The dueling strangleholds are brought to a sudden end as a pair of hands grip Cynthia Mitchell by the hair. As the young brunette is pulled away from her blonde foe, Moira initially doesn't let go. But when she sees who is behind Cynthia, pulling her away, the younger Kane releases her death grip.

Cynthia offers a squawk as Maeve Kane hauls her to her feet by the hair, and then quickly transitions to a full nelson. "I hope ya don't mind me cutting in, lass," Maeve whispers to the squirming Cynthia, and then takes her down with a full nelson slam.

Cynthia skids across the mat, coming to rest in a heap while the referee instructs one of the Kanes to go to a corner. There's no discussion between the Irish women, as Moira immediately exits the ring. Maeve advances on Cynthia, collecting her by the hair as Mitchell pushes herself to her feet. Tucking the brunette's head under her arm, the elder Kane hooks one of Cynthia's legs, hoists her up, and takes her over with a textbook fisherman buster. Bridging, Maeve keeps Cynthia's shoulders pressed to the mat.

ONE...

TWO...

Cynthia kicks out.

Mitchell tries to scramble to her feet, but Maeve is back on her too quickly. A stomp to the back drops Cynthia to the canvas before Maeve grabs one of Cynthia's legs, locking in an ankle lock!

Immediately, the young brunette begins to shriek as Maeve twists and pulls at her ankle, but she vigorously shakes her head when the referee asks if she wants to give it up. Biting back tears, Cynthia pushes herself onto her elbows, dragging herself--and Maeve along with her--slowly toward the ropes. A few moments later, Mitchell's fingers grasp the bottom rope. The official orders her to break the hold, but Maeve waits out four seconds of the ref's five count before setting Cynthia free.

Alas, there was one problem for the outnumbered Mitchell: her journey to the ropes had brought her right to the corner Moira had chosen when she was sent out of the ring. And while Cynthia was left trying to massage the pain out of her aching ankle, Maeve turns to tag in her rested sister.

One quick slap of the hands later, and it becomes Moira's turn to again torment the younger Mitchell. But Maeve, rather than exiting the ring, turns to argue with the ref... and conveniently turns his attention away from the other two combatants. Few knew how to exploit the loopholes of tag team wrestler better than the Riuil Kanes.

Likewise, few knew how to take advantage of such an opportunity better than Moira Kane. Stepping into the ring, she delivers a short stomp to the back of the brunette's skull, stunning her. The Irish lass next drapes Cynthia's throat across the bottom rope, then steps upon her back and holds the top ropes for support as she bounces up and down, strangling Mitchell on the cable!

The official finally takes note of what is occurring, and after ordering Maeve out of the ring, he commands Moira to break her hold. The younger Kane complies, but goes nose-to-nose with the ref to argue the point... and conveniently again takes his attention away from Cynthia.

Maeve puts the opportunity to good use by jumping down to ringside and reaching up to grab Mitchell around the head, not only continuing to choke her on the rope, but also pressing her thumbs into the brunette's eyes to add to her agony.

Cynthia's screams finally catch the ear of the referee, and he barks out an order to Maeve to cease and desist. She does, stepping back and holding her hands palms up, as if to silently say, "I'm not doing a thing, sir." But the smirk on her face makes it plain she's far, far from innocent.

Wasting no time, Moira grabs Cynthia by the ankles and drags her to the center of the ring, the brunette's body flopping like a rag doll. Then, keeping Mitchell on her stomach, the blond spreads her rival's legs wide, leaving a most tempting target unguarded. Realizing what could come next, Cynthia is almost in a panic as she claws at the canvas, desperately trying to pull free.

But Moira's grip holds firm, and by keeping Mitchell on her belly, the Irish blonde prevents her even the slightest ability to block the kick that slams between her thighs. The young brunette squeals, her legs straining against Moira's grasp, until the younger Kane lets her stems drop to the mat. With a whimper, Cynthia curls up into a ball, wedging her hands soothingly between her legs in an effort to alleviate the pain radiating from her womanhood.

Lowering herself beside Cynthia, Moira snakes her legs around the brunette's waist, clinching her in a body scissors. Cynthia immediately groans as the Irish girl's gams constrict around her, the brunette struggling to push herself into a seated position, digging her elbows into Moira's thighs. Kane hisses, but stays on the task at hand. Sitting up behind her prey, she slips her arms under Cynthia's, clasping her hands behind Mitchell's head to raise her arms away from their prying efforts. She then rocks back, raising her opponent off the mat before slamming her back down on her tush with a keister bump.

Cynthia's eyes widen as the impact shoots up and down her spine, Cynthia beginning to list to her left. "Oh no ya don't," Moira mutters, rocking back, pulling Cynthia up only to slam her down on her backside a second time.

