Christina Aguilera's "Fighter" begins to play over the PA. The lights dim, and then some strobing black lights begin to shine over the crowd. Finally two burts of bright green pyro erupt on the stage and Tila Nagai steps out from behind the curtains. Although she is the challenger in this match, she brings a lot of fanfare with her. She looks like a champion.

The crowd looks up at Tila, and she's dressed like Tinkerbell from Peter Pan. Clad in a silver studded, clear strap green sequin fabric dress. The bottom is cut up, much like Tink would have it, but Nagai is also sporting some neon green sequin trimmed sparkles at the ends. She even has clear sparkly wings, and a little magic wand. Around her feet are a stunning pair of sexy Italian hand made opalized metallic emerald green leather high heel sandals from Italy with ankle strap, and 4 1/4 inch heels. As she walks down the aisle, she pauses near the fans on the right side of the ramp and whips her wand out... It shoots out shiny silver confetti and glitter, like shooting pixie dust into the crowd. She then dances over to the other side of the crowd on the rampway, and does the same, showering them in her fairy dust.

Tila steps up onto the ring apron, and takes her wings off. Handing them and the wand to a ringside assistant. She bends down to one knee, seductively unstrapping her instep strap and removing the acrylic platform heels. It's easier to wrestle barefoot then on stilts. Although she may be dressed cute, her glaze turns to the entrance ramp as she awaits the champion. She looks anything but giddy, as her demeanor turns to all business.

Nagai leans against the ropes, testing the elasticity. She then stands straight and stares at the entrance ramp as it the fans cool to a slow boil, awaiting the champion's arrival.

Red, white, and blue spotlights swirl through the audience as the Olympic 'Fanfare for the Common Man' erupts from the sound system. When a glaring white beam backlights a tight, but tiny figure at the top stage, the music quickly fades, blue and white light ceding to the growing red filling the ramp and ring, quickly joined by red pyro in a line in front of the figure.

The techno-pop beat of Vitamin C's 'The Itch' pumps through the audience and a spotlight falls upon an exotic little brunette with smoky gray-green eyes and ethnic hints from all over the Pacific Rim. Dominique Daly is clad in a red cami leotard, her tawny arms, legs, and feet bare, as well as large swaths of her midriff from several rips and tears in the skin-tight spandex. The glittering Television Championship adorns her waist. Her long, dark locks are pulled back into a soft ponytail that bobs as she pumps her right arm to the beat. Domi sways to the music; her taut, little backside swiveling deliciously as she rotates in a circle then moves forward, arms raised high despite the mix of cheers and boos, the negative easily outweighing the positive reaction.

Trying to win the crowd over, she enters into a tumbling run down the ramp with back handsprings ending with a back tuck flourish and a bright smile that gets her nowhere. Despite the show, the crowd hasn't forgotten, nor do they appreciate her unsavory past and less than legitimate tactics. Unhappy with the response, Daly lets the crowd know she thinks they're #1 as well, with dual middle fingers.

The ex-gymnast growls at a placard shoved in her face. "Hey, Domi, how much hair can you have left after another scalping?" A full color spread of Juliet Bloodwind claiming her prize of Dominique's ponytail on the next poster does nothing to calm the rage in her eyes. She wasn't going to underestimate that bitch, tonight. And if anyone was coming away with a scalp, it would be her.

Leaving the losers behind, she hops up to the apron and vaults over the ropes with room to spare, her body moving as if on hydraulic springs.

The differences in their demeanor is obvious. Domi, the Champion, is haughty, arrogant. In her mind, there is no doubt that she'll win this match. Tila is reserved and determined, pretty face set in pensive scowl. They leap at each other, and it is Domi who draws first blood. Not bothering to see if the tiny Asian is a match for her in terms of strength or not, the champion decides to dance with who brought her.

