There was a loud, menacing scrape followed by an uproar of realization from the crowd as Tanya rose and stepped back from the apron - dragging a heavy wooden folding table out from under the ring.

“And here it is,” Brent said in a striking tone, “the finishing touch on what is about to be Tanya Redd’s win.”

Tanya hefted the table sideways, then turned and shoved it with ease under the bottom rope across the mat. Sliding in next to it Tanya rose to her feet, radiating pure confidence as she reached down and lifted the table once more.

“If there was a time for Fiona to come back and turn the tide it’s now,” Brent added, “but I think it may be a done deal.”

“Fiona still looks wobbly,” Dan Rich admitted. “She may have mere seconds left to salvage this match.”

Tanya carried the table to the southwest corner, turning it so the underside faced the ring - the sharp edges of the folded legs and bracers exposed. She leaned  the table upright against the turnbuckle, taking a moment to make sure it was secure, then turned and strode toward Fiona. Teeth gritted, Tanya pounded her right fist against her chest three times as she approached her downed opponent, taking in the cheers from her fans.

“The table is in the corner now. What are we about to see?”