Every 5 stories over on deviantart I do a story based on the idea of all the fighters in a movie whose character names often don't get more complicated than "Fighter #4" or "Karate Fighter". It's changed a little over time, and references some stories that aren't posted here, but I'm going to put them all in this thread and see how they look, LOL
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EXTRAS I (THE KUMITE)
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Rain hammered against the windshield of her beaten-up blue Honda as she slammed a palm against her steering wheel. She brushed her curly dark hair out of her eyes and glared at the tail-lights in front of her.
"I knew I would hit the workday rush hour," she thought, taking a sip of coffee from a paper cup. "I should have left the lab early."
She glanced over her shoulder into the back seat. Her half-open bag had spilled its contents of pricey graduate textbooks across the unkempt seatbelts. She looked forward again at the unmoving traffic. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a gold-rimmed envelope.
"Finally got invited to the big one, and I'm stuck in traffic." She ran her hand over her face, trying to keep her energy up. She pulled the small card out of the envelope. On it was printed her name in majestic serif, as well as a photo of her during a workout that she was very unaware had been taken until she received the envelope in the mail. In one of the biggest cities in America, that only meant one thing.
"Come on...come on..." She gripped the steering wheel. "I only have to show up and I'll be set for the next couple of months."
She glanced over her shoulder again, then leaned back to reach into her bag. She pulled out a handful of clothing, and nearly dropped it when the car behind her honked its horn. She looked back at the traffic and jerkily moved her car forward a few feet as traffic flowed for a merciful few seconds. When it stopped again, she put the clothing on the seat next to her and pulled off her jacket.
"If I'm going to be late," she thought as she began to try and change clothes in her seat, "I may as well be ready."
---
"It looks like she wasn't ready for The Kumite!" said the commentator.
A fist hammered against her beaten back as she slammed facedown to the mat. She shakily raised her head, her curly dark hair pasting against her forehead and eyes, and stared aimlessly forward. A camera moved past her, getting a clear close-up of her slack-jawed half-consciousness. Her opponent pulled her to her feet, where she wavered and managed to utter a quiet "Ugh".
"But more importantly," continued the commentator, "what kind of message is Tequila Sunrise going to send to the next tier of competitors? This masked wrestler has been running roughshod over rookie fighters for the last three weeks."
Sunrise raised a hand to the crowd, then chopped it down across her opponent's face. A spot on the front of the losing fighter's blue tank-top darkened slightly as a drop of blood fell from her lips. Her short gray yoga pants clung to her legs as her knees buckled and she fell to her knees. The masked wrestler reached down and scooped her up, carrying her sideways and chest-to-chest. Then, she slowly press-lifted the girl overhead. The losing fighter's feet kicked weakly as she tried to shake her head.
"I think this is aimed squarely at Sukh, the Mongolian Mangler, folks!"
Tequila Sunrise pulled the girl down, slamming her spine over an outstretched knee. The other fighter coughed up a wad of saliva with the impact, her body going slack after a heavy spasm. After a few moments, the masked wrestler reached her hands down around her defeated opponent and scooped her back up. As she stood, Sunrise again pressed her opponent overhead. The girl's limbs hung limp, her hair loosely falling down over her face. Sunrise pushed up and released, and the beaten fighter soon slapped face down to the floor, unmoving.
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The conductor signalled to her section. She began playing her part on her viola, so used to the routine that she barely heard her own instrument.
"30 minutes to get home and drop my things off. Get changed and get cleaned up."
Her bow ran over the strings in time.
"Then I'll have 20 minutes to get across town. It'll take 30..."
On the stage, the lead tenor gestured to the audience and sang in perfect pitch.
"I can't go straight there. Could pick up clothes on the way, but if I lose then someone might pick up my viola before I'm able to leave. I don't want to spend all the TV money replacing it."
The horn section picked up, and the conductor motioned to the percussion. She sat back, her part over for the next few minutes.
"I'll have to skip getting cleaned up." She opened a compact mirror and looked at herself for a moment. Her face was finely made up, surrounded by thick dark hair. "At least I'll look good on-camera."
---
"Rocket" Rita signalled to the crowd. Her opponent began to panic, so unused to grappling that she could barely do anything but squirm as she tried to escape the front facelock.
