Extras (Series) (1 Viewer)


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012
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



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.



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.



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.



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.



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."
Last edited by a moderator:


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

The bookish girl adjusted her glasses, brushing thick brown hair out of her eyes. She waited as the copier continued its tedious duty, watching hundreds of printed pieces of paper stream out from it.

"The contact lenses are ready today," she thought. "I'm...I'm ready today."


"What a mis-match we're seeing here tonight!"

The bookish girl's eyes swirled in a daze, thick brown hair plastered down over her face with sweat that stained her orange leotard. She waited, knock-kneed and half-conscious, as her taller opponent took hold of her head.

"It looks like Tina Munroe is going to crack another loser's head wide open!"

Tina slammed her forehead into her opponent's. The girl jerked, blood spattering from between her eyes. She sank to her knees as Tina reared back and headbutted her one more time. The bookish girl recoiled, falling to the mat. Tina sat down on her stomach, roughly pulling her head up to headbutt it three more times.

Leaving her beaten opponent spreadeagled and out cold, Tina leapt to her feet, arms raised.

"Tina Munroe proves once again that fighting with your head only works if it's harder than the other guy's!"


Steam clouded the Japanese girl's eyes as she fried up another order of hot noodles.

"This may be the last night I need to work here," she thought. "No more orders, no more customers..."

She glanced at the young man beside her. The two shared an innocent grin.

"Just us."


The Japanese girl bowed to her opponent, not seeing the incoming knee until it jarred her head back.

"Did somebody forget to tell her the rules?" mocked the colour commentator.

The Filipino man rushed forward, striking his opponent in the ribs. The girl clutched her side, staggering away in her pale blue swimsuit-styled attire. She raised a hand, trying to catch a moment's breath. Her opponent took hold of her outstretched wrist, then yanked her forward and speared his knee into her jaw.

"I don't think this fighter realized that here at The Kumite, you only get a time-out when you're knocked out!" said the announcer. "And Malo makes sure you stay down!"

Malo grabbed hold of the Japanese girl's short bobbed hair, yanking her back up to her feet. He struck her in the ribs three more times, rapidly. The girl gagged, choking and sputtering. Malo extended his fingers, then speared them into the weakened ribs.

The Japanese girl made a low, anguished noise under the sound of her breaking ribs. She coughed up some blood, collapsing to her knees. Malo stood before her, then rained alternating blows down on each of her shoulders.

"The patented hurricane chops! We all know what's coming next, folks!"

After his opponent doubled over, Malo pushed her onto her back with his foot. He sat astride her chest, cracking his knuckles. The Japanese girl shook her head, slowly realizing her position. She began to weakly raise her hands, managing to say half a plea before the first fist crushed into her cheek. Malo's fists hammered down faster and faster, his opponent's arms and legs beginning to jostle and shudder as though she were laying on a vibrating matress.

"It's the Machine Gun Mash! Even her own mother won't recognize her when Malo's finished!"

Blood was spattered all over the mat as the rhythmic impacts grew softer and more moist. Finally, once his fists were covered in crimson, Malo ceased his attack and stood up. The Japanese girl lay still, making quiet gurgling noises. She was unresisting as her opponent flipped her over onto her stomach.

"Oh, this is definitely aimed at Samantha Gray! Regular viewers will know that she's had a wheelchair-count race against Malo, and..."

Malo's foot stamped on the Japanese girl's back, then twisted left and right until her legs gave an involuntary spasm.

"And it looks like he just added one more to his tally!"


Another passer-by signed the girl's petition.

"Thanks, man. You're helping save lives!" she said, flashing a huge grin. She waved as the signer left, her long brown hair blowing lightly in the breeze.

"You got a lot of signatures," said her colleague. "At this rate, we'll be able to raise a lot of support for the Northeastern nations."

"Yeah..." The girl looked down at the paper.

"But maybe..." she thought "Maybe I can get us more support than any donation we've ever seen before."

She turned to another passer-by, grinning widely, her bright pink tank-top bearing the logo of her cause.


"Looks like an activist's getting a little less peaceful tonight!"

The new fighter grinned widely, waving at the audience. A tribal headband held up the bangs of her long brown hair, and her pink tank-top's logo made her cause an obvious one. Her satin silver shorts shone in the lights of the arena.

"She's agreed to a guaranteed payment match, meaning she'll be facing one of the most brutal opponents The Kumite can offer...Samantha Gray!"

Samantha's cold eyes read over her bouncing opponent as the bell sounded. The activist's smile began to falter as Samantha approached, and her wild punch was easily avoided. Samantha grabbed hold of the brown-haired girl, and began to lift her knee into the girl's belly. After five kneelifts, the girl crumpled in the fetal position, coughing wetly.

"Guaranteed payment matches usually end up funding an extra-large medical bill," said the colour commentator.

The activist crawled to her knees, but was sent rolling across the ring as Samantha punted her in the stomach. She clutched her gut, her once-bright face a mask of pain. Samantha pulled her to her feet, then lifted and pressed her overhead. After a few moments, she pushed the girl up into the air, letting her fall facedown onto the mat.

"Samantha Gray is a force of total domination," said the announcer. "And from what we've seen, she has one goal in mind!"

Barely moving, the brown-haired fighter moaned as Samantha circled around her. She weakly cried out as Samantha stomped on her back, briefly lifting her head. Samantha reached down, hefting the activist to her feet. Before the girl could collapse again, Samantha lifted her onto her shoulders in a torture rack hold. As she began to bend her opponent, the activist's weak struggling began to increase and desperation. Her quiet moans soon grew to wailing shrieks.

"Malo must have hit a nerve!"

Soon, the activist girl's back gave out, bending unnaturally with a wet snap. She gave one final cry, her legs spasming and going limp. Samantha dumped her unceremoniously onto the mat, ensuring that the brown-haired fighter's back was broken with two more merciless stomps.

"Samantha Gray definitely makes sure she gets the job done! And it's bad news for another fighter that just couldn't rise to the challenge."


She breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of the ocean. Her shimmering swimsuit dazzled as the camera flash lit its sparkled texture.

"I'm glad we were able to schedule this before the weekend," she remarked, turning slightly for the photographer.

Another flash briefly lit her body.

"After all," she thought, "I'm not THAT experienced yet."


She gasped deeply, clutching her stomach and trying to stay conscious. Her simple gray leotard was soaked in sweat as the arena lights made her skin glisten.

"She sure isn't experienced enough to deal with Jana Dawn, that's for sure!"

The purple-haired 'rave boxer' danced circles around her opponent before spin-kicking her across the face. The girl spiraled to the mat, laying still for a few seconds before crawling to her feet and retreating.

Jana backflipped towards her, ducking low as she drew near to avoid a wild left hook. The raver swept her opponent's feet out from under her, rolling into a handstand. Then, she dropped her heels onto the fallen girl's stomach, folding her up into a fetal position. Jana sprang to her feet and rapidly kicked the girl about her head and back until she stopped trying to protect herself, her arms and legs falling slack.

The gray-clad fighter stared blankly as she was rolled over onto her back, but her eyes bugged out when Jana Dawn stomped two feet down onto her stomach. Jana stood on her opponent's belly for a few seconds, motioning at the crowd, then jumped up and down until the girl coughed something up. The raver stepped off of her opponent's convulsing body and stomped on her face until her limbs barely shuddered.


"Watch where you're going!"

The red-head turned, quickly apologizing before she continued to hurry down the street. She tripped over a small gap in the sidewalk, nearly dropping her bag.

"I can't believe it," she thought, "I finally got accepted!"

She clutched her bag tighter, and tried to blow her long bangs out of her eyes.

"If I win just once, I won't even need to go to college..." The girl narrowly stepped around a lump of dog excrement, then stumbling over the side of a raised step on the sidewalk.

"I wish I'd gotten the right outfit, but this'll have to make do. It wasn't supposed to be so small..." She smirked to herself. "But if I win, maybe it'll get me some fans."

The red-haired girl looked up, then yelped as she saw her bus beginning to leave. She began to run towards it.

"My luck's gotta start looking up tonight!"


"Wow, this girl's got to be feeling unlucky tonight!"

The red-haired girl stared helplessly across the mat. She stood wearing a tanned yellow sports top and matching tight briefs. Similarly coloured bracelets and anklets of leather strips were loosely tied around her wrists and ankles. Her striking red hair hung loose, a braid swaying from each temple.

Facing her was Sukh, the infamous Mongolian fighter.

"We would like to take this time to remind our viewers that the most state-of-the-art medical equipment has been brought in for this match," stated the announcer, whose warning was piped over the loudspeakers. "This will not be one for the squeamish!"

Cold sweat briefly creeped up her neck as she carefully padded forward, taking a moment to see if the entrance door behind her was truly closed. Sukh advanced just as slowly, but unemotionally.

The girl assumed a stance, then screamed and threw a high kick. Sukh puffed his chest, taking the strike across his pectorals. The girl span and struck him with a roundhouse, but it had little effect. Sukh then struck back with a forehand chop across his opponent's face. The girl rolled to the side with the impact, staying away from the Mongolian fighter.

"Checking the tale of the tape, Sukh currently holds a streak of 15 wins in the unsanctioned circuit," said the announcer, "and fatal wins at that! 11 male fighters and 4 female fighters did not survive their matches with this man!"

"Did anyone tell his opponent?" asked the color commentator.

Sukh caught the red-haired girl's foot, and dropped several elbows onto her kneecap.

"I think the look on her face showed us that she didn't need any kind of briefing, she's clearly aware of who she's up against" answered the announcer.

The Mongolian fighter yanked the girl forward by her foot, then flipped her over with a heavy lariat. Patiently, he waited as she struggled to get to her feet. The girl looked terrified as Sukh stepped forward and locked up in a standing grapple.

"This kid might've had a chance against another rookie, but our match-up computer shows no mercy!"

With a heavy thud, Sukh bodyslammed his opponent. Before she could groan, Sukh lifted her by her throat.

"And neither does Sukh!"

The girl let out short, anguished shrieks as Sukh punched her in the spine several times with his free hand. Then, he scooped her up by her legs, carrying her at his side. He walked across the ring as the girl weakly kicked and struggled, then dropped her onto his knee.

"Ouch! It looks like the mangler's ready to end this kid's career before it started!"

The red-haired fighter painfully stood up, only to find herself in her opponent's clutches once again. In one swift move, Sukh span his opponent head over heels, then dropped her down onto his knee. She screamed, slowly rolling to the mat, clutching her back. Tears ran down her face as a ringside camera caught a quick close-up.

"He's got her by the throat again! And he's...he's saying something..."

Her tongue hanging over her lower lip, the girl was gasping for breath as Sukh led her around the ring by her throat. Her eyes widened as she heard him bellow his intentions. She shook her head as best she could, trying to pull free.

"He's pointing at the medical staff! I think he wants to give them a long night's work!"

The crowd erupted as Sukh lifted and pressed the red-haired girl overhead, her two braids dangling as her arms and legs flailed desperately. He walked a full lap around the ring as his opponent screamed and pleaded. Then, he yanked her down onto his knee. The girl shrieked, her back arched horribly. Sukh slowly raised his hands, clasping them together before dropping them onto his opponent's outstretched torso. Blood spurted from the girl's mouth as her body bucked with the impact.

"That's it! It's over! That girl's finished! But, but wait!"

Sukh stood, cradling the beaten girl in his arms. She shuddered in pain, her limbs limp in the air. The Mongolian fighter then began to flex his arms, bringing them together and crushing the red-headed fighter. Her entire body began to fold in Sukh's arms. Then, with a loud crunch, she bent forward in half. Sukh held her in the horrifying position for a few seconds, her bare feet comically pointing straight up at the lights as her face wedged between her thighs.

"Oh, the humanity!" cried the announcer. "Ladies and gentlemen, the risks all the brave fighters here at The Kumite take has never been so exemplified!"

Sukh released the girl, whose broken body bounced and flopped on the mat as a medical team rushed in.

"Remember, only at a fully-sanctioned venue like ours would a young new fighter like that be able to survive such an encounter! Unsanctioned arenas claim the lives of more of America's best and brightest. Be sure to report them to your local authorities!"

The red-head's unmoving body was slid onto a high-tech stretcher, one of her eyes half-open and glazed.


"Can you believe we're really here?"

"I'm so excited, but, like, I'm scared too!"

"Me too!"

The two fighters, young and inexperienced, were getting changed in the locker room. The korean girl's pink tank-top and shorts matched the streaks of color in her hair. The african girl braided her dark hair, a yellow leotard covering her from her collar down to her thighs.

"Think you're gonna win?" asked the korean girl.

"I think YOU'RE gonna lose." The african girl smirked. "If you fight me."

The two laughed, pushing each other.

"But, seriously..."

"I've been thinking about it," said the african girl. "Every night since I got the confirmation, I've been dreaming it. Getting in the ring, the crowd watching while I get beat up."

"It's not like we can't fight again if we lose, but...I wanna be the rookie champion, not the rookie doormat," muttered the korean girl.

"We've both been beat up a little...right? Sparring, training..."

"At least we aren't gonna get killed," added the korean girl. "This is The Kumite, not some underground deathmatch trap."

"Right!" The african girl nodded, eyes wide. "This is legit!"

They smiled again as a nearby door opened. Their mirth faded as they saw a red-haired girl wheeled by on a stretcher, one of the medical technicians casually noting the huge number of broken bones that would require treatment.

After a few moments, the two sat on a bench, silently gripping the seat as they waited to be called to the ring.


"Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to see another legend at work!"

The korean girl quietly stretched and warmed up in her corner of the ring as her opponent arrived. A woman in a shining red robe strode forward, tossing her garb aside to reveal a similarly blazing two-piece ensemble.

"The merciless muay-thai machine, Rocket Rita!!"

Rita's short brown hair was spiked back away from her thin and glaring eyes. She looked over her opponent, then pointed at her. The korean girl looked very uneasy as Rita slowly gave her a thumbs-down, just as the bell rang.

The korean fighter leapt forward, preparing to display her taekwondo skill. However, just as her leg began to rise, Rita's heel slammed into her shin. Another kick was cut off as Rita once again scored a pre-emptive counter-attack. Methodically, the kickboxer dismantled the korean girl's legs before they could even begin to do anything.

"Rita's a surgeon in the ring, especially when her opponent relies too much on leg power!"

The pink-haired fighter began to stagger, clutching one of her thighs as her experession began to grow desperate. Rita crossed her arms, advancing fearlessly. The korean fighter screamed, raising a fist and beginning to lunge forward. Her battle-cry turned into one of pain as Rita suddenly kicked right into the side of the girl's knee, popping something and sending her to the mat.

Rita watched her opponent roll around, clutching an increasingly-swollen knee and wailing. She grabbed hold of the pink-streaked hair, yanking the korean girl to her feet and locking her in a front face-lock. Then, Rita slammed vicious knees into the girl's stomach. The crowd began to count along with each impact.

"I wonder if THIS girl can make it past five," began the color commentator.

As the fourth knee connected, the korean girl retched some liquid with an awful sound.

"Nevermind!" added the color commentator.

Sneering in disgust, Rita released her opponent, letting her collapse into the splatter she had just caused. The kickboxer pulled the girl onto her knees, and cracked her knuckles. The korean fighter, her pink attire dotted with dark spots of sweat and moisture, swayed half-consciously. Rita began punching her across her face, left and right, soon drawing spurts of blood. Once a few teeth bounced off the mat, she paused and took hold of the korean fighter's messy hair in both hands. Then, she began ramming knees directly into the girl's face, each impact wet and crunchy. The korean girl's flailing was soon simple spasming.

"Not only is Rita a surgeon in the ring, but she's also starting to pick up dentistry! I don't think she's leaving any teeth in that girl's mouth!"

After nearly a minute of brutality, Rita ceased, still holding her opponent's head as a camera got a full-on view. The korean girl's face was a bloody mess, her mouth wide open and gurgling as her now-empty gums pumped crimson. Blood, teeth, and tears were all over the mat. Rita released the girl's head, taking a half-step back before kicking one of her legs straight up. The korean fighter remained on her knees for a few moments, slowly beginning to sink. Rita dropped her heel, slamming it square onto the korean girl's head. The beaten fighter's skull shuddered as she sprawled face-forward like a ragdoll.

"I'm sure we all saw that finale coming," said the announcer, as Rita swiftly left the ring. "And coming up next, our final match of the evening! In the meantime, two up-and-coming competitors will face each other during the commercial break."


The african girl watched her friend's match, a pit growing in her stomach. She was ringside as the korean girl was carried away. Arena staff quickly mopped up the mess she had left behind on the mat, and ushered the african girl into the ring. She quickly wiped her eyes, warming up and feeling little love from the crowd. Many were barely paying attention as another girl headed to the ring. She was a young red-haired fighter, clad in a brown top with matching briefs.

As the bell rang, the african girl's resolve was too shaken to concentrate. Most of her technique was based on taekwondo, and her opponent was quickly able to capitalize on her lack of focus. The red-haired girl lunged forward, grappling her opponent to the mat. The african girl squeaked, quickly realizing she was out of her element as her opponent hammered elbows on her head and face. She scrambled, trying to roll over onto her stomach. The young grappler's arms wrapped around her stomach, and slowly lifted her backwards onto her feet. Then, she slammed the african fighter facefirst onto the mat.

The girl was stunned on impact, allowing her red-haired opponent to quickly slide her arms around her head and neck. The small grappler rolled sideways, pulling her opponent into a chokehold. The african girl struggled, squealing and kicking as her opponent's legs viced around her stomach. She tapped out several times, but her opponent held the hold tightly. The african girl's mouth hung open, her tongue hanging slack as foamy spittle ran over her lips. As her legs began to shudder involuntarily, the bell rang, and the red-haired girl released her.


"Oh fuck, no, no!" cried the african girl. She awoke lying on a bench in the locker room, looking up at the girl who had just beaten her.

"Relax, the fight's over," said the red-haired girl. "I'm Kimberly. Who are you?"

"...Amara." Amara began to calm down, eyeing Kimberly suspiciously. "What...what happened?"

"I choked you out," said Kimberly, chuckling. "We're backstage now. I thought I oughta make sure my first win didn't get any brain damage."

"Fuck you!" muttered Amara, swatting at Kimberly's face.

"You weren't all in that one, I could tell."

"That's because...oh god, Chun-ja..." Amara quickly wiped at her eyes. "She was the fight before us."

"Oh..." Kimberly walked over to her locker. "Rita's pretty brutal to watch. A lot of the big names are."

"Where is she?" Amara began to stand up suddenly, but stumbled and fell back onto the bench. "Is she, is she okay?"

"If she has connections, money, or rich parents, she'll be as good as new in a couple days," said Kimberly, gesturing at the door to the infirmary. "If she doesn't, well, she'll be breathing."

"We were gonna do this without anybody knowing, but we thought it wouldn't be safe," began Amara.

"But what's safer than a televised fight, right?" Kimberly shook her head. "For better or for worse, everyone with cable knows that you two are fighters now."

There was a long silence.

"Think you'll keep going?" asked Kimberly.

"It's what I want...I think it's what Chun wants too..."

"I hope you do." Kimberly pulled on a hoodie. "Even if we don't all make it through, it's up to all of us to be opponents for everyone that comes here because they can't suppress the instinct."

"But the really hardcore ones," said Amara, "they're the ones that always seem to be on top."

"And less-bloodthirsty people like us are usually out cold or worse on the mat," said Kimberly. "Think about it though. That last match...isn't that what we all wish all our matches would be? Satisfying and honorable?"

"Yeah...yeah I'd like that."

"Then let's see how many of those we can have before we have to retire." Kimberly nodded to Amara. "Anyway...let's go check on your friend. The prize from our fight might be able to get her back on her feet by next month."

The two fighters headed to the infirmary, ready for the future, whether it was to be bright or dim.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

She moved with grace and in time with her fellow dancers, but her mind was not entirely on the routine. She was excited to go home and get ready for the evening's event. It was the first time a tournament offered an up-front participation payment, and she was sure that if they could afford to do that, winning would set her up for life.


The other girl, another capoeira fighter named Monica, soared through the air before her foot cracked across her opponent's face. The girl span to the floor, a skimpy white two-piece over ebony skin. Monica looked down at her opponent with emotionless eyes, clad in black sweats and a red tank-top. Her opponent managed to stagger to her feet, only to suffer an axe kick to her forehead. As her arms dropped to her sides and she began to fall forward, Monica caught her and locked her arms painfully under her own. Heavy knees shot into the girl's gut as she retched loudly with each impact.

Dropping her opponent, Monica turned and sat down on the girl's back. Her opponent tapped out as Monica grabbed hold of her short, cropped hair and pulled her head up. "Please, please, no more," stammered the capoeira girl as she writhed beneath her dominant opponent. Monica answered silently by slamming the girl's face into the mat until there was a small pool of blood. She looked up at the shrouded seats in which the tournament organizers sat, high above the rest of the crowd. A hand came forth into the light, slowly showing a thumbs-down.

Monica shifted forward, wrapping a leg around her opponent's head. Then, she shot a fist into the girl's kidney. Her opponent gagged with the impact, stirring back to consciousness just as Monica leaned back and twisted. The girl made a surprised, choked squeak as her neck snapped, her body spasming only once. Monica stood, taking a moment to kick the girl across the face one more time before walking away. The beaten capoeira girl was dragged out of the ring by her ankles, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.


The shopping bag rustled as she clutched it to her chest. She would wear the outfit within in only a few hours, and butterflies filled her stomach. It looked like the perfect tournament to attend as her debut. There was payment up-front just for taking part, and it was in an old gymnasium where no cameras would be around to stress her out. Cool breeze blew through her layered hair, filling her lungs with freshness.


She took a deep, shuddering breath of the arena's hot and sweaty air as she saw her opponent. She herself was a girl of average height, clad in a brand new pink and yellow two-piece. Facing her was Meng Dan, a stocky brick of a man with wild hair and ragged shorts.

Less than a minute into the fight, the girl was fleeing to the edge of the ring. Meng Dan had walked straight through her attacks, hurling her around the ring and splitting her lip with a single chop of his hand. Filled with fear, she covered up with her arms as he slammed his arms around her torso. Winded, she stumbled forward, where Meng Dan slammed his forehead into her face. The girl fell to the mat, blood running from her forehead. She cried out her submission, slapping the mat as he reached down and pulled her back to her feet.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Meng Dan lifted the girl off the ground, then viciously dumped her back onto the mat. She arched her back, eyes screwed shut in pain. Her opponent stepped forward, and began brutally stomping on her chest and stomach. A few moments later, he knelt down, taking hold of her scalp. She weakly resisted, coughing up a bit of blood before Meng Dan slammed his fist into her already-broken ribs. The girl made an unnatural gutteral noise, her feet kicking against the floor feebly. He stood up, turning her over onto her stomach, then stomped down onto her lower back. Twisting his heel, Meng Dan crushed his opponent's spine. Her legs flopped uselessly as she screamed and cried.

Slowly, Meng Dan looked up to the tournament organizers. A hand slowly gave a thumbs-down. He turned back to his opponent, who was pitifully trying to crawl away, dragging her limp legs behind her. Her eyes widened as Meng Dan's hands grabbed hold of her head, turning her onto her back. His fingers and thumbs dug into the sides of her face and throat. She begged frantically for mercy, pleading as he lifted her up. Her bare feet dangled over the mat as Meng Dan held the girl aloft, throttling her until her tongue hung out. She choked loudly, pulling at her opponent's hands as her face turned red. Then, Meng Dan horrifically twisted her head with a wet snap. Her body shuddered violently, eyes wide open in shock before they rolled up slightly. He threw her limp form out of the ring, the girl's body lying facedown in a heap on the cold cement. A long, bloody streak was left on the floor as she was dragged away.


Flickering blue light from the computer monitor lit the crowded and cramped apartment. She hammered the keyboard, putting the finishing touches on the web page. She sighed, another government contract complete. Her short hair was messy, hanging down on her bare shoulders. Standing up, she padded over to a standing punching bag and began her amateur training routine. Clients told her she could make a decent living with her brains, and friends told her she could go places with her cute looks. But she only felt satisfied doing one thing, and soon would finally make some money doing it.


She fell to her knees, gasping for breath after another steel-strong kick crushed her diaphragm. Phailin watched her try to stand. The thai fighter was clearly enjoying her match against the programmer, who had come to the ring in a loose tank-top and shorts. Phailin's attire was as minimal as the effort it took her to dominate the battle, as she had quickly stifled her opponent's efforts with less than a handful of kicks.

The thai fighter's heel snapped against the girl's forehead. Twisting her leg in the air, Phailin then slapped her opponent across the face with the front of the same foot. The programmer crumpled to the mat, shakily holding herself up on her hands and knees. Phailin stood over her, doing a victory pose without looking down at the injured girl. Then, she machinegun-kicked the programmer's ribs until she was a writhing and moaning heap.

The thai girl slowly looked to the tournament organizers, a grin on her face as she saw the thumbs-down signal. She made a show of slowly pulling her opponent back to her feet, holding her upright by her hair. The programmer was conscious but unable to fight back, her eyes fighting to fixate on anything as Phailin slowly curled back her leg.

