Kylie Sanders and Cosette LeBlanc bounce nervously in the ring as some of the late arrivals settle in their seats. Tonight's opening match, a Royal Rumble among FAWN's foot soldiers, figured to be a barnburner insofar as one woman might emerge with new found momentum and favor in the eyes of Bethany Christian, the fans, and FAWN's booking crew. Throw in the fact that Bethany was sure to toss in some surprises and the crowd's slow rumble turns to roar as the unlucky losers of the lottery move to the center of the ring, readying for the bell.

Is it coincidence that Huggable and Crushable land one-two? The crowd seems uninterested by the thought of any possible shenanigans. It's a match-up they are not likely to see at any other time and Kylie's Corps revels in the idea that their girl could show why the pitiful pairing had fared so poorly during its disastrous run. Kylie, in black bikini with gold trim and black wrestling shoes, nods at Cosette with a soft smile, the petite Frenchwoman in a tricolor bikini; red on one breast, white on the other, with blue bottoms. Her white boots reach up to mid-calf and sport a fanciful blue fleur-de-lis. The former tag partners had sparred countless hours, but this was for real and for keeps. If one could survive the other AND eight upcoming foes, it could be a career-changer.

The bell rings and Kylie extends a hand, which Cosette graciously accepts. The two shake, eliciting polite applause from the crowd, but the grip does not separate. Catching the blonde off-guard, Cosette yanks Kylie forward, tripping her to the mat and rolling her up in a tight small package, Kylie's cradled body flailing for escape.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT

Diminutive blonde and even smaller brunette scramble to their feet. The Frenchwoman is faster and she sends Sanders tumbling back to the mat with a solid dropkick. The process is repeated, Cosette catching Kylie flush on the cheek with her second effort. The blonde Hawkeye more stumbles to her feet this time, surging in an off-balance manner toward LeBlanc, who decks her with a Yakuza kick, the bite-size version of the 'big boot' with plenty of emphasis to remove Kylie's feet from the canvas, her back and skull crashing against the thinly-covered plywood.

Almost before Kylie is reintroduced to the canvas, Cosette is racing to the nearest corner. She scales the buckles and launches her body in a forward somersault. Frantic members of the Corps squeal a warning, but Ky doesn't respond, and Cosette crashes upon her in a senton bomb, the body of 'Crushable' jackknifing around her 'Huggable' partner. As Kylie recedes back to the mat, wide-eyed and shellshocked, LeBlanc hooks both legs and pulls Ky's knees to her chin.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT.

Showing no frustration, Cozy pulls Kylie to her feet with a yank of her wrist. She snap mares the blonde back to the mat and drops a leg across her throat. Kylie spasms on impact, grabbing at her neck, her feet pounding out a staccato rhythm on the mat.

Again, Cosette pulls Kylie to her feet and buggywhips her to the far corner, the brunette racing behind just after release. A split second after the blonde's back slams against the buckles, her chest and face is crushed by a leaping Cozy, the mini-splash enough to jelly Kylie, the blonde remaining upright in Cozy's grasp. The Frenchwoman spins Sanders' grimacing features to the top buckle and buries her face into the lightly-padded steel junction. Pulling back, she sends the blonde's forehead in again, and again, and again. With one more, the crowd picks up the punishment count.

"FIVE. SIX. SEVEN." At that point, the PA, blares in behind.

"NEXT IN... .WONDERFUL WHITNEY WHIPPLE"

Cosette sees the tawny athletic blonde racing down the aisle, Whitney clad in a neon green bikini. She considers her options and halts her piston-like thrusts of Kylie's noggin. Lightly, she slaps the cheek of the vacant blonde.

"Ky-LEE. Ky-LEE."

Sanders shakes some of the cobwebs, discards a momentary look of surprise mixed with irritation, and nods. The duo turns to the entering Whipple and rush her, arms combined in a clothesline. Whitney ducks underneath the double team and springs into the ropes, gathering more momentum. She rockets back to a spinning Huggable and Crushable, but the former partners quickly improvise to a double backdrop. Blonde and brunette lift a charging Whitney around the upper thigh and send her skyward, tumbling over, slamming hard against the canvas. Whipple's body arches in pain, the blonde grimacing as she reaches to her lower spine.

Kylie and Cozy share a high-five, then reacquire Whitney, forcing her to her feet. They each drive a boot into Whitney's gut and tuck their head under her flagging arms. With a grunt of effort, Ky and Cozy lift the Wonderful One up in a suplex, stalling the throw at the top. Finally satisfied, they drop to their backs, letting Whitney crash back to earth. Whipple's body arches in pain, her face flushed from the extended upside-down stay.

The duo lift the slumping blonde for more and, apparently happy with the result of their last move, go for a repeat. Nudging their heads under Whitney's limp arms, Huggable and Crushable again raise Whipple ass over tea kettle, stalling when the winless Whitney is perpendicular to the mat. But this time, Whitney's sleek tawny legs begin to pump wildly in a bicycle motion and it's enough for the erstwhile partners to lose control, Whitney flopping from whence she came instead over. Her grip suddenly tightening around the top of Kylie and Cosette's neck, she implants the duo with a spectacular set of DDTs. The crowd goes nuts as Whitney rolls over both insensate bodies, four arms flopping lifelessly as she does. They are about to see not only Wonderful's first FAWN pin, but her second, as well. Kneeling between them, Whitney hooks Cosette's left leg and Kylie's right and leans forward onto the mat.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT FROM KYLIE. SHOULDER UP FROM COSETTE.

With a slap of frustration, Whitney hops to her feet, she pushes Cosette next to Kylie with her foot then leaps into a cross-body squash that finds the mark, jackknifing both women before they recede for another count.

ONE

TWO

Working together, Sanders and LeBlanc roll Whitney off over their heads with a lift of four tiny but taut biceps. They gasp for air as a pumped fist from Whitney draws much of the crowd to the perennial doormat. Forgoing any niceties, Whitney pulls both women up with a handful of hair. Turning them face to face, she rears both heads back, preparing to bang coconuts. But Kylie and Cosette grab each other's shoulders and block the embarrassing and painful collision. Each drives and elbow point into Whitney's bosom, freeing them from her grasp. The erstwhile partners each grab a wrist and send Whitney to the ropes. On her return, they each lift at the hip, launching Whipple straight up and, inevitably, straight down with a double flapjack, Whitney gaining surprising height before slamming into the canvas face and chest-first. A relieved looking Hug and Crush go back to work, Kylie yanking Whitney to her feet, scooping her up in a cradled position and dropping her across bended knee. Whipple's spine takes a brutal impact and she cries out from the well-executed backbreaker. Kylie pushes down on either side of Whitney's body only intensifying the anguish. Then, Sanders twirls a hand in the air and Cosette, having scaled the buckles once more, launches into a rafter-reaching leg drop across Whipple's neck. Whitney flips off the backbreaker in violent fashion, the blonde seemingly demolished. Kylie and Cosette stand and look over the remains, not knowing who should make the pin.

Kylie lurches forward, not out of greed for the 1-2-3, but because a flash of red, white, blue, and blonde delivers a raised knee to Kylie's back. Reflexively arching from the pain, Kylie presents herself to the newcomer, who instantly wraps an arm around the front of Kylie's exposed neck and spikes her golden tresses and the skull beneath with an inverted DDT. The tardy PA announcement blares through the arena.

