Storm Macintosh vs Lillian Byrne

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A clothesline wasn’t the flashiest of moves in a wrestler’s arsenal, but Storm still found it especially satisfying to hit, especially when placed hard and with momentum, as she did now with the hapless Lillian, forced to run straight into Storm’s swinging, muscular arm.

The pink-clad woman’s crash to the mat confirmed the power in the blow. Storm watched with a wicked grin as Lillian lay there groaning, barely able to move beyond massaging her bruised chest.

“Time for some real pain,” the Scot said to herself, sauntering over to Lillian and grabbing one of her legs before she could react. Storm stepped over the raised limb, twisting it in on itself, before snatching Lillian’s other leg and falling to the mat to apply a figure four.

Storm was largely known as a heavyweight power merchant, but as a seasoned wrestler, her submissions game was no joke either. She used her legs to torture Lillian’s own, darkly curious to see how the other woman would deal with the change of pace.

“Still feeling good about sticking your neck out for strangers?” Storm needled, smiling coldly as she worked the hold.