An infamous kick, rumoured to be the result of genetic enhancement, sliced through the air in the blink of an eye. Phailin's foot collided with her opponent's head, first fracturing then shattering the side of her skull. The girl's head was visibly dented, her features contorting as the left half of her cranium was crushed by the impact. Time slowed down for her as the critical brain damage reverberated through her grey matter. A couple of teeth were knocked loose as blood spurted from her face, the eye closest to the impact being jarred out of synch with its neighbour. Her body twisted as it lifted off the ground, turning unnaturally at the waist. She hit the mat headfirst with a wet splat, not even bouncing as the dead weight of her body flopped to a rest.

Phailin laughed at the sight of her opponent's unmoving body, wiping her foot off on the limp form and then taking her leave. The growing pool of blood beneath the girl's face took several minutes to mop up, after she herself had been rolled onto a tarp to be removed from the mat.


Her voice sang to the abysmal crowd as she held the microphone up to her lips. Halfway through the second song of her set, she was quietly thankful that she had happened across the flyer in the women's washroom before she headed to the stage. She had a naturally beautiful face with a voice to match, but her fortune as a musician had been anything but fruitful. And secretly, she always wanted to be something else.


She spat some blood on the mat as she tried to stand up, quietly praying that she would survive the match. She had thought the tournament would be fun and exhilarating. Dark red was spattered on her tight pink t-shirt. The purple of her boxer shorts matched the dyed hue of her styled hair. Samantha Gray only gave her a moment's reprieve before grabbing hold of her and throwing a few knees into her gut.

The musician coughed something up and fell to her knees. Samantha held her scalp, looking down at her tearful and groggy eyes before throwing knees straight into her face. Once a tooth hit the growing spatter of blood on the mat, Samantha threw the girl aside. The musician painfully crawled towards the nearest edge of the ring, pulling herself over the edge of the mat and slapping against the cement floor. Her relief quickly turned to panic as ring attendants forcefully picked her up and carried her back to the ring, throwing her onto the mat despite her screaming protests.

Instantly, Samantha's hands were around her throat, pulling her to her feet. She shoved the musician back, stepping forward and slamming a fist against the purple-haired girl's head. She threw a huge uppercut with her other fist, briefly taking her opponent off her feet. Turning with the uppercut, Samantha then connected with a spinning backfist. The musician's head bobbled after the impact. She was still standing, knock-kneed and drooling slightly. Slowly, she sank to her knees, arms hanging at her sides. As Samantha took hold of her head, the musician weakly raised her hands in surrender, begging for mercy. Samantha looked up, quickly seeing a thumbs-down.

The purple-haired girl shrieked as Samantha lifted her off the mat by her head. She was slammed face-first onto the mat, writhing gently as Samantha sat down on her back and viced her waist between her thighs. Samantha's hands clamped around her opponent's jaw and face, slowly beginning to twist. The musician wailed, pleading for her life in a slurred and bloody lisp. Her voice choked into a prolonged squeak as her head was suddenly twisted 180 degrees. Her limbs went taut, fingers and toes curling and twitching. Her mind filled with frightened disbelief that she was dying on the mat of an underground fighting tournament. Then, Samantha wrenched her head a further 180 degrees, completely snapping the girl's neck while twisting her windpipes and aorta around themselves. The musician's body bucked and thrashed involuntarily for a few seconds, gently convulsing and then falling still. Samantha stood up, staring blankly at her opponent as though she were waiting for something to happen. After a few seconds, she pushed a foot against the girl's back, twisting her heel and breaking her opponent's spine. She stared for a few more moments before leaving the ring.


Staring at the city from the window of her room at the hostel, she felt a chill in the pit of her stomach. If she won the tournament that would take place in a few hours, she would be able to finally plant her roots in a town and put her vagrant travels to an end. Changing into her combat outfit, she briefly ran a hand over an embroidered heart on her thigh. After a brief warm-up, she put on a long coat and pulled on some cheap cloth slippers before leaving the room.


She began the match bouncing lightly on her heels, her white tights marked with pink hearts. She felt slight relief as her intimidating opponent, a muscular chinese man called Jun Bo, applauded her while he entered the ring. A few moments later, though, she was desperately thrashing left and right as Jun Bo choked her out in a merciless sleeper hold. The vagabond was unconscious within seconds, held upright by the forearm that was pressed against her throat. Jun Bo raised a hand to the crowd, taking in the applause before slamming his palm against his opponent's forehead. Her body jerked, then span as the chinese fighter turned and released her. She fell over the edge of the ring, landing on the cold cement floor outside. Following his unconscious opponent outside, Jun Bo stepped over her body and began arguing with the tournament organizers.

The girl slowly came to, confused by the concrete ground beneath her. Jun Bo had been arguing with the timekeeper, demanding that he had set a new knockout record and wanting it confirmed before he continued. Still dizzy and unable to think, the vagabond painfully tried to lift her head off the floor. A hand roughly took her by the scalp, lifting her and tossing her back onto the mat. Jun Bo angrily followed, pulling his opponent to her knees before slamming his palm twice against her skull. He yanked her to her feet, and pointed at the heart embroidered on the leg of her tights before tearing the vinyl accessory from her outfit. She could only stumble left and right as he held her by the back of her neck.

A palm sunk into the girl's stomach, doubling her over. Then, a knee slammed into her cheek. Still holding her upright, Jun Bo reared back his hand. It speared forward, shooting palm-first into the vagabond's back, between her shoulderblades. There was a wet crunch as the girl's back arched violently, blood spurting from her mouth as she screamed in agony. Broken bones inside her chest protruded against the front of her torso, lacerating her heart without breaking her skin. Her body was taut, mouth wide open and quivering. She fell to her knees, arms still outstretched and eyes filling with tears as she choked on blood that rose up her throat.

Jun Bo approached from behind, taking his time as he stuffed the small vinyl heart into her gaping mouth. She barely resisted, her body still numbing with shocked pain as he leaned down and applied a dragon sleeper hold. After a moment, he wrenched his arm up. His opponent's neck broke loudly, her feet kicking involuntarily against the mat. The chinese fighter raised his arm, still holding his twitching opponent. Then, he delivered palmstrikes against her chest until her lifeless body barely shuddered with the impacts. Jun Bo dropped the girl to the mat without giving her another glance, flexing his arms up as he played to the crowd on his way out of the ring. She lay face-up and spreadeagled, completely still until she was unceremoniously dragged away.


The lecture felt like a wall of noise to her ears as she doodled a picture in her notebook. Small pictures of her long-dreamed alter-ego inhabited the margins of her fairly insufficient notes. A leaf-green bra top, matching briefs with a short cloth hanging down the front, and tanned leather wristbands and anklebands. Her long auburn hair, styled into ponytails and braids. The outfit was all but complete and tightly gripping her beneath her clothes, and the tournament would begin in only a few hours.

Sliding her sandals off and leaving them behind, she slipped out of the lecture hall and headed for the trees. She still needed to ready her hair.


She had circled and cartwheeled around Cassia for nearly a minute, only once closing distance to climb onto the greek wrestler's back and chop a few times at her head. The auburn-haired student fighter looked terrified when she came to the ring, having seen the end results of many preceding fights. She wanted to flee the building, but armed guards ensured that all the combatants lived up to their end of the bargain.

Losing her patience, the white toga-style leotard-clad Cassia began to chase after her opponent. The frantic girl ducked and dove to evade her opponent, but soon she slipped up and was caught by her ankle. Cassia yanked her back to the center of the ring, quickly getting down and pinning her opponent in place. She slowly maneuvered her arms around the student's neck and crotch, linking her hands on the other side. Then, Cassia stood, lifting her opponent and executing a pumphandle slam. The girl slowly rolled over after a few seconds, crawling to her hands and knees. Cassia locked her arms around the girl's waist, holding her struggling body in place as she planted her feet. The greek wrestler pulled up, holding her opponent upside-down and prone in mid-air as the girl's limbs weakly flailed uselessly. Suddenly wrenching the student fighter head-over-heels, Cassia slammed her headfirst onto the mat. The impact folded her opponent in half before the girl's body flopped to a rest.

Pulling at the student fighter's head, Cassia managed to get her a few feet off the mat before she crumpled back down. The greek wrestler turned, smiling at the crowd as she flexed an arm. Then, she pulled her opponent up with much more force, locking the bent-over student's head between her thighs. The green-clad girl could barely stay on her feet as she weakly grabbed at her opponent's powerful legs. Cassia raised her arms, closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply the smell of combat. She reached down, then delivered a vicious powerbomb. Her opponent bounced a full foot off the mat, landing facedown and sprawled like a ragdoll.

Cassia walked a slow circle around her unconscious prey, watching the student's unmoving form before looking to the tournament organizers. She was met with a thumbs-down. Cassia crouched down by her opponent's head, pulling the girl up by her scalp and locking her in a front facelock. Standing up, Cassia held one of the student's arms under her other arm. She began leading her opponent around the ring, the green-clad girl slowly awakening from the growing pain around her neck. The student fighter moaned, tapping out by slapping her free palm against Cassia's back. The greek wrestler responded by reaching her hands down and scooping up the student's thighs, while still trapping the girl's arm and head in her underarms. Cassia's arms began to flex, pulling her opponent's legs up and simultaneously grinding down on the beaten girl's head and neck. The student's body quivered, folding at the waist as her back began to curve outward. Cassia continued applying more and more pressure, the trapped girl's feet and free hand kicking and waving desperately. A growing throaty wail was joined by creaking noises as the student's back bent to the breaking point. Her screams climaxed with a loud, wet crack as her spine broke and her body crumpled like paper in Cassia's grasp.

The student girl's eyes were wide and glassy, her mouth open and shaking as one of her numb thighs pressed against the side of her ear. Her free arm spasmed uselessly as Cassia slid her hands down to take hold of her ankles, before applying an unnecessary finishing touch to the hold. The greek wrestler's arms flexed and pulled, crushing the student's body together in her grasp. The finished fighter croaked and gasped with each new snap and pop as her body was compressed, feeling unbelievable pain before the pressure finally broke her neck. Cassia held her opponent until she felt no more movements, then released her. The lifeless girl fell to the mat, lying almost comically balled-up and broken on the floor. Ring attendants pushed her mangled body onto a stretcher, deciding it would be the easiest way to remove her from the ring.


The young fighter, still dressed in her blue one-piece combat outfit, choked back her rapid breathing as she ran through the dark corridors of the venue. She had seen enough fights to know that if her opponent bested her, she would not leave the ring alive. She only wanted the thrill and the money, not the risk of being beaten to death before a cheering crowd.

Rounding another corner, the girl was hopelessly lost. There was only one hallway when she had arrived at the venue, and now there seemed to be hundreds. She opened another door, ran down another dark corridor, and then felt pure relief as she saw dim light beneath another potential exit.

Opening the door, she was startled to find a lone woman staring down at her, dressed in a practical and angular business suit. Pure white hair crested outwards from her head, surrounding shadowed and piercing eyes.

"You seem to be lost," she said, stepping forward.

The young fighter backed away. "I-I-I wanna leave, I'm not fighting..."

"Aren't you a fighter?"

"I didn't, I-I didn't know it was gonna be like, like," stammered the girl, realizing her back was against a wall.

"It isn't very honorable to commit to battle and then back away," said the woman.

"I'm g-getting outta here," cried out the young fighter, defiantly.

"If you can defeat me, then you may," stated the woman. She did not move, assume a stance, or even raise her arms.

After a few tense seconds, the young fighter shrieked and leapt forward with a wild roundhouse kick. The suited woman swatted it aside with lightning speed. Before the young fighter could react, the woman's hand was tightly around her throat. Her bare feet kicked desperately as she was lifted off the ground.

"You barely deserve this," snarled the woman. She began to walk through the corridors, still wielding the struggling girl by her throat. After a few doorways, they were in the main arena and headed for the ring. The crowd grew quiet as the woman strode onto the mat and tossed the girl to the floor. The young fighter hacked and coughed, scrambling to her feet and realizing there was no way to escape.

A hasty voice quickly came over the loudspeaker. "Our esteemed sponsor, Kassandra of the Athena Syndicate, will now grace us with an exhibition of her skill!"

Pushing back her dark hair, the young fighter ran forward. Ducking under a strike aimed at her throat, the girl grabbed hold of Kassandra's waist and tried to suplex her. After a few moments of struggling, a chop across her neck sent her to the ground, writhing as a nerve cluster near her jaw flared with pain. Kassandra slowly raised her hands, slowly exhaling a heavy breath. Suddenly, she assumed a stance. Her stiletto-heeled shoes shattered beneath her feet, which caused cracked craters to form on the surface of the mat.

The young fighter stumbled to her feet, then screamed as Kassandra's hand slammed into her belly. Gripping the girl's stomach with claw-like fingers, Kassandra raised her arm and held the wailing girl aloft. She slowly clenched her fingers, causing the young fighter to first cough up bile, then a spatter of blood. Then, she snapped her hand open with a loud crack. A protrusion of pure impact briefly jutted from the young fighter's back as the midriff of her outfit tore open under an unseen force that struck as hard as a gunshot. The girl collapsed to the mat, doubled over on her knees and clutching her belly. She made inhuman noises of anguish as she occasionally coughed up some bloody spittle.

Kassandra reached down, gripping the top of the girl's head in one hand, and pulled her to her feet. The young fighter continued gurgling and moaning, her innards ruined by her opponent's previous maneuver. She tried to beg for mercy, sputtering through gobs of blood.

"There is no mercy in the ring," snarled Kassandra. "This is a sacred ground, the purest of competitions with only our bodies as the weaponry."

The suited woman's grip shifted, holding the young fighter by her jaw and lifting her off the mat. The girl kicked weakly, her hands pulling at her opponent's wrist. As the grip tightened on her face, she realized what was about to happen and was terrified.

"Be proud that you will have a hand in executing Athena's will."

Kassandra's palm snapped open. A fatal impact tore through the young fighter's head like a shotgun shell, sending her body flipping back through the air. She was dead before she slapped facedown onto the mat, her skull and brain pulverized within her unbroken skin.

"Remove her, and let the tournament continue!" ordered Kassandra, stepping out of the ring. The night would yield enough fallen warriors to achieve a solid body of practical tests for the new MediKade prototype units. If Athena smiled upon her, all the losers of the night's matches would have a second chance to prove themselves.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

Walking side-by-side, the girls conversed loudly with each other.

"The game last night was such bull shit," said the redhead.

"I know right?" The blue-haired girl gestured hugely with her hands. "At least our team has a chance to come back before the semis."

"Speaking of semis, I've been training to get at least that far tonight at The Birdcage." The redhead tapped her forehead. "You ready to know a champion, Bethy?"

"Says you," replied Bethy, giving Ronni a look. "We both got splattered last week, your chances aren't better than mine."


Ronni spat out some blood, wiping her lip as she rolled away from her opponent. The redhead wore a white singlet, spattered the color of her hair near its collar.

Tilting her head with a serious look on her face, Bethy threw a high kick, garbed in a black sports bra and short gi pants. She was disappointed to already face her friend in the first round, as it had been weeks since they'd fought outside of friendly sparring. Ronni dodged the kick, stepping back and catching her breath.

Bethy clinched with her opponent, beginning to throw knees into her friend's flanks. Ronni grunted, taking a few of the hits, before retaliating with rapid-fire punches to Bethy's stomach. Soon the blue-haired girl lost her grip, stumbling back and gasping for air. Ronni hopped forward, grabbing Bethy about her head and throwing her against the cage. As she bounced off, Bethy's momentum carried her into Ronni's oncoming heel kick. Bethy flipped over, landing facedown and stunned.

Her head spinning, Bethy did not realize she was being locked in a combination chokehold-armbar until she felt the pain running across her upper body. She screamed, struggling to get free. Her feet kicked wildly against the mat, but that was all she could do before her head grew lighter. "Haah...how did..." stammered Bethy, "when'dyou learn...u-guh..."

"Sorry, Bethy," said Ronni. Bethy's glazed eyes began to look to her friend, drool running down her chin as she tried to ask her to stop. The blue-haired girl's mumbles grew to shrieks as something in her bicep was suddenly snapped, Ronni releasing her to roll around and clutch her injured arm. A few stomps to Bethy's gut left her splayed out and writhing. Ronni knelt down over her chest, lifting her beaten friend's head off the mat. Bethy looked pained and saddened, before yowling again as Ronni twisted and hyper-extended her neck muscles. Finally, the redhead slammed Bethy's skull back to the mat with a headbutt, the blue-haired girl laying spreadeagled and unconscious.

Ronni stood, looking down at her friend. Her small feeling of guilt was overshadowed by the notion of finally becoming a champion of the ring.


Smiling at a co-worker, the work-worn girl's radiance warmed the hearts of the other destitute she stood alongside. Her frayed hair was long and dark, pulled back into a bun while she worked in the assembly line. As she assembled another piece, she glanced at the flyer someone had added to the nearby bulletin board. Her youth was spent orphaned and living out of a shelter, she had become an employee of a dead-end leatherwork company. She knew the risks, she knew her chances were slim, but she also knew she could finally make something of her life.

As the clock rang, she took off her apron and quietly stepped out the back door.


"Moira, center of the ring!"

Wearing the ragged white tank-top and aged grey sweatshorts she wore for most of the day, Moira quietly stepped barefoot into the chalk circle drawn on the concrete floor of the basement parking lot, leaving her frayed sandals behind as she wished she owned a pair of sneakers. The matches were an irregular event run by a local gang, offering to pay fighters just for entering and giving them a show. Moira had been in a scrap or two in her childhood, and felt she could at least put up a fight.

"Moose, get in there!"

A tall girl in a black sports bra and leather pants stepped forward, her biker boots adding to her towering stature. Brown hair hung loose and long from her head as she cracked her knuckles.

"Get it on!"

Moira raised her fists, looking up at her opponent helplessly. Moose stepped forward, holding out her hands to either side and inviting Moira to take a swing. Moira bit her lip, and then threw a punch. She threw another, and then another, stepping back as her hands began to hurt. Moose's head hung low as she staggered back, shaking her head and quickly whipping her hair back. Moira threw a hard kick into Moose's chest, but the tall girl caught her leg with one arm. Struggling and tugging at her trapped limb, Moira made a choked squeak as Moose grabbed her throat with her other hand. Lifting her opponent up, Moose held the girl's leg solidly as she began to shake her by her neck. Moira's hands clawed at Moose's, her free leg kicking back and forth as she made pitiful gagging sounds.

As Moira's tongue began to roll over her lip, Moose slammed her down onto the ground. The girl wheezed, her stomach smashed against solid concrete. She was curled in the fetal position before being forced onto her feet, where she could only clutch her belly and try to raise a hand. Moose feinted a punch, then lowered it, tilting her head at her opponent. Moira had flinched, and looked confused until one of Moose's boots stomped onto her bare foot. As her opponent screamed, Moose twisted her heel with a crunch and stepped off. Moira fell to the floor, rolling around and grasping at her broken foot as she howled.

Moose motioned for her injured opponent to stand. Moira choked back a panicked sob, wiping tears from her eyes as she tried to get up. She stumbled and limped, her attractive face looking utterly defeated. Moira looked left and right as she backed away, but the audience circle quickly pushed her forward as she got close. Gripped with fear, the girl dove forward, grabbing hold of Moose and keeping her weight on her good foot. Yanking and pulling, Moira could not budge the taller girl, who slowly took hold of Moira's hair before delivering a headbutt. Holding her stunned opponent upright, Moose looked to the gang leaders for guidance.

"Unless you want a punching bag, we ain't paying that newbie. Put her down for good!"

Screaming for mercy, Moira tried in vain to squirm free of her opponent and run. She came to fight and take home some cash, not battle to the death. Moose grabbed her by the throat with both hands, ignoring Moira's desperate pleading before cutting it off into choked noises as she tightened her grip. The tall girl lifted Moira off the ground again, shaking her hard as the girl's feet kicked in the air. Moira's hands began to slip free of their grip around Moose's wrists. As they fell to the girl's sides, Moose slammed her hard onto the concrete. Moira bounced, coming to a sprawled rest on her back. She could not fight back as Moose lifted her by her throat and slammed her once more, her screams devolving into pained stammers as her skull fractured.

Moose pushed her over onto the stomach, stepping onto the small of her back and taking hold of her wrists. Pulling Moira up off the pavement by her arms, Moose kept her booted heel rammed into the girl's spine. Moira stared straight forward, bloodied and crying as she weakly shook her head. Moose continued to pull until Moira's spine popped softly, then released her wrists and put her entire weight into her boot. Moira was brutally curbstomped, her face crunching into the concrete as her back broke under the pressure. Her arms and legs spasmed violently before going limp, as a pool of blood quickly grew beneath her mangled visage. Moose began to walk away from her opponent, stopping and returning to push her heel onto the back of Moira's neck. With a harsh twist and a wet snap, Moose elicited almost no movement from Moira's lifeless body. She looked silently disappointed before walking away.

The gang took their leave after the match. Moira lay facedown and broken in the chalk-outlined ring, her sandals still waiting a few feet away.


Stepping out of the salon, the egyptian girl's dark hair was fashioned into a Cleopatra-styled bob, hanging low over her shoulders. Her golden dress swathed behind her as she strode, eyes wide and intense. Long had she sparred with her mother and father, learning to fight since she was a teenager. The world around her felt corrupt and on the brink of disaster.

Several nights prior, under the influence of alcohol, she had stepped into a ramshackle fighting ring and crossed fists with a silat fighter who quickly left her unconscious and bruised on her back. She was a mess, fighting in a simple t-shirt and shorts, swaying on her feet and beaten to the mat within minutes.

After that, she realized the ring was the only place that made sense. She decided she would embrace her true self that she had always dreamt of being since she was a child, and give herself over to the world of pitfighting.


Panya stepped into the Emergency Ward's clear-enclosured ring, a glittering gold and white linen two-piece ensemble leaving most of her body unhindered. Golden anklets and armbands shimmered under the spotlight. Her eyes were heavily made-up, surrounded by egyptian-patterned shadow. As she padded across the mat, Panya held her arms out, raising her head to the crowd.

Following her was Solongo, a mongolian girl in a pink top and blue briefs. She raised her hands to the audience, then slapped her palms down onto her shoulders before crouching and flexing her fingers. Panya's stance was loose and snaking, her arms poised like serpents.

The egyptian girl slinked around her opponent, who warily kept her distance, cocking her head as Panya stared into her eyes. Panya's hands slowly moved from side to side as she crept a slow arc across the ring, toes gently stepping on the mat with each step. Finally, she sped forward, preparing to strike. Shrieking a high-pitched battle-cry with each attack, Panya executed a textbook series of hikuta strikes, trying to destroy her opponent in one combo. Finally slamming her palm into Solongo's chin, Panya waited for the mongolian girl to topple.

Solongo quickly shook the cobwebs, no longer hypnotized by Panya's presentation as the girl's basic self-defense techniques only bruised her body. She grabbed hold of Panya, locking her hands around her waist. Panya looked shocked, inexperienced and agog that her opponent still stood. She could only cry out helplessly as Solongo lifted her up, suplexing her headfirst into the mat. The egyptian girl stood immediately, losing her balance and falling back to the mat just as fast. Solongo took hold of her hair, pulling her to her feet as she made futile attempts to fight back with palm strikes to her opponent's throat and lungs. The mongolian girl pulled Panya along with her for a few steps, then slammed her headfirst into one of the clear walls around the ring. Panya swung a wild backhand, missing entirely and balancing herself backfirst against the wall.

Gripping her opponent by her underarms, Solongo lifted Panya off her feet, holding her against the wall. Then, she slowly and powerfully slammed headbutts into Panya's chest, the egyptian girl kicking wildly as she grunted with each hit. After one headbutt, there was a soft crack, and Panya gagged as she coughed up a spurt of blood. Solongo set her down, rubbing her forehead and watching the egyptian girl as she clutched her injured ribs, barely standing. Panya gasped for air, eyes wide and unfocused as she tried to keep breathing. Solongo reached forward, grappling with her opponent and easily leading her to the center of the ring.

Panya did not understand what was happening. She did everything her mother and father had taught her, and only found injury and humiliation. Her makeup ran as sweat and tears ran through it, her muscles flexing as she tried to out-wrestle the mongolian girl who easily scooped her up. Panya was once again left only able to kick her feet as Solongo held her across her chest, mid-bodyslam. The mongolian girl slowly turned around, showing her opponent's helpless state to the audience. Then, she lifted Panya's legs before spiking her headfirst into the floor. The egyptian girl lay frozen, facefirst and feet pointing at the ceiling, before slowly flopping to the mat. Solongo rolled her onto her back with her foot, letting Panya lie stunned and staring at the lights as she stepped back to catch her breath. Panya barely writhed before she was pulled off the ground, lifted and pressed overhead by her opponent. Solongo held Panya tightly by her throat and briefs, carrying the flailing girl towards one wall. Rearing back, Solongo slammed Panya's entire body into the clear surface, leaving a sweaty imprint of the egyptian girl smeared on the bulletproof plexiglass. Solongo continued holding onto her opponent, carrying her to another wall before smashing her body against it. Panya's panicked flailing slowed to weak squirming as Solongo maintained her grip, still pressing the girl overhead as she moved to another wall. She hurled Panya into it, slamming the front of her entire body into the unforgiving surface. The moist bodyprint also left behind a streak of blood as the egyptian girl bounced off, crashing to the mat.

