The opening chords of Silvertide's "Blue Jeans"... the ring entrance music of Cynthia Mitchell... barely begin to emerge from the arena's P.A. system when a ruckus suddenly erupts behind the curtain at the top of the ramp. An instant later, Cynthia and her opponent for the evening, Moira Kane, burst from the curtains, fists swinging and invectives spat out between clenched teeth. Clearly, these two young hellcats aren't able to even wait until they are in the ring before starting their battle!

The music screeches to a halt as the two wrestlers punch, kick and slap at one another as they make their way down the aisle. Finally reaching ringside, Moira grabs Cynthia by the hair and nails her with a headbutt, the impact causing both beauties to reel on their feet. Kane then shakes the cobwebs from her head and lunges at her foe... but is met with a boot to the midsection from the brunette.

Filling her fists with the Irishwoman's blond locks, Cynthia slams Moira's face several times into the Spanish Announcer's table, then rolls the dazed grappler atop the table, leaving her prone.

Pulling herself up upon the ring apron, Cynthia then scales the ringpost, precariously balancing herself on the top turnbuckle in order to deliver a Moonsault. Unfortunately for her, this particular move necessitates that she keep her back to her intended target... which is why Mitchell doesn't realize that Moira is not nearly as hapless as she thought. Indeed, the Irish lass sits up, but rather than roll off of the table, leaving her opponent with nothing but wood to slam into, she gets to her feet atop the table and remains in a crouching pose, coiling her leg muscles.

At the very moment when Cynthia launches herself from the top ropes and flips bodily through the air, Moira executes a Standing Dropkick from on top of the table! Caught entirely by surprise, Mitchell takes the soles of her adversary's boots to the torso, the sledgehammer impact causing her to lose her trajectory. Like a rag doll, the brunette tumbles down, her body slamming awkwardly into the edge of the ring before collapsing in a heap to the arena floor.

But gravity is no less unkind to Moira; as she falls downward, bracing herself for impact with the floor, her head inadvertently clips the table, leaving her seeing stars as she, too, lays with limbs splayed upon the cold cement floor. Watching this strange and violent tableau from inside the ring, the referee at last realizes the inevitable and calls for the bell to signal the official start of the match. He then begins his slow count to twenty as the two battlers groggily begin to stir.

Painfully, both young women force themselves to their hands and knees, then they crawl to the apron and, each grabbing the bottom rope, haul themselves painfully into the ring. There, they lay upon the canvas as the referee begins a new count, taking full advantage of this respite to gather their wits and marshal their strength.

At last, both get to their feet. This time, there is no mad rush at one another, no feral onslaught. Instead, the two young yet seasoned fighters cautiously circle one another, each probing for a chink in the other's armor.

After what seemed like an eternity (but was no more than fifteen seconds), the two finally locked up, their muscles straining against one another. They remained stalemated this way for fully half a minute, until Cynthia suddenly grasped Moira by the wrist, executed a lightning-quick somersault, and had the blond snared in a painful armlock.

Just as deftly, however, Moira does a one-armed cartwheel, breaking the hold. Clearly, the two lithe combatants could perform a near-endless array of technical moves upon one another all night. But neither one was interested in making this a contest of skills. It was, instead, a battle for the utter destruction of the other... and in such a struggle, prowess accounts for less than savagery does.

Kane proves that in the next instant, when she rakes her red-tipped nails across her foe's eyes, momentarily blinding the brunette. She then Irish Whips Cynthia into the nearest corner, and charges after her, driving her knee up hard into Mitchell's lower abdomen.

A Monkey Flip sends Cynthia sailing through the air and to the mat, and Moira comes at her with an Elbow Drop... but strikes only the thinly-padded mat instead, as Mitchell manages to roll out of the way at the last moment. The blond howls from the pain as she frantically massages her aching joint, while the brunette takes advantage of the few precious moments to get to her feet. Grabbing the Irish grappler by the hair, she hauls Moira up to her feet... only to send her crashing back down with a Hair Mare. The move is repeated again, and again, and again, the result leaving Kane more than a little disoriented.

Now it's Cynthia's turn to Irish Whip her adversary into the corner... but Moira manages to reverse it, sending the brunette to the corner instead. But Mitchell actually increases her speed, using her momentum to vault up the turnbuckles, where she then precariously balances upon the top ropes, pausing for a heartbeat before she intends to hurl herself backward through the air at her target.

However, Moira was not so considerate as to remain standing in place. Instead, anticipating what her rival might do, she rushed after her to the corner, and now managed to put her hands upon Mitchell's heels and push. Suddenly losing her hazardous footing, Cynthia finds gravity taking over, and she falls straight down... until her crotch slams with all of her weight behind her into the steel turnbuckle brace!

The camera catches in close up the look of twisted agony upon the brunette's face, as her eyes cross and roll up, and her mouth opens for a silent scream. But Cynthia's visage is suddenly yanked from view as Moira grabs her by the hair and pulls her backward. With her legs straddling the turnbuckle, Mitchell finds herself trapped in a Tree of Woe.