"It's been less than 3 minutes, and it looks like Rocket Rita is ready to put an end to another rookie competitor!" said the commentator.
The sneering kickboxer looked to the other side of the arena, signalling to them as well. Her opponent, wearing only a sleeveless black unitard, writhed to try and free herself. Rita looked down, and began to machine-gun knees into the other fighter's face. Thick dark hair danced in the air as the girl's head lifted briefly with each impact, her arms slowly falling loose. Rita then paused, repositioning, before throwing a barrage of rapid-fire knees into her opponent's gut. The other fighter almost looked like she was dancing as she bounced with each strike.
She crumpled as she was released, folding over and shaking. Rita pulled her to her knees, where she lolled back and forth, arms weakly held out to her sides. Make-up and blood mixed as it ran down her face. Rita walked right up to her, and grabbed hold of either side of her head.
"What do you think Rita's thinking about right now?" asked the commentator.
The kickboxer slowly and methodically drove her knee into her opponent's face a few times, until something caved.
"Probably about how much she'd like to be doing that to Monkey Rouge right now!" replied the other commentator.
Rita released her beaten opponent's bloody head and stepped back. The other girl's head fell back, staring straight up at the ceiling. She took a long gurgling breath. Rita raised her right leg straight up and waited. Her opponent's head slowly began to slump forward. With perfect timing, she dropped her heel straight into the girl's forehead. The loser's skull visibly shuddered as she rapidly flopped to the mat.
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Steam rose from the fresh coffee as it poured into the deep mug. Her husband drank deeply from it, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"I'll see you in a week, hon."
She nodded at him and smiled, then turned back to the stove to prepare some eggs. A little boy looked at her from the dining room table.
"Do I haaafta go to Aunt Chelsea's for spring break?" he asked.
"Yes you do, sport," she replied, pushing back a strand of lengthy blonde hair. "Daddy's going to be out of town, and you need to be looked after."
"What about you, mommy?"
She slid the eggs onto a plate. "I've got to work too, dear." She poured some orange juice and smiled to herself. "I promise you we'll all go on vacation together after your summer break starts up."
---
Blood ran from the fresh cut under her eye, dripping from her cheek and spattering against her sleeveless white leotard. She staggered back, raising her arms as the tall girl slammed her fists once again against her head.
"The McReedy clan's off to a great start tonight, as daughter Iris is showing the great fight spirit that we've seen from her father!" exclaimed the commentator.
Iris bashed her fists simultaneously over her opponent's ears. The blonde woman cried out, clutching her head and leaning back. Iris leaned down to wrap her arms around her opponent's stomach, then reared back and hurled her back over her shoulder.
"Look at the height on that toss!"
The blonde woman crashed headfirst to the mat, splayed like a dropped doll. She tried crawling to her knees, but kept sliding back down to a prone position. Iris walked over and sat on her back, then looked to someone near the edge of the mat. A bearded man motioned at her encouragingly, wrapping his arms around the air in front of his chest.
"Iris and her father are neck and neck with victories in the rookie tier. If Angus wins his next fight, they'll advance together!"
Arms slid under the losing fighter's chin, then yanked up. The blonde woman grabbed at Iris' forearms as her head was yanked back in a chokehold. Iris planted her posterier down on her opponent's back, stretching the woman's spine. The woman's legs kicked wildly as she soon gave up trying to break the hold and just began slapping at the mat. Iris leaned back and waited. The losing fighter's struggles slowed. Her arms and legs fell limp, then began to shudder. Iris looked to her father, who nodded. She released the blonde woman and let her head slump to the mat. The tall scottish girl stood, then planted a foot on her beaten opponent's back as she raised her arms.
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Scenery streaked by the windows of the train as an automated voice announced the next station.
"C'mon, you should come with us. We got a spare ticket!" said Deanna.
She shook her head. "I already have something to do tonight."
"Is it as important as getting to see The Kumite?" Deanna rolled her eyes. "We haven't started college YET, we still have a month of breaktime to live a little."
"I'm living a lot!"
"Did you hear about how much people get paid to fight there? I hear it's to make sure they always have enough material for the TV show," said Deanna, rustling through her bag.
"Would you go on, Deanna?"