She hip tosses Tila to the canvas, so fast that the whole move is a blur until Nagai's delectable body suddenly coalesces into a back-arching vision of eroticism. An elbow from the champ folds the challenger up. Bounding to her feet, Domi hit the ropes, rebounding off them, but Tila, still firmly in control of her faculties and her senses, is on her feet. Instinctively, she lunges at Domi. For two women who have shown themselves to be remarkably fluid and graceful in the ring, this collision is resembles the unchoreographed chaos of ten bowling pins being swept off the edge of the alley. Tila stops most of Domi's charge, mostly because Domi never saw it coming. The two slight warriors tumble into each other, collapsing to the canvas, this time, granting Tila the advantage of the high ground... or at least being on top.

"I'm sorry for this, Domi," Tila said dispassionately. "But I must take your title."

The challenger smashes her tiny fist one, two, three, four times into Domi's face. As the champion shook her head violently to shake out the cobwebs, Tila throws her into the ropes. As she rebounds, Tila hits a dropkick that sends Domi's shoulders slamming into the canvas before her phenomenally tight ass. It also ignites the crowd, who roar in appreciation of the Asian's athletic exhibition.

"That's my crowd," snarls Domi, kipping up and lashing out with a rake of Tila's eyes. The challenger squeals and the champion pursues, the crowd quieted by Domi's apparent ability to shake off the jaw-crushing drop kick of the challenger.

"And it's staying my belt," she said as she buries a fist into Tila's midsection. Crying out and doubling over, Tila made it easy for the smoldering, hateful brunette to wrap her legs around her head and twist her head viciously into the canvas with a modified hurricanrana.

Tila's eyes weren't quite flashing tilt, but they were surprisingly vacant for such a young match. She heard the crowd erupt again, her fragile confidence shaken by the fickle crowd. She never saw the perfectly-executed baseball slide that ignited a fire of pain in her ribs. Her world spun. Down was up. Up was down. Then the sharp pain of her ribs was joined by a dull one on her back, head, and ass as she landed on the cold concrete floor.

Domi scrambles to her feet and grabs the top rope, pulling herself up and over, crashing onto the prone body of her enemy du jour. Tila cried out in pain and shock as Domi's midsection splashed across her own.

"You're so out of your league, Nagai," spat Domi, hauling the diminutive beauty to her feet and rolling her back into the ring. With a grace that was almost liquid, Domi slid into the ring after her opponent and hooks one of the smooth, coffee-and-cream legs.

The referee slides into position.

ONE

TWO

Kick out.

"Bitch," Domi said with a derisive bark that was laced with amusement and annoyance. "You don't know when to quit."

She kicked Tila's writhing body onto her tummy and straddled her, lacing her hands underneath Tila's chin, locking in the cobra clutch. With her phenomenally powerful legs, and her almost inhuman flexibility, Domi's cobra clutch is a fearsome weapon against a woman close to her own size. Tila heard the snap-crackle-pop of her spine as Domi tortured her. The former gymnast's pretty face was twisted into a hateful leer by the effort she was pouring into the destruction of her foe.

The referee dropped to the canvas and stared right at Tila's face.

"Do you give, Tila?" he shouted. Tila could manage to shake her head slightly from side to side.

No. She didn't give.

Trapped in a position that deprived her of the ability to struggle, much less counter, Tila does what she's done for years... endure. Endure the pain of the hold, and the waning support from the crowd, and the odd taunt from the champion intent on snapping her spine in two. After several minutes, each of which seeming like an eon in purgatory, the pain began to fade. It grew distant. She dimly worried if she was crippled.

Then it stopped.

"You're too stupid to submit," spat a huffing, puffing Domi, her arms and legs now trembling from exertion. "I'll just knock your ass out. Kinda like how that washed up old has-been Chrissy Daniel got KOed by another washed up old has-been."

Tila collapses to the canvas as Domi releases the hold.

"Don't ever talk bad about Chrissy!" wheezes the nearly-broken Asian.