Spasms wracked her body as Panya made choked, rattling whines of pain. She felt broken, pain running through her fractured skeleton that she had never felt before. Panya screamed a long, terrified wail as Solongo reached down and picked her up, pressing her overhead like a trophy. The mongolian girl yanked down, slamming Panya forcefully facefirst onto the mat. The egyptian girl bounced, coming to a rest as spasms once again as the pain overwhelmed her nervous system. Solongo took hold of the back of her top and briefs, lifting her nearly 6 feet off the mat before slamming her down again. Panya's shriek cut off as she landed, her body going limp like a ragdoll as it hit the mat. Again, Solongo lifted and slammed her opponent facefirst to the floor. Without hesitation, she did it one more time, Panya completely silent except for a gutteral noise as she slapped onto the mat again. The egyptian girl was lifeless as Solongo heaved her off the mat once more, blood dribbling rapidly from her eyes, nose and mouth. Solongo slammed her down one last time, Panya laying splattered on her stomach, limbs splayed outward in every direction. Panya's body was deathly still, a pool of blood growing beneath it as Solongo raised her fists in victory. Ring attendents crudely scraped Panya's body off the mat, dragging it away like a sack of pulp as her bones were fatally shattered by the repeated impacts.


The girl looked out her window at the street below, feeling butterflies in her stomach. She had finally been accepted, after sending demo tape after demo tape. Her first competitive match would be on The Kumite, just like she had hoped. She looked at herself in the mirror, a young brunette in a shimmering navy blue swimsuit. Glitter and make-up made her eyes vibrant within her lush head of hair. She set a pink flower by her ear, and knew she was ready. A hot new rookie, making her television debut in front of a live audience and her friends and family watching at home. The girl knew she might lose, but in the rookie circuit, the fights would be exciting and evenly-matched. Her dream career, fame, and fortune awaited behind a wide-open door.


"Introducing a new challenger...AYANNA, THE BEAUTIFUL FLOWER!!"

The crowd cheered as the attractive young fighter ran out to the ring, jumping and waving at the audience and cameras. A purple jacket covered her from neck to kneecap, her hands and feet bare.

"This trained MMA fighter brings a mix of beauty and youthful ferocity to the ring. She's got a lot of potential!"

Removing her jacket to reveal her fighting attire, Ayanna left the flower in her hair as she waited for her opponent. She was surprised when she heard the announcement that followed her entrance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Ayanna, the Beautiful Flower! Her demo material was so impressive, she has been given a special debut match!"

Smiling brightly, Ayanna clapped along with the crowd.

"Prepare yourself, rookie! You're going to get to show your stuff against one of our gold-band roster members!"

Though the crowd erupted again, Ayanna faltered slightly. She was expecting to fight another rookie, not an established Kumite combatant.

"Now on her way to the ring...MEGAN MCGUIRE, THE MONTREAL MANGLER!!"

The Beautiful Flower gaped, her heart racing as she saw Megan McGuire approach the ring. Ayanna was an avid fan of The Kumite, and knew that Megan the Mangler was a pit fighting wrestler on par with Crusher Calloway. Stepping into the ring, Megan was a lean and powerfully-built girl in a red leotard. An equally-crimson mask covered most of her face, revealing only her piercing eyes and shock-white hair. Ayanna caught herself, deciding that a match against Megan McGuire would skyrocket her career regardless of the outcome. She had already signed a long-term contract with The Kumite, and could not be fired after only one fight.

As the bell rang, Ayanna decided to go through with her initial plan. She calmly approached Megan, and then gently plucked the flower from her hair to offer to her opponent. Megan paused, eyeing the warmly-smiling girl, and reached to accept the gift. As soon as she took the flower, Ayanna blew on the petals, sending glittering pollen in a cloud towards Megan's face. As the wrestler tried to figure out what was going on, Ayanna ducked behind her and threw a roundhouse kick to the back of her head. Megan was stunned by the attack, dropping the flower and stumbling forward.

Darting forward and grabbing Megan's waist from behind, Ayanna prepared to execute a belly-to-back suplex. However, an elbow swung around and smashed into her face, causing Ayanna to step back and clutch her jaw. She looked up in time to see Megan's lariat inches from her nose, before it flipped her over in place. Ayanna landed on her head, and groggily crawled to her hands and knees. She got to her feet, but her opponent was right in front of her. The Mangler clapped her hands around Ayanna's ears, forcing the girl back down to her knees as she howled and clutched her aching eardrums. The girl barely resisted as Megan scooped her up off the mat. The wrestler held her opponent high in the air before bodyslamming her.

Ayanna rolled over several times, clutching her back and trying to retreat. She had trained for a lower-tier opponent, not a powerful grappler. The cameras caught a close-up of her face as her resolve began to crack, the confident young fighter beginning to look very intimidated. Megan approached, and Ayanna foolishly stood her ground to grapple with the stronger wrestler. The Mangler quickly took control, forcing the squirming girl to slowly bend over. Then, Megan dropped a forearm onto the back of her head, stunning the girl. Pulling Ayanna's head between her legs, Megan lifted her up and overhead. The young fighter blinked, desperately looking around and reaching for some kind of handhold before she was powerbombed. Ayanna bounced off the mat neck-first, coming to a rest on her back.

Megan strode casually around her opponent, watching the young fighter lie on her back gasping for breath. The cameras closed in as Ayanna was hauled to her feet, weakly protesting and trying to pull free as a hand clasped her throat. Megan lifted the girl up, pressing her overhead. "NOOOOOO!!" screamed Ayanna. Her friends and family watching her television debut saw the young girl screaming her throat raw, her swimsuit-clad body being pressed up and down by a powerful wrestler. Most of them winced as Ayanna was dropped onto Megan's knee, the girl throwing her head back in a gutteral moan as her back bent awfully. Megan lifted her opponent off of her knee, carrying her a few steps before executing a sidewalk-slam styled backbreaker. Ayanna shrieked again, kicking wildly as her back was brutalized. Megan pushed her onto the mat, where she lay facedown and quivering, half-curled up.

The wrestler turned to the crowd, throwing her arms out to her sides as she declared, "TIME TO MANGLE!!" Ayanna filled with fear, hearing the crowd roar with approval at her being further demolished. She tried to crawl away, but Megan was already upon her, pulling her to her feet and then up onto her shoulders. The Mangler locked in her modified torture rack, bending and twisting Ayanna's spine over her shoulders. The young girl screamed her submission, feeling her hair beneath her toes as her spine felt like it was on fire. She shrieked and pleaded, forgetting that Kumite bouts did not account for verbal surrender. Megan soon released the hold, letting Ayanna fall to the mat.

The young fighter could not fight back as her opponent pulled her up onto her knees, holding her there by her scalp. Megan slowly drew her thumb across her neck, then slammed a palm into Ayanna's chest. The girl gagged, weakly clutching her chest. Ayanna did not resist as Megan lifted her in a vertical suplex, holding her upside-down. The young fighter's legs pointed straight up, her dizzying mind praying that the fight would end soon. As her legs began to fall limp, Megan shifted her position, bending Ayanna at her waistline and taking hold of her ankles while still holding her head in a suplex position. Ayanna whimpered, her body folded and ready to receive a muscle-buster finishing move. Cameras caught the tearful makeup running from her eyes, glitter still on her cheeks.

Megan leapt and landed on one knee, sending a shockwave through Ayanna's body. The Mangler did so three more times, then fell into a seated position before releasing her opponent. Ayanna crashed to the mat, lying spreadeagled on her back and completely motionless. Her mouth hung open in a perpetually anguished expression, the cameras rotating around her to fully display The Mangler's latest victory. Megan walked over to the flower that still lay on the mat, picking it up and heading back to Ayanna's prone body. The Mangler knelt down over her opponent, and then chopped a hand down onto Ayanna's chest. The young fighter's body spasmed, coming to a rest in the same spreadeagled position as before. Megan lay the flower on Ayanna's chest, and walked away to raise her fists to the crowd.

"Ayanna, the Beautiful Flower, has been trampled and mangled by Megan McGuire! She was brave to take this shot at a seasoned competitor, but in the end she got steamrolled. Rest assured, The Kumite's best medical facilities will be provided to make sure she has a speedy recovery before her next match!"

The unmoving young fighter, flower still on her chest, remained in shot as slow-motion replays of the harshest maneuvers she endured appeared overtop of her. She was unaware that her contract was to add a fighter with an expendable record to the least-desirable part of the roster. Competitors thrown into matches they have no hope of winning, who also test well with audience reactions and merchandise sales. Ayanna, the Beautiful Flower, had a painful career ahead of her.


With a heavy thud, the rookie fighter's friend landed on the dusty ground in front of her as she sat on the bench. Security guards quickly lifted the girl up, throwing her back onto the mat where she continued to be taken apart by her opponent. The rookie already felt defeated as her moral support was beaten unconscious, and she wrang her hands as her friend was dragged off the mat. Looking down at her white sportsbra and pink boyshorts, she slowly stood up as she was called to her match.


Ella's curly blonde hair hung over her eyes as she saw her opponent, Jun Bo, exude confidence as he stepped into the ring. The asian fighter turned his back on his opponent as he played to the crowd, who chanted his name. Ella stood in place, unsure of what to do until Jun Bo turned back to face her. Quickly, she pushed her hair back and entered a fighting stance. Ella shuffled forward as Jun Bo approached, her eyes wide as she maintained her stance and tried to consider her options of attack.

Jun Bo's knuckle cracked into Ella's face as she hesitated, sending the rookie stumbling back. Eventually resuming her stance, Ella took a hard kick into her flank before an elbow belted her above her eye. Involuntarily, she turned with the impact, hands reaching for her face. Jun Bo took hold of one of her arms, slowly raising and twisting it around as the girl bent over and clutched at her shoulder. Ella's head shuddered as a foot kicked into her face, then screamed as its heel dropped into her contorted shoulder. Jun Bo yanked her injured arm, throwing her onto the mat. Once again, he turned and played to the crowd as the rookie fighter rolled around and cradled her arm.

Growing impatient as Ella did not get back to her feet, Jun Bo began to throw short and rapid kicks into her hips. The girl bucked with each hit until she desperately rolled away, painfully standing up and trying to assume her stance. She raised her arms to defend herself as Jun Bo advanced, allowing herself to be grappled and quickly dominated. The asian fighter lifted Ella off the ground by her waist, carrying her to the edge of the ring before punching her several times in the kidney. Ella spasmed with the strikes, struggling to get free. Jun Bo set her down, the rookie quickly doubling over and clutching her side before an uppercut lifted her feet off the mat. Ella landed outside of the ring, staring at the ceiling and unmoving until security guards lifted her up and threw her back into the ring. Jun Bo harshly took hold of her scalp, pulling her to her feet. Ella staggered left and right, her arms weak as she could barely stay conscious.

A palm strike slammed into her forehead, making her body jump. Another palm strike made her spasm, still on her feet as Jun Bo held her upright by her hair. Ella's glazed eyes stared into the fuzzy audience. The rookie did nothing as Jun Bo pushed one of her arms up and over her shoulder, and continued to wobble on her feet as he slowly reared back a fist. His finishing blow slammed into her injured kidney, striking a nerve cluster and breaking bone. Ella's body went taut as she shrieked in agony, blood spattering from her mouth as her eyes screwed shut. Slowly, she fell to her knees as the nerve strike made her heart momentarily stop. Jun Bo quickly locked in a sleeperhold, preventing the girl from slumping forward as her heart leapt back to life. She spasmed violently, mouth wide open and eyes still tightly closed. Her opponent pulled her back up onto her feet, tightening the sleeperhold until her shuddering body fell still.

Jun Bo raised a hand, holding his unconscious opponent upright with an arm hooked under her chin. As the crowd chanted his name, he viciously palmstruck Ella's skull twice before releasing her. The rookie fell, lying awkward and facedown on the mat. Still chanting, the crowd fed Jun Bo with applause as he knelt over the rookie and pulled her head off the mat. Strings of bloody drool hung from her gaping mouth, flying in strands as her opponent began to continue palmstriking her head. Ella could only spasm like a rag doll until Jun Bo let her head bounce back to the mat, stomping twice on her back before leaving the ring. The beaten and humiliated rookie would later appear as "boyshortsblonde.jpeg" on a growing photo gallery of defeated fighters, commemorating Jun Bo's most flawless victories. Some days later, Ella took small solace in being one of the few combatants to live to see themselves appear on that blog.


A young dancer, her bones broken and body lifeless, was dragged from the enclosed room. The redhead did not flinch, regarding the dead fighter as nothing more than a loser. She adjusted her white singlet, stained near the collar with long-dried blood. As a gong sounded, she stepped through the doors from which a beaten fighter had just been removed moments before.


After a hard chop across her opponent's face, Ronni locked in a choking sleeperhold. She wrenched the girl left and right, trying to end the match as quickly as it had begun. The girl choked and screamed, squirming wildly before slamming an elbow back into Ronni's gut. After two more elbows, Ronni released the hold. The redhead flew back after a hard kick slammed into the side of her head, crashing to the mat stretched over the floor of the sealed room.

Bethy got to her feet, her blue hair long and matted with sweat. Her matching make-up ran slightly as she wiped her brow. She wore a black top and briefs, with blue tape wrapped around her ankles. Bethy raised her arms to block an incoming series of punches as Ronni attacked once again, pushing her former friend into a wall and then ramming a knee into Bethy's gut. The girl gagged, falling to her knees and coughing up a gob of spit. She looked up just in time to take a heel kick square between her eyes, sending her down to the mat. Ronni climbed onto her opponent's back, pinning Bethy face-down on the ground as she wrestled to lock in another chokehold.

As Bethy crawled to her hands and knees, her red-haired opponent still on her back, she coughed and took in a shaky breath. "Not...this time...honey," she muttered. Ronni felt a sudden pain inside her skull as Bethy snapped her head back, smashing it into Ronni's face. The redhead fell off her opponent, laying stunned on the mat as Bethy climbed on top of her. Immediately, Bethy pinned Ronni's shoulders and delivered a direct headbutt. "Did some training of my own," she gasped, looking down at the glassy-eyed redhead. "And got...some surgery."

After three more headbutts, Ronni lay spreadeagled beneath her former friend. Bethy slid back, taking hold of one of Ronni's ankles before scissoring her body around the girl's entire leg. Ronni slowly came to, moaning and struggling weakly. With a loud crack, the redhead's eyes snapped open as she shrieked. Bethy released her, letting Ronni roll around on the mat as she clutched at her dangling broken shin. Shouting slightly over her opponent's cries, Bethy said "I'm gonna be the champ, Ronni. Not you. Me!"

"F-F....FUCK YOU!" answered Ronni, tears running from her enraged eyes. She tried to stand, crying out in pain as her broken leg crumbled beneath her. She could barely resist as Bethy took hold of one of her wrists, and shrieked even louder as a foot stamped down into her shoulder with a crunch. The redhead pitifully pushed herself along the ground with her good leg, squirming towards the closed door at the end of the room. Bethy followed her for a few moments, before leaping into the air and stomping both feet down onto Ronni's back. The red-haired fighter flopped in place, whimpering softly as her opponent slowly wrapped her arms around her head and neck.

Slowly, Bethy lifted Ronni's head off the mat, holding it in a dangerous chokehold. "Uhhhgh guh!...uhhhn...no...no..." muttered Ronni, some foamy spittle running down one side of her mouth. She stared desperately at the door, reaching her uninjured arm to grasp at it in futility. Bethy tightened the chokehold slightly, feeling her former friend's body stiffen and writhe beneath her own as she placed her free hand against the side of Ronni's head. She waited a few moments, closing her eyes as her opponent breathlessly babbled in denial of what was about to happen. Then, looking down at the back of Ronni's red scalp, Bethy snapped the girl's neck. After the spasm, Bethy held on for several moments before releasing the hold and standing up. Ronni was sprawled, facedown and lifeless at Bethy's feet. The blue-haired girl took a long breath before quickly turning and leaving the room.

She knew she would be the champion.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

Punching the mat, the karateka got to her feet and shouted angrily. She was dressed in a disshevelled green gi, while her opponent wore a yellow t-shirt and white briefs. Her first match at The Kumite seemed like it would be simple, but the hawaiian girl she faced had countered nearly everything she could throw at her.

As she charged forward one more time, Holly Brockler turned and raised a leg, smashing a roundhouse heel straight into the girl's face. The karateka stumbled, head still snapped back and mouth wide open, before falling to her knees. Holly quickly rammed a knee straight up under the girl's chin as she dropped an elbow down onto her head. The karateka's arms stiffened out to her sides as her body shuddered. Then she slumped forward, her nose and mouth leaving a small splatter of blood on the mat as her face bounced off of it. Smirking for a moment as she realized she had won, Holly knelt over her opponent's back and raised a fist, shouting victoriously.

She was dizzy, yet skittish, as she backed away from the japanese aikido fighter named Tsumi. The lanky, mousey girl's brown hair was frazzled. Her sky blue top and dark blue shorts hung on her frame unflatteringly. Sensing the moment was right, she launched forward with a snap kick towards Tsumi's chin.

Allowing the mousey girl a few moments to hop on one foot and realize her mistake, Tsumi then twisted her captured ankle and took her to the mat. Still holding her opponent's foot, Tsumi kicked the side of her thigh a few times before flipping her onto her stomach and slamming her knee into the floor. The mousey girl screamed as her knee popped, reaching involuntarily for her injury. Tsumi quickly took hold of her wrist, yanking it up and twisting her arm at the shoulder. One stomp went straight into her shoulderblade, and the next silenced her cries as Tsumi's foot rammed down onto the back of her head.

Holding the unconscious girl's arm, Tsumi looked to the crowd for a few seconds. Bowing her head slightly, she nodded. With a wrench and a twist, Tsumi broke her opponent's elbow before releasing her wrist. She bowed to each corner of the ring, and quietly took her leave.

Spitting some blood onto the mat, she glared at the stocky girl who circled around her. The beautiful blonde, tanned and toned in a violet bikini, was used to stepping all over any lesser girl who got in her way. She threw a kick towards Aura Dean, and screamed as Aura parried her foot while shoving an elbow into her ribs. Aura drove a palm up into the blonde girl's chin, then drove a heel into her gut and sent her to the floor.

The bikini blonde barely got to her feet before Aura elbowed her once again in her ribs. Coughing wetly, she sank to her knees. Eyes still wide in disbelief, the blonde girl grunted painfully as Aura threw herself shoulder-first into her opponent. The blonde girl's ribs throbbed, overwhelming her with a stabbing pain as she writhed on the mat.

Taking hold of her opponent by her waist, Aura planted her feet and heaved. She lifted the blonde fighter off the floor, holding her for a split-second before hurling her back down with a belly-to-belly suplex. The bikini-clad girl flipped over, bouncing headfirst off the mat and ending up in a heap next to her opponent. Aura sat up, breathing heavily before a smile spread across her face as the crowd cheered.

Crawling back to her feet, she was no longer thinking about her tidy ponytailed hair, or the state of her modestly adventurous white sports bra and pink spandex shorts ensemble. She only thought about the fact that she had been suplexed, bodyslammed, and hiptossed around the ring by Mac Brogan. The hooting and hollaring pro-wrestler's wild, tassled pants and neon facepaint seemed amusing until he had gotten his hands on his opponent. After only 90 seconds, she was desperately trying to consider a way to make a comeback.

Her train of thought was interrupted by another grapple, through which she was once again overpowered in moments. Mac lifted his opponent to deliver a bodyslam, running a lap around the ring before throwing his weight into the maneuver. The girl was loudly winded as the wrestler's body landed on top of hers when she crashed to the mat. She was still gasping when Mac pulled her to her feet and turned her back to him. Gripping her by the back of her neck and her posterior, Mac raised his opponent over his head like a trophy. "Wha...no...wait!" She kicked her legs and waved her arms frantically, staring terrified up at the lights as her body was pressed up and down like a set of weights. Mac finally dropped her back-first over his knee. The girl squawked hoarsely, eyes and mouth wide open before she passed out from shock.

Dumped to the mat and quickly forgotten, she lay facedown in a heap as Mac ran around the ring and hooted at the crowd.

Rocket Rita's crimson attire made her look like a red blur as she rapidly rained blows against her swimsuit-clad opponent. The girl's long hair jiggled in waves as her arms fell limp at her sides, struggling to raise for a moment as Rita's assault paused. A heavy kick to the side of her head sent Ayanna spinning down to the mat. She shuddered as she crawled to her hands and knees, feeling a bit of nausea through the pain as she spat some blood onto the canvas. Ayanna's career at the Kumite as "the Beautiful Flower" continued to be a trying one, as her make-up once again streaked beneath the strain of the beating she was sustaining.

Kicking Ayanna hard in the stomach each time she managed to pick herself up off the mat, Rita smiled at the cameras and took a moment to flex her powerful legs. Stepping around her stunned opponent, Rita took hold of Ayanna's hair and pulled her up onto her knees. The star kickboxer began driving elbows down into the girl's forehead until it split open.

Leaving Ayanna to sway back and forth on her knees as blood ran down between her eyes, Rita took a few steps back. Then, she thrust a knee straight into her opponent's face at an astonishing velocity. Ayanna's features crushed together as her head snapped back, her mouth gaping open as teeth were knocked loose. With lightning speed, Rita quickly raised her leg straight up and axe-kicked her heel down into her opponent's forehead with a loud crack. Blood and spit sprayed from Ayanna upon impact, her body shuddering twice before she flopped facedown onto the mat. Rita stomped twice on the back of her head, grinding her heel against Ayanna's skull as she raised her hands in victory. The "Beautiful Flower" moaned unconsciously as blood streamed from her face, once again due for an extensive treatment in The Kumite's medical facilities.


In the chlorine-scented air of The Pool, Paula Dynamo pumped her fist as the crowd cheered. She stood in the drained swimming pool that served as a ring, wearing a red swimsuit and metal bracelets. Her opponent staggered back up, a blue-swimsuited girl with a white headband holding up her matted bangs. Paula strode towards her, taking a jab to the chin before delivering a thunderous gut-shot.

Stumbling back until she was pinned against the wall of the ring, the blue-swimsuited girl raised a hand as she clutched her stomach. Paula swatted it aside, crouching and rapidly slamming her fists into her opponent. The girl jiggled in place as her opponent used her belly as a speedbag, her eyes wide as she began to double over. A hard uppercut lifted her back up as it crunched into her chin. Rearing back, Paula yelled a battle cry before she delivered a finishing blow straight into her opponent's face. The girl's head was slammed into the wall, held in place until Paula pulled her fist away.

With a gurgling noise, the blue-swimsuited girl slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor. She gagged a few times while her diaphragm spasmed, otherwise nearly motionless as Paula celebrated her win.

Smiling as she walked towards the center of the ring, the pig-tailed brunette wore a tie-dye patterned swimsuit and bright yellow ankle bands. She reached a hand forward to shake her opponent's. Arachne, wearing a torn black tank-top over a similarly dark swimsuit, took hold of the girl's hand and shook it firmly. Then, she punted her opponent square in the groin, cracking her knuckles as the girl squeaked and slowly sank to her knees. Arachne lifted a foot, ramming her heel into her opponent's mouth.

After skidding back several feet, the pig-tailed girl found herself staring up at the lights as her jaw felt numb. She began to stand, unable to keep her balance well as she felt a mixture of anger and shock at her opponent's tactics. Throwing a kick, she missed wide as her head was still swimming from the punt to her face. Arachne grabbed hold of one pig-tail, punching the girl twice below the eye before kneeing her in the crotch. Feeling herself begin to fold up, the other fighter tried right her crumpling body and was rewarded with a sudden backhand strike. A tooth and a trail of blood spewing from her mouth as she span around, the pig-tailed girl landed facedown on the ground. Shuddering as she tried to pick herself up, she stared in confusion at spattering droplets of blood on the floor beneath her face, before it came rushing back to send her to sleep. Arachne leapt and stomped both feet down on the back of the girl's head, smashing the consciousness out of her head.

Turning and raising a fist, Arachne yelled "Fuck yeah!" Then, she paused and looked up at the lip of the drained swimming pool. "What? That's how you win fast!" she said indignantly at her younger friend.

Her hair in a tight bun, the businesswoman clenched her teeth as her opponent held her in a tight chickenwing hold. Her black bikini-clad body turned and twisted as she tried to get free. Kelly held on, the teenaged fighter's blue leotard darkened by the moisture of the fight venue. The businesswoman tried to use her height to buck Kelly down to the floor, but while her feet left the ground, Kelly simply wrapped her legs around her opponent's waist.