Deanna stopped, quirking her brow. "Why would they ask ME? But I mean, yeah, I would. If I got that much money just for showing up-- People don't even get killed or anything! It's not a dirty scene like those clubs you hear about on the internet, it's good clean fun." She paused. "But I don't even know how to fight, so it's not like it'd ever happen."
Her friend felt the envelope in her pocket and nodded.
"I suuure could use the money, too," sighed Deanna.
---
"And her opponent, in possibly his final fight of the rookie tier, Angus McReedy!"
The young fighter watched the bearded scotsman step onto the mat. The McReedys were becoming a popular name among fans of The Kumite, and she knew she would make a big splash if she ended one of their winnings streaks.
"The father of the McReedy pair has got a couple decades of age on his young opponent," said the commentator. "His daughter Iris is matside, and I think she really wants to see her dad take this win decisively!"
Every camera was focused on Angus and Iris, leaving the other fighter as a bit of a background fixture. She entered the ring to little fanfare shortly before the commercial break was over. The short girl was obviously young, with a head of short red hair and wearing simple brown two-piece tights.
---
"Wanna put a wager on THIS one, Gemma?" Deanna snickered at her friend as they watched from the audience.
"Not after you tricked me into thinking Sukh wouldn't break that little kenpo guy's back." Gemma looked down at the fighting mat, then at the big screen overhead. It showed the television broadcast, which was 100% McReedy.
"Good thinking. That chick's not going to stand a chance," said Deanna.
---
After the bell rang, Angus lowered into his usual fighting posture. He and his opponent circled one another. She held her hands out loosely, clearly a grappler as well. Her face was anything but confident as she stepped forward first, trying to lock up with the scotsman. He easily overpowered her, hiptossing her. The combination of his height and his opponent's short stature left her in mid-air for a noticably long time.
"I think she's starting to wish she'd taken up Tae Bo," quipped the commentator.
She rolled to her feet and ran forward again, trying to out-technique Angus. With little effort, he manuevered her head under his shoulder and lifted her into a vertical suplex. He took a few steps forward, her feet pointed straight at the light fixtures, then dropped her.
---
"If he decides to use the McReedy bearhug, I think that little loser'll die," chuckled Deanna. The cameras continued focusing primarily on Angus, making his opponent seem more like an afterthought as the fight went on.
"I'm surprised she even got invited. I guess Iris McReedy has the management here sold on seeding in some younger talent," said Gemma.
---
"It looks like she wants some breathing room," said the commentator, "but Angus McReedy doesn't give inches, he takes them!"
The girl scrambled to try and put distance between herself and the scotsman, but he rushed forward and locked up one more time. Now she was simply struggling to get free of his grip. Angus applied an armlock, and slowly bent his opponent over. Then, he clubbed her over the back with one of his arms. She stayed standing, bent over and stunned. He clubbed her two more times before she fell to her knees.
Angus pulled her back up to her feet, then locked her arms under his own. The camera pulled around to get a good shot of her frantic face as she tried to pull free. After a few tugs, she stopped resisting and shook her head a few times, her mouth clearly saying "No, no".
---
Deanna almost dropped her drink. "That's..."
---
The girl's head snapped back each time Angus headbutted her. After five of them, he let go of her arms. She stumbled around the mat, knock-kneed and dizzy.
"This kid should have stayed in school!" mocked one of the commentators. "She would have only lost a fight in front of her classmates, not on national television."
She slumped to her knees.
"What do you think is going through her mind?" asked the other commentator.
Angus grabbed hold of his opponent's head between his palms, and began to squeeze them together.
"I think the more important question is, how much of it will be left when Angus McReedy is done!" replied the first commentator.
---
"SHE got invited?!" Gemma stammered. "And they threw her in against a McReedy?"
Deanna stood up and shouted her friend's name. "GET OUT OF THERE!!"
---
The girl thought she heard her name, but was quickly distracted from it as she shrieked in pain under the vicegrip around her head. She slapped at Angus McReedy's hands as he loomed over her still-kneeling form. He feet kicked against the mat as Iris shouted something else to her father. He looked at her, releasing his opponent. The girl fell sideways, rolling around on the mat clutching her head.
"It seems Iris has taken real exception to another young fighter entering The Kumite! And her father's looking like he's open to taking requests!"