"NEXT IN... .MAIDEN AMERICA"

The mysterious blonde, clad in a white bikini top with gold trim, blue bottoms with trim comprised of gold tassels and red boots, sits next to a spreadeagled Kylie. But the patriotic battler knows a pin attempt is not a possibility. She hops to her feet just in time to dip around a tiny balled French fist. Maiden replies with a right uppercut that staggers LeBlanc. The widened dark brown eyes of Cosette gather a glaze while Maiden pumps in some flashy jabs to her cheek and chin, half the crowd counting along, the other half chanting 'U-S-A. U-S-A." For ten, Maiden rears back for a full right cross that connects flush with the Frenchwoman's flawless features. For a split-second, the brunette is lifted clean off the mat. She is deposited on the canvas, limbs spread wide like her 'Crushable' ex-partner. For a moment, Maiden America looks every bit the superheroine, 'evildoers' destroyed at her jingoistic feet. And the crowd is eating it up, as Maiden pulls a bikini-clad Kylie to wobbly feet.

Maiden whips Kylie to the ropes to the reverberating chant of 'U-S-A'. The Maiden's glorious return is ready to continue, as she collects the sprinting Kylie alongside her body, seemingly in preparation for a sidewalk slam, but the elfin beauty's momentum sends her right through the patriot's plan. Spinning around the Maiden's body, Kylie comes out the other side and sticks Maiden's head to mat with a tilt-a-whirl DDT that quiets the rampant patriotic fervor and brings Kylie's Corps to their feet. Sanders, still a little dizzied herself, turns Maiden over and throws her body on top.

ONE

TWO

SHOULDER UP!

Kylie pushes to her feet, but stumbles back to one knee. She glances to the opposite side of the ring where Cosette has Whitney in a side headlock then turns back to Maiden, lifting the blonde-haired, blue-eyed heroine to her feet. Sanders Irish whips Maiden to the far corner. After the stiff impact, the succulent, tawny ad for the 4th of July winces and sags into the buckles. Kylie drops into a three-point stance on the other side of the ring, an unheard whistle sending her scurrying toward the target. Ky lowers her shoulders for a spear, but, at the last second, Maiden hops up to the middle ropes on either side of the corner and Sanders passes harmlessly and helplessly underneath, not stopping until her shoulder bangs against the steel ringpost.

Kylie howls in pain as she pulls free from the corner, her left arm holding her right like a sling, tears welling in her almond-shaped, hazel eyes. She stumbles in a wide arc, blinded by the pain from her throbbing shoulder. Realizing she has to keep the pressure on, despite the pain, she turns back to Maiden. But her eyes open wide as she sees Maiden leaping from the top buckle.

DUCK, Kylie's thoughts blare, erasing the pain for a split-second. But it's too late, her body not responding in time. Maiden's missile dropkick crunches into her breasts, flattening them AND Kylie in spectacular fashion, the acrobatics bringing an ovation from the fans as Kylie tumbles to a stop several feet from impact in a jumbled heap of arms and legs.

Meanwhile, Whitney has turned the tables on Cosette. She has the diminutive Frenchwoman pigeon-toed and knock-kneed from an inverted Atomic Drop and has drawn her into a front facelock. LeBlanc reverses out of the predicament and into an armbar, but Whitney reverses into an armbar of her own. She whips Cozy to the ropes and goes for a clothesline upon her return, but LeBlanc easily ducks the effort. She leaps into the ropes behind Whitney and lays the turning blonde horizontal with a springboard cross-body block. Collecting Whitney's legs in a double cradle, Cosette holds on to the squirming blonde with all she's got.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT

"NEXT IN... .MOLLY SUE LAWRENCE"

The crowd is instantly abuzz. Molly sue isn't a member of FAWN's roster. In fact, she's a member of one of the most dangerous tag teams in the organization's up-and-coming rival, WOLF. Why's she here? Presumably, the announcement means her arrival has Bethany's OK, but who could be sure. The last time Molly Sue and her fellow Redneck Woman Harley Jo Collins had appeared in a FAWN arena, they had dispatched the newly-crowned Ivy Armstrong and had destroyed Portia VanBuren's knee to the point she was just now recovering. Whatever the circumstances, Molly Sue dashes to the ring clad in a blue two-piece, sports bra and boy-cut trunks, with red knee and elbow pads and boots with a Stars&Bars pattern emblazoned upon them.

Maiden pulls a staggered Kylie to her feet and Molly Sue is there to grab the free wrist. The WOLF infiltrator and the long-lost superheroine send the former Television champ to the ropes. Maiden sets up for a backdrop, apparently expecting Molly Sue to do the same, but Molly can't wait to put a hurt on a FAWN slut. She surges in front of Maiden's station and spears Kylie to the deck, Sanders' legs spinning for a split-second in front of her as she's folded in half and splattered on the canvas. Ending in a straddle of Kylie's waist, Molly unleashes a torrent of blows that Ky is only partially successful in blocking.

"I'm gonna finish you off, little FAWN girl," Molly Sue barks, Kylie's arms extended in a pleading fashion, wishing for the hailstorm to end. Slowly, it does, but only so Molly Sue can turn Kylie to her chest. Straddling her back, Molly Sue reaches forward and captures both wrists. She crosses Kylie's arms in front of her, then pulls back into a cross-arm camel clutch, Crushable's own arms deviously used against her. Molly Sue uses the 'handlebars' to lift Kylie's upper body while keeping her waist glued to the mat, thus curving her vertebrae in a most unpleasant manner. Adding to the agony, Maiden slides down in front of the mewling Sanders and applies an iron claw to her forehead, pushing into pressure points on her crown and temples. Kylie's muffled cries turn 'gurgly', Molly seeking to maim her body while Maiden seeks to deplete her consciousness. Both seem successful as Kylie's muscles turn slack, including her jaw, her hazel pools crossing, then rolling heavenward.

Meanwhile, Kylie's ex keeps her battle moving at a suitably excessive RPM, Cosette bounding off the ropes and hitting a flying forearm smash on Whitney. She decks the bedeviled blonde and scoots for the nearest corner, bounding up to the top buckle. Before Whitney can even shake out the webs, LeBlanc is mid-flight, gracefully sweeping back in a reverse swan dive, the moonsault dropping Cozy's tiny, vibrant body across the Wonderful One's open midsection. But Cosette, seeing Kylie's desperate straits, eschews the three-count. Instead, she hops to her feet, runs to Maiden, and leaps into a double foot stomp between the blonde patriot's shoulderblades, simultaneously breaking the heroine's claw and bouncing her forehead off the mat. She kicks Molly Sue in the back, loosening her grip, but Lawrence regains her control over the flaccid Kylie, as the falsely presuming Frenchwoman returns to her attack on Whitney.

Vaulting to the top of the corner where her journey started, the little brunette waterbug, gathers her balance, recedes into a crouch, then springs to the heavens. The lightly tanned body, in its own abbreviated version of red, white, and blue, pumps in and out TWICE, Cosette reaching the height to double up and complete her Arc de Triumphe double-pump frog splash. LeBlanc squashes Whitney under the 'THUMP' of her landing, the aerial assault eliciting an 'OOOOH' from the crowd. Huggable hooks a lifeless leg and the ref slides into position.

ONE

TWO

THREE

The PA blares to life behind Cozy's raised hand and glittering pearlies.

"FIRST OUT... WONDERFUL WHITNEY WHIPPLE."

Unfortunately, Cosette cannot enjoy the moment long, as a recovered Maiden pulls Cosette up by the wrist. The crowd reflexively chants for their countrywoman as she yanks LeBlanc into a side headlock, but a pointed elbow to the blonde's breasts break the lock. A hiptoss sends Maiden tumbling to the canvas, much of the crowd seeming to transfer over to the little French cutie in the blink of an eye. And in just about that amount of time, Cosette, realizing the referee is raising Kylie's right arm to count out a Molly Sue KO by cross-arm camel clutch, breaks up the effort with one drop to go with a boot to Molly Sue's head.

