Dixie Clemets vs. PHDoom! ~Tables Match!~

Dixie stared up at Doom, as the brawler jerked on her hair, raising her head upwards. The cowgirl had a mostly blank expression on her face, still trying to shake off the cheap low blow that she had taken from the woman, but there was a hint, just a hint of fear in her eyes. She knew there wasn't anything she could do to stop Doom right now, and she knew better than most that Doom was a dangerous, dangerous woman.

Sure enough, Dixie's fears were well-founded, as Doom began to slap the Texan against her cheeks. Again and again and again the brute's blows found their mark, Dixie crying out in pain with each blow, her cheeks turning redder and redder each time her most hated rival slapped her. The strikes were stiff, and stinging, and by the time Doom was done and Dixie was dropped, the Texan's head was left spinning. She stared blankly forwards after her hand hit the mat, waves of biting pain surging through her skull, Dixie trying her best to ignore the pain and clear her head before Doom decided to resume the attack.

Doom's sneer threatened to split her face in two. She couldn't believe the run of dominance she was having, over the curvaceous blonde Texan. That is, she couldn't believe the difference that a few rule changes would make- remove a referee screaming at her for every 'low blow' or 'illegal hold,' and suddenly this fight was going exactly the way that Doom would have expected, in a proper environment.

After a few more harsh slaps across Clements' face, Doom leaned back. She maintained her grip on the cowgirl's blonde locks, but took a bit of a breather. She'd had a hell of a run, just now, but this was still the opening stages, of the fight. If she threw all of her energy into this meager 'catfighting' nonsense, would she be any better than the legions of losers and artless skanks that cluttered the back halls of AFW? Yes, of course. But not by enough.

Besides, if Doom had wanted to admit it, Dixie had gotten her shots in, as well. Clubbing elbows, splashes that rocked the Cowgirl's irritatingly thick body against Doom's, all these blows and more had been adding up, and Doom was still feeling the effects. So, the bitter brawler shook her head, rolled each of her shoulders, making every lean muscle in her body stretch and flex, trying to work out the kinks and aches that coursed through her.

Then, Doom would get back on her game. Spreading her feet, Doom wrenched on her grip on Dixie's hair, and pulled her hard into her armpit, attempting to hoist the cowgirl up to a kneeling position. Then, Doom would fall back, driving Dixie hard into the mat, skull-first, hoping that she could hit her hard enough with the DDT to rock Dixie, leave her hurting, and allow Doom enough time to head outside, and start looking at tables.

Dixie winced through her pain, as Doom gripped her hair harder, forcing the Texan up to her knees, shoving her head under her armpit. She gagged a little, as the brawler's strong, muscular arm squeezed at her, clenching the cowgirl's head, keeping her trapped with the simple hold. Dixie reached up, grabbing for Doom's arm, trying to pry herself free, but it was to no avail. She was still rocked from the brunette's stinging slaps, still feeling the aftereffects of those, and for the moment, she couldn't find the strength or the focus to free herself.

Then, Doom fell back into the DDT, and things got worse for the cowgirl.

Dixie's skull slammed into the canvas, the Texan's entire body shuddering as she slumped forward, onto her belly against the mat. If the slaps had put her into a daze, the DDT had almost put her out cold, leaving Dixie lying there facedown beside of her rival, unmoving and still. The DDT had done it's nasty work, leaving Dixie out of touch with reality, left in an even bigger daze than she had been in before.

Doom rolled out of the DDT with a sick, face-splitting grin. She rolled over onto her belly, propping herself onto her elbows, and grinned down at the battered cowgirl. The act was all for show, of course, trying to undersell how the blonde Texan had been putting Doom through her paces, but it seemed to be enough to convince and infuriate the fans. Even while Doom was suppressing winces, the jeers of the audience made her cheeks flush red with pleasure. She even kicked her boots a slight bit, as overjoyed as she was with this run of dominance.

Still, there wasn't much time to rest. Half the reason for the DDT was proving Doom's physical superiority in all matters grappling, of course. However, the other part of it was to put Dixie down for a few minutes, and allow Doom the time to put her next step into action. With a toss of her head, Doom rolled onto her back, and kept herself rolling to the edge of the ring.

Swinging her legs, Doom planted her boots on the floor and knelt down to draw up the ring apron. From below, she pulled and tugged, until she managed to pry out one of the cheap, plywood tables that proliferated, down there. Grinning like the cat that caught the mouse, Doom pulled the table out in both hands, and held it high above her head.