Angus nodded to his daughter. He turned back around, walking over to his fallen opponent and hoisting her back to her feet. Bending down, he lifted the young fighter onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry and walked to the center of the mat.
"We've seen this before! It looks like Iris wants to see some real finality to this fight!"
---
Deanna kept shouting to the ring, drowned by the cheering crowd. "LET HER GO! LET HER GO! SHE DOESN'T DESERVE IT!"
Gemma couldn't look away. "At least she'll get a lot of cash..."
---
Angus bucked his opponent off his shoulders, yanking her down to a belly-to-belly position. Before her feet could touch the ground, he locked his arms together in a standing bearhug. The young fighter cried out, arching her back and kicking her feet. The hold was tight, but only enough to keep her in place. Angus was taking a slow, deep breath, and his opponent knew what it would lead to. She struggled, chopping at the scotsman's head before leaning forward to try and put him in an awkward chokehold. Her legs swung forward, failing to lock in a bodyscissor.
"He's getting ready to apply pressure! That girl's height disadvantage is truly coming into play here, she couldn't reach the ground even if she wanted to!" said the commentator.
Suddenly, Angus squeezed his arms together. His opponent yowled, her back arching horribly as her arms and legs flailed aimlessly. Her face was a mask of pain as her head waved back and forth wildly. Angus planted his feet and increased the pressure even further.
"And there it is! The McReedy Bearhug! What a way to end your first fight on national television, folks! Dominated, crushed, and screaming!"
The young fighter's mouth hung slack, her flailing seeming to become more involuntary spasming than anything else. Angus wrenched her left and right until he felt something pop under his grip.
"This girl definitely made a mistake entering The Kumite tonight," said the other commentator. "She's beaten and broken, and we all know that Angus puts a harsh period at the end of this maneuver."
After a few seconds, Angus released her. She crumbled to her knees and began to fold over, but Angus grabbed her head and delivered two more harsh headbutts. The girl's arms flopped around with each impact. Then, she fell forward. As she lay still, facedown on the mat, Angus raised his hands to the crowd. The cameras focused on him, his beaten opponent unmoving offscreen.
"What a night, folks! Tune in next week for more action, here at The Kumite!"
As the commentators signed off, the cameras then panned around the girl, still lying facedown in the middle of the ring. Just like so many other rookie tier competitors, even this young girl's identity was reduced to little more than a limp and defeated body on the mat.
---
"KIMBERLY!"
Deanna and Gemma ran down to matside as the audience left the arena. Since it was the last fight of the event, their friend's unconscious body would not be taken backstage until the post-event press was over. When the EMTs finally arrived, Deanna and Gemma went with them to the medical area. Kimberly's defeated form was scanned by one of the doctors. A medi-pad was bandaged over part of her back, and she was left lying on a bench to recover, still wearing her fighting outfit.
As she woke up, she was surprised to see her friends sitting nearby.
"What's...up...?" she croaked.
"Are you fucking crazy?!" shouted Deanna. "How did you even get invited here?!"
"Been...doing this for the last couple years...on the side." She wiped some cold sweat off her brow. "You get invited here by knowing somebody...and I know some people."
"Now you've been on TV! Everyone'll see you lose the fight, oh my god, your rep-"
"I can come back...anytime." Kimberly winced as she sat up. "'s part of the deal. There's a lot of money in this."
"But look at you," said Gemma. "Putting on tights and fighting for a crowd...on television even! It can't be worth it."
"Fifteen thousand for the debut," said Kimberly. "And ten thousand for every match after that, win or lose. If I start winning it'll get better than that."
"That's!...that's...wow." Deanna stared. "That's..."
"...a lot," said Gemma. "That's more than I thought."
Kimberly nodded. "Anyway, I should go get dressed." She slowly stood up, and limped towards the locker room. She paused, and looked back. "And...let me know if either of you..."
"Hell no!" exclaimed Gemma. "I'm heading home before anything else gets turned upside-down tonight. Take it easy." After a moment, "...easier than a few minutes ago anyway."
As Gemma left, Deanna shook her head. "I told you before, I couldn't if I wanted to. It's not my future." She smiled at Kimberly. "But I'm glad you found yours...even if you kind of suck at it."