Meanwhile, coming down the aisle is Mighty Meegan Jolly, clad in a simple white bikini, white boots and knee pads. She watches as her partner, Whitney, is helped to the back, a FAWN flunky under each arm. Meegan's jog increases to sprint and she slides under the ropes, hopping to her feet.

"NEXT IN... .MIGHTY MEEGAN JOLLY"

With Cosette busy gathering the blonde WOLFie up with a handful of golden locks, Meegan clamps a grip on LeBlanc's shoulder and turns her into a heavy clothesline that spins the diminutive brunette a full 270-degrees, Cosette landing on her chest. Thinking quickly, Molly Sue points at Cozy.

"She took out your friend. Beat her up and pinned her."

Meegan didn't recognize the woman, but the words are enough.

Rising from one knee, Molly Sue directs Meegan to grab Cosette's right arm as snatches the left. They share a word, then, together, they whip Cosette to the ropes. In the middle, they wait for a dazed Cosette's return, Meegan moving a step forward of Molly Sue and pushing LeBlanc up, way up, with a shove on either hip. With the doe-eyed Frenchwoman soaring, Molly Sue steps in and, when Cosette descends, collects her for a supercharged stunner that has the brunette twitching and the crowd roaring at the teamwork. Meegan is momentarily confused at her success and the cheers of the crowd.

Meanwhile, Maiden is chopping away at a staggering Kylie, the Iowan still not all the way back from Molly's ministrations. Meaty 'THWAPS' echo from one backhanded spank after the other, the crowd 'WOOOING' on cue. Finally, Maiden gives her hand a big, long lick and blasts Sanders to the mat with one final heavy hand across her chest. The heroine follows up with an elbow drop to Kylie's bosom that brings a groan from the blonde's lips.

Maiden grabs Kylie's wrists and stands at her toes, Sanders pulled a few inches from her horizontal position. Suddenly, the beauteous blue-eyed blonde falls to the mat in reverse, pulling Ky up in a slingshot as she does, the former Television champ flung into the air, her forehead losing a battle with the top buckle of the nearby corner. Kylie backpedals away from her collision and back into the waiting arms of the personification of patriotism, Maiden quickly fashioning Sanders' diminutive frame into a curled dragon sleeper position. Kylie's arms immediately flail at her sides, but forcing the KO or submission is not in the Maiden's mindset. Instead, she lifts Kylie in an inverted suplex, crisply tossing Ky over her shoulder. Unfortunately for the American Dream, Sanders lands on her feet, wraps her arms around Maiden's midsection and sends the astonished heroine flying with a suplex of the release German variety. The All-American beauty takes a heavy spill on her shoulders and head, flipping over from the momentum to skid to a halt on her chest, eyes wide, with a look of 'where did that truck come from'. Though Kylie had not lived up to her much-heralded "potential", she knows her way around a suplex and is preparing Maiden for another, when she sees a pinning combination, Molly Sue lounging atop a spreadeagled Cosette. Sanders hustles in for the save, pulling Molly Sue off and to her knees with a handful of hair.

The redneck Wolfie reflexively spins to her assailant, right arm cocked, and splits the wicket, Lawrence pounding Kylie's pussy with a brutal low blow. Ky's elfin features twist in agony as she goes knock-kneed, her hazel eyes welling as they stare into Molly Sue's peepers, first below then above as the interloper rises. Kylie's full cheek rests against Molly Sue's midriff, Sanders unable to straighten as she fights from hyperventilating, hands buried in her crotch.

"You wouldn't last a day with the wolves in my pack, honey," Molly Sue growls.

She tosses the former coed back to a recovering Maiden who accepts her alongside and, lifting at the hips, drops the beleaguered Kylie to the canvas with a mat-thumping sidewalk slam. Ky's limbs starfish and the Maiden senses opportunity, pressing her body tight against Kylie's.

ONE

"NEXT IN... ."

TWO

" KRISTY SANDERS"

KICKOUT.

The patriot lets loose with an altogether unkind curse, paintbrushes the stubborn Iowan and yanks Kylie to her feet.

'WHAM'

A powerful double axehandle blow dissects Maiden's shoulderblades, sending her to one knee and Kylie flopping away. Ky's cousin, Kristy is already halfway to the buckles after her initial attack. The younger, bigger, and some said, better Sanders is clad in the familiar pink-and-black bikini top and boy-cut trunks of perennial put-upons Huggable and Crushable, but across her backside is a cursive 'Kissable'. The fresh newcomer quickly scales the corner and sends Maiden flying away with a hipcheck from the lofty heights. The icon from parts unknown falls into the waiting arms of a recovering and pissed Kylie. Sanders with the pass and Sanders with the catch and Kylie spikes Maiden to the mat with a precise and forceful Russian Legsweep.

An exhausted Kylie looks over at the Maiden next to her, her Liberty Bell having been wrung. Moving up to a seat on the mat and sliding perpendicular to the heroine, Kylie grabs the blonde's right wrist and right ankle.

"I don't know what makes you so super," Kylie says, "but let me show you how a run-of-the-mill wrestler does it."

Sanders digs her wrestling shoes into the fleshy give of the Maiden's side, then stretches out. She reclines back to the canvas, curving Maiden into a standard bow-and-arrow, the red-white-and-blue clad warrior's body pushed in an arc to the side. The blonde beauty's eyelids clench as she grimaces from the pain, holding back any sound. But when Kylie innovatively amps up the maneuver by slightly lifting Maiden off the mat, molding her tawny body into an even more cruel 'C' shape, Maiden America's 'superhuman' will allows a cry to escape her lips, a pleading 'No'' following close behind. Working like a couple nasty ne'er-do-wells who don't believe in a Constitutional amendment to ban flag burning, Kristy joins the endeavor. She drops an elbow into the open, 'extended' side of Maiden's ribs, drawing a loud yelp of pain. Kylie, no longer with the strength to hold her off the mat, drops the heroine back to the canvas, but keeps the pressure on, pulling the arm and leg toward her and pushing Maiden's body away with her legs.

Meanwhile, fast friends Molly Sue and Meegan are sharing some French cuisine, taking turns plastering a staggering Cosette, the petite brunette fighting to keep her feet with each blow that turns her to the next fist. Finally, the Redneck WOLFie accepts a loopy LeBlanc into a front facelock. Leaping and spinning, she twists little Cozy into an Implant DDT that drops the jaws of the crowd and makes the EMTs on-call flinch. The body of the spreadeagled Cosette spasms mindlessly, Molly Sue sitting up and enjoying the forced silence from those assembled.

"That's WOLF, ladies and gents, right there," she shouts.

During her byplay with the fans, Meegan moves in to help herself to leftovers. Kneeling next to Cosette she pushes her hands down on both shoulders and readies herself for her first ever FAWN pin with a beaming grin. Instead, Molly Sue, hearing the ref's slap of the mat, turns and angrily pushes Meegan off, startling and confusing the 'Mighty' One.

"She's mine, slut," Molly Sue shouts, rising as Meegan does the same, but Lawrence is faster on the draw, driving a boot into the taut, tawny midsection of her former helper. Megan doubles over with a chirpy grunt, her blonde locks and the head beneath graciously accepted between Molly's Sue's thighs in a front standing head scissors. From there, it is but a flash, as the redneck woman drops to her backside, stunning Jolly. She pours in the pressure to her scissors, supple thighs flexing, and adds a groin-stretching, wail-inducing leg spread. It is the Double Wide Scissors, a feared finisher, one that had claimed many of her fellow she-wolves.

