The lights dim as Silvertide's "Blue Jeans" begins to blast over the PA. Within seconds, Sophie Mitchell emerges at the top of the ramp, the cheers of the fans deafening. She is clad in a black leather bikini top and matching thong, her ensemble accessorized with white ankle boots and the ever-present black leather collar around her supple neck.

Reaching the ring, Sophie slips through the ropes, and turns her attention back up the aisle, waiting for Maeve to make her grand entrance.

The drone of Irish pipes fills the arena as the house lights dim. Then, just as a single spotlight hits two figures tearing open the curtain at the top of the ramp, the music erupts into a burst of techno. With confidence in her every step, Maeve Kane strides down the runway, slapping outstretched hands as they pass, but her gaze is fixed firmly upon the ring. One fan holds aloft a sign reading, ERIN GO BRALESS

Climbing to the ring apron, Maeve demands the referee sit on the middle rope and lift the top cable with his shoulder, allowing the blonde to enter. Once in the ring, she raises her arms to signal confidence in her--and her sisters--impending victories. Maeve, clad in a green one-piece outfit, steps impassively toward the center of the ring, and toward Sophie.

The bell sounds, and the two blondes lock up in a collar and elbow tie up. The Irish lass holds her ground for a few moments, but it isn't long before the bigger, stronger Sophie begins backing her into a corner. As soon as Maeve's back hits the buckles, Sophie relinquishes her grip. Pulling her hand back quickly, she lets loose a resounding chop to Kane's full bosom.

"WHOOOOOO!" exclaims the well-conditioned crowd.

Maeve winces from the blow, but it doesn't pacify her. Far from it, in fact, as Kane grabs the taller blonde by the shoulders and spins them both around. With Sophie now pressed back into corner, Maeve unloads with an echoing chop of her own.

"WHOOOOOO!" the crowd shouts again.

But like her foe before her, Sophie grabs her rivals shoulders, roughly spinning them around again and returning fire with an even louder chop of her own.

"WHOOOOOO!"

This time, the crowd's response drowns out a "Whooof!" from Maeve, which was prompted by a swift kneelift to her midsection. Maeve doubles over around Sophie's impaling joint, the smaller blonde unable to respond as Mitchell grabs her wrist.

Rather than whip Maeve out of the corner, however, Sophie pulls her back into a short clothesline that sends Maeve crashing to the mat ass over tit. Almost instantly, Sophie drops to her knees, rolling the elder half of Riuil Kanes onto her back and going for the cover.

One...

Kickout.

She knew that wouldn't be enough to put Maeve away, but it was worth a shot, if it allowed her to go help Cynthia a little earlier. Undeterred, she pulls the Irish battler up, and with another whip sends her into the ropes. Waiting for Kane to rebound back to her, Sophie decides to demonstrate that her sister didn't have all the acrobatic prowess in the family. Jumping into the air, Sophie wraps her legs around Maeve's neck, snapping Kane off her feet with a beautiful hurricarana that sends the blonde bouncing across the mat.

Maeve starts to push herself back to all fours, but Sophie uses her hair to pull her up the rest of the way. Letting go of the Irish beauty's tresses, Mitchell wraps both her arms around Maeve's waist, and pulls Kane off her feet and into a rib-crushing bearhug.

Maeve throws her head back with a moan, but despite the power in Mitchell's arms, she keeps her wits. Taking advantage of her own arms, Kane slams her forearms against Sophie's ears. The first set of blows loosens Mitchell's embrace, while a second set win the Irish blonde her freedom. As Sophie staggers back a step, Maeve backs into the ropes, bounding off them, back at Mitchell...

... and, unfortunately for Maeve, back into a spinebuster that nearly drives Kane all the way through the canvas.

"Once upon a time, you finished me off with your own figure four," Sophie hisses vehemently, lifting one of Kane's shapely legs. "Let's see if I can't return the favor."

With that, Sophie drops back to the canvas, her legs entwined with Maeve's in a perfect figure four leglock. Instantly, Kane is driven into a state of howling agony, the blonde grabbing two handfuls of her own hair and tugging, hoping to distract herself. But in so doing, her shoulders are flat against the mat, and the ref sees this.

One...

Tw... Maeve props herself up on her elbows.

"A little careless, that," Sophie taunts, giving Maeve's ankle a sharp twist. "But this can be over, just as soon as you want it to be."

"Right ya are," Maeve snaps back through gritted teeth, but her actions are not as agreeable to Sophie as her words. Instant, the trapped blonde is busy trying to turn herself over, and take Sophie with her in the process. Mitchell fights her efforts, trying to stay on her back.

But Maeve will not be denied, and the figure four is reversed.

Now it's Sophie who is forced to howl and scream, all the pressure of the torturous hold sent through her legs. Releasing her grip on Maeve's ankle, she pulls her right arm out from under her, fingers waggling in the open air in front of her before clasping around the bottom rope. The ref calls for a break, and sets about untangling the two combatants.

Maeve reaches her feet first, and keeps Sophie grounded with a stomp to her already throbbing right knee. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Kane pulls Sophie up, bends her right leg back at the knee, and then raises her up into the air. Falling to one knee, Kane deposits Sophie shin first across her outstretched thigh, forcing Mitchell to hobble away, clutching at her abused knee. Still, she manages to keep her footing...

... at least, until Kane sends a clipping shoulder into the back of her knee.