And then a third.

Releasing her scissors, Moira smirks as Cynthia rolls onto her left side, one hand reaching for her lower back and bum. Sticking one boot on Cynthia's right flank, Moira easily turns the brunette onto her back, and then digs her heel into Mitchell's bare belly. She then steps over Cynthia's body, her entire weight transferring down on Mitchell's navel.

Again Cynthia rolls over, coughing and sputtering, her arms wrapping around her midsection. Sauntering over to her corner as Cynthia writhes and groans, Moira extends her hand, slapping Maeve's and making her sister the legal woman in the match.

With a casual air tempered with arrogance, Maeve strolls over to her out-numbered opponent. Bending her knees to crouch down, she grabs Cynthia's hair at the roots and jerks her head up, until their eyes meet. "What I did to your sister," the Irish blond says, "that was business. But you? Yer gonna be pure fun for Mo and I." Despite her efforts to show no fear, the brunette gives an involuntary whimper at the very thought of what her foes have planned for her.

Casting her eyes to the ring alongside hers, Cynthia for the first time seeks out her sister... and finds Sophie lying motionless on the mat. But her first instinct is not to fear for herself, but rather to go to her sibling and tend to her. Denied that, she vows to do the next best thing... and avenge her sister.

However, her adversaries had every intention of making that vow difficult to fulfill. Still holding Mitchell by the hair, Maeve yanks her up to her feet, then drags her stumbling over to the nearest corner. Trapped, Cynthia can only yelp as the blond slaps a Judo Chop across her chest, the audience responding with the requisite "Whooooooo!"

Suddenly, in sheer defiance of the odds, a look of pure rage crosses the brunette's face, and with a burst of adrenalin, she grabs her startled opponent by the shoulders and spins the two of them around, then roughly shoves the blond into the corner. Now it's Cynthia's turn to draw her open hand across the chest of her rival, the sound of the chop cracking above the din of the crowd.

Maeve is more shocked than stunned, but still her reaction time is too slow, and before she can resume her offensive, Mitchell drives her knee up hard into the Irishwoman's lower abdomen. Kane doubles over with a whoosh of air, and her adversary grabs her by the hair and pulls her from the corner over to the top rope. Next, placing Maeve's face upon the rope, she drags her several steps to the side, causing the cable to rake across the blonde's eyes. Maeve screams and stumbles backward, hands rubbing her aching eyes. Over in their corner, Moira for the first time tonight looks worried.

If she has any hope of winning this match at all, Mitchell needs desperately to keep up her assault, but already the adrenalin is fading, and the exhaustion her body feels causes her to swoon; only by grabbing the ropes does she prevent herself from falling to the mat. A shake of the head, and she recovers enough to resume her attack... but Kane has also had precious moments to recuperate. Now all that remains to be seen is which wrestler can seize the upper hand.

The answer appears to by Cynthia, the young brunette ignoring her growing exhaustion as best she can to rush at Maeve. Before the Irish blonde can react, Mitchell has her head tucked under her arm, pressed against her side as she tows Kane behind her. Building speed, Mitchell nears the ropes again, and hops onto the middle cable. Planting her feet on the rubber coated steel for but a moment, Cynthia then propels herself backward, turning Maeve with her before driving her face down to the mat hard with a springboard bulldog.

The impact sends Maeve bouncing onto her back, arms flopping over her head as her head lolls toward her right shoulder. Feeding off a renewed wave of adrenalin, Cynthia pops to her feet, and scrambles to the corner. Slipping through the ropes, she commands her tired legs to climb the buckles as fast as they possibly can. Reaching the peak, Cynthia launches herself airborne, pumping her body in mid flight before crashing across Maeve's stomach with a picture perfect frogsplash.

Cynthia bounces off the splattered blonde's midsection, Maeve's legs spasming off the mat as Mitchell comes back down, settling across Kane's ample bosom. Quickly, the brunette gathers Maeve's right gam before it can fall back to the canvas, hooking it tightly as the ref slides down to administer the count.

ONE...

TWO....

THRE... Moira's foot slams across the back of Cynthia's head, knocking Mitchell from her perch at the last possible moment. The younger Kane follows up with a quick stomp the brunette's kidney before the referee pulls her away.

With a deflated groan, Cynthia rolls onto her stomach and wraps her arms over her head, her backside raised slightly off the mat while the ref chides Moira and guides her back to her corner. "Pull yourself together, Cyn," Mitchell tells herself. "Gotta get back up... Gotta keep control... Gotta..."

A hand wraps in Cynthia's hair, wrenching her roughly back to her feet. Mitchell barely has time to see Maeve back on the attack before Kane's knee buries itself in her get, backing a coughing, sputtering Cynthia into the ropes. "Nice try, ye little brasser," the blonde hisses, taking her by the wrist. "But see, I still got a sister watching my back. If only you could say the same."