Meegan's pleas muffle against the canvas and Lawrence's calves, Molly Sue now lying atop Meegan in a reverse scissors while splitting Meegan's gams wide, wider, widest. It takes but a matter of a few moments and Mighty Meegan Jolly is tapping out her surrender, mighty no more.

THE PA blares to life as Molly Sue sends one last pulse down her legs and forces Meegan's silky lower limbs to a full 180, Jolly sobbing for her release.

"SECOND OUT... MIGHTY MEEGAN JOLLY."

Right behind it, another announcement.

"NEXT IN... .FREE SPIRIT"

Maiden's newly-signed partner, sprints to the ring, hops on the apron and leaps over the ropes. The tawny, smallish brunette is clad in a blue short-sleeved shirt with a peek-a-boo hole amid the bosom that opens wide into tails just below the bust, leaving her flat bronze midsection bare in front. Below are Red briefs and White knee high boots.

Kristy is interrupted from a stomp of Maiden America's belly with a tap on the shoulder. The younger Sanders turns to face a motivated Free Spirit. Grabbing Kristy with both hands around the back of the neck, Free tosses her head over heels to the corner with a monkeyflip. Free Spirit kips to her feet and is in plenty of time for a rising, spinning Kristy, connecting with a sprightly superkick that sends Kristy to the deck as if shot, back slamming hard.

Kylie, seeing her cousin in mid-annihilation, releases her bow-and-arrow on Maiden, rises and spins Spirit to face her. The blonde veteran throws a punch, but it's blocked by the rookie. She drives a boot deep into Kylie's flat, undefined, and unguarded midsection, spins Sanders away, as she herself turns, the women back to back. She reaches back over her head with cupped, interlocked fingers. Free Spirit slips the cup under Kylie's chin as she presses her back against the similarly-sized Ky. The swarthy brunette bends forward, pulling Kylie off the mat in an inverted chinlock backbreaker, Kylie's spine curling dangerously as Free Spirit bends further forward, increasing the anguish-inducing pressure and stretching on each vertebrae. Quickly, a captured Kylie is reduced to squeals for help, blonde hair draping Free's shoulders, tummy and mound jutting forward around the brunette's extended ass. Ky's flailing limbs only increase the agony, so they fall limp, boot tips stretching to find the mat she so desperately wants to find, but is denied.

"STAHHHHP. NAHHHHHHHH. PLEEEEASE. KRIST-EEEEE. COZ-EEEE"

Free Spirit bears down all the more, trying to wring a submission out of Crushable with her torturous hold, ASAP. Finally, help arrives in the form of her cousin, Kristy hitting a knee lift to the face of the doubled Free Spirit. The brunette's hands reflexively fly to her face and Kylie slides down her back, timbering over to her face when her knees hit the mat.

Before Kristy can press her advantage on Free, Maiden spears her to the mat and, in moments, there is a four-way dogpile among the Sanders and the heroines, Kylie haltingly joining the mass of nubile bodies, determined to save Kristy from the mauling.

Meanwhile, with Mighty Meegan dispatched, the blonde's hands still massaging her aching groin as she's led away, Molly Sue moves on to the remaining Cosette. Showing some signs of life after the Redneck Woman's Implant DDT, LeBlanc lands a weak slug to Molly Sue's belly, but Lawrence forces her way through the blow, shaking her head to let the crowd know it had no effect. With a shiteating grin, she swings an arm around Cozy's neck, capturing her in a front facelock.

"OK, froggie. Where was I?"

Though anything but a brawler, Cosette has only one way out and she drives a clipping undercut to Molly Sue's jugs. The bosom-flattening blow draws a surprised squeak. The next brings a grimace and a look of shock. This little FAWN plaything must have a helluva battery inside, Molly Sue thought, as she fights the pain and tightens her grip. Rotating her body back a quarter-turn, Molly Sue bounds into the air and spins into ANOTHER Implant DDT that impales LeBlanc's head into the mat. The little brunette's body spasmodically jerks after impact then falls lifeless, Huggable starfished and unconscious next to a beaming Molly Sue. She wipes her hands and turns to claim her second victim.

But, as she does, the four-woman scrum finds her and she is mixed into the mess, even as Kristy is spit out the other side. Sanders, on one knee, gathers her bearings. She looks at the mass of bodies, arms grasping, legs firing, in all directions. And to the side, a slumbering ivory-skinned brunette, the diminutive Cozy, limbs emerging from her tri-color bikini pointing to each direction on the compass. The primal urge in Kristy is overwhelming. It may be her friend. It may be scavenging. But one less rival meant one step closer to winning. Sliding down next to the Frenchwoman, Kristy cradles both legs and rolls Cozy's knees to her nose, her alabaster ass cheeks pointing to the rafters.

ONE

TWO

THREE.

"THIRD OUT... " the arena speakers squeal. "COSETTE LEBLANC."

Kylie's head spins from the m�lange of scantily-clad women to see Kristy's 'Kissable' moniker and her friend's flaccid form next to her.

"WHA... "

A elbow from Free Spirit to Ky's chin cuts short the admonishment and Kristy, unaware, jumps back into the pileup, the five remaining women going tooth and nail. The PA blares to life once more.

"NEXT IN... .HARLEY JO COLLINS"

The tall and tanned brunette casually strides to the ring clad in a black two-piece consisting of sports bra and boy-cut trunks. She wears white knee and elbow pads and Stars-n-Bars patterned boots. The crowd lets the invading WOLFie know she's in FAWN territory now and she lets them know she couldn't care less with a couple of raised middle fingers.

"I broke your lame ass champ," Harley Jo screams, "Had s'much fun, came back for s'more."

The fact that Portia had been removed as champ by Ivy for a minute or so before Harley Jo had 'broken' her seemed of little interest to the crowd, nor the fact they hated Portia with a passion. The awful VanBuren was, in a way, theirs, and Collins had taken her from them and replaced her with a shadow. The torrent of catcalls continues as Harley climbs into the ring.

The tall brunette, a full head over some of the tangle of beauties in the ring, nonchalantly digs into the scrum and pulls Free Spirit out with a couple handfuls of hair. Harley Jo sends her barreling to the ropes, easily lifts her off the canvas on her return, and rotates into a shattering spinebuster that leaves Free stunned and only weakly stirring.

Rising, Collins reaches into the grab bag again, this time removing Kristy Sanders. A startled Kristy looks up into the eyes of the latecomer with a look that had 'OH CRAP' written all over it. Harley Jo takes a moment to nod her head in agreement before whipping Kristy to the ropes. As the pink-clad blonde starts to race by, Harley Jo grabs her hair with both hands and slams her to the mat with a vicious facebuster that results in Kristy being stretched out next to Free Spirit, Sanders face down, Free face up.

With Molly Sue and Maiden tangled in a collar-and-elbow, Kylie battering the back of her blonde redneck sister, there's no question who gets the next treatment. Grabbing Kylie's golden mane from behind, she tears her away, Sanders squealing 'HAIR, HAIR.'