With a gagged cry of frustration, the businesswoman stumbled to her knees. She reached for Kelly's arms, clawing her fingernails into the girl's skin. Kelly cried out, releasing her legs from around her opponent but maintaining the chickenwing hold. She planted her feet as solidly as she could on the tiled floor, feeling blood run from where the businesswoman's fingernails pressed into her skin. Kelly shrieked with effort as she leaned back, suplexing her opponent overhead. The businesswoman's head slammed down into the unforgiving tiles. She lay folded upside-down for several seconds before slumping onto her stomach.

Kelly cradled her bleeding arm, catching her breath. Then, she squeaked and ran to her beaten opponent, making sure she had not caused any serious damage. "What a wuss..." sighed Arachne, watching from above.

Hikari shouted to the sky in Japanese, slapping her lithe bicep as her opponent lay dazed on the floor. The Japanese wrestler wore the uniform swimsuit and hair cap of her hometown college, warpaint applied over her face. The blonde fighter on the ground stared glassily as she weakly shook her head, wearing a simple white swimsuit. She still looked lost as Hikari pulled her to her feet and led her to the center of the ring.

A hard blow to her belly made the blonde girl double over. Hikari grabbed her around her waist, lifting her into the air and holding her upside down. "PILE DRIVAAAAAAAA!!" screamed Hikari. The blonde girl squirmed as she had a moment of adrenaline, pulling at Hikari's grip and kicking her feet in the air. "No, no!...no!..." she stammered, eyes wide with fear as she looked up and saw the pool's tiled floor waiting to receive her.

Hikari's opponent immediately went limp after the piledriver, lying in a heap as the Japanese girl pushed her body aside. Hikari sat down on the blonde girl's stomach, taking her time as she verbally counted 10 hard chops to her chest. The beaten fighter only shuddered with each hit, unconscious and in pain.

The brunette had entered the ring wearing a worn grey surf suit. Tania, a small but strong brazilian in a white bikini, had used the girl's outfit to her advantage as she threw her to the floor over and over.

As her opponent crawled to her knees for the fifth time, Tania leapt forward and rammed a knee into the girl's mouth. The surfer rolled left and right across the ground, clutching her bleeding jaw. Tania spent a few moments considering her next move before taking hold of the girl's arm and sitting down next to her to apply a cross-body armbar. The surfer bucked and thrashed as she tried to get free, making increasingly desperate noises as her arm was stretched to its limit.

There were several seconds of silence after the snap before the surfer shrieked until her throat was raw. Tania released the hold, getting to her feet. Her opponent stared in shock at her flopping arm, and its newly-inverted elbow. She began to moan in a squeaky voice as her lip quivered, pain overcoming her senses. Trying to offer a small mercy, Tania snapped a kick across the surfer's face. The girl flipped over on the ground, laying unconscious as her broken arm turned purple.

Tania knelt beside her, bowing her head low before leaving the ring.


Onlookers formed the makeshift ring boundaries in the middle of Central Avenue, a common street fight locale. Authorities often turned a blind eye to the matches that took place there, due to bribery from the local residents.

Blood flying from her lip, the beatnik girl span to the ground. Her black unitard was scuffed from the pavement, and her heavily shadowed eyes were lost as she began to stand up. Her opponent was known only as the Urban Ninja, a masked girl in a loose-fitting tanktop and baggy shorts, her shins and feet taped tightly. Stalking around the beatnik, the Urban Ninja leapt forward and drove a knee into her back.

Before she could fall back down, the beatnik fighter's arms were locked behind her. She looked left and right, eyes filling with increasing fear before the Urban Ninja lifted and suplexed her headfirst onto the hard concrete. After flopping to the ground, the beatnik shuddered and tried to crawl to her knees. The Urban Ninja's eyes looked sad for a moment, before she leapt into the air and pounced down onto her opponent's body. Having rendered the girl unconscious, the masked fighter bowed to the crowd and quickly took her leave, vanishing into the night.

To many jeers from on-lookers, Sasha grabbed hold of another kick before suplexing her teenaged opponent overhead. The younger fighter, dressed in a white t-shirt and red boyshorts, wore a ragged luchadora mask to hide her face. Her brown hair sprouted from the back of the mask, hanging down to her shoulders as she painfully got up. Sasha sneered, the russian girl's bleached short hair hanging slightly over her eyes.

Backing away from her approaching foe, the masked teenager looked to either side and saw only the crowded onlookers of the match. She cradled her stomach, feeling a crack in the pavement underfoot. She gave a desperate cry as she ran towards Sasha and tried to tackle the russian girl. Sasha barely budged, grabbing hold of the teenager and lifting her off the ground. The girl was slammed spine-first onto the pavement, arching her back and screaming. Sasha rolled her onto her stomach, sitting down on the small of her back and applying a chinlock. Pulling the teenager's head back, Sasha soon had her slapping her palm on the ground.

"You give?" asked Sasha. "U-uh...uh huh..." gasped the girl beneath her. Thinking for a few moments, Sasha grabbed hold of the bottom of the girl's mask and tore it off. The teenager immediately hung her head down, trying to let her hair cover her face. She weakly struggled as Sasha put her into a camel clutch, displaying her pained and bruised face for all to see. "Maybe I should break you right here," snarled Sasha. "Let them all watch your face as I snap your spine."

Sasha immediately cranked the pressure on the camel clutch. The girl screamed hoarsely until she lost consciousness a few seconds later, the pain overcoming her senses. Sasha released her, standing over the beaten young fighter and glaring down at her. "Stupid girl," she muttered, turning to walk away. "Not worth the effort."

Adjusting her white singlet, the blonde girl got back to her feet and smiled as her friends cheered her on. Her opponent was an egyptian girl named Rabiah, and she and her posse intended to make an example of her to push their agenda and make Central Avenue a caucasian-dominant district of town. Rabiah bit her lip nervously, wearing a top and sarong both made of shimmering scales. She had taken down her opponent once already, but the blonde fighter seemed empowered by her support in the crowd.

The blonde's supporters cheered as she scored a hard blow to Rabiah's face. The girl shouted back to her friends, then turned and threw a hard kick straight towards her opponent's groin. Rabiah turned and glided forward across the ground, avoiding the dirty blow and scoring one of her own against the blonde's throat. Not letting the girl catch her breath as she choked, Rabiah span and caved in one of her knees with a kick. The egyptian fighter climbed onto her opponent as she fell, gripping her scalp with one hand and delivering unrelenting strikes to her face with the other.

Slowly, the cheering section of the crowd grew quiet as their friend was beaten bloody. Rabiah paused for a moment, looking down at the racist girl with exasperation. "Give...g-give..." wheezed the blonde fighter, wincing as she swallowed some blood. "Pphp-please..." Rabiah looked up and glared at the girl's friends, then continued striking the blonde until her arms fell limply to the ground.

Though she had stepped onto the pavement with a bright attitude and a lot of cheers behind her, the spunky judoka had not been able to out-grapple the greek fighter named Nicasio. He slammed her to the ground, stepping back and waiting for her to stand. She wore a sleeveless gi jacket and tank top, her gi pants shortened to leave her legs bare from the shins-down. Her pigtails were messy and uneven from the match, barely held together and she got to her feet and tried to make a grab for Nicasio's waist.

After a moment of back-and-forth wrestling, Nicasio once again took control as he scooped her up and carried her over his chest. The judoka kicked and struggled, trying to get one of her legs up and around his neck. The greek fighter lifted her higher before throwing her hard onto the pavement. A new pain erupted inside the judoka's body as her body cracked against the ground. Her eyes bugged out as she screamed, clutching at her chest and ribs. As his opponent began to curl up, Nicasio quickly climbed on top of her, pulling the judoka into a harsh camel clutch. As she bent beneath the hold, the judoka began slapping the pavement in submission, grabbing at the hands around her chin as the hold did not release. Leaning back one more time and bringing a shriek out of his opponent, Nicasio then released the hold.

Her relief turning to confusion, the judoka made a panicked sound as she felt her opponent pick her up off the ground. Nicasio held her back across his chest, one arm cupping her thigh as the other wrapped around her shoulders. The greek fighter began squeezing his arms together, bending the judoka's body together. Her fingernails dug into his forearm as she pried at the arm around her shoulders, her free foot only able to swing wildly as she screamed in pain. The judoka's cries elevated several times before it cut off suddenly, her body going limp as it curled together unnaturally in Nicasio's grasp. He opened his arms, letting his opponent fall like a ragdoll onto the pavement, and strode away, feeling that he had left his mark.

Nicasio had left a mark, but it was a warrant on his own head. After she was dragged away, the judoka was unable to be revived. Several ribs had broken, and her opponent's final hold had caused fatal internal trauma. The people of Central Avenue did not take kindly to a fighter that did not know when to stop, and would make Nicasio regret it if he ever returned.


Blood hit the sandy floor of The Colosseum as another group of fighters faced each other in the first circles that led to the center of the battleground.

Wiping at the cut on her lip, the hungarian girl's curly hair hung over her enraged eyes as she shrieked in anger. Gray bellbottomed pants and a white shirt were scuffed with dirt. She ran towards the pink-tights brunette that faced her, raising a fist as she charged. The pink-clad girl snapped a kick straight into her opponent's throat, sending her head-over-heels back to the ground. Choking, the hungarian began to stand, but her opponent slammed a knee into the side of her head. Grabbing hold of the girl's curly locks, the brunette rapidly kneed her opponent in the face, pausing only when a few teeth had fallen to the sand.

"Ghllkkh...nnguh..." The hungarian girl's eyes were crossed and glossy. She swayed on her knees as her opponent reached down to apply a front-facelock. As the hold tightened, the hungarian made a few desperate cries, weakly trying to pull herself free. Closing her eyes, the pink-clad girl harshly jerked back and to the side, wringing the hungarian viciously. Her opponent scratched at her enclosed arm until her neck was snapped. Hands falling to her sides, the hungarian slumped facedown to the sand, her fingers twitching lightly once.

After trading a few blows, the stocky polynesian girl sank to one knee, eyes half-closed as a sharp pain spread over her right temple. The slim indian girl smacked a palm across her opponent's face, slowly taking a step forward before quickly kicking her foot up behind her to catch the girl beneath her chin.

Spitting some blood onto the sand, the polynesian fighter staggered up to her feet. Her opponent quickly turned, delivering a spinning backfist into her cheek. The indian fighter hopped up, seating herself on one of her opponent's shoulders before rapidly throwing knees into the girl's face until she began to slump to her knees. Nimbly landing back on the ground, the indian girl held the polynesian upright, slowly arcing one arm before chopping it brutally down into her skull.

Drool running from her mouth as her eyes slightly crossed, the polynesian fighter remained on her knees as her opponent circled around her, locking in a simple chokehold. After a moment, the indian lifted a foot and braced it against the girl's back, before leaning her entire back harshly. The polynesian's eyes bugged out as her hands waved forward pitifully, her soft neck being pulled up and back beyond the limits of its flexibility. Holding her quivering throat taut and stretched, the indian fighter finally turned her entire body to twist and break her opponent's neck, hugging it tightly.

As she was released, the polynesian girl's head nearly faced the wrong way as she flopped over. She could see her opponent walking away from her as her vision darkened and her body grew numb.

After being shoved to the ground for a third time, the australian girl's wide eyes looked anything but brave. Her simple black swimsuit's glittering finish had stuck to parts of her skin, flowing dark hair hanging over her shoulders. The larger black girl that finally began to approach her was very stocky, dressed in jeans shorts and a ripped tank-top. Backing away, the australian girl filled with regret, wishing she were anywhere but in that circle in the sand. As her feet neared the edge, two spears crossed behind her, making her freeze in place.

Grabbing her opponent by her head, the black girl was easily able to force her struggling opponent under one arm. Slowly closing her thick arms around the australian's stomach, the black girl suddenly lifted her overhead. Her back arching over one large shoulder, the australian madly tried to get free as her spine was stretched in her opponent's vice-like grip. After a few seconds of bending her opponent's back, the black girl whipped her face-first onto the floor with a huge thud. The australian bounced once, flopping to a rest on her stomach. She was motionless, wracked in pain and unable to move. Her opponent played to the crowd a few times, walking circles around the helpless fighter.

Dragged by her ankles to the center of the circle, the australian girl cried out weakly as her opponent began to pick her up. Scooping her up, the black girl seemed to be preparing to bodyslam her. As she began to lose her dizziness, the australian girl realized she was still being held aloft, and her opponent's arms were tightening around her shoulders and crotch. The black girl continued squeezing, slowly crushing her opponent's upper body into her pelvis. As the pressure increased, the australian girl felt her vertebrae shudder as her shoulderblades and pelvic bone began to pop. "Nnuh! No!" she screamed, her bones grinding together. "No!! No no no pleAAUUUUUUUUOHH GOD AWWWWGH!!!" Another crack came from the australian girl's body as her opponent squeezed, crushed, and ground her torso and pelvis together. Her bare hands and feet flailed uselessly, her body spasming as her spine finally broke and compressed. The black girl continued to squeeze, mashing her opponent's internals together for a few moments, then dropped the girl to the floor.

Laying splayed out on her back, chest shuddering as she took hoarse and bloody breaths, the australian's eyes were wide and unfocused. Her mouth quivered, blood sputtering from her lips. She saw the black girl loom over her, and whimpered as she saw a foot step forward and down towards her. Her opponent stepped on her heavily, crushing the life out of her and breaking her neck. The black girl continued walking, not even looking back at the broken girl in the sand as she raised her fist in victory.

Bellowing an amazonian war cry, the pelt-garbed girl named Tora Sky reached for her opponent's scalp. With two heavy strikes, Tora's adversary had already lost the fight. A foolish girl dressed in a simple sports bra and bike shorts, her eyes were wide and glassy as Tora stood her upright. The amazon drove a knee into her gut, holding her tightly to prevent her from collapsing. A hard chop across her jaw left the girl's mouth hanging open before a backhand blow forced a spray of spittle from her lips. Two headbutts split her forehead open before Tora released her, letting her fall backwards like a dead weight.

Collecting her opponent off the floor and hoisting her under an arm, Tora considered her next move as she took a few steps forward. Just as her half-rolled eyes began to close, the girl shrieked as she was dropped into a quick backbreaker. Holding the girl on her knee, Tora dropped an elbow into her face before throwing her hard into the ground.

Fading back in from unconsciousness, the girl's feet kicked lightly in the air. Her head lolled left and right, trying to figure out what was happening. Tora Sky held her aloft in an elevated double-chickenwing. Squeezing her opponent's arms together, Tora roared with exertion. The girl's head threw back as her shoulderblades cracked, her scream cut off as she was slammed facefirst into the sand.

Quickly getting on top of the girl as she began to convulse, Tora simultaneously yanked her up onto her feet as she applied an abdominal stretch. Her opponent's free arm swung left and right, using what energy she had left in a futile attempt to get free. Tora stretched the girl's body horribly, pausing only to deliver rapid punches to her taut kidney area. Seeing blood sputter from her opponent's mouth, Tora yelled as she put all her strength into pulling and twisting her adversary. The girl's shriek grew choked and gurgling as her torso creaked and popped. A terrifying crack came from her spine as it finally gave out, and the flesh of the girl's midriff coiled like a spring.

Tora looked into the girl's eyes as they rolled back, the girl's torso now twisted well over 90 degrees. Shifting her arms, she pulled her gagging opponent into a vicious necklock. Turning once with a loud snap, Tora turned back around to throw her opponent spiralling down to the floor. Her dominance asserted, Tora turned around and prepared to deliver a worse punishment to her next opponent.


One of many street urchins to wander into the dangerous ring known as the Emergency Ward, the young girl's torn jeans and white tank top were also her only possessions. Each had been marked by the fight, some blood spattered on her shirt and the leg of one of her jeans ripping slightly as her opponent wrenched a painful leg lock. Alani, dressed in her usual green top and briefs, stood up. Still holding the girl's ankle, she slammed two hard kicks into the already-injured thigh, and finished with a stomp to the hip joint.

The street urchin could only howl and roll around as her entire leg was in crippling pain. After waiting a few seconds to allow her opponent to try and stand up, Alani closed her eyes and stepped towards the felled fighter. Picking up the girl's ankle once again and ignoring her desperate pleas, Alani took a deep breath before twisting the leg and dropping her entire weight on it knees-first. Her young opponent screamed almost as loud as the snap of her bones, before passing out from the pain.

Alani crept forward, taking a moment to set her opponent's shattered leg in a vaguely straight position before gently touching her face and leaving the ring.

Rubbing her aching neck, the native american girl painfully stood up. She wore a tassled brown leotard with a beaded necklace, and had stepped into the ring thinking she would wrestle her opponent to the ground. However, the merciless luchadora called Tequila Sunrise had overpowered her at every key moment of the match.

Tequila quickly locked up with her, pulling her down into a headlock. Then, the luchadora slammed a fist into the girl's skull three times. She released the headlock, but the native american fighter was still bent over, stunned and trying to remain standing. A hard double-axehandle to her back sent the girl onto her hands and knees. Tequila grabbed her opponent around her waist and lifted her up, hoisting her over one shoulder in an argentine backbreaker. The native american fighter threw elbows, trying to strike Tequila in the head. But soon, she succumbed to the pain and screamed in agony as her body bounced over Tequila's shoulder as the luchadora ground her spine.

Feeling the girl slowly become dead weight, Tequila ran towards one of the clear walls around the ring and slammed her opponent's body against it. The native american fighter's face squashed against it before she slid down and lay in a heap on the mat. Tequila rolled her onto her back before delivering a heavy legdrop across her throat. The girl's entire body spasmed with the impact, then once again lay still. The luchadora hooked one of her legs and lay on top of her until she heard the audience's ten-count.

She had been relieved to see her sister still breathing as she was dragged off the mat after the match with Tequila Sunrise. She had felt confident upon seeing her opponent, a short chinese girl named Chun Ling. The native american girl was dressed identically to her sister, the only difference being that her leotard was orange. Blood dripped down it from her nose as she sank to her knees, staring at Chun Ling in a mixture of half-consciousness and disbelief. The chinese girl turned and leapt, delivering a spinning kick that sent her opponent to the floor.

"You underestimate me, huh?" Chun Ling paced around the native american girl as she tried to get up, faltering several times. "I make you pay for that!" continued Chun Ling, before she kicked her opponent in the stomach. Grabbing the gasping girl by her hair and pulling her onto her feet, Chun Ling delivered a palmstrike followed by a hard knee to the gut. The native american girl's head exploded in pain as Chun Ling simultaneously drove an elbow down onto her head as she lifted a knee under her chin. She fell to the mat, clutching at the multiple fractures in her face and trying to roll away.

Dragging the native american girl onto her knees, Chun Ling immediately cracked one of her ribs with another palmstrike. Then, she pushed her palm in farther, snapping a bone and puncturing something inside her opponent's chest. "Now you see!" declared Chun Ling, as her opponent clutched at her chest and choked. "Play for keeps!"

Chun Ling pushed the girl's head away as she took a few steps back, then ran forward with a leaping kick. Her heel crunched straight into her opponent's throat, caving in her neck for a moment before she flipped over. The native american fighter lay facedown and nearly motionless, twitching softly once as blood flowed from her mouth. Her sister would awake to find that she was the only one of the pair who would leave the Emergency Ward on her feet.

Wearing a white watermelon-print t-shirt over her green and pink one-piece, the frightened young fighter's nerves got the better of her as she shakily faced her opponent. Pretty Patsy Palmer offered a warm smile to the girl, extending her hands. Cautiously, the young fighter took hold of her hands and shook them, before quickly backing off. Her opponent adjusted her black sundress before advancing on the girl.

The combatants locked up, Patsy quickly gaining the advantage. She backed the watermelon girl up into one of the clear walls of the ring, then threw a harsh knee into her groin. Her opponent cried out long and loud, doubling over as her eyes bugged out. Patsy gently took hold of her head, then whipped it hard back into the wall. The girl bounced off the hard surface, tumbling to the mat. Patsy hauled her to her feet, then scooped her into the air and threw her back against the barrier. As the watermelon girl lay writhing on the floor, Patsy placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head. "If that's all you got, I'm gonna have to make this quick."

Patsy pulled her opponent off the ground and propped her up against the clear wall. She threw her entire body against the girl, smashing her into the wall. Then, before she could slump to the floor, Patsy caught her in a bearhug and lifted the girl a few inches into the air before squeezing the breath from her diaphragm. The young fighter moaned, shaking her head as her arms and legs waved in the air. Patsy whipped her body left and right, then looked the girl in the eye as she struggled weakly to escape. "I'm gonna give you a special goodbye, honey," said Patsy. "Kiss your career goodbye." Her opponent whimpered, confused as Patsy gave her a peck on the cheek before throwing her down onto the canvas.

Patsy leaned down and wrapped her arms around the girl's waist. She lifted the young fighter up into the air, holding her upside-down and once again in a spine-curdling bearhug. Patsy wrang the watermelon girl's back until it arched like a bow, crushing her in the dominating submission hold. The girl screamed in submission, terrified as her bones began to pop. The watermelon girl's back gave out with a sudden crack, bending harshly as her legs hung down like dead weights. She stared up at the floor, struggling to breathe. Patsy walked her to the middle of the ring, then piledrove her headfirst into the canvas. The young fighter's neck snapped as her and Patsy's bodies pressed down onto her skull. Patsy held her in place, upside-down and folded gruesomely at the throat and waist. She finally pushed her opponent's body away, taking the time to sit on top of the beaten girl and pose as she claimed her victory. "Things are looking up," she thought, "I'll get back to Creekville in no time."


The dark arena known infamously as The 6th Level was brutally hot from the fires that burned around its solid steel ring platform. Two bridges extended towards it, allowing entrance to the ring but not guaranteeing exit.

A brazilian girl headed to the ring, slowly dancing as she approached it. She wore a glimmering blue samba costume, a small two-piece outfit with ankle bands and a feathered head-dress. As she stepped onto the ring, she removed the head-dress and placed it back on the bridge before it retracted. The samba girl continued to dance back and forth across her side of the ring, awaiting her opponent.

Slowly approaching the ring, the masked combatant known only as the Bear Woman stared at the samba girl as she crossed the bridge. Her brown mask and leotard were already damp with sweat as she stepped onto the ring, arms loose at her sides as a gong filled the air.

The samba girl sprang into action, raining a large number of kicks into her opponent. The Bear Woman stood her ground, barely moving as each kick connected against her. Her opponent turned and span, leaping back and forth and driving her elbows and knees into the masked fighter. Finally, the samba girl paused to catch her breath, looking expectantly at the Bear Woman. She responded by delivering a sudden and brutal overhand strike to the brazilian's head, dropping her face-first into the mat.

Crawling to her hands and knees, the samba girl looked up at her opponent for a few seconds before getting back to her feet. She circled the Bear Woman cautiously, licking her lips and looking for an opening. Losing her patience after a long pause in their battle, the brazilian shrieked a battlecry and threw herself into the air, spinning into an overhead heel kick. Her foot landed hard atop the Bear Woman's skull. Standing on one foot, the brazilian girl stared as her opponent did not even sink to one knee. Her eyes were wide in a stunned trance as the Bear Woman's hands suddenly clapped forward around her head. The masked girl threw the samba fighter across the ring, slowly following her as she tumbled to a rest near the edge of the metal platform.

Panting as the heat of the flames around the ring breathed against her, the brazilian girl dripped with sweat as the Bear Woman pulled her to her feet. She put all her might into a leaping knee strike into the side of the masked girl's head, and stared helplessly as the Bear Woman shrugged it off and reared her fist back. Clubbing it against the side of her opponent's head, she let the samba fighter stumble to the side before smashing both her hands together on either side of her skull. The brazilian girl sank to her knees, clutching her head as she slumped to the floor. The Bear Woman took hold of her ankles, dragging her several feet before heaving her up into the air and swatting her body back down. The samba girl's body clanged against the steel ring floor, flopping once before coming to a rest. She lay gasping for breath as the Bear Woman circled around her.

Picking her opponent up off the floor, the Bear Woman scooped her up and then held her overhead. The brazilian girl whimpered as the flames around the ring increased in their intensity. The masked fighter drove her body down onto her knee, letting her cry out in pain before throwing her to the ground. The brazilian clutched her back, body glistening with sweat as she moaned and rolled left and right. Slowly, the Bear Woman took hold of her by the throat and forced her back up onto her feet. Her eyes were wide with fear as she grimaced, barely able to breathe in her opponent's grasp. A few weak kicks were all the samba girl could muster in retaliation as she was dragged towards the center of the ring, her foot slapping against the Bear Woman's midriff with little effect.

Wrapping one arm around her opponent's body, the Bear Woman delivered a quick headbutt before releasing her chokehold and locking in a standing bearhug. The brazilian girl looked around desperately, quickly realizing that she was caught within her opponent's infamous specialty. The Bear Woman lifted her off her feet, crushing her back and squeezing the last of her strength from her body. The samba fighter howled, shaking her head rapidly as her body shuddered and curled up. Screaming in pain, she wildly beat her hands and feet against the Bear Woman as her spine creaked and popped. A prolonged shriek of agony followed a loud crack as the Bear Woman broke her back, squeezing the bearhug harder until blood spurted from the brazilian girl's quivering mouth.