She seemed to relish in the jeers and boo's of the fans, as she did so. "Yes," Doom taunted, "you should cry out more, about it! That is clearly helping her so much!" With a thrust, Doom shoved the table into the ring, beneath the bottom rope. The vicious brawler was more than ready to take the fight back to Dixie, to get her back for that humiliating debut loss, all that time ago. Possibly a little too eager- Doom's focus this entire time had been on the table, and on the protesting fans at ringside. She'd lost focus on Dixie entirely, as she slide back into the ring. Her internal wheels were spinning on the next step, and were woefully unfocused when it came to the present.

Dixie was going to be down for a little bit, that much was definitely for sure. The Texan lied there on the mat, unmoving and quiet even as Doom grinned down at her. She stayed in her position, not even budging, even as the brute slipped out of the ring, going to fish around for a table.

In actuality, Dixie wasn't completely out of things just yet. She was aware enough of what was going on, and she was glad for a brief respite from Doom's assault. She needed the precious time she had been given to try and recover, the cowgirl glad for a chance to regain her stamina. She had no doubt that Doom would be back in the ring soon, and already Dixie had a plan in mind for her.

She waited until she heard the sound of the table being slid back into the ring. That was her signal to act. Once she heard the sound, Dixie started back up to her feet, willing her body to move quickly and get back up on her boots again. She turned in Doom's direction, waiting for her rival to slide back in herself. The cowgirl braced herself, waiting for Doom to hurry back to her feet, and the moment she did, Dixie lunged in her direction. Her leg snapped up, Dixie trying to nail the woman right in her chest with a huge running big boot attack!

Doom was eagerly eating up the audience's anticipation, as she slid the table into the ring. Any minute now, Dixie's vacuous blonde head would be driven through that thick plywood, and finally Doom's dominance over the cowgirl would be proven. Doom was grinning from ear to ear as she watched the piece of cheap furniture slide into the ring, right next to the buxom's blonde's suffering body.

Biting her lip in anticipation, Doom propped herself up onto the ring apron, and rolled in under the bottom rope. She had all of the plans for Dixie now, she told herself. It was just a mattr of deciding which special torture she would visit upon her first.

Rolling onto a knee, then onto her boots, Doom stepped over to her prone opponent ... only to have the proverbial tables turned right back around, on her! Dixie shot back up with blazing speed, clearly having taken this time to recover her strength, and ran full-on at Doom with a running big boot. Doom felt Dixie's soles tread hard into her chest, knocking the wind out of her, sending her reeling backward.

"HHOOOOOFFFF!" Doom grunted, as she fell back against the ropes. Arms draped over the top, her toned bottom resting on the middle rope, Doom couldn't help but sit there a moment, and struggle to recover her strength. "I-insolent wretch!" Doom spat the words, as she struggled to take in fresh air, "you'll p-pay for that!"

"Yeah, yeah," Dixie muttered under her breath. "Send the bill in the mail..."

She took off in a run as soon as Doom fell back against the ropes, the cowgirl charging straight towards the loud-mouthed brute. She knew what she needed to do next. Nothing fancy, and nothing complicated, just pure power put to work against her challenger.

She dashed towards Doom, letting her arm fly up as she neared her. It grew stiff, an iron bar of muscle and sinew, as the Texan aimed a big, heavy clothesline right for the center of the brunette's chest. Nothing too spectacular, just a great big strike aimed to send Doom over the ropes and straight out of the ring.

Doom braced herself, as she saw the ridiculous-looking cowgirl come rushing toward her. Still on her heels, Doom couldn't make out what Dixie was going on about. Something insolent and insufferable, no doubt. And inconsequential, as were all words not uttered from the mouth of Doom.

Less inconsequential, however, was the rigid arm that was driving straight into Doom's chest, making hard and firm contact with the brunette brawler's body. "Aaaghh!" Doom grunted, as Dixie drove some of the air from her. Worse, though, was that the veteran cowgirl's momentum carried through on the blow. Doom's boots went up, her back pressed and pivoted off of the top rope. The brawler's toned legs swung up into the air, and before she knew it, the entire arena was spinning in a blur and Doom was hurtling over the top rope!

"Aaaghh!" Doom moaned, her voice sharp with frustration. Lying flat on her belly, Doom lay there. Hitting the floor left Doom stunned, looking around herself in disbelief at her new surroundings. "Y-you'll pay for this indignity!" she managed to say. Despite her fierce indignation, however, Doom needed a few more minutes on the floor. One hand favoring her back, where the ropes had dug in, the other was nursing the aching head she had partially landed on.