"I didn't think I'd get Angus McReedy!" Kimberly looked at a McReedy poster on the wall and narrowed her eyes. "I thought I'd be taking down the other one."
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EXTRAS I (THE KUMITE)
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Rain hammered against the windshield of her beaten-up blue Honda as she slammed a palm against her steering wheel. She brushed her curly dark hair out of her eyes and glared at the tail-lights in front of her.
"I knew I would hit the workday rush hour," she thought, taking a sip of coffee from a paper cup. "I should have left the lab early."
She glanced over her shoulder into the back seat. Her half-open bag had spilled its contents of pricey graduate textbooks across the unkempt seatbelts. She looked forward again at the unmoving traffic. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a gold-rimmed envelope.
"Finally got invited to the big one, and I'm stuck in traffic." She ran her hand over her face, trying to keep her energy up. She pulled the small card out of the envelope. On it was printed her name in majestic serif, as well as a photo of her during a workout that she was very unaware had been taken until she received the envelope in the mail. In one of the biggest cities in America, that only meant one thing.
"Come on...come on..." She gripped the steering wheel. "I only have to show up and I'll be set for the next couple of months."
She glanced over her shoulder again, then leaned back to reach into her bag. She pulled out a handful of clothing, and nearly dropped it when the car behind her honked its horn. She looked back at the traffic and jerkily moved her car forward a few feet as traffic flowed for a merciful few seconds. When it stopped again, she put the clothing on the seat next to her and pulled off her jacket.
"If I'm going to be late," she thought as she began to try and change clothes in her seat, "I may as well be ready."
---
"It looks like she wasn't ready for The Kumite!" said the commentator.
A fist hammered against her beaten back as she slammed facedown to the mat. She shakily raised her head, her curly dark hair pasting against her forehead and eyes, and stared aimlessly forward. A camera moved past her, getting a clear close-up of her slack-jawed half-consciousness. Her opponent pulled her to her feet, where she wavered and managed to utter a quiet "Ugh".
"But more importantly," continued the commentator, "what kind of message is Tequila Sunrise going to send to the next tier of competitors? This masked wrestler has been running roughshod over rookie fighters for the last three weeks."
Sunrise raised a hand to the crowd, then chopped it down across her opponent's face. A spot on the front of the losing fighter's blue tank-top darkened slightly as a drop of blood fell from her lips. Her short gray yoga pants clung to her legs as her knees buckled and she fell to her knees. The masked wrestler reached down and scooped her up, carrying her sideways and chest-to-chest. Then, she slowly press-lifted the girl overhead. The losing fighter's feet kicked weakly as she tried to shake her head.
"I think this is aimed squarely at Sukh, the Mongolian Mangler, folks!"
Tequila Sunrise pulled the girl down, slamming her spine over an outstretched knee. The other fighter coughed up a wad of saliva with the impact, her body going slack after a heavy spasm. After a few moments, the masked wrestler reached her hands down around her defeated opponent and scooped her back up. As she stood, Sunrise again pressed her opponent overhead. The girl's limbs hung limp, her hair loosely falling down over her face. Sunrise pushed up and released, and the beaten fighter soon slapped face down to the floor, unmoving.
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The conductor signalled to her section. She began playing her part on her viola, so used to the routine that she barely heard her own instrument.
"30 minutes to get home and drop my things off. Get changed and get cleaned up."
Her bow ran over the strings in time.
"Then I'll have 20 minutes to get across town. It'll take 30..."
On the stage, the lead tenor gestured to the audience and sang in perfect pitch.
"I can't go straight there. Could pick up clothes on the way, but if I lose then someone might pick up my viola before I'm able to leave. I don't want to spend all the TV money replacing it."
The horn section picked up, and the conductor motioned to the percussion. She sat back, her part over for the next few minutes.
"I'll have to skip getting cleaned up." She opened a compact mirror and looked at herself for a moment. Her face was finely made up, surrounded by thick dark hair. "At least I'll look good on-camera."
---
"Rocket" Rita signalled to the crowd. Her opponent began to panic, so unused to grappling that she could barely do anything but squirm as she tried to escape the front facelock.
"It's been less than 3 minutes, and it looks like Rocket Rita is ready to put an end to another rookie competitor!" said the commentator.