The Bear Woman threw her beaten opponent down onto the floor, standing over her for a few moments before reaching for her throat and thighs. The masked fighter lifted the brazilian girl up and over her head like a trophy, carrying her to the edge of the ring as her legs dangled lifelessly. The brazilian stared at the ceiling, a numbness creeping over her as she felt her opponent heave her forward. Her body was thrown from the ring, singed by the flames around it before falling into the darkness below.

Brown bangs bobbing as she stepped into the hellish heat of the ring, the girl's eyes were wide and a little unhinged. The rookie fighter's white sports bra was stained with old bloodstains from the single accidental kill she had on her record, with more of the now-brown spatterings on her baggy blue trousers. They were cut off and tied tightly at her knees. Her wide eyes were bright but a little vacant, clearly disturbed by something that lurked within her mind.

Hasina crept forward, her scarred body tightly wrapped in sections of white bandaging. Her face was also wrapped, with only her long dark hair and a single eye remaining uncovered. She had once been a gorgeous warrior of the pit, until a devastating loss that ended with her being hurled into a pool of corrosive liquid. While she escaped with her life, the match had taken from her both her beauty and sanity.

With a shriek, the rookie threw punches and kicks at Hasina. The scarred fighter turned and twisted, dodging several blows before two fists consecutively struck her across the face. A hard roundhouse span her around before her opponent grabbed her by the waist. Writhing in the rookie's grasp, Hasina turned herself around before hopping her legs up to wrap them around the girl's body. The scarred fighter raked her fingers left and right across the rookie's face, forcing the girl to cry out and collapse beneath her. Hasina took a few more swipes at her opponent as she sat on her chest before delivering a hard chop to her throat and rolling away.

Letting her gagging opponent stumble to her feet, Hasina circled around her slowly. The rookie winced as she tried to catch her breath, keeping her hands raised as the bandaged girl before her glared with a predatory look in her good eye. Hasina then leapt forward, striking the rookie in the chest before turning and driving a heel into her gut. As the girl doubled over, Hasina grabbed her scalp and rapidly lifted her knees into the girl's face. The rookie fell to her knees, dazed as Hasina slid her arms around her neck and hugged her body against her own. Trapped chest-to-chest against the scarred fighter, the rookie fell back onto the mat as Hasina pinned her. One bandaged shoulder quickly cut off the brown-haired girl's oxygen, and she thrashed wildly for only a few seconds before shuddering limply and blacking out.

Once again seated on her opponent's chest, Hasina stared down at the rookie as the unconscious girl gasped for breath. The scarred fighter craned her neck, peering as her eye twitched a little bit. She slowly raised her arms, and then let out a primal howl before pounding on the rookie's face. The brown-haired girl's body thrashed as her opponent beat her mercilessly, not relenting until the rookie was a bloodied mess. Hasina turned the girl's head, dropping hard chops against her cheek until there was a crack. The rookie screamed, rousing back to consciousness as her cheekbone fractured. Hasina viced her thighs around the rookie's waist and pushed her shoulders down, pinning her in place as she stared into her eyes. The rookie coughed, moaning and shaking her head as she writhed in pain. Hasina began headbutting her injured cheekbone, soon slamming her forehead directly into the rookie's eye. After a few blows, another loud shriek came with another cracking noise.

Hasina rolled off of her opponent, dazed by her own headbutting assault. The rookie rolled around on the mat, screaming and clutching her ruined eye as blood ran freely through her fingers. Hasina eventually came to her senses, slowly walking towards the rookie before pushing her onto her back and pinning her down with one foot. Crouching down to mount the bloodied fighter, Hasina looked at the quivering rookie's ruined face for a few moments before repeatedly beating her skull once again. Once the rookie's arms fell to the mat, Hasina stood and began stomping on her face. After nearly a minute, the bandaged girl turned to walk away, dragging her opponent's body by an ankle. Hasina left bloody footprints in her wake beside the trailing smear that ran from the mangled mess of the rookie's face, and pushed the lifeless girl over the side of the ring without a second thought, leaving her to fall into the darkness below.

Pacing around the combat platform, the policewoman's tank-top clung to her as the flames had her sweating immediately. Dressed only in the tank-top and her trousers, she had been led to the ring after a lengthy interrogation by the 6th Level's staff. Her undercover mission was a failure, and she nervously chewed her finger as she saw a masked fighter step onto the mat with her.

Murder Mask, pale-skinned and dressed in a black one-piece, looked at her unwilling opponent from behind her metal facemask. The policewoman desperately looked for a route of escape as Murder Mask approached, quickly realizing that the only escape was the flame-kissed black abyss around the combat platform.

After the masked fighter watched her silently for a few seconds, the policewoman took a swing at her with a left hook. She then grabbed hold of Murder Mask by the shoulder, throwing knees into her gut. After several blows, Murder Mask ended her attack by grabbing hold of her head and squeezing. She forced the policewoman to her knees, the pressure around her head immediately making her woozy. A sudden double-axehandle to her forehead made the policewoman crumple. She crawled on all fours, trying to shake the cobwebs as her heart raced.

Waiting for her opponent to get back to her feet, Murder Mask's patient silence eventually goaded the policewoman into trying another attack. A spinning roundhouse slammed into the masked fighter's chest, pushing her back a few feet. Seeing her chance, the policewoman tried the same maneuver, hoping to push the 6th Level's champion off the platform. Murder Mask caught her leg, then pounded her across her face. Scooping her opponent into the air, Murder Mask held the policewoman overhead. Her panic rising, the captive officer began to struggle and whine. Murder Mask dropped her chest-first onto an outstretched knee, forcing a horrible gag from the policewoman.

Coughing and gasping, the injured officer rolled around on the ground, clutching at her pained ribs. Murder Mask yanked her up to her knees by her hair, looking down at her as she raised her hands. "W-Wait," stammered the policewoman, "please, I can...I can tell you anything! Our operation, who else is here, I'll do anything, j-just-HCHHHK!" Murder Mask lifted her up to her feet by her throat, leaning closer as she begged. "Kahh...p-please...tell you anything..."

"Not my business," hissed a voice from behind the mask.

The policewoman's eyes bugged out as Murder Mask slammed a fist into her chest with enough force to break several of her injured ribs. Another hard blow to the same spot forced a sickening crack from the officer's body as she screamed in pain. Rearing back, Murder Mask delivered a third blow. The masked fighter's hand pierced into the policewoman's body. Blood running from her lips, the officer weakly clutched at Murder Mask's wrist as she shook her head pathetically. "AUHH...UH...Nuhh...no...not like...please...please no no no..."

Tilting her head slightly, Murder Mask then squeezed her hand shut before tearing it free. The policewoman shrieked, eyes wide as she saw the masked fighter holding some dark red flesh in her hand. The officer immediately fell forward, laying facedown in a growing pool of blood. Murder Mask threw aside the gore in her hand, letting it fall into the darkness below as she took her leave.

"Not my business," she hissed, ignoring the body that lay in her wake.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

Face adorned in tendril-like warpaint with a silver swimsuit over her slightly stocky body, Lady Kraken was a cruel and unrelenting fighter. Rumored to have been thrown out of the Wrestlehouse years before, she made certain that her opponents would feel pain right up until the end of the match, if not the end of their lives.


Swimming through the lane gracefully, she reached the end of her laps and swiftly pulled herself up and out of the water. Removing her cap to let her blonde locks fall to her shoulders, she nodded dutifully as her coach gave her advice. Much of it fell upon deaf ears though, as her mind was anywhere but the pool.


Still wearing the same swimsuit beneath her tracksuit, the blonde girl stood up off of the bench and removed her jacket and pants. Peeling off her cloth slippers, she entered the ring as she pulled her hair back into a short ponytail. Raising one arm to the crowd before assuming her combat stance, her slim form and tightly-built legs and shoulders were on display as she faced Lady Kraken.

Easily taking the upper hand, Lady Kraken slammed the swimmer back and forth across the ring. The blonde girl looked out of her league as she was hurled into a corner post, and managed to cry out shortly before Lady Kraken took a running start and bodysplashed her. As her opponent stepped aside, the swimmer slowly fell to her knees before crumpling onto her face. Gasping for air, she painfully tried to crawl out of the ring, and then screamed her protests as Lady Kraken took hold of one of her ankles and dragged her into the center of the ring.

Applying a single-leg crab hold, Lady Kraken twisted and bent her opponent's leg like a pretzel. Wrenching the maneuver as hard as she could, Lady Kraken felt a satisfying pop as the blonde girl beneath her shrieked in pain. One leg crippled and dislocated at the hip and knee, the swimmer pounded her hands and other foot on the mat as Lady Kraken's weight continued to pin her down.

Swivelling around, the facepainted fighter slowly applied a cruel camel clutch hold. Her body bending beneath her opponent's seated mass, the blonde girl clawed at the hands around her chin. As the pain began to overwhelm her, she simply began slapping the canvas in desperation. Shuddering and whimpering, the swimmer felt a moment of relief as Lady Kraken relaxed the camel clutch. Then, she let out an inhuman scream as her opponent yanked back with a loud snap. The swimmer's eyes bugged out as her torso folded back, delirious panic filling her mind as she realized her spine had broken.

The blonde girl's prolonged scream ended with a squawk as Lady Kraken roughly twisted her head. Her neck clearly snapped, the swimmer gurgled quietly. Lady Kraken held her in the horrible twice-bent position until her body ceased to move. She finally lay twisted on the floor, fatally dominated.

A bald mongolian in worn red pants, Sukh was a well-known fighter in many underground circuits. Mixing his endurance with his pure brute strength, Sukh's fans and followers often kept detailed accounts of the many opponents who had fallen at his feet. When given the chance to deliver a back-breaking finisher, Sukh would do so without hesitation.


Her red dress flourishing as she left the stage to a thundering applause, the young flamenco girl hugged her fellow dancers and headed to her dressing room. Taking a flower from her vase, she breathed deeply of its aroma and set it in her hair. Opening another pocket on her duffel bag, she took out the bright spandex that would accompany her to a different dance.


Now barefoot and clad in a leotard, she had stepped onto the mat ready to use her modified savate style to mix the thrill of battle with the thrill of the dance. As she threw aside her layered skirt, she turned to face her opponent.

After one hard lariat, she lay on her belly and struggled to stay conscious. Pulling her back onto her feet with one hand, Sukh delivered a headbutt and let her fall to her knees. A double-axehandle to her skull forced her to sink down farther, leaving the flamenco girl seated on her heels and swaying gently as her half-open eyes stared forward.

Held by her throat, her eyes widened as she heard Sukh declare "NOW, I BREAK!" He pressed her body overhead, turning slowly to face each side of the ring as she kicked and twisted to try and get free. She was bewildered, not understanding why the crowd chanted and cheered as she tried to yell her surrender over their noise.

A rush of wind as she fell was followed by a sickening crack that echoed through her own ears. The flamenco girl shrieked in agony as Sukh's backbreaker finished off both of her careers in one move. Before she could blink, both of his fists pounded into her outstretched stomach and forced a loud and gutteral noise from her throat. She shuddered as the numbing pain in her body spread, and slumped to the mat heavily as Sukh stood up.

Feeling blood fill her mouth and spill onto the canvas, the flamenco girl felt one final agonizing moment and screamed as Sukh's heel stomped onto her broken back. Her head jerked up off the mat before bouncing to a rest, lying on one cheek as her hair clung over her lifeless face. Several minutes after her opponent left the ring, to no applause her limp body was dragged off the mat shortly before the next match.

Clad in a red one-piece over dark spandex shorts, Samantha Gray's long hair stood in a tall spiked fashion above her red hairband. Her eyes were empty, yet slightly curious. Backed by the mysterious Athena group and using a mixture of hard strikes and powerful grappling, Samantha Gray was also known to quickly adapt and outright mimic other fighters, sometimes with lethal results.


Prowling onto the stage, the teen wore a provocative and furry catgirl costume. She crept on all fours, then span and leapt from pommel horse to pommel horse as she performed her routine. While the convention audience saw a display of gymnastic prowess, the cosplayer secretly trained for the next level of her roleplay.


Her body clad in a furry bikini with leather tassels tied around her forearms and shins, the catgirl's false tail and cat-ear headband managed to confuse Samantha Gray for a short while. However, the teen cosplayer's advantage ended once her opponent hard heel kick caved in her belly. Samantha stood over the catgirl before lifting her over one shoulder and then slamming her stomach-first onto the mat. The teen gasped long and hard, clutching her stomach as she slowly rolled to the side.

Samantha's leg-drop forced a gag from her opponent as her leg landed on top of her throat. The cosplayer lay unable to stand, clawing weakly on the canvas as she tried to reach for her dislodged cat-ear headband. Pushing a foot onto the girl's chest, Samantha picked up the headband and examined it. She snapped it in half, letting its pieces fall as the cosplayer's eyes began to tear up.

Once she had been pulled onto her feet, the catgirl went feral in desperation as she raked and kicked at Samantha. The stoic girl patiently defended against the outburst until she saw an easy opening, and blasted the teen fighter with a hard spinning backhand. Before she could fall, the catgirl was lifted into an argentine backbreaker. Howling in pain, she flailed wildly until her strength had been wrung from her body. Samantha continued applying the hold until something inside her opponent popped, and then threw her facefirst onto the floor.

Sitting on the cosplayer's back, Samantha took hold of the teen's head and began to twist it. The catgirl's hands and feet beat against the mat as she screamed, horrified as she felt her neck begin to stretch. It took half a minute for Samantha to finally twist the girl's head over 90 degrees around to face her, the catgirl's struggles becoming involuntary muscle spasms as she went into painful shock. Still screaming until the loud snap, the cosplayer's eyes bugged out and her tongue hung from her mouth as Samantha harshly turned her head back the way it came.

Much to the crowd's excitement, Samantha continued the match despite having broken her opponent's neck. The cosplayer was a ragdoll as Samantha raised her body overhead, wielding it aloft for several seconds before pulling it down into a backbreaker. She shifted the catgirl into a bow-and-arrow hold, tightening it until her spine snapped as well. The teen fighter was left broken and finished, splayed facedown on the mat as Samantha Gray walked away.

A powerful chinese martial artist often seen in black pants with a white bloodstained headband, Jun Bo was as cruel as he was egomaniacal. He enjoyed making a show of his opponents, especially those clearly weaker than he was. Jun Bo's priorities lay more in his showmanship and fight record than honor or sportsmanship.


Her muddy fingers smoothing the bowl as it began to form, the clayworker felt distracted from her craft. One of her first sculptures had tipped over, its long neck broken after clattering to the ground. She breathed a sigh as she adjusted her red hairband, looking forward to the completion of the bowl.


Hands and feet cleaned of mud, the clayworker had stripped down to an orange sports top and heavy brown loincloth to enter a single combat tournament, still wearing her hairband.. Finding herself against Jun Bo, the clayworker bowed deeply and slowly, her long bangs hanging over her eyes before she settled into her stance.

Jun Bo struck all the grace from her form in three sharp blows to her throat, stomach, and face. The clayworker fell in a heap, struggling as Jun Bo grabbed hold of her forehead and raised her back onto her feet. Spinning her into a sleeperhold, Jun Bo played to the crowd as his opponent quickly fell limp within his muscled arms. He drove a hard strike into the girl's forehead before throwing her aside.

Taking his time to enjoy the audience's goading as his opponent lay at his feet, Jun Bo slowly grabbed a handful of her bangs to lift her head up. Then, he stabbed his fingers into a nerve cluster at the base of her neck, forcing her to snap awake and scream in pain. The clayworker kicked at Jun Bo, who quickly caught one of her legs under his arm. Standing up, Jun Bo held his struggling opponent in mid-air before him by her leg and her throat. He toyed with her by slowly pulling her head forward under his other arm, dodging her hand strikes with a mock-fearful look in his eyes. After holding her prone for a few moments, he lifted his knee up into her chest over and over before tightening the hold around her head and leg. He squeezed her skull and twisted her body until she nearly passed out, then dropped her onto the mat.

Eyes fluttering as she was hauled back up, the claymaker stood defenseless as Jun Bo slowly drew a thumb across his neck and held her upright. A chop to the throat made her gag before a punch to the heart caused the girl to slowly sink to her knees, clutching her chest. Jun Bo ripped the hairband from her head, raising it overhead as she looked up in half-conscious despair. There was little she could do as he suddenly applied a dragon sleeper hold, arching her back as she desperately clung to the bicep around her jaw. Jun Bo slammed a palm down into her ribs, crumpling the clayworker before lifting her back up, still locked in the dragon sleeper hold. Three more times he made a show of driving a palm into his opponent's ribs. There was a loud crack with the next palm strike as the clayworker's ribs broke. She gagged and choked as Jun Bo prepared to deliver the coup de gras, slowly placing his hand before harshly wrenching the sleeper hold. His opponent spasmed as her neck snapped, and lay spreadeagled and staring lifelessly in pained anguish at the lights after he let her slump to the mat. She was motionless as he took his time in stuffing her prized hairband into her gaping mouth, and flopped like a fish as he knelt down and twisted her head left and right to snap two more parts of her throat.

Jun Bo went on to gloat about knocking out his latest opponent twice before breaking her neck three times, while the clayworker was merely dragged away and forgotten.

A fabulous flapper girl with red hair and a modified black sun-dress, Patsy's slightly larger size gave her a childhood that resulted in a deeply angry girl. She became attractive in her own right, but also cruel. She became infamous for her "kiss of death", which was often followed by a crippling or fatal bearhug.


Carefully unfolding her prized white gi, the proud karateka donned the uniform and began a routine of katas in her sparse apartment. Her brown hair was messily cut short by her own hand. The rest of her life had fallen apart, but battling with honor had given her something to live for. She would soon enter her first pitfight, and planned to show the strength of her honed fists and feet.


All of her training flashing in her mind, the karateka punched the floor as she lay curled up in pain. Patsy strode around her, waving to the crowd after delivering a dirty low-blow to her opponent. She let the girl get onto her hands and knees, and then toe-punted her in the gut. With a terrible noise, the brown-haired karateka flipped and landed on her back, arms and legs folded up as she clutched her stomach.

Patsy pulled her up to her feet, keeping the girl doubled over so that she could quickly get her arms around her waist and lift her into the air. The karateka was dazed, realizing that she was seated on one of Patsy's shoulders and managing to protest for a moment before receiving a piledriver. Her shoulders and back were driven into the mat, and she lay barely able to move as she fought to stay conscious.

There was little the brown-haired girl could do as Patsy slowly got her back into a standing position, and hugged her close to her own body. The karateka looked confused and humiliated as Patsy gave her a kiss on the cheek, and the looked agonized as she was squeezed in a standing bearhug. Swinging her arms to try and get a shot at her opponent's head, the karateka screamed as she was suddenly lifted off her feet and the hold intensified. Feeling her back pop slightly, the brown-haired girl cried in agony and shook her head in disbelief as she was finished off. Patsy leaned down, letting gravity assist her as she gave one final wrench. The karateka's back arched as her eyes widened, the brown-haired fighter on her knees and broken in Patsy's clutches. Hearing quiet, choked gasping noises, Patsy released the girl and watched her sink backwards. Her knees still folded beneath her thighs, the back-broken karateka's shoulders lay on the mat as her opponent put a foot on her chest and raised one arm to the crowd.

Once a beautiful pit fighter, Hasina's body and mind were forever scarred when one dangerous match ended with her being thrown into a pool of corrosive liquid. Now wrapped in sections of white bandaging, her long dark hair and a single uncovered eye are all that remain of her formerly gorgeous visage. She now tries to beat her opponents into a literal pulp, often killing those she defeats through sheer trauma and injury.


Her fingers carefully moved through her long brown hair, braiding it. The girl glanced over her shoulder, smiling as she saw an onlooker quickly look at the ground. She enjoyed the peaceful breeze of the park, because it helped her think. The clear skies put her mind at ease. She needed it before the great risk she would face in the evening.


Wearing a white t-shirt and gym shorts, the girl took another spinning kick across the face. Her body felt like rubber as she fought to stay standing, almost hypnotized by her opponent's snake-like moves and piercing gaze. Hasina stalked left and right, looking over the braided girl as though she were helpless prey. The girl began to look worried through her daze, and took a wild swing at Hasina. She missed by a wide margin, but followed up with a turning thrust kick. Hasina doubled over with a hissing noise, her opponent's foot buried in her midsection. The braided girl began to smile, until Hasina's head snapped up to stare at her before she sped forward. Still holding the girl's foot, Hasina shot her free hand forward and chopped the girl hard in the throat. As the girl made a startled gagging noise, Hasina grabbed her face and threw her down onto the mat.

Twisting and scrambling to get free, the braided girl tried and failed to defend herself against the hurricane of stabbing finger-strikes that rained across her body. Hasina kept her opponent pinned down by vicing her body between her legs as she mounted her, and took the fight out of her by striking her nerve clusters over and over. Soon, the braided girl lay shuddering beneath Hasina, her body barely able to function through the pain. Hasina took her time to apply a face-to-face chokehold. Her opponent feebly tapped out, gasping as her pleading eyes were met with no mercy by Hasina's steely gaze. Hasina held the chokehold until the braided girl was coughing up spit and shivering, a glassy look in her eyes as her vision began to fail.

Staring at the lights above the ring, the braided girl wanted to fade away. Instead, she was paralyzed and half-conscious, making a quiet gurgling sound as Hasina leaned down and gently ran a hand over her cheek. Suddenly hissing loudly, Hasina began to batter her helpless opponent. The braided girl's body shuddered limply from the rapid impacts, the loud cracks of each blow soon becoming a series of wet and meaty thuds. Pain wracked her mind until it gave out, blood spattering the mat. Hasina continued her assault, beating her opponent to death and not stopping until the girl's face was unrecognizable.

With visions of ancient Greek gods in his head, this blond-haired wrestler strives to become a modern adonis in the world of underground combat. Often wearing only a pair of briefs to showcase his mighty physique, Nicasio is rarely satisfied with a victory until he has shown total physical dominance over his opponent.


The balance beam beneath her feet shook as she flipped forward three times, consecutively. While she excelled at gymnastics, it was not her passion. Even though her friends and family cheered for her as she landed an amazing dismount, to her it was only a means of training. Only her closest confidants knew what she really believed in, for they had seen her use her toned body not just for art, but also as a weapon.


Dressed in hot pink tracksuits that matched their friend's sleeveless leotard, the two girls shouted desperate encouragement as the gymnast bent enormously across Nicasio's shoulders. He continued trying to grind the argentine backbreaker, once again finding that his opponent's flexibility allowed her to survive submission holds with minimal discomfort. The gymnast had been confident that she would defeat almost any grappler through that ability, and still looked that confident as she squirmed to get free.

Realizing a new tactic, Nicasio heaved the gymnast off of his shoulders and threw her facedown onto the mat. She was audibly winded, holding her belly as she began to get up. Nicasio grabbed her by her waist from behind and pulled her off her feet. The gymnast kicked wildly as she was held prone in the air, and then groaned loudly when she was suplexed stomach-first onto the ground. Before either fighter stood, Nicasio scissored his thighs around the gymnast's stomach and squeezed the last of her breath from her until her struggles began to weaken.

Pulling the girl back onto her feet, Nicasio lifted her up and carried her under one arm. He paused to deliver a kneeling backbreaker every few seconds, otherwise doing a lap around the ring to display his opponent to the crowd. The gymnast cried out each time she was driven down onto Nicasio's knee, otherwise merely trying to regain her breath. She ignored her friends as they called out to her to give up the match.

After another backbreaker, Nicasio pushed the gymnast off his knee and left her facedown on the floor. He then lifted her feet up onto his shoulders, and leaned down. Putting his hands into the small of her back, Nicasio leaned forward and put his weight into folding the gymnast far enough for her body to look like a sideways u-shape. Reaching down, he put one hand under her chin and pulled up, finally causing the girl to scream in agony as her body reached its limit. She slapped the mat and wriggled her legs as she cried out her surrender.

After continuing to maintain the hold for a few seconds, Nicasio did not release it but instead stood up and took the gymnast with him. Her held her high up, her legs still on other side of his head as his hands gripped her torso. She continued to submit, waving her hands helplessly in the air as her two friends called her name and were drowned out beneath the cheering audience. Nicasio pulled her down, locking his hands together behind the small of her back before her chest hit the mat. She made a high-pitched squawking noise as her eyes bugged out. Her chin rested on the floor, her face staring forward in a frozen pained expression as her arms lay splayed out at either side. One of her bare feet brushed the ground on the edge of her blurring field of vision before her eyes rolled back slightly. The impact had horrifically broken her spine, and her body bent disgustingly where Nicasio's hands hand locked together. Her legs arched over her back, one foot touching the floor while the other bobbed lifelessly a few inches above it. Nicasio held her in place for a few moments before standing up and flexing his arms to the crowd. The gymnast remained in her horrifying position for a while until her airborne leg slowly sagged her lower body slightly to the side and flopped to a rest over her shoulder.

Living the life of an amazon, Tora Sky wears only the pelts of animals she has hunted down and killed herself. She believes in strength and survival of the fittest, and dreams to be the warrior queen of the pit. While not evil at heart, Tora Sky believes that true combat must end with one fighter never able to do battle again.