With that, she sends the taller brunette off with an Irish whip. When Mitchell rebounds to her, Maeve swings an arm at her throat. But rather than deliver a clothesline, Maeve wraps the arm around Cynthia's neck, quickly using her other arm to clinch the sleeper shut. Instantly, Cynthia's arms begin to windmill at her sides, Cynthia frantic to break free. At first, Maeve tries to pull the taller girl down. But soon, she switches gears, and instead hops onto Cynthia's back, closing her legs around Mitchell's waist as she hangs against the struggling brunette.

Instinctively, Cynthia commands her body to remain upright, to not succumb to the sudden weight...which means that she is sacrificing precious strength in staying on her feet, rather than using it to break out of the sleeper.

Weakening fast, the brunette begins to stagger toward the ropes, knowing that if she can reach them, the ref will make her tormentor break her hold. Arms outstretched, Mitchell's fingers strain to grasp the cables, but she remains too far away.

And suddenly, she drops to one knee, then the other. Maeve smiles, knowing that it is only a matter of moments before the younger Mitchell joins her sister in ignoble defeat.

But then, Kane suddenly releases her hold, letting Cynthia drop face-forward in a stupor to the mat. Standing up, Maeve struts over to the corner and high-fives her sister. Having already claimed a victory over one Mitchell tonight, she's more than willing to let her sister share in the spoils.

Moira slips between the ropes and saunters over to Cynthia, hands on her hips. With a mocking curl of her lips, she says, "Looks like you're flah'ed out, culchie. Just as well, because here's where I send you to the jacks!"

With a contemptuous nudge of her foot, Moira rolls Cynthia onto her back, the drowsy brunette looking up at her with vacant, blinking eyes. Swaying her hips to the delight of many in the crowd, the Irish lass circles around to Cynthia's head. Relishing the moment, she lowers herself into a straddle of Mitchell's face... but leaves her backside hovering a few centimeters above Cynthia's dazed features.

"Wait for it," Moira whispers to herself.

And then it comes. A soft, weak protest of "Please..." from the brunette below.

"That's the Magic Word," Moira says with a satisfied smile, before sitting back across Cynthia's face. Immediately, Cynthjia's body--almost devoid of power as she was--begins to buck and writhe under her rival's smothering cheeks, her warm breath tickling Kane's womanhood through the fabric of her one piece. But things were about to go from bad to worse.

"That's it, ye little urchin," Moira taunts. "Better not let yourself still. 'Cause when you do..."

Cynthia's kicking legs slow just enough for Moira to reach down and ensnare them.

"It's curtains."

Moira opens Cynthia's legs wide, spreading them as far apart as she can reach, her Emerald Ire now complete. The oxygen starved brunette screams into Moira's crotch, her likely chilling cries reduced to a muffled whimper by the Irish blonde's buttocks.

She didn't have long left. Already, she could feel her consciousness swimming away. She had done her best, but Cynthia had simply been outnumbered. Had Sophie been able to win her match, or even just hold out against maeve a little longer, things might have been different. Now, all Cynthia could hope to do was not give Moira the satisfaction of a submission.

Moira pulled her legs apart a little more, her hamstrings threatening to tear in the blonde bitch's grasp. Again, Cynthia screams what breath she has left into Moira's backside. Her lightheadedness increasing, Cynthia begins to succumb...

... and Moira raises herself up. Not much, but just enough to let a little air slip between her glutes and into Cynthia's parted lips.

"I wanna hear ya say it," Moira goads her all but vanquished nemesis, her new ever so elevated position allowing her greater leverage to put into the leg spread half of the Ire.

Cynthia utters an agonized but deflated sigh. The bitch had her, and the both knew it. Her lips trembling, Cynthia begins to comply. "I..."

And Moira drops her ass back across Cynthia's face, cutting her off in mid sentence. Again, Cynthia bucks against her riding foe, albeit far more feebly than before. Moira allows herself a couple of grinds for emphasis, and then raises up again.

"That was rude, wasn't it?" she asks with a wicked glint in her eye. "I believe you were saying something."

It takes Cynthia a few seconds to gulp down enough air to respond. "Alright, I gi..."

Moira sits back a second time, cutting Cynthia off once more. The younger Kane's game was now crystal clear, even to someone as dazed and close to the brink of slumber as Cynthia. She would allow the brunette only one option, and for the sake of her burning hamstrings, Cynthia had no choice but to take that option now.

Mitchell's hand begins to rapidly slap the canvas.

DING! DING! DING!

In their corner, Maeve smiles a triumphant smile as Moira claims the victory. At long last, their point had finally been made.

WINNERS: Riuil Kanes