The sneering kickboxer looked to the other side of the arena, signalling to them as well. Her opponent, wearing only a sleeveless black unitard, writhed to try and free herself. Rita looked down, and began to machine-gun knees into the other fighter's face. Thick dark hair danced in the air as the girl's head lifted briefly with each impact, her arms slowly falling loose. Rita then paused, repositioning, before throwing a barrage of rapid-fire knees into her opponent's gut. The other fighter almost looked like she was dancing as she bounced with each strike.
She crumpled as she was released, folding over and shaking. Rita pulled her to her knees, where she lolled back and forth, arms weakly held out to her sides. Make-up and blood mixed as it ran down her face. Rita walked right up to her, and grabbed hold of either side of her head.
"What do you think Rita's thinking about right now?" asked the commentator.
The kickboxer slowly and methodically drove her knee into her opponent's face a few times, until something caved.
"Probably about how much she'd like to be doing that to Monkey Rouge right now!" replied the other commentator.
Rita released her beaten opponent's bloody head and stepped back. The other girl's head fell back, staring straight up at the ceiling. She took a long gurgling breath. Rita raised her right leg straight up and waited. Her opponent's head slowly began to slump forward. With perfect timing, she dropped her heel straight into the girl's forehead. The loser's skull visibly shuddered as she rapidly flopped to the mat.
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Steam rose from the fresh coffee as it poured into the deep mug. Her husband drank deeply from it, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"I'll see you in a week, hon."
She nodded at him and smiled, then turned back to the stove to prepare some eggs. A little boy looked at her from the dining room table.
"Do I haaafta go to Aunt Chelsea's for spring break?" he asked.
"Yes you do, sport," she replied, pushing back a strand of lengthy blonde hair. "Daddy's going to be out of town, and you need to be looked after."
"What about you, mommy?"
She slid the eggs onto a plate. "I've got to work too, dear." She poured some orange juice and smiled to herself. "I promise you we'll all go on vacation together after your summer break starts up."
---
Blood ran from the fresh cut under her eye, dripping from her cheek and spattering against her sleeveless white leotard. She staggered back, raising her arms as the tall girl slammed her fists once again against her head.
"The McReedy clan's off to a great start tonight, as daughter Iris is showing the great fight spirit that we've seen from her father!" exclaimed the commentator.
Iris bashed her fists simultaneously over her opponent's ears. The blonde woman cried out, clutching her head and leaning back. Iris leaned down to wrap her arms around her opponent's stomach, then reared back and hurled her back over her shoulder.
"Look at the height on that toss!"
The blonde woman crashed headfirst to the mat, splayed like a dropped doll. She tried crawling to her knees, but kept sliding back down to a prone position. Iris walked over and sat on her back, then looked to someone near the edge of the mat. A bearded man motioned at her encouragingly, wrapping his arms around the air in front of his chest.
"Iris and her father are neck and neck with victories in the rookie tier. If Angus wins his next fight, they'll advance together!"
Arms slid under the losing fighter's chin, then yanked up. The blonde woman grabbed at Iris' forearms as her head was yanked back in a chokehold. Iris planted her posterier down on her opponent's back, stretching the woman's spine. The woman's legs kicked wildly as she soon gave up trying to break the hold and just began slapping at the mat. Iris leaned back and waited. The losing fighter's struggles slowed. Her arms and legs fell limp, then began to shudder. Iris looked to her father, who nodded. She released the blonde woman and let her head slump to the mat. The tall scottish girl stood, then planted a foot on her beaten opponent's back as she raised her arms.
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Scenery streaked by the windows of the train as an automated voice announced the next station.
"C'mon, you should come with us. We got a spare ticket!" said Deanna.
She shook her head. "I already have something to do tonight."
"Is it as important as getting to see The Kumite?" Deanna rolled her eyes. "We haven't started college YET, we still have a month of breaktime to live a little."
"I'm living a lot!"
"Did you hear about how much people get paid to fight there? I hear it's to make sure they always have enough material for the TV show," said Deanna, rustling through her bag.
"Would you go on, Deanna?"
Deanna stopped, quirking her brow. "Why would they ask ME? But I mean, yeah, I would. If I got that much money just for showing up-- People don't even get killed or anything! It's not a dirty scene like those clubs you hear about on the internet, it's good clean fun." She paused. "But I don't even know how to fight, so it's not like it'd ever happen."