Sitting on the bus, the red-haired girl chewed her lip and watched streetlights pass by the window. She told herself it would be the last time that month, and then she would focus on her degree. She looked down at her outfit, thinking of how to make it work. She was so craving another experience that she got on the bus right after her classes, not even stopping at home for her duffel bag. She told herself that she would make it work, and then she would be sated.


The red-haired girl had left most of her clothes in a locker, wearing a white turtleneck shirt and tight gray long johns into the ring. Her hair hung over half of the unsure look on her face as Tora Sky joined her, arms crossed and chin held high.

Her lack of confidence proven accurate, the red-haired girl was audibly upset as she received a series of kneelifts to her gut. Tora Sky had quickly beaten the fight out of her opponent, and now simply used her as a training exercise. The red-haired girl hit the mat after a hard chop to the face, writhing on the mat as she whined painfully. Before she could struggle against Tora Sky, the amazon had her locked in a standing abdominal stretch. Taking a hard punch to her flank every few seconds, the red-haired girl coughed for a while before she began crying out as the hold twisted her body. Her voice elevated as a sudden pain stabbed through her body as a muscle tore with a muffled wrenching noise. She frantically submitted, babbling as her frightened eyes welled with tears.

Releasing her opponent, Tora Sky watched as the girl crumped to the mat and curled up in a quivering ball. Clutching her torn muscle, the red-haired girl was paralyzed and unable to move. She felt a small relief that the match was over, but that feeling turned into confusion as Tora Sky crouched over her and began to apply another maneuver. Looking left and right as her arms were locked behind her, she kicked her legs but could not crawl away. Tora Sky slowly reached down to finish applying the camel clutch, and then leaned back. The red-haired girl begged for mercy as she felt her torso shudder and creak. That only seemed to anger Tora Sky, who prolonged the girl's agony as long as she could. As the red-haired girl's eyes began to flutter, the absolute pain beginning to knock her out, Tora adjusted her grip and used all her strength to finish the girl off. A loud snap accompanied her final squawk as her eyes widened, her spine broken by the hold. Tora Sky twisted her head with another snap, pushing the girl to the mat as her mouth hung open lifelessly.

Always dressed in a red and showcasing her well-toned body, Phailin is a muay thai fighter who believes in the strength of her homeland's martial art. Her legs are incredibly powerful, augmented with experimental surgery to become lethal weapons if she so chooses. Some of her opponents are merely left bloodied and beaten, while the less fortunate receive a final blow that snuffs them out with the force of a sledgehammer.


Another stack of files hit her desk as she wiped her brow and stapled corporate paperwork together. Checking the time, the brunette office worker brushed one of her brunette bangs out of her eyes and filed the papers away. An endless mountain of contracts and reports loomed over her, and she found herself looking forward to the evening event that had otherwise filled her with nervousness.


In the dingy musk of the fighting pit called Narok, the stained brown mat of its raised fighting platform gained a few new spatters as the brunette fell upon it once more. Wearing some olive and purple jogging tights, her brunette hair hung loosely and messily after one of Phailin's devastating kicks snapped the elastic that had held it back. She barely got back to her feet, swaying unsteadily before Phailin's leg slammed into her belly. The brunette made a long, throaty groan as she clutched her stomach and doubled over. The girl spit up something as she strained to stay on her hands and knees.

Taking hold of her opponent's matted hair, Phailin posed slightly as the brunette knelt in front of her, arms still cradling her gut. A slow series of brutal knee strikes crushed against the girl's face. Not letting her fall, Phailin instead turned and wrapped a leg around her opponent's throat. The brunette spit a little bit of blood as her eyes widened, the thai girl's powerful leg both holding her up on her knees and choking her into submission. She looked directly at Phailin, slapping weakly at the thai girl's shin as her tearful eyes searched for mercy. Phailin slowly tightened the hold, waiting until the brunette began to audibly choke. Just as her opponent's eyes began to bug out and roll back, Phailin released her. The girl crumpled to the mat, convulsing.

Phailin dragged the girl to the edge of the platform, leaving her spreadeagled on her back with her head hanging over the edge. The thai girl hopped down to the floor. Her opponent's head was at chest-level, bobbing gently as the brunette tried to move. Without even looking at the girl, Phailin drove a hard elbow into the center of her chest, forcing a long and pained noise from her as she shuddered in place. Phailin slowly raised a leg, tensing it as she stood on one foot and looked down at her opponent. The brunette managed to turn her eyes to see an axe kick drop towards her face. Then, she saw the front row of the audience, upside-down. Her neck bent backwards almost 90 degrees with a loud snap as Phailin delivered a fatal axe kick. The brunette's body spasmed lightly once, still spreadeagled as she made soft gurgling noises and stared unfocused at the cheering crowd members in front of her. Phailin got back onto the fighting platform, posing over her opponent's body before flipping it off of the mat with one foot and letting it flop to the concrete below.

Tall, powerful, and always dressed in a brown swimsuit and strange bear-eared mask. Locked in chains and led around by handlers. Known only as The Bear Woman, she spends her days sitting in darkness or standing in the ring. Acting out of training and not malice, The Bear Woman never wins a match without breaking her opponent in half in her arms.


Juggling and dancing, the carnie had been with her troupe for over a year. She used to enjoy the crowds, and once felt satisfied each night she went to sleep. But now it was all empty, like a tired routine. She craved change, and something greater than what she had. The carnie looked at her short, bobbed hair in the mirror. She then snuck away, wearing her skimpy yellow-and-red outfit of a small leotard wrapped in cloth ribbons.


She had made a show of entering the pit, twirling on her bare soles as she juggled and cartwheeled. The carnie stopped and watched as her opponent arrived, the caged doors slamming shut behind her. Sealed inside with The Bear Woman, the carnie rolled her juggling balls across the ring as a form of greeting. The Bear Woman picked one up, and then crushed it between her palms before advancing.

Shaken, the carnie looked upset as she began dancing around her opponent. She moved acrobatically, scoring fly-by blows for the opening moments of the fight. Her momentum ended as soon as the Bear Woman caught her leg. The masked fighter took her time to grab hold of the carnie's face, holding the struggling girl before hurling her body into the cage.

The acrobatic youngster backed herself into a corner as she tried to crawl away from the Bear Woman, and let loose with every attack she knew to beat back her opponent from trapping her. There was a painful pause as hope drained from the carnie's expression. The Bear Woman took hold of her opponent's head, ignoring the girl's terrified yelps before she lifted her into the air and began smashing her against the corner of the cage. The carnie's body thrashed wildly, flopping head over heels as she was thrown across the mat after a lengthy pummelling against the fence that surrounded the ring.

Lifting the carnie upside-down off the floor by one of her ankles, The Bear Woman began beating a palm against the youngster's body until her wails turned to gagging chokes. Dropped on her head, the carnie lay curled up and shivering at her opponent's feet. She could not understand why the crowd cheered so much at her pain and ignored her pleas for help. The Bear Woman collected her off the floor and forced her into the center of the ring, delivering a hard headbutt to stun the girl.

At first, the carnie thought she could escape the bearhug by attacking the masked fighter's eyes. However, she could never finish carrying out the plan as The Bear Woman's powerful arms squeezed the fight out of her body within seconds. The acrobatic youngster went into a delirious panic as her opponent continued to crush her body, flailing and shrieking in frightened agony. She wanted to go back to the troupe and never fight again, hearing the crowd and realizing they would be happier to see her limp on the mat rather than dancing and juggling.

The Bear Woman continued grinding the bear hug even after the carnie girl's spine had snapped in her arms. She heard the youngster's final scream turn into a choking gasp. There were two more crunches before she let the girl fall lifelessly onto the mat.

A pale girl in a black leotard, whose short red hair and angered eyes are all that can be seen behind her steel mask. She is one of the champions of the 6th Level, a deathmatch venue where every fight ends in a fatality. Murder Mask is famous for her signature technique, thought by some to be the horrible result of a masterful martial artist whose mind has been twisted by rage.


After she came home from action overseas, she had never been able to settle back into civilian life. She let her brown hair grow long, and went out of her way to make herself into a beautiful young woman. Instead of fitting in with her friends and family, she could only think of the battlefield. Now standing in the dim changing rooms of the 6th level, she wore only a white sports bra and camo-print briefs. She remembered her training, and let it take her over.


Despite all her training, the army girl spit some blood as she barely kept herself on her knees before Murder Mask. She struggled to take control as Murder Mask grabbed hold of her head and lifted her to her feet, but a hard headbutt from her opponent's steel mask smashed her senses apart. Slowly turning around, Murder Mask held onto one of the army girl's arms. Taking a moment to pop her opponent's shoulder, Murder Mask them threw her over her shoulder.

Clutching her shoulder, the army girl gritted her teeth and began to get up. A hard kick knocked two of her teeth loose and sent her skidding across the mat. She immediately tried to stand, toppling over and reaching for supports that were not there as blood ran over her lips. As Murder Mask approached, the army girl swang a wild backfist that entirely missed its mark and made her roll across the ground once again. Murder Mask picked up one of her opponent's feet, easily able to turn her over and apply a single-leg crab hold. She adjusted the hold to fold the army girl's knee well past its limits, snapping something and forcing the punch-drunk fighter to scream.

Murder Mask circled around her opponent as the girl tried in vain to get up. Eventually she took hold of one of the girl's arms and pulled her off the floor. The army girl cried out, barely able to stand on her injured leg. Murder Mask reared back a fist, and then drove it into her chest. The army girl let out a long moan. Rearing back again, Murder Mask's second blow connected with a wet crack that made her opponent gag and choke. Slowly flexing her fingers, Murder Mask's third strike punctured into her opponent. The army girl squeaked as her opponent's hand entered her body through her broken ribcage. She was wide-eyed, mouth agape as she weakly shook her head and began to hyperventilate. Murder Mask made eye contact, staring into her opponent's pleading gaze as she squeezed her hand into a fist within the girl's torso. The army girl made a prolonged and inhuman noise, throwing her head back and spasming with pain and shock. Murder Mask took hold of the girl's hair before tearing her hand out of her chest. The army girl stared as Murder Mask showed her a handful of bloody flesh. One final punch to her throat forced a long gurgling noise from her body before she was released. The army girl fell to her knees, then onto her face. Murder Mask stamped a foot onto the back of her opponent's body, reaching up to touch the side of her steel mask and narrowing her eyes.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

A number of female fighters filed into the lavish garden of the Rothchild Estate mansion. They were led to a ring in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a few gazebos and tables that a select few guests sat at and watched from. Then, the fighters were put into a caged enclosure next to the ring, and locked inside.

A fiery-eyed brunette in a form-fitting business suit stood in the ring, flanked by four girls in matching black tracksuits. "Thank you all for attending my exhibition event," she said. "I am Rothchild. Pardon the barbaric imprisonment, but...this is a barbaric sport, and my guests would prefer the utmost safety. You will all do battle with the four fighters of my personal stable, for a chance at joining them under my employ. For now, we will take challengers on a volunteer basis. Kimberly shall await the first challenger."

Leaving the ring, Rothchild took with her three of the fighters. The fourth, Kimberly, removed her tracksuit to reveal a white top and briefs. Slim tattoos laced over her shoulderblades as she pushed her bangs back and watched the first fighter step forward.

A german girl in a purple top with matching capri tights stepped through the ropes, a yellow sash around her waist. Her brown hair was in a ponytail that she swept back over her shoulder before bowing gracefully to Kimberly. Smoothly flipping back, the dancer's stance was a mix of kickboxing and capoeira.

Her flamboyant maneuvers did little to impress Kimberly, who simply waited for the real strike to come towards her before blocking or dodging. She riposted with a shot to the german girl's kidney that cut her rhythm short. As the dancer clutched her side and gagged, Kimberly laid in with a right hook before she leaned down in the same motion and grabbed her opponent's ankles. Yanking the german girl's feet out from under her, Kimberly was able to quickly apply a leg lock that had the dancer screaming in submission. Wrenching the girl's leg until she felt a muscle tear, Kimberly went on to slowly apply a bodyscissor rear naked choke. Her opponent continued trying to submit, tapping the mat and howling in agony at her crippled leg.

"I should mention," announced Rothchild, "that matches in my ring end only when one fighter is rendered completely defeated."

Audibly sighing, Kimberly choked out the german girl. Sputtering and soon foaming slightly at the mouth, the dancer began to shudder as the blood to her brain was cut off. Kimberly held her tightly for several seconds, ignoring the gurgling noise that came from her opponent. Eventually, she released the hold and shoved the german girl's comatose body aside, before leaving the ring with an unsatisfied look on her face. Attendants quickly pulled the dancer off the mat, carrying her out of the garden.

"My youngest charge shall take the next challenger," said Rothchild. "Enter the ring, Gloria."

The ponytailed Rothchild fighter removed her jacket to reveal a sleeveless white top, and entered the ring. Rolling up her pant legs, the youngest of Rothchild's stable looked eager to please her employer.

Stepping into the ring against Gloria was a blonde-haired fighter in white shorts with a matching tank-top. She had a small necklace with a charm hanging around her neck, which shone in the sun as she bowed to her opponent.

Wasting no time, Gloria ran forward and kicked her bowing opponent in the chin. The blonde fell backwards, stunned for a moment before looking shocked. She got up quietly, then grabbed hold of Gloria to try and take her down to the mat. The younger fighter squirmed free, sliding around her opponent and then jumping onto her back. Gloria pounded the blonde's head until she fell down, and then changed positions to wrap her legs around the blonde's neck. Her opponent began to get up, staggering to her feet as Gloria literally hung off of her. After a few moments, Gloria swang her upper body up and over, maintaining the leg-scissor choke as she used her thighs to flip her opponent headfirst into the mat. Shifting to sit on top of the blonde fighter, Gloria punched her a few more times before standing up. The blonde spat some blood out as she tried to salvage the match, and was finished off as Gloria leapt and drove both heels into her face. Reaching down to look at her defeated opponent's medallion, Gloria opened it to see a picture of the fighter's daughter. Snarling, she threw the trinket back onto the blonde fighter's beaten body.

"Come now, combatants. You must do better than this to curry my favor," said Rothchild, as the blonde fighter was taken away. "Manella shall meet the next challenger."

Throwing aside her jacket, Manella slapped her arms as she waited. Her hair was wild, and her posture was proud and powerful. A firey red sports top contrasted her black tracksuit pants.

Sliding into the ring, one of the two teenaged challengers decided to brave Rothchild's stable. Her short hair was dyed red, and black fingernail and toenail polish matched her jet-black wrestling singlet.

Diving shoulder-first into Manella, the wrestler thought she would surprise her opponent and get a quick advantage. As Manella grappled with her, the teen began to realize that she had engaged Manella's combat specialty. Before she could escape, Manella had her high in the air as she executed a belly-to-belly suplex on the red-haired fighter. Without releasing the girl, Manella stood up with her and then scooped her up. Crying out as she was held in the air, the teen wrestler's back then arched in pain after she received the bodyslam. Grabbing hold of one of her opponent's arms, Manella forced the girl onto her feet and then twisted her shoulder. Wrapping her arms around her, Manella suplexed her headfirst into the mat, but kept a grip on her arm. Pulling the teen back to her feet and then suplexing her three more times, Manella continued holding onto the girl's arm even though she had gone mostly limp. Dragging her to the center of the ring, Manella finally released her for a moment, only to grab her by the throat with two hands and haul her back into a standing position. The teen wrestler's half-open eyes were glazed as she stumbled in place, only on her feet due to the hands around her neck. She remained barely conscious as Manella military-pressed her overhead, her arms and legs dangling as she was held aloft. Manella dropped the girl, whose body slammed facefirst into the mat with a crash. The teen lay unmoving at Manella's feet, prone on the mat until she was dragged out of the ring.

"Danica, face our next challenger," said Rothchild, tapping her knuckle. "I am losing my patience with this crop of fighters."Without even removing her tracksuit, the tall european girl named Danica stepped into the ring with her arms crossed, waiting. Her long brown hair was kept in a smart ponytail.

Eager to fight, a grinning blonde girl in shortened polka-dot bellbottoms and a bright sports top jumped onto the mat. A tie-dye hairband kept her messy hair out of her sparkling eyes.

Danica let the hippy girl throw one punch before striking her with an elbow, a backhand, and a high kick straight into her chin. The blonde fighter's head snapped back as she crashed backwards onto the mat, her legs still in the air when Danica reached down to grab her throat with one hand and pull her back onto her feet. The hippy girl threw a few punches, but was held at a distance that left her unable to connect. Danica continued holding her by her throat, using her free hand to deliver a backhand blow that made the hippy's arms fall limply at her sides. A hard palm strike to her chest left the blonde fighter gasping for air, and she immediately fell to her knees as Danica released her throat. Slowly sinking forward as she clutched her chest, the hippy girl was nearly flipped over as Danica snap-kicked her in the face with her long leg, still sending her opponent into the air.

"Useless," said Rothchild. "Danica! Finish her."

Looking at her employer, and then at her opponent, Danica's face was simply disappointed. The hippy girl was unable to fight back as she was pulled to her feet and shoved into one corner of the ring. Danica rammed a knee into the blonde's gut, leaving her doubled over and seated against the middle turnbuckle. The tall european girl hopped over the blonde's head, sitting down on the top turnbuckle before wrapping her long legs around her throat and body. The hippy girl's head was twisted to one side as it and one of her arms were trapped within the web of Danica's legs. She clawed at one of Danica's legs with her free hand, her feet banging against the mat as she tried to escape. Danica grabbed her head, and then tightened the leglock until her opponent made a loud and choked shriek. Then, she wrenched the blonde's head to one side as her legs crushed whatever was within them. The hippy girl's shoulder popped as her neck loudly snapped, and she made one final gurgling noise as her eyes rolled back. Releasing her opponent, Danica watched as the hippy girl sank to her knees. The blonde's head was cocked at a horrible sideways angle as her arms hung loose. She fell forward and lifelessly hit the mat facefirst.

After Danica left the ring, the hippy girl's body was dragged out and left on the grass. "No more chances," declared Rothchild, "failure to show even a hint of promise will be met with dire consequences. Manella, into the ring."

The wild-haired grappler waited in the ring. No fighters stepped forward, as the remaining combatants were instead realizing that they were now caged to await a potential deathmatch.

"Do not test my patience," hissed Rothchild, pointing at the fighter nearest to the cage door. "You, in the ring."

The raven-haired girl was dressed in black bike shorts and a pink t-shirt, with small black wristbands. She froze, her shadowed eyes widening as she began to shake her head. "No, no I'm just a- I'm just a gamer, I don't do kill-matches!" The other members of Rothchild's stable came through the door, grabbing her and dragging her towards the ring. "No! No!"

"Perform better than the last four fighters, and you have nothing to fear," said Rothchild. "You are not off to a good start."

Thrown into the ring, the gamer girl got to her feet and turned around. Seeing Rothchild's stable ready to catch her at ringside, she bit her lower lip and turned to face Manella. Her feet shuffled as she unsteadily prepared to attack, and she yelled loudly as she threw a wild punch at Manella's face. The grappler ducked, turning as the gamer girl stumbled past her and grabbing her from behind. Manella quickly executed a german suplex, holding her opponent tightly around the waist as she got to her feet and took the girl with her. A quick shriek of fear was followed by another german suplex. Still holding on, Manella delivered one more german suplex before finally releasing her opponent.

She stood over the girl, waiting a few seconds before reaching down and making her get off the mat. One hard kick doubled the raven-haired fighter over with a dry heaving noise. Manella grabbed her, and then slowly lifted her into position for a piledriver. The gamer girl made a few confused sounds before she began to whimper, kicking her feet uselessly to try and get free. As she went headfirst into the floor, her eyes widened and then crossed slightly before she slumped onto her face.

After laying on the mat for almost half a minute, the gamer girl was hauled to her feet and held upright by her chin. She was completely witless, stumbling in place and staring blankly in random directions. "Again!" Rothchild bared her teeth. "Manella, finish her!"

"Nh..." began the gamer girl, as Manella bent her over and then hooked both of her arms. "Nuh...nuh..." Manella lifted her up, holding her upside-down by her arms. The gamer girl shook her head as a sad and pleading look came over her. "G-give...give...g-AWGH!!"

Manella drove her opponent headfirst into the mat. There was a loud bang as the combination of the impact and her own weight pushing down upon her broke the gamer girl's neck. Her legs slumped down, folding over her as her head remained at an ugly angle beneath her still-inverted torso. After a few moments, Manella pushed her forward with her foot, and the raven-haired fighter lay in a still heap in the middle of the ring.

"Next," stated Rothchild.

As the loser's body was thrown to the grass outside of the ring, Danica once again entered the ring. She raised an eyebrow as a young fighter slowly made her way into the ring. The girl's long brown hair hung low over her eyes. She wore a grey tank-top with blue boyshorts, and looked quite mousey and unassuming as she quietly assumed a stance.

Arms still crossed, Danica circled the ring as her opponent did the same. The young fighter threw a kick, which Danica parried with her leg. Two more kicks were blocked in the same way, before Danica slammed a foot into the girl's face and knocked her back across the ring. She sighed as her opponent slowly got up, but then raised her eyebrows as the girl ran towards her. The young fighter raised one leg, feinting a kick but instead stepping onto Danica's outstretched thigh. She pushed herself into the air and slammed an elbow into Danica's neck. She clung onto the tall european fighter's torso, driving more elbows into her. Danica threw her arms open, flinging the young fighter back down to the mat. She narrowed her eyes slightly, finally assuming a stance as her opponent crept around her and stayed low.

The challenger went for one of Danica's legs next, but was met with a knee straight into her oncoming face. The girl's eyes went wide for a moment as she saw stars, leaving her open to a hard chop to the back of her neck. She had barely hit the floor before Danica yanked her back onto her feet and threw two kneelifts that audibly cracked something. Making an agonized noise as she clutched at her side, the young fighter was lifted a foot into the air as Danica executed a slow over-the-shoulder throw that used her height to add to the impact. The girl hit the mat like a pancake. She lay unmoving and staring at the sky for several seconds. Danica waited, and then shook her head as she turned away to see what her employer would have her do.

A loud bang made Danica whirl around. The challenger had rolled over and slammed a fist into the mat, breathing heavily as she painfully got to her hands and knees. Her mouth was open, jaws bared as she staggered to her feet. Her mussed-up hair hung over her eyes and shoulders. Danica eyed her opponent for a moment before advancing, and was surprised as the girl ran straight past her. The young fighter hopped up onto the ropes around the ring, turning around as she remained steady on her thin perch in a crouched position. Then, she sprang forward and hit Danica across the face with an airborne kick that sent the european girl stumbling. As she tried to follow up, Danica knocked her away with a backhand blow. Barely staying on her feet, the girl staggered towards one corner of the ring and quickly scaled the ringpost. She leapt towards Danica, intending to hit her with her entire body. Instead, she was cut down in mid-air by an axe-kick that almost cut her in half, crushing her flank as she was driven into the mat by Danica's heel.

Her adrenaline spent, the young fighter struggled weakly as she was pushed back into the corner. Danica rammed her knee into the girl's gut three times, slowly pulling her off the floor and balancing her against the ringpost after each impact. Then, she hopped up and over her opponent's head, sitting down on the turnbuckle behind the challenger. Danica wrapped her legs around the girl's throat, and grabbed her head. The young fighter began to panic, clawing her toes against the mat as she weakly shook her head and pulled at the vicelike thighs that choked and held her in place. She began to realize that Danica could finish her for good, and despite her fiery effort, she was afraid to feel her neck snap within her throat.

"Show her defeat, Danica," said Rothchild. "But only defeat."

Pausing, Danica looked to her employer and then nodded. She tightened her legs, choking the thrashing and gasping challenger. The young fighter's eyes welled with tears as she wildly struggled with every last ounce of strength. Soon, her thrashing died down to a simple shuddering as foamy spittle ran over her lips. Her eyes rolled up slightly as Danica left her oxygen-deprived for a few moments, before releasing her. The girl crumpled to the mat in a heap. Danica rolled her onto her back, and knelt down to lift her head off the mat and deliver two hard punches to the young fighter's face. The challenger's body spasmed twice, otherwise limp as she lay completely unconscious beneath Danica. The european girl looked down at her for a moment, before she crossed her arms and left the ring.

"You see?" mused Rothchild to the remaining fighters, as the beaten challenger was dragged off the mat and carried away. "That one had SPARK."


When she got back to her apartment, the teenaged fighter dropped her bag and kicked her shoes away. She was still wearing her fighting attire, having quickly left Rothchild's Estate after she awoke to find that she was not a dead body dumped outside of the ring. Her body was in agony, and she quickly collapsed on the floor beside her couch. After laying there for several minutes, she dragged herself into the washroom and looked in the mirror.

"You faced it," she thought to herself. "You faced it and you survived." Shivers chilled her as she realized how close she had come to death in the ring. A weak smile briefly curled the sides of her mouth. "Natalie Bell...deathmatch pitfighter." She looked away, a meek look coming over her once again. "Maybe not every time."


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012


The four girls sat in the coffee shop, toasting their glasses.