Harley Jo turns the smaller woman to her, lifts an arm and forces Kylie's wide-eyed face into her armpit, scrubbing Ky's cute elfin features in the crook of her right arm. Having humiliated her, Harley Jo pulls Kylie's face free, her usually pale visage now rosy. With ease, Collins sends her third stooge hurtling to the ropes. When an out-of-control Kylie returns, Harley Jo lifts at the blonde's hips, pushing her sky high in front of her. A terrified Kylie has nowhere to go but down and Harley Jo has made sure it's a long ways. The Hawkeye slams into the mat face first courtesy of the lofty flapjack, bouncing an inch or two off the lightly-covered plywood before settling back to the mat, Harley Jo hitting the trifecta.

Harley Jo feels a tap on her shoulder and turns with a fist cocked and ready, but it is her partner, Molly Sue having left Maiden seated in the far corner, arm reaching to her back in pain.

"So which of these losers do we get rid of first," Molly Sue says, smile beaming.

"This one was some kind of champ," Harley Jo says, motioning toward Kylie, who struggles to hands and knees before a stomp from Collins puts her horizontal once more. "I know. I know," Harley Jo says, when greeted with a look of disbelief from Molly Sue. "It's FAWN." Harley Jo grabs Ky's right ankle and turns her to her back with a tug. From the opposite side, Molly Sue grabs the left ankle and both take the opportunity to punt Sanders in 'their' respective butt cheek, focusing the slightly scrambled Kylie on her predicament. As the Redneck Women inch away from each other, taking Kylie's sleek and silky, but abbreviated legs with them. Kylie's face turns pale and fearful. Her hands rise in supplication as she pleads for mercy. Turning to Harley, somehow assuming she is the leader, she appeals.

"Not that. PLEEEASSE."

The two raise their boots as if to stomp.

"OR THAT EITHER," Kylie howls. "She sure is picky," Harley Jo says.

"It's not like her crotch is gonna be used for anything fun, anyway," Molly Sue says, adding, "by her."

Kylie's desperate pleas now turn to the remaining wrestlers, but most are still in recovery mode from hurricane Harley Jo, including Kristy.

Kylie's head shakes wildly as the partners nod. They then fall away in opposite directions, violently, savagely stretching her groin to the snapping point. Kylie shrieks in pain as she reflexively sits upright, her hands draping either side of her pussy. The Wishbone mercilessly applied, Harley and Molly add to the torture by tugging in either direction, seemingly wishing to tear Kylie in two. The gruesome work has Sanders bawling, but, to her credit, not slapping the mat. The siren screams finally pull Maiden off the mat. The blue-eyed blonde pulls Molly Sue off with a handful of hair, yanking the WOLFie to her feet. Tag team fun interrupted, Harley Jo, still wanting Kylie's elimination, sinks a claw into her ivory midriff and cruelly works her talons into the bikini-clad battler, churning Ky's little ab muscles into soft yielding butter. Kylie cries out, but refuses the ref's offer of submission.

Collins wipes her brow with her free hand, the bitch didn't know how to wrestle a lick, but she could take punishment. Considering how she wrestled, Harley Jo figured she'd had a lot of practice.

Meanwhile, Maiden has a tight wrap around Molly Sue's midsection from behind. She tries to lift Molly Sue up for a belly-to-back suplex, but Lawrence blocks the maneuver, grapevining a leg around that of Maiden. Having halted the offensive of America's blonde beauty, Molly Sue goes on the attack, driving an elbow back into Maiden's chops. She next swings the arm over Maiden's neck and charges forward, viciously planting the patriot to canvas with a bulldog.

Molly Sue's partner continues to carve her stilettos into Kylie's increasingly yielding and pink midriff, Sanders scuttling on her back toward the ropes and salvation. Harley Jo tries to convince her otherwise, eliciting a whimper as she digs deeper still, curling her talons into the supple flesh. Kylie's fingers finally force their way out of a reflexive tug of her own golden tresses and reach for the strands. Close. Closer. Got'em. The tall brunette sighs in disgust, tearing and twisting for another four seconds before the ref forces her from her tummy torture.

Collins turns to see Free Spirit and Kristy Sanders going at it in the corner, each reversing an attack of the other. A few steps away her fellow redneck pulls a dizzied and drooping Maiden to her feet. Molly Sue acknowledges her partner.

"Wanna piece, Harl?"

The brunette nods with a smile and accepts her partner's whip of the Maiden. Collecting the scampering heroine around the hips, Harley Jo lifts and twirls the crystal blue-eyed blonde like a baton, violently slamming her down across bended knee in a tilt-a-whirl gutbuster WOLF fans knew as the Trailer Park Drop. From the gutted tawny belly and breathless, anguished visage of Maiden America, it was now well-known by the would-be superheroine. Too well. Harley shoves Maiden the rest of the way to the canvas, the demolished idol hugging her midsection as she's effortlessly turned to her back, shoulders flattened to the canvas with a lateral press. Harley Jo raises a hand and counts along with the referee.

ONE

TWO

THREE

"FOURTH OUT... MAIDEN AMERICA... AND... LAST IN... LORELEI BUTLER."

The robobabe from the Mississippi Delta strides to the ring with a look of fierce determination. She hops to the apron and climbs through, clad in black denim cut-offs, black lace bra. The sculptured, tawny Venus of the South is barefoot.

Without a moment's hesitation, Lorelei beelines for the woman dominating the action. Butler turns Harley Jo to her and spins her another 90 degrees with a brawny slap. The startled brunette returns fire with an open-hand strike of her own. Lorelei ups the ante with a thunderous right cross that staggers Collins, the Mississippi Queen showing some of the genes that made her cousin FAWN's World Champion. The only problem is Harley Jo comes back with the same and then some, her fist dropping Lorelei to one knee, the blonde quickly popping back up. Lorelei responds in kind, sending Harley Jo reeling and the return volley comes back once more, but this time it is intercepted by FAWN's most flawless bod. Butler's right cross hits home again, buckling Collins. Block. 'BAM'. Block.' BAM'. The crowd rallies behind Lorelei as she gets Harley Jo reeling for the first time in the match, but a pair of flashing digits and a rake of the blonde's eyes put an end to her attack. Collins cinches up against Lorelei and wraps a bearhug around the taut blonde, Harley Jo's tight embrace drawing a guttural 'UMMMPH'.

As Lorelei tries to catch a breath increasingly difficult to find, Kristy Sanders whips Free Spirit face-first into a free set of buckles and follows behind. But as Sanders closes with her target, Free leaps, letting Kristy pass beneath. She lands on the blonde's shoulders and pounds away at Kristy's jaw from the penthouse, free hand holding Kristy's head in place, her calves wrapping under Sanders' arm pits. The crowd counts away as Kristy continues to get staggered with blow after blow.

"EIGHT... NINE... TEN."

Somehow Ky's stubborn cousin remains upright, until Free Spirit throws her weight forward, tumbles toward the deck, and secures Kristy's shoulders against the mat with a Victory Roll.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT

Meanwhile, the last pair of foes, original starter Kylie Sanders and the Southern-fried WOLFie Molly Sue Lawrence tie up in a collar-and-elbow. Kylie keenly reverses a thrust by the Redneck Woman and finds herself in control with a side headlock. Showing a flash of style and know-how that harkens to her long ago successful turn as Television Champion, Ky chains Molly Sue ragged from headlock to full nelson to hiptoss to ankle lock to Boston Crab. Not a motion is wasted as Lawrence has no answer to the elfin blonde's parade of successful moves, one strung tightly against the next. Sanders leans into the Crab, pulling Molly Sue into an ever tighter arc, Lawrence growling then forced to emit a piteous chirp from the growing ache, Kylie unable to hide her satisfaction at the sound. Finally, not just surviving, she is thriving. Molly Sue squeaks again as Kylie finds a comfy perch just below her shoulderblades, the Iowan brutally adjusting the Southerner's spine.