A look of pure sinister delight crosses the otherwise (deceptively) angelic features of the Irish lass. Grabbing the top ropes for support, she lifts her own body up, snaking her legs around the head of her upside-down opponent, clamping her thighs around Cynthia's skull, and subjecting her to a Bronco Buster! The brunette finds herself caught in a place a majority of those watching would gladly trade places with her for... her face smothered in the groin of her rival! Moira laughs as she grinds away, elated that she is not only weakening her foe, but also humiliating her. Finally, only the referee's threat of disqualifying her forces the blond to release her hold.

The ref pulls Cynthia's legs free of the ropes, and she crumples to the mat in a dazed heap. Kane grabs the brunette by the ankles and drags her to the center of the ring, then hauls Mitchell up to unsteady legs by the hair. Next comes a new hold which the "Galway Gremlin" has been developing for this very match; at first it appears to be just a standard Abdominal Stretch... at least until Moira uses her right hand to clench a Clawhold directly onto Cynthia's already throbbing womanhood!

The raw scream that rips from the brunette's throat echoes throughout the vast arena, then transforms into a whimpering moan. The hapless girl's tormentor smiles... yet also begins to fear that her victim will submit, which would end Moira's fun much too quickly.

She needn't worry. Although Mitchell may be hapless at the moment, she is far from helpless. With a sudden defiant roar, she manages to Hip Toss a startled Moira to the mat, breaking her twin tortures on the brunette. One hand massaging her groin, the other rubbing her ribcage, Cynthia stumbles backward several steps... but she knows she dare not waste any time recovering. Charging at her adversary, Mitchell plants a stomp to the back of Kane's skull, which halts the blonde's attempt to get up off of the canvas.

Next, her face the angry mask of an avenging angel, Cynthia grabs the front of her foe's black one-piece suit (with midriff cut out to reveal her taut abs), using her handhold to drag Moira back up to her feet and over to the closest corner. There, she shoves the Irish girl's backward, her arms draped over the top ropes. Mounting the bottom ropes on either side of Kane for leverage, Cynthia fills her left fist with flaxen hair and cocks her right fist.

The thousands-strong crowd counts along in unison as the brunette pistons twenty consecutive punches into her hated rival's head. Releasing her hold on Moira's mane, Cynthia jumps down from the ropes and watches in satisfaction as Kane, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, slowly sinks down the corner, until she lands brusquely on her butt.

Now it is the brunette's turn to have her face turn impish. Turning her back on her fallen foe, she appears at first as if she is about to walk away from her. But instead, Cynthia steps backward, bending her knees enough so as to lower herself into position to cover Moira's face with her derriere! Then the brunette... so often considered innocently na�ve by fans and foes alike... seductively grinds her hips, her hands placed behind her head as an exotic dancer would. With this best rendition of a "Rumpshaker" since LaKeisha's, Mitchell pays her enemy back for the Bronco Buster which Kane inflicted earlier... with interest!

The referee, having given Mitchell what he felt was ample time to exact her revenge, now begins his count, and at four she begrudgingly steps forward and releases her smotherhold.

Now, Cynthia again returns a "favor" inflicted on her by her opponent, grabbing Moira by the ankles and dragging her to the center of the ring. Next, the brunette climbs up the turnbuckles and stands atop the corner, arms raised to acknowledge the roars of the crowd. The brunette then leaps into the air, a beautiful missile of destruction, arcing gracefully down toward her prone target... who manages to raise her left leg.

Mitchell's chin catches the impact from Kane's boot, snapping her head back violently as she slams to the mat alongside her rival. Both beauties lay there motionless while the official makes his slow but steady count to twenty. Many fans watching fear that their favorite wrestler, be it Cynthia or Moira, is now unconscious, so still do they lay there, with nothing but the rising and falling of their chests to indicate life.

But then, every movement bringing them great pain, the two combatants suddenly sit up, then force themselves to rise to their feet. Kane is just a shade quicker, and thus is able to scoop her adversary up onto her shoulders. Standing upright (albeit not without difficulty), the blond then begins to whirl around, subjecting her unwilling passenger to an Airplane Spin. As her senses reel, Cynthia wails in helplessness.

But this maneuver seems to take as much away from Moira as it does from Cynthia, and the Irish lass suddenly dizzily collapses to the mat. The two wrestlers seem to be acting solely on instinct as they wearily get to their hands and knees. Then, as if acting upon the same command, they each wrap their hands around each other's throat, attempting to strangle the other into oblivion!

Bloodlust fills their eyes as they brutally attempt to choke the life from the other! The entire world seems to fall away from them, and their only thoughts are for the other, and the pain they can inflict. In their feral fever, the two young women only dimly hear the tolling of the bell from the adjacent ring... .

The Match Continues...