"Oh, how cute!" hisses Domi, hauling the little wisp of a challenger up. Whipping her into the ropes, Domi prepares to knock Tila's pretty head off with a spinning kick, but the pain-wracked challenger ducks. Rebounding off the next set of ropes, Tila's legs pump harder, driving her faster, despite the shrieking in her brain as the nerves and muscles of her abused back protest. Her acceleration throws Domi's timing off and the challenger wins back the crowd with a flying spinning neckbreaker.

They both lie there, chest heaving, flawless skin glistening as the crowd remains on their feet, screaming for more carnage. Domi stirs first, shaking her head, cursing her own carelessness. She rolls onto her stomach, then pushes herself up on all fours. Tila struggles painfully to her feet, the cobra clutch still exacting a toll. Both rise on unsteady legs, Domi swings a punch at Tila's jaw, but her looping blow is beaten by a quick, straight punch fired by Tila, snapping into the champion's delicate nose. The move backs Domi up a little, and Tila, suddenly the little engine that could, drives her shoulder into Domi's rock hard midsection and drives her backwards into the corner.

A look of angry determination is now evident in Tila's features, and she earned another eruption from the crowd by throwing ever fiber of her aching body into a huge spin wheel kick that impacts Domi's cheek with a sickening, meaty smack. The tiny champion is knocked savagely out of the ring, joined immediately by the challenger as the force of the kick overwhelms Tila's balance. It's almost as if the sudden departure of Domi's body creates a vacuum that sucks Tila off her feet and out of the ring.

Tila barely grabs a rope, arresting her descent just enough to land gracefully on her feet. A few feet away, the other hellion struggles to rise. Tila, still recovering from the clutch watches the show. Domi rises to her hands and knees, but her arms give out and she crashes back onto her face. She tries again, this time getting to her feet before she collapses backwards against the ring and slumps to the canvas. Finally, the thirds being the charm, she gets to her feet and seems able to stay there, until Tila grabs her by the hair and smashes her face against the ring apron, then rolls her back into their little coliseum, following her and beating the referee's count by a count or two.

"You should have finished me when you had the chance!" snarls Tila, quickly diving atop her prone enemy and calling for the count.

The referee obliges.

ONE

TWO

Kick out by Domi.

Undaunted, Tila straddles her tormentor and drives a punch into her face.

"You're so beautiful," Tila coos, unsettling the referee and the poor girl she's got pinned to the canvas. "Too bad I break beautiful things." THUD... THUD... THUD as her fist smacks Domi's cheek. After a while, Tila rises, the crowd once again solidly in her corner. Domi's stunned.

"This will get them on my side and keep them there!" Tila says to the ref, who just blinks back at her. The little waif scrambles to the corner and skitters up to the top. She holds her arms out to her sides, pausing for effect, stoking the crowd into a delirious bloodlust. Then, she leaps, shooting toward the ceiling into a swanton bomb to end all swanton bombs. Never has anyone in FAWN managed this much height without the aid of a steel cage. She's impossibly high at the zenith of her arc, and she crashes down across her enemy with unfathomable force and rage. Domi is obliterated. The only thing that saves the champion at this point is the fact that Tila, too, pays a terrible price, fully half of the toll exacted on the champion.

Tila bounced off Domi's smashed ribcage landing on her side a full six feet away. The referee counts.

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

Finally, Tila stirs. She crawls over to the knocked out champion. She drops her aching body across Domi's lifeless carcass.

ONE

TWO

THR�shoulder up.

The crowd continues to scream itself hoarse.

"How?" groans Tila, her voice cracking. She drags Domi up to her feet.

The fire was still there. In Domi's eyes, you can see it. No longer the raging inferno that ended Juliet Bloodwind. Now, just an ember. But it was there. And a third wind drove it to flare up. She raked a chop out of nowhere across Tila's delectable breasts, earning a pained squeal to accompany the sharp SMACK of flesh on flesh. On a primal level, she savors the sounds of this symphony of destruction.