Her friend felt the envelope in her pocket and nodded.
"I suuure could use the money, too," sighed Deanna.
---
"And her opponent, in possibly his final fight of the rookie tier, Angus McReedy!"
The young fighter watched the bearded scotsman step onto the mat. The McReedys were becoming a popular name among fans of The Kumite, and she knew she would make a big splash if she ended one of their winnings streaks.
"The father of the McReedy pair has got a couple decades of age on his young opponent," said the commentator. "His daughter Iris is matside, and I think she really wants to see her dad take this win decisively!"
Every camera was focused on Angus and Iris, leaving the other fighter as a bit of a background fixture. She entered the ring to little fanfare shortly before the commercial break was over. The short girl was obviously young, with a head of short red hair and wearing simple brown two-piece tights.
---
"Wanna put a wager on THIS one, Gemma?" Deanna snickered at her friend as they watched from the audience.
"Not after you tricked me into thinking Sukh wouldn't break that little kenpo guy's back." Gemma looked down at the fighting mat, then at the big screen overhead. It showed the television broadcast, which was 100% McReedy.
"Good thinking. That chick's not going to stand a chance," said Deanna.
---
After the bell rang, Angus lowered into his usual fighting posture. He and his opponent circled one another. She held her hands out loosely, clearly a grappler as well. Her face was anything but confident as she stepped forward first, trying to lock up with the scotsman. He easily overpowered her, hiptossing her. The combination of his height and his opponent's short stature left her in mid-air for a noticably long time.
"I think she's starting to wish she'd taken up Tae Bo," quipped the commentator.
She rolled to her feet and ran forward again, trying to out-technique Angus. With little effort, he manuevered her head under his shoulder and lifted her into a vertical suplex. He took a few steps forward, her feet pointed straight at the light fixtures, then dropped her.
---
"If he decides to use the McReedy bearhug, I think that little loser'll die," chuckled Deanna. The cameras continued focusing primarily on Angus, making his opponent seem more like an afterthought as the fight went on.
"I'm surprised she even got invited. I guess Iris McReedy has the management here sold on seeding in some younger talent," said Gemma.
---
"It looks like she wants some breathing room," said the commentator, "but Angus McReedy doesn't give inches, he takes them!"
The girl scrambled to try and put distance between herself and the scotsman, but he rushed forward and locked up one more time. Now she was simply struggling to get free of his grip. Angus applied an armlock, and slowly bent his opponent over. Then, he clubbed her over the back with one of his arms. She stayed standing, bent over and stunned. He clubbed her two more times before she fell to her knees.
Angus pulled her back up to her feet, then locked her arms under his own. The camera pulled around to get a good shot of her frantic face as she tried to pull free. After a few tugs, she stopped resisting and shook her head a few times, her mouth clearly saying "No, no".
---
Deanna almost dropped her drink. "That's..."
---
The girl's head snapped back each time Angus headbutted her. After five of them, he let go of her arms. She stumbled around the mat, knock-kneed and dizzy.
"This kid should have stayed in school!" mocked one of the commentators. "She would have only lost a fight in front of her classmates, not on national television."
She slumped to her knees.
"What do you think is going through her mind?" asked the other commentator.
Angus grabbed hold of his opponent's head between his palms, and began to squeeze them together.
"I think the more important question is, how much of it will be left when Angus McReedy is done!" replied the first commentator.
---
"SHE got invited?!" Gemma stammered. "And they threw her in against a McReedy?"
Deanna stood up and shouted her friend's name. "GET OUT OF THERE!!"
---
The girl thought she heard her name, but was quickly distracted from it as she shrieked in pain under the vicegrip around her head. She slapped at Angus McReedy's hands as he loomed over her still-kneeling form. He feet kicked against the mat as Iris shouted something else to her father. He looked at her, releasing his opponent. The girl fell sideways, rolling around on the mat clutching her head.
"It seems Iris has taken real exception to another young fighter entering The Kumite! And her father's looking like he's open to taking requests!"
Angus nodded to his daughter. He turned back around, walking over to his fallen opponent and hoisting her back to her feet. Bending down, he lifted the young fighter onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry and walked to the center of the mat.