Hauling the hurting Sophie up, Maeve bodies her into the corner, Mitchell unable to put enough weight on her right leg to halt the Irish grappler's efforts. Once they reach the corner, Maeve climbs onto first the bottom rope, and then the middle, straddling the taller blonde's hips. Then, grabbing a handful of Sophie's blonde locks with her left hand and pulling her foe's head back, she begins to pound Mitchell's face with her right fist. Despite the divided allegiance and attention of the crowd, soon most of the audience has picked up the count...

"FOUR...

FIVE...

SIX...

SEVEN...

EIGHT...

NINE...

TEN!"

Apparently satisfied, Maeve brings the barrage of punches to a halt and releases Sophie's hair, allowing the blonde's head to loll forward slightly, her unfocused gaze settling upon Maeve's impressive bust--which just happened to be on her eye level. With a wink, Kane reaches both hands around Sophie's head.

"Let's see if we can make that redheaded bouzzie of a mot of yours pucked, shall we?"

Smirking at the lack of comprehension in her opponent's eyes, Maeve pulls Sophie's face into her incredible cleavage. Initially, the blonde is too overcome by the feel of Maeve's bosom against her trembling lips to fight back. But soon, she remembers her sister in the opposite ring. Cynthia needed her to fight back. And so she did, writhing against the smaller blonde's pinning body, but not making much progress.

Rapidly running out of air, Sophie knows she has to escape soon. She wraps her arms around Maeve's thighs, forearms resting just under the curves of her glutes. She then hoists her smothering foe off her perch, and carries her a couple of uncertain strides away from the corner. For her part, Maeve pulls Sophie's face even deeper into her cleavage, trying to bring the taller blonde to her knees.

She half succeeds. Unfortunately, the result of half-succeeding is to deposited, groan first, across Sophie's outstretched thigh.

Kane manages to remain on her feet, though she is left knock-kneed, her thighs clamped tightly together as Sophie pushes herself back to unsteady legs. Taking advantage of Maeve's doubled over condition, Mitchell roughly shoves the blonde's head under her arm, and then falls back, driving Maeve's skull into the canvas with a DDT that leaves the Irish beauty twitching, face down. Wasting no time, Sophie rolls her over and hooks a leg.

ONE...

TWO...

Kickout.

Grumbling, Sophie pushes herself up, albeit gingerly, not wanting to overtax her abused knee. As Maeve slowly climbs to her hands and knees, Sophie reaches down and grabs her by the hair, pulling Kane into a standing headscissors. "And this," Mitchell remarks, hooking Maeve's arms behind her back, "is the move Cynthia will be putting Moira away with tonight. But you should get to experience it, too."

Sophie drops to her knees, slamming Maeve into the mat face first with her own version of Cynthia's Drop Out, wincing herself as a shockwave of agony radiates from her right knee up the rest of her leg. Willing it away, Sophie again rolls the floundering Kane onto her back and hooks a leg.

ONE...

TWO...

THR... shoulder up.

"You're only fighting the inevitable," Sophie grunts as she rises, again dragging Kane into a standing headscissors. This time, she wraps her arms around the other blonde's waist, and hoists her up for a piledriver that would should end Maeve's night.

Only she never completes it.

Instead, Sophie's aching knee buckles, unable to support Maeve's weight as well as her own. As her feet return to the canvas, Maeve pushes free of Sophie's thighs, Mitchell unable to keep the pressure tight enough to secure her. With little wasted time and no wasted effort, Kane rises, pulling Sophie into a side headlock and hooking her right thigh. In the blink of an eye, Maeve lifts her up and snaps her over with an impressive fisherman buster, bridging for the pin.

ONE...

TWO...

THRE... kickout.

As Maeve sits up behind Sophie, Mitchell curls up on her side, protectively clutching her knee. Seeing this, Maeve decides to go for the kill now, in order to go assist Moira. Hopping up, she grabs Sophie's injured leg, and deftly locks in her Four Leaf Clover.

"NUUUUUUHGGGAAAAWWWWDDD!" Sophie screams, the ligaments and tendons in her knee threatening to rip almost immediately. The ref kneels down beside them, asking if she wants to submit. But while she might want to, the agonized blond vigorously shakes her head. She couldn't give up. Cynthia needed her. For her sister, she had to hang on.

Franticly, Sophie rocks her hips, trying to build enough momentum to roll Maeve onto her stomach, just as Maeve had done earlier in the contest. But Maeve would not be moved. Changed tact, Mitchell stretches her arm behind her, straining to grasp the ropes. The bottom cable with so close. Tauntingly close.

But just out of reach.

"C'mon, Sophie," Maeve taunts her. "Let it go. Save your legs and concede, or they'll be carrying you out of her tonight."

As if to emphasize her point, Maeve gives Sophie's ankle an especially vicious tug.

"NeeeevvvAAAAHHHHH!" Sophie screams, biting back tears. "Can't..."

Sophie stretches her arm as far as it can go, the limb threatening to pop out of its socket.

"... let..."

Fingers flexing, her digits seek to close the remaining distance between her hand and the ropes.

"... Cynth..."

With a shuddering sigh, Sophie's arm falls to the mat, the blonde's eyes rolling back in her head before her head lolls toward her left shoulder. The pain had proven too much for her to endure, and consciousness deserts her. With her shoulders flat to the mat, the ref moves into position.

ONE...

TWO...

THREE...

DING! DING! DING!

The thought of keeping the Clover locked in, and ending Sophie's career right there, was a most tempting one for Maeve. But there were more pressing matters to attend to. Since neither Moira nor Cynthia had joined them in the ring, she could only assume their contest was still going. Looking over her shoulder, she sees that it is, with both girls desperately trying to choke each other out.

Untangling her legs from Sophie's lifeless gams, Maeve rolls out of this ring, and heads to the other...

The Match Continues...