And it's a Sanders smorgasboard as Kristy has evened things up with Free Spirit and once again tosses her smaller foe to the buckles, the swarthy, brunette heroine crashing chest first. Kristy stomps across the mat in a full sprint and Free tries to repeat her earlier success, grabbing the ropes in front of her and leaping up to let Kristy collide beneath. This time, however, Ky's cousin slams on the brakes, and Free Spirit drops with a grunt across Kristy's right shoulder. The blonde pivots with the squirming Spirit in hand, lifts, and powerslams her to the mat with unforgiving force, Kristy nearly losing her balance on the emphatic follow-through. A shellshocked Free Spirit lies wide-eyed on the mat, the succulent, diminutive rookie taking every iota of that toss and looking it. Kristy skips over her victim and races to the buckles. She climbs, back to the ring, and drops into a diving back elbow drop that pierces the cleft of Free's perky bosom. The newly forged superheroine spasms from the blow, then falls flat and motionless.

But instead of proceeding for the pin, Kristy interjects herself into another battle, climbing the set of buckles next to Kylie's Crab. Kristy shouts directions to her cousin and Kylie releases the obstinate Molly Sue from her predicament. The proud 'trailer trash' struggles to her feet, grasping at her lower back, the blonde stooping as she growls at a relaxed Kylie. Why... why isn't she preparing for me, Molly Sue wonders. She has to know I'll...

The thought is never finished, as Kristy leaps high off the corner and hits the rarely seen Kristy Krusher, a leg-driven bulldog Facecrusher from the top rope that serves as Kristy's finisher. Never before used in a FAWN ring, the ferocious acrobatics draws an appropriate 'oooh' from the crowd and sends Molly Sue into stupor-iffic semi-consciousness. Kylie pulls the Tennessee deadweight up to her feet and then it is OVER AND DONE, the second Sanders finisher in a row. Ky's German suplex into bridging pin stamping the lifeless blonde to the mat, FAWN claiming their first WOLF hide of the contest.

"FIFTH OUT... MOLLY SUE LAWRENCE."

Turning, a look of utter disbelief on her face, Harley Jo sees her partner pinned beneath a bridging Kylie, then sees stars as Lorelei nails an earringer on either side of the head of the distracted brunette. Collins' embrace loosens and Lorelei's boots drop to the mat. Prying her way free, the Mississippi Queen starts slugging away, Harley Jo's head rocketing back then plopping forward, each time her neck muscles a little more slack than before. At five, her body begins following her head, Butler putting the WOLFie in full retreat, as the accumulating punches back her into a corner, head on a swivel from Lorelei's powerful combos.

But before Lorelei can enjoy delivering a death blow, Free, Kristy and Kylie join her, battering Collins into a fetal ball, Harley Jo crumpling to the canvas, pulling her head to her knees in an attempt to survive the onslaught of punches and, now, kicks. Surprisingly, it's Lorelei who collaterally comes to her aid. Enraged that she isn't allowed to grind Harley Jo into a grease spot all on her own, the taut blonde captures the nearest party pooper, an unlucky Free Spirit. Lorelei snatches her in a front facelock and lifts a knee into the perky bosom of the stooping brunette.

After a couple similar blows have Free groaning, the starch removed from the diminutive heroine, Butler whips Free Spirit to the buckles, her back smashing into the corner. The anguished beauty lurches out a step before a crushing corner splash from Lorelei leaves her a withering mess, only remaining upright because Butler's perfect body presses close against hers.

Slipping behind the diminutive brunette, Lorelei's arms snake around the neck of Free Spirit, pulling the victim's own right arm into the jumble of a jugular-compressing Cobra Clutch. The blonde brawler takes a couple of grazing shots as Free flails for escape, but the sneering Lorelei is undeterred, adding some angry twists to the debilitating hold. Those, and the lack of blood flow to her brain, start to pacify the frisky rookie, free arm waving like a reed in the wind, legs jellying, head sagging in whatever direction Lorelei thrusts her body.

Meanwhile, Kristy and Kylie go to work on Harley Jo Collins. Pulling the towering brunette out of the corner, they each grapevine a leg around that of Collins and send her plummeting to the mat face-first with a Double Front Russian Legsweep. Confidence growing, having already teamed to eliminate Molly Sue, the duo yank Harley Jo to unsteady feet and whip her to the ropes. Double the Sanders equals double the fun, as they set up mid-ring and convert a beautiful double backdrop followed by double elbowdrop that sends Collins into a high-kicking spasm before falling still. Kissable and Crushable are not done. They lift the Redneck Woman up once more, Kristy assisting Kylie in maneuvering the big brunette on her shoulders in a fireman's carry position. Kristy then drops back to the ropes, surges forward and scrapes Harley Jo off Kylie's back with an upper deck spinning neckbreaker. Harley Jo hits the mat HARD, her hands reflexively cradling her head. The crowd erupts as Kristy sprawls on top for the cover, the precise and devastating teamwork of Team Sanders really catching the eyes and vocal cords of the assembled throng.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT!

To the side, Lorelei releases her Cobra Clutch on Free Spirit, nearly all the life wrung from her. The brunette sags to the canvas bonelessly, Lorelei dropping down next to her. Butler spreads the demolished superhero into a spreadeagle and raises a claw to the sky. With great relish, Lorelei scoops an underhand claw into Free's crotch and clamps into the lightly-covered, tender tissue, instantly resuscitating her foe. Pushing the brunette's upper body back down with her free hand, Lorelei releases and slides her claw underneath Free's patriotic wrapping, going straight to work on the moist mound beneath. Ripping. Pinching. Clawing. Probing. It isn't long before Free Spirit is a sobbing wreck from the brutal abuse, trying desperately to reach and salve her pussy, but the blonde bully will have none of it, keeping her at bay.

Finally, in desperation, and a long way from any saving ropes, she screams for help. Kylie and Kristy turn from their work, but only for a moment. Free Spirit had caused them too many problems. Nearly had me tapping, Kylie considers, nope, she's on her own.

Bitterly wailing as she sees the Sanders ignore her pleas, the perky brunette heroine can take no more and lets herself and America down, passionately slapping the mat to signal her submission.

"PLEEEASE GAWWWD. GET HER OFF ME."

The ref does peel Lorelei away and signals to the timekeeper. The PA blares to life with his call.

"SIXTH OUT... FREE SPIRIT."

"Another bitch gone," Lorelei barks, "time for the pouty little pussy to bite the dust."

Attacking Kylie from behind, Lorelei captures the startled blonde in a double chickenwing, the Hawkeye lovely squealing in pain as Butler ratchets up the pressure then lifts Kylie clean off the mat by her folded arms. Kylie wails as she's suspended in the air, her head shaking in anguish and disbelief. After a few seconds, Lorelei tosses her away like a bag of garbage, Kylie splatting to the mat, her adorable features flattened against the canvas first, followed by her chest and the rest.

Hearing Kylie's distressed call and seeing Lorelei moving to press her advantage, Kristy turns and grabs a passing Butler by the shoulder, a fist already cocked to lay her low. Unfortunately, a tottering Harley Jo's recuperative powers are on display and the WOLFie throws herself into a painful punt to Kristy's pussy, dissecting her legs from behind with a meaty 'THWAP' that even causes many in the crowd to grimace. Kristy is frozen then slowly implodes to the impact point, her mouth in a wide 'O', welled eyes bulging. Lorelei tosses off Kristy's broken grip and leaves the pink-n-black clad beauty to her executioner.