"Here's to the future," said Libby, smiling warmly.

Alba smirked. "We're all going our separate ways now, eh?"

"Just to start college," said Nicolette. "After we're settled in, I'm sure we can stay in touch."

"Like she said, here's to the future," said Heidi. "Wherever it takes us!"

They laughed, sharing a moment of happiness. What they did not know, is that they also all shared a deep, hidden appetite as well as an imminent post-secondary life.


Hung on hooks overlooking the ring, the names "ALBA" and "ISIS" heralded the next combatants of the evening.

"Next match! Isis Nephra, versus Alba Montoya!"

Alba shadowboxed in her corner, her hair in a long ponytail. She wore a loose orange t-shirt over a red leotard, and looked at her opponent with a bit of frustration. Isis was a lean and toned egyptian girl in a purple bikini-style outfit that showcased her physique. Catlike eyeshadow gave her gaze an unsettling intensity as she looked at Alba and smiled. Alba looked forward to wiping the smile off of her face, feeling jealous of the egyptian girl's fantastic appearance.

Instead of taking Isis down a few pegs, Alba instead found the egyptian girl making a show out of avoiding and parrying her attacks. As she tried her hardest to strike, Alba took several hard shots to her body in return. Her opponent occasionally held her in place simply to laugh at another failed attack before punishing the ponytailed girl. A hip throw finally sent Alba to the ground, where she rolled away and took some time to get back up.

Turning her back on Alba, Isis posed for the crowd and smirked. Alba roared, sprinting towards her and preparing to attack. Suddenly, Isis turned and smashed Alba across the face with a spinning backhand. Alba continued moving forward, though her head was wrenched to one side by the blow. Isis sank a knee into her gut and grabbed hold of her, and then slowly drove a few more knee strikes into the ponytailed girl's body. Swinging a sloppy right hook, Alba was hurting as she missed. Isis took hold of her ponytail and yanked it up, delivering a headbutt to stun Alba. She pulled the elastic that held Alba's ponytail together down until it was around her neck, and then pulled forward on it. Isis slammed her forearm into Alba's face, and the elastic kept the girl on her feet as she sank back and then bounced forward. After a few more strike, the elastic snapped and Alba fell back.

Pulling her onto her feet, Isis let Alba stumble in place for a few seconds. The girl's hair was now a mess, long strands hanging in every direction. Alba bared her teeth, her hair plastered all over her face as she slowly reared back a fist. Isis stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Alba's shoulder and under her raised arm, before slamming three more knees into her gut. Keeping her opponent on her feet, Isis steadied the beaten girl before grabbing the sleeves of her orange t-shirt. Alba's mouth hung open as she gasped for air, and she could only stare as her opponent flexed and then effortlessly tore the sleeves from her t-shirt. Isis held them before Alba, and then let them flutter to the floor. Alba tried to raise her arms and attack the egyptian girl, but a sudden uppercut snapped her head back. A spray of spittle arced overhead before Alba landed on the mat, sprawled out and staring at the lights. Isis pushed a foot down on her chest, pinning the weakly-struggling girl down as she raised a hand to the crowd.

"Alba Montoya has been defeated in the ring of combat," a voice called out. "Isis Nephra, you may deliver your finishing blow. Vanquish her!"

Audibly upset as she made pained noises, Alba was at her opponent's mercy as she was pulled back onto her feet. A quick kneelift doubled her over before Isis put her into a front headlock and made one more gesture to the crowd. Alba continued to try and get free, though her strength was all but spent. She was humiliated, fighting back tears before Isis took her time driving an elbow down into her back three times. Alba felt her opponent's headlock grow tighter as the egyptian girl's other hand firmly gripped her body. With a harsh twist, Isis span Alba's head over 45 degrees with a loud crack, and released her. Alba made a loud squeal, her eyes were wide as her body suddenly felt numb. She began making gurgling noises as she tried to breath, and slowly slumped to the floor. She gave one last rattling sound as her eyes rolled back, her neck snapped and throat twisted in a fatal finale to the match.


"Nicolette Fulson, on the mat!"

Stepping up the wooden staircase, Nicolette found the mat to be warm underfoot as she prepared to do battle. Her brown bangs hung low over her forehead, the rest of her hair loosely shoulder-length. Dressed in brown cotton-spandex leggings and a dark green sportsbra, she was a little unnerved by the volume of the bloodthirsty audience that watched her. She loved fighting a lot more than she cared for attention, and still was not quite able to deal with the crowds that came with organized combat. Nicolette was also not sure how ready she was for a dangerous tournament like those held in the Maximus Mat arena, but was sure she would get by with a broken bone or two at worst. It did disturb her a bit when she realized how easily she accepted the idea of snapped cartilage.

"Zivah Hassan, on the mat!"

An israeli girl with heavily made-up eyes arrived to face Nicolette, her mouth concealed by a scarf that wrapped around her face and upper body. She was otherwise garbed in a tank-top and short, tight krav maga crops. Zivah maintained eye contact with Nicolette, who looked at the floor for a few moments before crouching slightly and preparing to fight.

"Combatants, begin!"

Advancing forward, Nicolette quickly tried to engage Zivah and wrestle her to the floor. Instead, her headstrong movement led her straight into a sharp blow between her eyes. Zivah rushed forward to sink a fist into her opponent's gut, and then span around the chop the side of her neck. A knee to her groin doubled Nicolette over, and her opponent took the moment to grab and twist her arm before punching her shoulderblade. Nicolette fell, clutching her arm as she rolled away.

Zivah did not have to wait long before her opponent threw herself at her again. Nicolette went for another grapple, and took a hard palm to the nose for her eagerness. As she reached to cup her injured face, Nicolette left herself open to receive three hard punches to her chest. Zivah followed up with a rolling kick to the same spot, and her heel connected with a satisfying crack. Nicolette nearly fell, feeling a sudden stabbing pain inside her body. The israeli girl stomped her foot into the side of her opponent's leg, dropping her to her knees. Then, Zivah grabbed Nicolette's scalp and rammed both of her knees into the girl's face. Nicolette toppled back, writhing as she clutched her chest and nose.

Stalking left and right, Zivah waited as Nicolette slowly dragged herself onto her feet. The brown-haired girl was notoriously hardy amongst her friends, and despite coughing up a few spatters of blood she tried to power through the pain and continue the match. Nicolette was wheezing, unaware of the terrible damage her freshly broken ribs were doing to her body, and looking worse for wear as blood ran from her bashed nose. Throwing herself forward once again to tackle Zivah, Nicolette was dropped to the mat by a hard lariat to her throat. Zivah no longer wasted any time, immediately diving upon the fallen girl and locking in a crossbody armbar. Nicolette struggled to get free, but quickly was shrieking her submission as her opponent locked the hold in. There was no reprieve for her, as Zivah did not let go until she felt the girl's arm snap.

Clutching her arm and trying to crawl to the edge of the ring, Nicolette was in tears and struggling to stay conscious. She thought she would be ready for such an injury, but feeling the snap was the worst pain she had ever known. All she wanted to do was escape the ring, and when Zivah leapt onto her back she cried out in fear. The israeli girl locked in a chokehold and bodyscissor before rolling with Nicolette and bringing her back to the center of the ring. Releasing the hold, Zivah sat on Nicolette's chest and looked down at her. Nicolette was terrified, raising her uninjured arm and pleading with her opponent to let her go. Zivah grabbed the girl's free arm, and took her time as she brutally punched Nicolette in the kidney, face, and throat. Then, she looked up to the primary viewing box of the arena.

"No mercy," said the voice. "Finish her!"

Spitting up some blood, Nicolette made one last cry to beg for the match to end. Zivah simply stared back at her, before pounding her face with a flurry of palmstrikes. After a double-axehandle blow, Zivah stood and circled around her prone opponent. Nicolette made weak gagging noises, her face bloodied and her mouth relieved of a few teeth that lay on the mat beside her. Zivah pulled the girl up onto her knees, where she simply lolled back and forth in a brutalized daze. The israeli fighter stabbed four fingers deep into each of Nicolette's flanks, forcing a loud noise from the girl. Grabbing a handful of hair, Zivah went on to deliver three hard palmstrikes directly to her opponent's heart. Ignoring the girl as she sputtered blood over her lips, Zivah slowly reared one hand back, and then drove it into her opponent's throat. Nicolette managed to make a loud, choked noise, before another palmstrike hit her between her eyes. One more palmstrike struck the same spot with a crunch, just as Zivah released the girl's hair. Nicolette's head snapped back, her eyes screwed shut in agony as her mouth was wide open and quivering in a silent scream. A few gurgling noises made it out of her throat as her body shuddered in place, before she succumbed to the cumulative shock of all her injuries and fell forward. Nicolette hit the mat with a slap, laying facedown in a growing pool of blood that ran from her mouth and nose. Zivah placed a foot on the back of Nicolette's head, twisting it firmly to needlessly break her lifeless opponent's neck and show her complete dominance before leaving the ring.


Carefree in life even as a rookie pitfighter by night, Heidi Schloss was bubbly as she strode onto the mat of the Emergency Ward's ring. Surrounded by clear walls, the pigtailed redhead was dressed in glittery bronze boy shorts and a matching tight tank-top. She bounced on her bare soles, waving to the crowd and feeling inspired by their cheers.

She turned around and felt doubly-glad for the support as her opponent arrived. Morgan Nelson was a ponytailed powerhouse in a black swimsuit. The brown-haired woman wore black bands around her wrists and ankles, and a dark domino mask around her eyes. Heidi could tell that Morgan had a clear muscular advantage, but was sure that she would be able to move a lot faster than the grim-faced fighter that faced her.

As soon as the bell rang, Heidi began to step around her opponent. Within seconds, she was shocked to find Morgan darting right into her. The ponytailed woman grabbed hold of Heidi and ran her straight into one of the clear walls around the ring. Heidi gagged, winded by the impact. She tried to duck and weave, but found herself pinned against the wall until her opponent lifted her off her feet and threw her onto the mat. Before she could get up, Heidi was scooped up by Morgan, who held her in the air by her waist. Kicking her legs and flailing her arms, Heidi was helpless as Morgan carried her a few feet towards another clear wall. The ponytailed woman slammed Heidi headfirst into the unforgiving barrier, and then raised her higher before putting her entire weight into delivering a powerbomb. Heidi recoiled off the mat, literally balanced on her head as her body stood upside-down for a moment before crumpling to the ground. It took her a little while to stand, and she had to balance herself against a wall to regain her balance. Heidi heard the crowd cheering, and felt happy as she believed they were still behind her.

Heidi turned to face her opponent, and found herself toe-to-toe with the woman. Immediately locking up, Morgan took control of the grapple and snap-suplexed her opponent. Not releasing the pigtailed redhead, Morgan rolled over and forced her to stand with her. Scooping up Heidi, Morgan turned and lifted her overhead before powerslamming her body into the clear barrier of the ring. Heidi went spreadeagled for a moment against the wall, crying out in pain before her opponent turned again and slammed her down into a hard backbreaker. Morgan let the girl roll off of her knee, glaring down at her the entire time. Laying on the mat, Heidi writhed and moaned as she clutched at her back and shoulders. She still heard the crowd cheering, and could not understand why. She thought they liked her.

Morgan pulled Heidi off the mat, locking in an abdominal stretch. The pigtailed girl could only scream as her torso was twisted and stretched, muscles in her abdomen quivering as they were tortured to the breaking point. Morgan quickly shifted the hold into a pumphandle slam, lifting and dropping her opponent once again. Heidi arched her back as soon as she hit the mat, her body in agony and fear overcoming her as she heard the audience loudly approve of her opponent's cruelty. She no longer wanted to be in the ring, and scrambled to crawl away. Heidi made it about two feet before Morgan grabbed hold of her and hauled the struggling girl to her feet. The redhead's attempts to escape were halted after Morgan delivered a hard kick straight into her gut, doubling her over as she coughed up some spittle. Vicing Heidi's head between her legs, Morgan then hooked both of her arms. Lifting her opponent, Morgan held Heidi upside-down in a double-underhook position. The pigtailed girl begged desperately, shaking her head and kicking her bare feet in the air. After a few moments, Morgan drove her head into the ground. Heidi folded up, and would have splayed out on the floor if Morgan were not still hooking her arms. The ponytailed woman planted her feet, and then lifted Heidi up into the same position again. Heidi stared forward, one eye half-open as her open mouth shuddered. Dropped once again, the pigtailed redhead hit the mat with a crack. Her neck was in agony as the weight of her body drove down into her vertebrae and fractured several of them.

Laying facedown and barely able to move, Heidi sobbed and wished the crowd would stop cheering so loudly. Morgan sat on her back, and ignored the girl's howling pleas as she applied a camel clutch. Heidi's feet beat wildly against the mat as her opponent bent her body farther and farther back. Her throaty screams escalated until Morgan yanked back on her chin. Heidi cried out sharply as her back broke, the camel clutch hold ending with crippling results. As the pigtailed redhead began to gasp rapidly, Morgan shifted her grip to apply a sleeper hold, and then simply twisted Heidi's head to one side. The girl cried out again, making one last noise as her neck was snapped. Her eyes were slightly crossed, and her tongue draped over her lower lip. Morgan let Heidi's body remain in its bent and broken state for a few seconds before she released her, letting the pigtailed girl lay facedown and destroyed at her feet as she stood.


Her heart pounding, Libby Sinclair looked down at the sandy floor of the Colosseum as she followed the other fighters in their initial lap around the arena. The blonde girl was almost always smiling in her day-to-day life, and that brightness was still there even though her expression was more nervous than anything else. Her curly locks hung loosely down the back of her neck. She wore the minimal baby-blue ensemble that she used for her hot yoga sessions, a bikini-style set of durable tights. Libby knew that a defeated fighter often did not leave the Colosseum alive, and a small part of her still demanded to know why she would let herself become a deathmatch combatant. The rest of her craved it. She did not look like a killer, she looked like a career girlfriend. Libby wished to have the dark side of having fought and killed in the pit.

She eventually was led to one of the outer circles in the arena's sandy floor, and stepped inside its borders. She tapped her bare feet on the ground and loosened up, though she looked at her opponent and felt a tightening feeling inside her belly. Libby had examined the other fighters while they were preparing beforehand, and former Colosseum champion Titus Marius was the one she least wanted to see across from her within one of the arena's circles, especially at the very start of the tournament. The enormous italian wrestler tore away his vest, otherwise wearing only a pair of animal-pelt briefs and wrist bracers. Libby thought she might have a chance at defeating him if she encountered Titus in a later round, but now she had the misfortune of being his opening bout. As she slid her feet across the floor and entered her stance, the blonde girl's mind raced as she decided that she could still win if she went straight for his throat. Among her training were some years in Aikido and Krav Maga, and as she saw Titus advance towards her, she began to envision how she would take the giant wrestler down for good.

Libby's plan of attack began as she dodged beneath Titus's arms and leapt to deliver a hard finger-thrust to his throat. Her plan of attack ended as the italian wrestler blocked her attack with one shoulder, and then swang his other arm to club her over her head as she landed. The blow knocked Libby to the floor, and as she scrambled to get up, Titus grabbed hold of her body. While she desperately tried to wrestle with her opponent, Libby knew she was no grappler. Titus soon had her in a suspended vertical suplex, holding the blonde girl steadily upside-down despite her frantic kicking. Once her struggles slowed as the blood rushed to her head, Titus harshly finished the maneuver, and a small cloud of dust kicked up around Libby as she crashed to the floor.

Holding her back and trying to stand, Libby was caught doubled-over in mid-recovery. Titus brought a forearm down onto her body that sent her straight back to the floor, and then pulled her back up to her feet before locking up once again. Libby strained every muscle in her body as hard as she could, but was unable to match up against her opponent's strength and technique. Titus lifted her into a bodyslam position, but then pressed her body overhead. Libby was too exhausted to try and squirm free, so she simply stared out at the crowd with a frightened expression on her face as Titus turned a few times to display her to those watching their match. Seeing the other arena fights as she was held aloft, Libby realized that hers was so far possibly the most one-sided of the first round. As the shame settled in, she cried out briefly before Titus completed the long-delayed bodyslam. Libby lay spreadeagled on her back, barely able to move as her chest heaved for breath. Her mostly-bared body glistened with sweat, her attempt to take control of the last grapple having been an enormous effort. Titus noticed that no other matches were close to completion, and took a few moments to rest and play to the crowd. Libby was slowly able to shift her head to the side, only to see her opponent flexing his impressive physique as she lay at his feet.

It took a while for Libby to push herself into a seated position, and that was all the grace time her opponent gave her. She cried out in frustration as Titus once again grabbed hold of her and brought her to her feet. Libby thrust a knee into her opponent's gut, which felt like a brick wall, only to have her leg get caught and held in mid-air. She looked at Titus, a pleading look in her eyes before a lariat slammed into the side of her head. As the impact happened, Titus threw her captive leg up, and Libby span head-over-heels in place before crashing to the ground. She moaned as she staggered to her feet, trying to ready herself for another lock-up as she saw Titus wait for her to rise. Libby tensed, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. She prepared to attack, but as soon as he saw her shift positions, Titus nailed her with a brutal headbutt. Libby's body snapped back from the impact, and once again she was on the ground.

Once again left to recover as her opponent posed for the crowd, Libby felt a wave of fear as she realized her chances of winning had become slim-to-none. And in the Colosseum, that also meant her opponent would finish her for good. She wanted to run away, but her body was spent, and ring attendents ensured that nobody fled from the fight. She could only lay on the ground, a sad and upset look on her face as she gasped for breath and prayed for anything to end the match then and there. Sounds of excited crowds began to pop up around the arena, as other fights began to come to a close. A few seconds later, Titus began to pull Libby onto her feet as she cried out in denial, and then kicked her hard in her gut to double her over. Libby felt the world spin around her, and then realized she was about to receive a powerbomb. Titus held her overhead long enough for her to plead for mercy before hurling her into the ground. Libby's body folded up, and then sprawled out facedown in the dirt.

As she was dragged into the center of the ring by one ankle, Libby knew what would come next. She had heard of the brutal combination that Titus used to end many of his matches, but never thought her own body would be run through the Titan Crippler. She would give anything to not be finished off like that, already envisioning a beaten and broken yoga girl laying on the arena floor. Hauled off the ground, Libby could only raise her hands slightly before Titus delivered three slow, deliberate headbutts. Libby's mouth hung slack, and the blonde girl drooled slightly as she stumbled forward. Titus pushed her head down before wrapping his arms around her waist, and then raised her up onto his shoulder. She made a horrible cry of agony as she was driven headfirst into the mat, and whimpered unintelligibly as Titus raised her to deliver the piledriving maneuver once more. Hitting the ground a second time with a soft crack, Libby spasmed slightly and found it hard to speak. Lifting the blonde girl onto his shoulder one more time, Titus span her into a torture rack position before leaping high into the air. As he landed, he yanked down and bent her body across his shoulders. Libby screamed as she felt and heard a crunch within her body, wailing one last defiant noise as Titus immediately leapt into the air with her again. He slid Libby off his shoulders, outright slamming her body down across his knee as he landed the second time. The blonde girl's spine snapped on impact, her scant outfit showing the full brutality of the maneuver as her bared midriff bent hideously over her opponent's knee. Her shriek filled the corner of the arena that her match took place in, as her eyes were wide and in shock. She flopped over onto the ground, shivering as tears filled her vision. Her back was broken, her body lay in the sand, and she knew there was still a coup de grace in store for her. Titus sat on her back, grabbing hold of the sides of her head. Libby spent the final moments of the match howling her futile submission, hands clawing at the floor as Titus pulled her head up and away from her body. He reared his own head back, and then delivered a devastating headbutt to the back of her skull. There was a loud crunch as Libby's body spasmed hard from the impact. She made one loud noise, her eyes slightly rolled back as her tongue hung over her briefly-shuddering lower lip. Titus squeezed her head between his hands, cracking her skull further and finishing the girl off. Once her spasming body fell still, Titus finally let go of her head and let it drop to the ground before standing up. Putting one foot on his opponent's body, he flexed and roared in victory. Libby was left behind in the circle, eventually dragged away through the dirt like a broken doll.


Ryonani Teamster
Mar 15, 2011
Your writing style's great. You've struck a great balance between detail and story progression here. That being said, they stopped being fun once people started dying. However, this is a thing of personal taste.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012
thanks! yea different strokes and all, LOL

I try to bounce around with the stakes and have a mix of things, it sorta comes out as it does


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

"Your large Megaburger combo, sir."

There were no thanks as the car drove away. Stewing beneath the brim of her uniform's cap, the girl quietly cooked up a fresh batch of french fries. Clenching a cardboard container for a moment before filling it up, she looked down at the greasy food and looked forward to the end of her shift.


"And introducing the challenger...Mickey Underwood!"

Heading into battle against the muay thai champion, Phai Lin, Mickey spat out her gum as she headed towards the platform. She wore a loose green tank-top that was tucked into the elastic waistband of her black shorts, a baseball cap pressing down on her messy brunette curls. She stepped onto the platform, throwing her hat aside as she looked over Phai Lin's powerfully toned legs and scowled for a moment. The thai girl's minimal purple attire left her slim and muscular body very exposed, and made Mickey feel envious of a lot of it.

After the bell, Phai Lin raised her arms and smiled, calmly moving forward while her opponent circled towards her with a boxer's stance. Mickey dove right in, dishing a barrage of blows into Phai Lin's gut, and then rearing back to throw another punch. Phai Lin stopped her short with a punch to her face, followed by a snap kick to the side of her head. Mickey half-turned and fell, swearing breathlessly as she crawled away and scrambled back to her feet.

Phai Lin closed in, throwing a careful series of kicks that hit Mickey's blocking forearms. The plucky brunette gritted her teeth as she saw her opponent smiling, realizing that Phai Lin was simply testing and weathering her defenses. She shoved the thai girl back, and then threw a hard right that slammed into her chin. Phai Lin glared back as her face twisted under Mickey's knuckles, and retaliated with a high kick to Mickey's head. Mickey staggered back, snarling as she stamped a foot to stop herself and throw another punch, twice as hard as the first. Phai Lin stumbled slightly as her head was span a little to the side by the impact, before repeating her last high kick and connecting thunderously. Then, she grabbed Mickey and threw a pair of hard and deep knee lifts into her ribcage. Righting her opponent, Phai Lin hopped into the air and turned. Mickey was still stunned when her opponent's heel struck the back of her skull and sent her on a downward plunge to the mat.

Mickey painfully tried and failed to stand a few times, barely able to get on her hands and knees. Then, Phai Lin firmly stomped a foot down onto the back of the brunette's head and looked down at her. "Pathetic," she sneered.

Shivering as she made a vain attempt to get up, Mickey slammed a fist into the mat as her opponent's foot held her down. "Fuck you!" she cried, "Fight me with your fists, not your fucking legs!" Mickey was a little bit surprised as her opponent stepped back in response and stated, "As you wish."

Shakey on her legs as she righted herself, Mickey wiped her mouth and eyed Phai Lin warily. The thai girl raised her arms, fists clenching and unclenching as she tapped one foot on the floor. Mickey made a few sloppy feints forward, getting no response from Phai Lin other than a smirk. "Fuckin' bitch!" shouted Mickey, throwing a right hook into Phai Lin's jaw. The thai girl took the punch painfully, and retaliated with an elbow that struck right under Mickey's eye. Shaking off the hit, Mickey threw two more punches, connecting but taking another elbow strike in return. The brunette's eyes were still closed as she swang and missed, and Phai Lin decided that she had had enough playtime. The thai girl grabbed the back of Mickey's scalp and slammed her elbow into her face three times, the third strike causing an audible crack as it fractured Mickey's orbital bone. The brunette fighter screamed, clutching at her face for a moment before an elbow to her forehead caused her to slump to her knees.

Phai Lin kept a grip on Mickey's scalp as she loomed over her, raising an arm as she uttered "It was your choice." Mickey sputtered through her gasps of pain, looking up with one eye unable to open. "F-Fuck you...not fair...n-not fair..." Phai Lin drove an elbow into Mickey's head, whose arms flailed out involuntarily. "Nuh...not...not fair..." muttered Mickey, before her opponent calmly began driving her elbow into her head with cold cruelty. Mickey's body spasmed with each hit, held upright and on her knees by Phai Lin as the thai girl beat her senseless. Once Mickey's head was split open and bleeding, Phai Lin released her and walked away, laughing. Mickey shuddered, making a gurgling noise for a moment before slumping forward. She continued shuddering every few seconds, breathing unevenly as she left a splatter of blood beneath her on the mat.


Keeping her nose in her philosophy textbook, the graduate student's orange hair was kept back in a tight bun. She was a larger girl, with broad shoulders and a thickness to her flesh and bones that made her feel a little bit self-conscious. She looked at the ticket that she had been using as a bookmark, and chewed her lip nervously.


"Now entering the ring...Cora Nova!"