She backs Tila up again with a sustained series of kicks and punches. A kick lands squarely between Tila's toned thighs and her eyes roll back in her head.

"I'm baaaaaaack!" coughs Domi, who then drives Tila's head into the canvas with a bulldog. She rolls Tila onto her back and goes for the pin.

ONE

TWO

Shoulder up.

"You're dead," Domi says. "You should have escaped with your pathetic life when you had the chance. Now, I'm going to freaking kill you!"

She hauls Tila up. And gives her an opening. Tila lashes out with a chop of her own. Domi counters with a punch to Tila's tummy. Refusing to double over, Tila drives Domi back with a roundhouse kick. The challenger follows up with a punch, but Domi ducks and takes her down with a leg sweep. Tila immediately lashes out with a wild kick that connects with Domi's knee. Tila rises, but Domi is on her in an instant. A vicious jawbreaker silences Tila and Domi is on her again, looking for the pinfall.

ONE

TWO

Shoulder up.

Domi slams the canvas in frustration. She tears Tila's top off, giving the match its first meaningful nudity and shifting the crowd's allegiance yet again. She plucks Tila from the canvas and whips her into the ropes, stopping her at the dead center of the ring with a clothesline. Her incredibly toned legs seemed to wobble, threatening to betray her again, but she maintained her balance. She stalks over to the corner post and slowly climbs them, the rigors of the match turning what used to be simple into a difficult, complex task.

Domi, breathing heavily, turns atop her perch to locate her target. Nagai was rising, thereby selecting for Domi the next weapon to be hurled against her. It would be a missile drop kick, and Domi dearly hoped it broke something when it hit the little nuisance.

She flew.

And she missed. Tila dropped and Domi went sailing over her head, crashing into a devastated heap in the corner as her impact with the canvas turned into an uncontrolled roll. Whether Tila dropped because she saw Domi flying toward her or because her legs simply chose that moment to give out is open to debate. Regardless, Tila once more mounts up on shaky legs and grabs Domi. Now struggling with what was almost dead weight, Tila looped one of her arms under each or Domi's, securing a double under hook.

She lifts Domi up, the crowd suddenly silenced.

Hefting the champion up into a powerbomb position, Tila, with strength that she ought not have at the beginning of the match, let alone after all Domi had forced her to endure, drives her opponent to the canvas with a spectacular, bone quaking sit out powerbomb.

The building shook as the crowd reached critical mass.

Tila, bruised, topless, and drenched with sweat was almost done. She descended upon Domi in a reverse straddle, wrapping her own powerful thighs around Domi's neck as the champion, to the surprise of everyone watching, began to stir. But she began to stir too late. Tila fell forward onto all fours, her breasts hanging like beautiful tear drops beneath her as she put her move in motion, constricting with her powerful thighs fixed about Domi's head and neck. Domi's began struggling with all of her flagging strength, raking her fingernails across the smooth coffee-colored skin of the challenger once she found she lacked the strength to pry those magnificent thighs away from her neck.

Red welts rise as Domi claws, but Tila just closes her eyes, her mouth falling slightly open as she accepts the pain and tries desperately to keep her exhaustion at bay for just long enough to take the match. Domi's hands pelt Tila's legs and ass, even driving a blow into Tila's crotch, but this does not buy her freedom. The torrent wrought by her once-strong arms dwindles from a storm to a drizzle. Trembling they reach up and find Tila's bottoms. In desperations she tries to jam them upward, but this feeble wedgie is Domi's last act of defiance as Tila and the darkness claim her.

Tila feels the last of her power desert her opponent. Running on fumes, herself, she collapses, head between Domi's knees as the referee drops to the canvas. Tila hears her own heart beating in her ears as he slaps the canvas.

ONE

TWO

THREE.

WINNER, and NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION: Tila Nagai