"We've seen this before! It looks like Iris wants to see some real finality to this fight!"
---
Deanna kept shouting to the ring, drowned by the cheering crowd. "LET HER GO! LET HER GO! SHE DOESN'T DESERVE IT!"
Gemma couldn't look away. "At least she'll get a lot of cash..."
---
Angus bucked his opponent off his shoulders, yanking her down to a belly-to-belly position. Before her feet could touch the ground, he locked his arms together in a standing bearhug. The young fighter cried out, arching her back and kicking her feet. The hold was tight, but only enough to keep her in place. Angus was taking a slow, deep breath, and his opponent knew what it would lead to. She struggled, chopping at the scotsman's head before leaning forward to try and put him in an awkward chokehold. Her legs swung forward, failing to lock in a bodyscissor.
"He's getting ready to apply pressure! That girl's height disadvantage is truly coming into play here, she couldn't reach the ground even if she wanted to!" said the commentator.
Suddenly, Angus squeezed his arms together. His opponent yowled, her back arching horribly as her arms and legs flailed aimlessly. Her face was a mask of pain as her head waved back and forth wildly. Angus planted his feet and increased the pressure even further.
"And there it is! The McReedy Bearhug! What a way to end your first fight on national television, folks! Dominated, crushed, and screaming!"
The young fighter's mouth hung slack, her flailing seeming to become more involuntary spasming than anything else. Angus wrenched her left and right until he felt something pop under his grip.
"This girl definitely made a mistake entering The Kumite tonight," said the other commentator. "She's beaten and broken, and we all know that Angus puts a harsh period at the end of this maneuver."
After a few seconds, Angus released her. She crumbled to her knees and began to fold over, but Angus grabbed her head and delivered two more harsh headbutts. The girl's arms flopped around with each impact. Then, she fell forward. As she lay still, facedown on the mat, Angus raised his hands to the crowd. The cameras focused on him, his beaten opponent unmoving offscreen.
"What a night, folks! Tune in next week for more action, here at The Kumite!"
As the commentators signed off, the cameras then panned around the girl, still lying facedown in the middle of the ring. Just like so many other rookie tier competitors, even this young girl's identity was reduced to little more than a limp and defeated body on the mat.
---
"KIMBERLY!"
Deanna and Gemma ran down to matside as the audience left the arena. Since it was the last fight of the event, their friend's unconscious body would not be taken backstage until the post-event press was over. When the EMTs finally arrived, Deanna and Gemma went with them to the medical area. Kimberly's defeated form was scanned by one of the doctors. A medi-pad was bandaged over part of her back, and she was left lying on a bench to recover, still wearing her fighting outfit.
As she woke up, she was surprised to see her friends sitting nearby.
"What's...up...?" she croaked.
"Are you fucking crazy?!" shouted Deanna. "How did you even get invited here?!"
"Been...doing this for the last couple years...on the side." She wiped some cold sweat off her brow. "You get invited here by knowing somebody...and I know some people."
"Now you've been on TV! Everyone'll see you lose the fight, oh my god, your rep-"
"I can come back...anytime." Kimberly winced as she sat up. "'s part of the deal. There's a lot of money in this."
"But look at you," said Gemma. "Putting on tights and fighting for a crowd...on television even! It can't be worth it."
"Fifteen thousand for the debut," said Kimberly. "And ten thousand for every match after that, win or lose. If I start winning it'll get better than that."
"That's!...that's...wow." Deanna stared. "That's..."
"...a lot," said Gemma. "That's more than I thought."
Kimberly nodded. "Anyway, I should go get dressed." She slowly stood up, and limped towards the locker room. She paused, and looked back. "And...let me know if either of you..."
"Hell no!" exclaimed Gemma. "I'm heading home before anything else gets turned upside-down tonight. Take it easy." After a moment, "...easier than a few minutes ago anyway."
As Gemma left, Deanna shook her head. "I told you before, I couldn't if I wanted to. It's not my future." She smiled at Kimberly. "But I'm glad you found yours...even if you kind of suck at it."
"I didn't think I'd get Angus McReedy!" Kimberly looked at a McReedy poster on the wall and narrowed her eyes. "I thought I'd be taking down the other one."
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