIX... "

At six, however, things start to go wrong. Suddenly, Gata's arms wrap around Kylie's thighs, lifting her feet from the ropes as the Mexican steps away from the corner. Undeterred, Kylie continues to land punches.

"SEVEN...

EIGHT... "

At that point, Kylie closes her eyes, bracing herself in an anticipation of the atomic drop that was about to come, even as she lands another punch.

"NINE... "

Only too late does Kylie realize that Gata is falling backwards, rather than forwards, as one would expect from an atomic drop. A look of terror flashes across Kylie's eyes as they open...

... just in time to take in the oncoming turnbuckle that closes them for good.

A hush falls over the crowd as Gata slithers out from beneath Kylie's body, the Iowa coed's right arm giving a brief spasm, followed by her left leg.

And then she lays as still as her cousin a few feet away.

As Gata climbs to her knees, a truly malicious smirk forms on her lips. "I think I'll take you up on that invitation, Kylie," the Mexican whispers, disdainfully nudging Kylie over before settling herself astride the face of her second Sanders of the night.

Facing Kylie's legs, Gata disrupts her facesit for just a moment, long enough to pull Kylie's stems up toward her, the luchadora hooking the coed's feet under her arms. With Kylie folded in half, her exquisite ass raised for the benefit of the masses, Gata resumes her grind... and begins using her right hand to spank Kylie's upturned backside for good measure.

"Did I say... half as good?" Gata asks, her eyes fluttering as she picks up speed. "Oh, Kylieeee... you're TWICE as... asssss... . aaaaaaasssss... . UuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Her loins sated, Gata pitches forward, allowing herself a moment to rest on Kylie's gently rising and falling torso. In one night, she had both defeated the newest Sanders, and left her mark-quite literally-on the original in a way she had never done before.

Victory was oh so sweet indeed. Her cheek pressed against Kylie's belly, Gata allows herself a husky chuckle. "Perhaps Kylie would agree?" she mumbles, to no one but herself.

WINNER: La Gata Diabla.