Harley Jo grabs Kristy's right arm and thrusts it between her legs then, with a skill and power even FAWNatics could not deny, she hoists Kristy up in a spinning maneuver and impales her on the canvas with a mat-rocking pumphandle slam that draws an 'OOOOH' from the crowd and Kristy's consciousness from her. The youngster is deadweight as she is pulled to her feet and sent hurtling to the ropes. On her return, Collins gathers her once more, and, using her momentum against her, spins the supple blonde as if she's tossing pizza dough. Only this delectable morsel comes crashing down across Harley Jo's extended knee in a tilt-a-whirl gutbuster, the Trailer Park Drop claiming its second victim. Only, Harley Jo, after pushing what remained of Kristy off her knee, rises and leaps into a pancake press, tall tawny body squishing tenderized pale white meat beneath. The three-count is moot, but the ref goes through the motions, Kristy motionless under Harley Jo's enveloping full body pin.

ONE

TWO

THREE!

"SEVENTH OUT... KRISTY SANDERS."

Lorelei, having bodied the diminutive and drained Kylie into a corner, whips her out toward a rising Harley Jo, but the collision is decidedly one-sided, Ky stonewalled by the towering brunette. Her apparent idea to batter both remaining combatants short-circuited, Lorelei calls an audible.

"Let's get this little house show reject out of the way," she proposes, "then we can settle this thing."

Harley Jo nods in agreement. With one hand in Kylie's blonde locks, Collins clenches her other set of digits and lands a right cross that sends Kylie stumbling away and into Lorelei's willing fist, her blow to Kylie's bruising apple cheek returning her to sender. The process follows a few more give and give-some-mores, Ky barely able to remain upright after Lorelei's third sock to the jaw. But alas, she does, falling into Harley Jo's encasing embrace, the big brunette easily lifting Sanders into a crushing front bearhug that Kylie is no longer equipped to fight free from. Soon her body flags against that of her tormentor, limbs growing slack, head leaning on Harley Jo's shoulder. A pulse of Collins' biceps sends Ky's head up with a throaty gasp and a racing Lorelei flies by, painfully removing Kylie from her predicament with a lariat takedown, the double team maneuver leaving Kylie a lifeless shell, consecutive Sanders' pins a seeming fait d'accompli.

But a silenced crowd murmurs to life as a slender slip of a woman in chic tennis togs clambers over the restraining barrier and slides into the ring. As Lorelei slides atop Kylie for the pin, a focused Harley Jo waiting patiently for the third slap to attack and finish Armstrong's weakass cousin and claim the win, Portia VanBuren IV stomps Harley Jo's knee from behind. The startled shriek is enough to slightly distract Lorelei from her task and Kylie rolls a shoulder up in the nick of time.

Portia continues to attack the brunette's knee, kicking her leg out from under once, twice, thrice, each time Collins rising more slowly as she favors her battered leg. On the third trip up, Portia removes a pair of gold knux from her abbreviated skirt and slips them on her right hand.

"Payback's a bitch and I'm the queen of them."

Her gilded fist flies toward Harley Jo's chin, but the WOLFie who had nearly ended Portia's career, ducks the blow and nails a spinning VanBuren with an unaided, but chin-checking clout of her own. A couple more have a shocked Portia backpedaling to the ropes, the knux falling free of her opening digits and dropping to the floor below. Harley Jo snatches a wrist and flings Portia to the far strands. The slender socialite hurtles back to Harley Jo and the tall brunette sends VanBuren heavenward with a vertigo-inducing back body drop, Portia flying so high and hitting so hard that any thoughts of revenge seem to disappear in an instant. A snickering Harley Jo pulls a pained Portia to her tennis shoes with a handful of strawberry blonde locks. She whips the suddenly brittle-looking Daddy's Girl to the ropes and plants her patrician features to the canvas with a vicious sitout facebuster that seems to remove the remaining starch from Fortune's Favorite. Collins rises and, with a hint of drawl, addresses the crowd.

"Last time was practice. This time I'm ending this skinny little rich bitch for good."

Turning Portia to her back, Harley Jo sets up for the Sharpshooter that would finish the job she had started nearly a year earlier, but as she begins to lock it in, VanBuren uses her free leg like a piston against Harley Jo's backside and pushes the WOLFie off, an off-balance Collins tumbling into a nearby set of turnbuckles.

Away from the unscheduled action, Lorelei still has Kylie under her thumb. Butler, with a grip on the slumping blonde's wrist, moves into an Irish whip, but, from nowhere, Kylie reverses it and sends the Mississippi Queen rumbling chest-first into the nearby corner.

Lorelei stumbles out of the corner in a backpedal and right to a dipping Kylie, who lifts between Lorelei's legs from behind and sends her tumbling hard to the mat with an Angle Slam that brings the Corps to their feet for the first time in a while. Kylie grasps a few deep breaths then pulls a little Shea out of her memory bank, skipping over the fallen Lorelei, leaping into the middle rope and vaulting back in a lionsault that hits Lorelei flush in her taut midriff. Butler grunts loudly, her body jackknifing around Kylie then falling back to the canvas.

ONE

TWO

THRE... KICKOUT.

Lorelei scrambles to her backside, leaning against the ropes. She grips her tummy while simultaneously calling for a time out, but Ky will have none of it. Standing next to Lorelei, she grabs the top rope for balance and sends a stomp to the black lace bra covering Lorelei's abundant chest. The blonde yelps from the painful blow to her bosom, her body folding up, and sliding part of the way through the ropes. Another boot to the cleavage sends her tumbling out, Ky, in a way, granting her TO.

Meanwhile, an angry Harley Jo, still pissed at Portia for denying her a knee-popping Sharpshooter, stalks her from behind, Portia having found unsteady feet. The Redneck Woman seems ready to slap on a sleeper that will mean nighty-night for the match's unscheduled participant. But as Harley Jo starts to apply, Portia sends a mule kick behind her, splitting the brunette's long, lean lower limbs and savagely connecting with the tender tissue between.

With a look of complete hatred, Portia turns to face the doubled Harley Jo. Without a word, Portia hooks one of the brunette's legs and, with all the strength her slender body could provide, VanBuren lifts Harley Jo up. Baby lets gravity do the rest with a resounding cradle piledriver that sickeningly folds Collins' body up at the neck, the entire weight of her body pressing down on the delicate vertebrae in gruesome fashion.

Not surprisingly, Portia seems unconcerned over the starfished and tremor-laden tawny body. Despite the ref's continued protestations for her to leave the ring immediately, Portia climbs aboard the shaking head of Harley Jo in a reverse face straddle and reaches forward with a choking grasp of Harley Jo's crotch, Baby reveling in the vibrations of the brunette's screams against her tingling pussy, the 911 ready for a drive. Portia glides across Harley Jo's face, the thrusts becoming more forceful and deep into the WOLFie's features, Harley Jo's flailing limbs going flaccid then limp at her sides. That sight alone nearly brought Portia to orgasm, but she had a few more rubs of Collins' face in her. Alas, Portia's satisfaction isn't on Kylie's agenda and she helps the ref out by pushing Portia off her victim. An enraged Portia pulls herself up with the help of the ropes.

"Look little country mouse," Portia admonishes Kylie, "you don't want to get in over your head."

But Ky ends the conversation with a dropkick that vaults Fortune's Favorite over the top rope. She ushers a semi-conscious and crimson-faced Harley Jo to her feet, dips a shoulder between the long limber legs, and boosts her into a fireman's carry. From there, Kylie pulls a new and powerful weapon out of her expanded arsenal. Shifting Harley Jo's body to the right, she collapses to the canvas, sending Harley Jo head and neck first into the unforgiving mat with a Death Valley Driver. The introduction of her new finisher, the 'Pleasant Valley Driver', complete, Kylie hooks a long lean leg.

ONE

TWO

THREE!

"EIGHTH OUT... HARLEY JO COLLINS."

Ky slaps the mat in celebration. Two WOLFies gone. Both by her hand. Or at least she'd get the credit from other's work. Hopping to her feet, she turns to find Lorelei AND DOES... RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER.

Lorelei drives a savate kick deep into Sanders' solar plexus doubling over the worn beauty with a half-groan, half-sob. She captures Kylie in a front facelock, choking, gouging, twisting and Sanders' resistance is gone. Being first out of the chute in the Rumble and surviving from the start of the match is showing its strain, Ky looking depleted next to the final addition to the match, Lorelei Butler.

The Mississippi Queen releases her lock and pulls a spent Kylie into a crushing front bearhug, Lorelei both squeezing and shaking the life out of the limp, drooping blonde. The only sound from Kylie is desperate wheezing as she fights against the debilitating compression and lack of oxygen and the panic that comes with it. With Lorelei seemingly a few seconds from the KO, Kylie reaches her arms wide and slaps together an earringer that stuns Ivy's cuz, another breaks her loose. Showing what had to be a fifth wind, Kylie leaps into the middle rope and bounces back with a cross-body block that finds the mark. But the flagging Kylie's effort is far from crisp and Lorelei is able to catch and retain her balance. She sends Kylie flying over her head with a fallaway slam, the thumping impact eliciting an exhausted cry from the Hawkeye, Ky reaching to her aching back in a pained arch.

Pushing to her feet, Lorelei waits for Kylie, Sanders rolling from one side to another. Growing tired of the delay, Butler grabs a wrist and wrenches Ky to her feet. The saucy Southerner then breaks out the whuppin' stick, pummeling Kylie with powerful slugs to midsection and then to jug, Lorelei helping herself to uppercuts full of plump, juicy breastmeat. At first trying to defend herself, the beatdown takes its toll. Finally, Kylie's arms droop to her sides, leaving her head wide open for the continuing barrage.

But instead, the hailstorm relents. Lorelei smiles broadly in front of a foe worn to a nub. Kylie had been in from the beginning and looked like she'd been beaten upon for every second of her ordeal.

"Time for you to say bye-bye, Ky," Lorelei says cheerily. "Who woulda thought you'd be the last FAWN slut to kill off."

She closes next to Sanders and whispers in Ky's ear.

"Time to send a message to this halfass organization that the Mississippi Queen is ready to reign."

Rearing back, she lands a stiff left to Kylie's temple that sends Sanders careening to the corner. There Lorelei keeps her upright and buffets her with fists and elbows before gleefully raising a set of curled digits high in the air. Lorelei digs fingers into Kylie's face, the iron claw pressing into temples and forehead, Ky's slightly upturned nose flat against Lorelei's palm, eyelids fluttering between the cage of fingers. Sanders pushes weakly against Lorelei's wrist, but is unable to budge the burying digits. Lorelei presses her left hand into the back of Kylie's head, forcing her face forward to experience the full effect of the consciousness-depriving force. Then, with a helping hand on Kylie's hip, Lorelei lifts Sanders off the mat and turns iron claw to a modified claw-slam. Lifting a semi-conscious Kylie to her knees, Lorelei bends her backwards, slipping a headscissors snugly around Kylie's cute features. With the "Pray for Mercy" locked in, Ky's face buried deep into her crotch, her wrists held tight, the pulsing pressure of the headscissors and the oxygen-depriving smother combine to leave Kylie on the edge of defeat. With victory seconds away, Butler doesn't even seem to care when Portia slides back in the ring to finish her vendetta against Harley Jo. What did it matter? But for some reason, it did matter to the ref.

As Portia entwines her legs with those of the WOLF gatecrasher and spins her into a sharpshooter, Lorelei can feel the last of Kylie's will flee her body. A submission would have been a fitting end, but a knockout was always nice. Lorelei lets Kylie's boneless body fall flaccid, arms and legs crumpling around softly rolling torso. Dripping golden locks framing her greasy face, as Lorelei allows her to escape the prison of her taut thighs.

She had done it. Beat nine other bitches... and beating them with ease. She folds Kylie into a matchbook, sitting atop the pits of her knees.

"ONE"

"TWO"

"THREE," she counts.

But the man whose numbers matter is not counting with her, the ref trying to untie Portia's legs from a squealing, tapping Harley Jo.

"FOUR! FIVE!" she shouts. No luck. "Hey. HEYYYY."

The ref, apparently insistent on having no career ended on his watch, continues to pry Harley Jo free of her tormentor. Finally, Lorelei lets Kylie unfold to a motionless, slumbering spreadeagle. She grabs the ref angrily by the shoulder, nearly decking him, before pulling up on a right cross. NO DQ, Lorelei's thought screamed. AFTER. HIT HIM AFTER.

"I'll help you. You help me."

Lorelei slaps Portia across the face, instantly getting the break.

"Stay out of this hick bimbOOOOOO."

Portia barely gets the insult finished before a boot finds her belly. Grabbing the strawberry blonde by the skirt, Butler gives Fortune's Favorite a Queen-size wedgie while sending her flying over the top rope. Harley Jo follows behind, Lorelei cleaning out the ring.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind," Lorelei says, trying to regain some composure. "I've got a little 'i' to dot over there."

She motions to Kylie, who's rolled to her side. The ref nods and accompanies Lorelei back to her win. Leaning down, Lorelei grabs Ky by her dripping matted golden mane.

"Where were we?"

Kylie looks up pleadingly, in dismay, but suddenly, she pushes up from horizontal, shooting a forearm into the scant black lace covering Lorelei's pussy. And from nowhere, it's Butler's baby blues bulging in disbelief. Bent and frozen, hands dropping to her pubic mound, she can do nothing but gasp and chirp piteously as Kylie stumbles to her feet and swings an arm through her widened legs, viciously connecting again. This time, however, Kylie's arm remains lodged between the tremulous lower limbs and with a grunt of effort, Kylie lifts Lorlei into a Fireman's Carry across her shoulders.

Sanders gathers her balance with the frozen Lorelei backpacked over her neck. With a heave and a ho, she shifts Lorelei to the right and plants her head first to the mat with the PLEASANT VALLEY DRIVER. The crowd erupts as they sense the impossible coming true before their eyes. Kylie sprawls atop Lorelei, forcefeeding the stunned blonde some of her ample cleavage in a full body pin as the ref slides into place.

ONE

TWO

THREE!

Kylie rolls to her back lounging on a softly-stirring Lorelei with a wide smile, hazel eyes gleaming as her chest rolls from deep breaths. She raises her hands as the PA blares to life for the last time in this epic struggle. "NINTH OUT... LORELI BUTLER. YOU'RE WINNER... KYLIE SANDERS."

Kylie rises, pulling a ragdolled Lorelei up with her. She runs Butler to the ropes and tosses her over, knocking over a still feuding Portia and Harley Jo on the outside, like bowling over a couple pins to pick up the spare.

The crowd seems to adore the diminutive elfin blonde even more for the plucky dismissal, the rousing ovation moving Kylie to tears as she looks down on the tangle of torsos and limbs beneath her.

She had survived.

NO. MORE THAN THAT. SHE WAS THE WINNER.

WINNER: Kylie Sanders