Stepping onto the mat, a part of her was terrified at how much skin she had bared. She wore a glittering pink butterfly top and matching short loincloth skirt over spandex briefs, all adorned with silver butterfly-themed embroidery. Her ample bosom was held tightly by the top, but her limbs and wide midriff were covered only by some glitter makeup. Silver paint marked her finger and toe nails, and a spandex mask hid her upper features while leaving her dazzling eyes and mouth exposed. Her orange hair hung loose like a mane from the top of the mask, swaying lightly as she performed a bellydance for the crowd and felt herself fill with life upon hearing their cheers.

"And her opponent, the brooklyn superwoman...Taima Atlas!"

Quickly moving to one corner of the fighting platform, Cora watched a black girl with a bodybuilder's physique approach the ring. Taima Atlas flashed a wide grin at her as she dropped her silver robe to reveal a golden one-piece leotard and a powerful body. Her hair was up in a small frizzy afro.

Hearing the bell, Cora pushed herself into action and closed in on Taima, moving in a smooth modified kickboxing stance. Taima held her arms open, inviting her opponent to attack. Looking a little unsure, Cora began throwing hard side kicks into Taima's flank. After four of them hit, Cora had to step back and rub her sore leg, her confidence broken as Taima grinned and began to approach.

Cora could only retreat a few steps before Taima locked up with and easily overpowered her. Shrieking in surprise, Cora was scooped off her feet and held upside-down over Taima's shoulder. The grad student kicked her legs as her opponent carried her a few steps, before she was bodyslammed with a loud bang. Taima looked down at the girl, flexing her biceps and grinning at her. Cora looked back, clearly intimidated as she rubbed her back and got to her feet. Walking with her arms still up and flexed, Taima approached Cora and said, "Come on, girl. Let me have it."

"Hahh...HYAAH!" Cora dove forward, slamming a knee into Taima's abs. The grad student rapidly drove her knee into Taima's gut, shouting with effort each time. After five impacts, she staggered back and cupped her newly-aching kneecap. Taima finally lowered her arms, flexing once more with a toothy smile, and then leapt upon her foe. Wrestling with Cora for a few moments, Taima let the grad student think she could escape the grapple attempt several times, enjoying the game of up-close cat-and-mouse. Finally, she lifted the desperate girl off the mat and held her across her chest. Cora's arms and legs beat at Taima as she made anxious noises, but the bodybuilder simply laughed as she walked a small circle with her helpless opponent. Then, she dropped to one knee while crushing Cora against the other. Taima subjected the grad student to four backbreakers, and Cora's cries grew louder with each one. Finally, Taima whipped her body back and threw Cora behind her. The grad student tumbled across the mat, laying quivering and in agony once she came to a stop.

Taking hold of her opponent's neck, Taima patiently made Cora stand up as she led her to the center of the ring. Cora was unable to fight back, barely able to stand even with her powerful foe holding her up. She had tears in her eyes as Taima looked into them, smiling as she said, "I'm gonna pancake you." Before Cora could reply, Taima scooped her off her feet and raised her into a military press. Showing her strength, Taima slowly turned to each side of the ring as Cora struggled overhead. "Uhn! No! Nooo!" cried Cora, looking wide-eyed at the crowd as she kicked her legs in vain. "No! No, NAUUUGH!!" Cora shrieked as Taima slammed her to one side, hitting the mat and immediately arching her back in agony after it took the full brunt of the impact.

Hauling Cora up to her feet, Taima leapt up and drove a headbutt into the grad student's head. Cora slumped to her knees, mouth hanging open as Taima leapt again. The second headbutt sent a shiver through Cora's body, but before she could slump to the mat, Taima reached down and wrapped her arms around Cora's torso. "It's over for you, honey," said Taima as she pulled Cora back up into a standing position, "I'm gonna crush you til you're out."

"Please...please no," begged Cora. "NoHOOUUUUGH! AUUUUUUUUH!!" Taima wrenched her up until a brutal bearhug, holding Cora in midair as the grad student's arms and legs flailed wildly. Taima's muscular arms flexed as she squeezed Cora, whose screams reached a climax as her thrashing body went taut for a moment. Then, the grad student grew limp, her bare feet brushing the mat before Taima leaned back to give one final punishing application of pressure. Taima released Cora just as the beaten girl's body spasmed once, letting her fall to the mat in a sprawled heap. The muscular black girl put one foot on the back of Cora's head, flexing her arms as she grinned.


"one, and, two, and, three, come on!"

Bouncing with her routine, she listened to the workout video with only half of her attention.

"And kick, and switch, and kick, and switch!"

She was tired of exercising alone. She needed a partner. She needed to sweat. She needed a risk.


"And heading to the ring, her opponent...Brandy Fiala!"

Wearing a woolen red sweater over her fighting attire, Brandy's long brown hair trailed behind her as she jogged towards the ring. She pulled off the sweater and dropped it on the edge of the platform as she stepped onto the mat, wearing a black short-sleeved swimsuit-style leotard over bright purple stirrup tights that left her heels and toes bare. Quickly performing a few kicks, Brandy thrust her leg out, her sole pointing right at her opponent. Brandy grinned, winking at her foe before lowering her leg.

Brandy began moving as she heard the bell, and looked her opponent up and down. She faced Lydia Ragno, a dark-haired italian girl in a black bikini, with a spider-like tattoo running over her whole body. Lydia moved slowly and smoothly, her wide eyes watching Brandy. Brandy stepped forward, throwing high kick after high kick. Lydia blocked and ducked each one, edging back as Brandy's flying feet continued pushing against her defenses. Once her opponent's heels were at the edge of the ring, Brandy hopped once to switch her footing and catch her breath. At that moment, Lydia darted towards her. Two palms cracked into Brandy's flanks, before an elbow sank into her gut. Brandy stumbled back, lifting a foot off the mat to strike back, but unable to throw a kick before Lydia's own heel smashed the wind out of her. Gasping deeply, Brandy doubled over and clutched her belly, hair falling over her face as she bent down and retched a gob of spittle onto the floor.

Performing a lithe forward-cartwheel, Lydia wrapped her thighs around Brandy's head as the girl had begun to right herself. Lydia arched back, flipping Brandy over and slamming her headfirst into the ground. Rolling around with Brandy's head still trapped between her legs, Lydia began choking her opponent out as Brandy's body struggled wildly to get free. Suddenly finding Lydia seated upon her chest, Brandy kicked her legs up over and over until Lydia's own limbs tangled with them. Her legs trapped, Brandy bucked and thrashed as she punched at Lydia. The tattooed girl let Brandy exhaust herself as she maintained the stalemate, until she was forced to release her and roll away. Brandy picked herself up, glistening with sweat and breathing heavily. She blinked through the hair that stuck to her face, unable to do anything but watch as Lydia struck her twice in the stomach, and then once in the chest. Brandy fell to her knees, cradling her aching belly. Her mouth gaped open as she looked up, struggling to breathe. Lydia raised her arms like a predator, her fingers hooking before they jabbed down into nerve clusters on either side of Brandy's throat. The brown-haired girl squealed a long, agonized noise as her body arched, a deep pain spreading through her spine and shoulders. Brandy's arms were held out wide as she shuddered, while Lydia simply reached down and locked the girl's head into a chinlock that quickly turned into a chokehold. Brandy thrashed for a few moments, before her arms fell limp. Lydia squeezed the hold a few more times, before releasing her opponent and letting her slump forward. Brandy lay facedown at Lydia's feet, breathing unevenly as the tattooed girl walked away.


"Hey you, you're up!"

Ignoring the call for a moment to finish watching Lydia Ragno's win over Brandy Fiala on the televised Kumite program, the girl then turned and jogged towards the crowd in the middle of the basement. She glanced down at the man being dragged away past her, blinking quickly to put him from her mind.

"Time to shine," she thought.


"Introducin' the kick-fightin' hippie chick, Windy Fisher!"

Her blonde locks held out of her eyes by a floral-patterned headband, Windy slipped out of her tasselled brown vest and threw it aside. Already barefoot, the hippie fighter wore a white bikini-style top and bright blue spandex bellbottoms, with split flares that swished with her every move. A sky-blue sash belt hung from her waist, also swaying with her motions.

"She's takin' on the woman warlord, Victoria the Conqueror!"

Stepping into the roughly circular space in the middle of the crowd, Victoria looked down her nose at her opponent. She was a tall woman with a blonde ponytail, whose leather shorts and leather top creaked as they hugged her powerful form. She saw some fear in Windy's widening eyes as she pointed at the girl, and then made a thumbs-down gesture. The fear made her smile inside.


Bobbing and swaying, Windy stayed on her toes as she moved around the also-circling Victoria, who slowly raised her arms and kept her hands open. Windy threw a few kicks into the air, turning and spinning as her belt, hair, and bellbottom flares swooshed with her movements. Victoria kept her eyes locked on the hippie girl, not allowing herself to be distracted by all the motion that filled her vision. Windy crouched and slid forward, and then threw a spinning series of kicks into her opponent's face. She immediately grew desperate as Victoria's palms shot out to parry her feet every time they attacked. Pausing to switch her footing, Windy then threw a kick that arched up towards Victoria's chin. The warrior woman shifted to one side and dodged the kick, and Windy shouted in triumph as she immediately dropped an axe kick down towards Victoria's head, using the same foot.

After Victoria took a half-step forward and caught her ankle on the way down, Windy was left hopping on one foot, her other one held down on top of her opponent's shoulder. Victoria began pounding a fist into Windy's exposed hamstring, and then chopped her across the face. Windy fell back, now at her opponent's mercy as Victoria moved Windy's trapped ankle under one of her arms. The hippie girl barely had time to catch her breath before Victoria pulled and twisted her leg. Windy arched her back as she rolled left and right in place, her pained whimpers growing into howls as she tried and failed to reach for the hands that grasped her captive limb. Victoria paused onto to stomp a foot into Windy's gut and press it down, before torturing the hippie girl's leg even further.

Windy was helpless as Victoria used her trapped leg to roll her over onto her stomach. Victoria pushed a knee into Windy's spine before leaning back to apply a modified half-crab hold that moved some of the pain into the hippie girl's back. Once she felt her opponent's struggles reduced to simply pounding on the floor as she screamed in agony, Victoria released Windy and took a step back. "Get up," commanded the warrior woman.

Clutching her leg as she stood up, Windy stumbled as soon as she put weight on it. "C-Can't..." she stammered, trying to right herself, "Leg...m-my leg..."

Victoria stepped towards her. Windy tried to step back, but stumbled again and fell towards the edge of the crowd. She heard their jeering voices shouting abuse at her as several of the audience members caught her, and then shoved her towards Victoria. The warrior woman clasped a hand around Windy's throat, and the hippie girl simply wrapped her fingers around Victoria's wrist and shook her head, looking up at her.

"You submit?" said Victoria.

"G-Gotta..." replied Windy, squeaking slightly through her constricted throat. "P-Please, my leg...I give..."

"You do not submit to leave this ring," said Victoria, turning her head to the crowd and bellowing her next words. "You CONQUER, OR BE CONQUERED!"

As the crows roared, Windy was filled with fear and began kicking at Victoria's body with her healthier leg, holding herself upright on the arm that choked her. "So you have some fight left after all," sneered Victoria, before she caught Windy's kicking foot under her other arm. Holding her opponent in place for a moment, Victoria then planted her feet and raised the girl up. Windy cried out in fear as she was held aloft for a moment by her throat and her leg, and then outright screamed as she was thrown aside like a sack of dead weight. She tumbled across the floor and lay curled up, writhing slightly as she tried to cope with the multiple sources of pain in her body.

Victoria hauled Windy back up to her feet. "You are not fit!" she shouted, before snapping a headbutt into Windy's skull. The hippie girl fell to her knees, clawing weakly at Victoria's arms as she was forced to stand once again. "You are weak!" declared Victoria, before she threw a backhand that turned Windy around in place as one of her teeth flew into the crowd. Grabbing Windy from behind, Victoria lifted her overhead and raised her struggling body up. "You will be BROKEN!" she roared, before dropping Windy's back over her knee with a loud crack. The hippie girl let out a long, agonized moan as she twisted and bent slowly, her mouth wide open and eyes screwed shut. Victoria shoved her to the floor and stood up, looming over the girl that lay facedown beneath her.

Grabbing a handful of Windy's hair, Victoria pulled her head off the ground and waited for a moment, letting the hippie girl make one last pitiful attempt to crawl away. She grabbed the back of Windy's thigh and lifted her straight up across her shoulders, and began to apply an argentine backbreaker. After a few jerks to force some more cries from Windy's throat, Victoria started to slowly increase the pressure as she yelled "Break! BREAK!"

"NOOOO!!" screamed Windy, her arms and legs thrashing wildly as her back was slowly bent farther and farther beyond its regular limits. "N-no no god no pl-please--" begged Windy, shaking her head as her arms and legs began to curl. "No noAWGH!!" Her eyes bolting wide open, Windy's spine suddenly gave out with a loud snap, as a spurt of spittle sprayed from her gaping mouth. Victoria relaxed the hold, and then yanked down again. There was another wet snap as Windy's legs spasmed in the air, her arms going limp and dangling.

Victoria let the hippie girl fall to the floor behind her before she raised her arms and roared in victory. Windy lay sprawled and spreadeagled, staring up at the ceiling as her back and legs spasmed lightly a few times. "c-Can't...f-feel my..." she thought, before the pain and shock forced her to black out.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

Dancing with the crowd on the beach, the british girl's face wore a permanent grin. Her feet stomped in the sand as the beat ran through her ears. The party alone had made the trip worth taking, no matter what happened afterwards. She knew she would have a very different night in only a few days, but hoped she would leave with just as large a smile as she had at that moment.


In the noisy din of The Kumite, the names "LINDA LEAPER" and "PUMOLA" were up on the billboard over the ring. On the mat, a british capoeira girl in dark-green briefs with a scant matching top was circling around a large wrestler in a loin cloth. Linda's red hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, leaving her long bangs draped down around her face. Her smile had left her as soon as she saw the size of her opponent in the first round of the Kumite, and as she connected with another hit-and-run kick, she was running out of ideas to fell the mighty Pumola.

After Linda threw a flying kick that literally bounced off of his chest, Pumola laughed loudly as he grabbed the british girl while she got up. Linda grappled with Pumola for a few moments before scrambling to get free, and grew quite loud when she was slowly lifted over his head and bodyslammed onto the other side of the mat. Clutching her back as she climbed up to her knees, Linda cried out once again when Pumola scooped her up in his arms. Turning around as he held the struggling capoeira girl, Pumola then threw her down as he lifted a knee. Linda made a pained noise after the backbreaker, her mouth still wide open as Pumola pulled her off his knee and tossed her onto the mat. She could only roll her head left and right, her body writhing as the pain in her back overwhelmed her.

Spurred on by the crowd's excitement, Pumola raised Linda back to her feet with one hand. The british girl was barely able to stay standing, her arms waving dazedly as she gasped for breath. Her eyes were barely open until Pumola's arms were suddenly crushing her body in a brutal bearhug, at which point they snapped wide open. Linda howled, beating her hands against Pumola only twice before her arms lost their strength. Pumola shook her as he squeezed her, and Linda's arms and legs flailed wildly as she stared up at the ceiling, her back arching more and more until something popped. Feeling his opponent go limp in his arms, Pumola continued crushing her until she audibly crunched. Foamy spittle ran over Linda's lower lip as she shuddered, eyes rolled up and half-closed while her gaping mouth made a soft gurgling noise.

Linda crumpled to her knees as Pumola finally let her go. He held onto the back of her head for a few moments, and then lifted her unconscious body off the mat. Her hands and feet dangled loosely as Pumola held her aloft as a trophy of his first-round victory, before he tossed her to one side. Linda lay facedown in a heap until she was dragged away.


Wiping the sweat from her brow, she yelled the order to the cooks behind her as the busy little Hong Kong eatery processed customers like a machine. The cashier had a particularly studious energy that day, watching some of the people passing through with particular interest. She was certain she would see a few of them later that night.


Watching another female competitor being dragged off the mat, Liu Fang was relieved to not have been the one to be crushed in Pumola's bearhug. She had not made her way to the Kumite just to suffer such a humiliating defeat. A couple of matches later, the names "LIU FANG" and "CHONG LI" went up.

Liu stepped onto the mat with her confidence staggered, knowing that she was the first-round opponent of a Kumite champion. Her dark hair was cut short, contrasting against the her shimmering silk attire: a sleeveless Wu Shu shirt, sash, and pants. Bowing out of habit, she was happier looking down at her bare feet than she was to lock eyes with Chong Li, who raised his arms as much of the crowd cheered his name. Regardless of her nerves, Liu Fang's form was excellent as she entered her stance and began the match.

The chinese girl's beautiful technique showed in the two strikes she was able to attempt before Chong Li slammed a palm into her stomach. Liu stumbled back, shocked at the force of just one of the former champion's blows. Chong Li walked forward, clearing one of his nostrils lazily. Liu swung a chop at his neck, and found her arm being twisted by the wrist almost instantly. Wincing at the growing pain running up her arm as she clutched at her shoulder, Liu's defenses were wide open as Chong Li's palm cracked against her stomach, then her chest, and finally her chin. Barely able to stand after three shockwaves ran through her body, Liu's groans increased in pitch rapidly as Chong Li wrenched her arm one more time. Finally, he executed a jumping snap-kick that smacked into Liu Fang's face and nearly flipped her over in place.

Barely conscious and laying on her back, Liu Fang tasted blood in her mouth and saw a spinning ceiling staring down at her. She slowly rolled over to one side, pushing herself off the floor and starting to crawl away. Chong Li slid an arm around her throat from behind and yanked her to her feet, choking the chinese girl within his bicep and forearm. Liu Fang kicked and struggled, gagging loudly as strands of spit clung to her lips. Chong Li raised his free hand, causing the crowd to cheer his name louder as his opponent's body began to go limp, held upright only by the chokehold that threatened to end her match. Instead of blacking out, Liu Fang's skull exploded in pain as Chong Li slammed a palm into her forehead before throwing her to the mat.

Sprawled and nearly out cold, Liu Fang's anguished face lifted up slightly as she felt her opponent lean back, resting his shoulders across her body. Chong Li proceeded to drive his elbows back into the chinese girl's chest and pelvis with audible crunches. Liu made a retching noise as her body flopped in place from the impacts. She weakly surrendered as Chong Li stood up, and received a rib-snapping stomp to her torso in response. Liu coughed up a spatter of phlegm and blood, her silken clothing stained with both fluids as it shone under the arena lights. Chong Li knelt down, cradling his opponent's head as he lifted it off the floor. Liu Fang looked up at him in agony and fear, breathing harder and faster as she saw his fist clench. Chong Li punched Liu squarely in her forehead with a loud crack, and the chinese girl spasmed once before falling still.

Releasing his finished opponent and standing up, Chong Li raised his arms and basked in the crowd's approval, leaving Liu Fang spreadeagled on the mat as ring attendents checked to make sure that she was still alive.


In the quiet heat of the room, she focused all her senses on the air around her and the foam mat beneath her. Shifting from posture to posture, her muscles limbered as her mind relaxed. She felt at peace in the hot warmth of her yoga class, and held onto that feeling to ready herself for the war ahead of her.


Sitting cross-legged on a ringside bench, she was roused from her meditation by the sound of her name being called.

"Inga versus Jaya. Inga versus Jaya!"

Stepping up onto the raised platform of the ring, Jaya had a calm but uneasy look on her face. It was her first match in the underground Kumite tournament, and her blonde opponent's spandex-clad body looked as powerful as a bodybuilder's. Jaya herself wore her purple tied and tasseled yoga tights, her wavy hair kept out of her eyes by a purple headband. She clasped her hands in front of her and bowed to her opponent, and Inga responded with a sneer and a half-bow of her own.

Jaya felt a bit of pride as she connected with every one of her opening attacks. Three different variations of high roundhouse kicks both struck Inga's face and showcased Jaya's slender flexibility. However, as she turned to face her fallen foe after the third kick, Jaya's eyes widened for a moment. Inga was standing as tall as ever, beckoning her to try again with a smile on her face. Collecting herself, Jaya shouted loudly as she thrust another kick into Inga's face. The blonde fighter's head snapped back, then snapped forward as she roared and advanced. Jaya was stunned, frozen for a moment as Inga closed in on her. She raised her arms to defend herself as she saw Inga prepare to throw a punch, and the blonde fighter's arm smashed into her like an iron club. Jaya's attempted block was torn down in one blow. She span to one side, a shocked look on her face as she looked up just in time to take a hard kick to the chest. Jaya flew back, crashing to the mat at the edge of the ring platform with barely any air in her lungs as she gasped and slowly rolled over.

Inga was beckoning her to attack, once she groggily stood up and turned back around. Jaya blinked a few times, regaining her senses and raising her fists. Her footing was uneasy as she stepped forward, throwing an elbow strike towards Inga's eye. The blonde fighter caught Jaya's arm in one hand, and then grabbed the side of the yoga girl's head with her other hand. Inga delivered a hard headbutt with an audible crack, knocking Jaya senseless. Leading the noodle-legged girl to the center of the ring, Inga headbutted her again. Jaya fell to her knees, her wide-open eyes completely lost as she teetered back and forth. Inga took a moment to raise her arm to the crowd, not even looking at her opponent as she tore the girl's headband off and threw it aside. Then, Inga dropped two double-axehandle blows onto Jaya's skull before watching the yoga girl flop to the ground.

Jaya shivered as she tried to crawl away, barely conscious but still convinced the match could go on. She had no idea what her opponent was doing until Inga's powerful body splashed down onto her back. Gasping in agony, Jaya managed to raise her head off the mat before Inga splashed her once more. The blonde fighter got up to one knee, looking down at her writhing opponent and grinning. Jaya felt Inga's hands grab hold of her right wrist and right ankle, and felt a chill of realization. She barely managed to cry out before she felt a foot press down on the small of her back, as Inga pulled up on her arm and her leg. The yoga girl pawed at the mat pitifully as she began to verbally submit. Inga savoured the moment of her struggling, helpless prey, and then yanked up while shoving her foot down into Jaya's back. The yoga girl shrieked as her spine snapped, her free limbs giving one wild spasm before falling slack. Inga ground her heel into Jaya's body for a few moments before releasing her, and then knelt down on the beaten girl's back. Jaya was hyperventilating, eyes screwed shut in pain as she went into shock. She gave no resistance as Inga pulled her head up into a chinlock, and then made a choked noise as the blonde fighter broke her neck in one brutal motion. Inga's forceful wrenching caused Jaya's entire body to flop in place before it fell deathly still.

Standing and raising her arms to the roar of the crowd, Inga stepped over Jaya's body, glancing over her shoulder once as the defeated yoga girl was carried off the mat.


"Well guys, this is it! Tonight's the night! After my ups and downs at the local tournaments back home, I'm finally getting into a bigtime spotlight! In a few hours, I'll be getting onto the mat for my first round match at The Kumite. The real Kumite! Hong Kong has simply been a BLAST, but the real trip starts now. Wish me luck, everyone! If you're in town, my fight's sometime after 8. Don't forget to rate, comment, and subscribe!"


Waving from the fighters' benches at a few people in the crowd who were filming her from afar, the pretty american pigtailed girl was one of the youngest to be found in the Kumite's combatant roster. She had hoped to see her inspiration, Kim Campbell, but the female fighter was not present.

After a first-round loser was dragged off the mat, two new names went up on the scoreboard. "CARLY MARX" and "DEMON". Carly gulped, seeing the man that eliminated Kim Campbell from her first Kumite stand up to receive some loud cheers from the crowd. Stepping down from the bleachers, Carly was stopped on her way to the ring by a phone camera that pushed right in front of her face.

"Any first-round jitters, Carly?" demanded one of her vlog viewers.

Putting on a big smile, Carly answered, "Just gotta do my best!" She winked and blew a kiss to the camera, then turned and hopped up onto the mat. She wore blue and pink two-piece tights, with pink elastics atop her two brown pigtails. Still wearing her grin for the camera, Carly bowed once to Demon, who returned the gesture with a slightly mocking look on his face.

Staying light on her feet, Carly circled around Demon to get a feel for the mat while assessing her situation. Demon had military cut hair, white pants, and a lot of muscle. His cocky arms-down stance also meant Carly was not sure how to approach him. Finally, she darted in with a quick pair of jabs. Demon blocked one, then parried the other while beginning to twist her arm. Carly rolled with the maneuver, lifting one leg to turn her predicament into an armbar hold. She wrapped herself around Demon's arm and began to pull, but her opponent remained on his feet despite bending down as her own body anchored onto the mat. Demon struck her twice in the hips with his free hand, before grabbing at her and lifting her clinching body up into the air. The armbar was disengaged forcefully after Demon slammed Carly into the floor, leaving the pigtailed girl sprawled for a few moments before she rolled away.

Holding his shoulder and rolling it a few times, Demon looked quite angry. Carly stepped in with a right hook that connected hard, but her opponent caught her arm as she attempted a follow-up backfist. Demon punched her across her face, then slammed the back of his fist up into her jaw. With Carly stunned, Demon released her arm only to fire a hard kick into her gut. Carly was lifted off her feet for a moment as her body was pushed back by the kick, leaving her clutching her stomach and barely able to stand. Spinning towards her, Demon's downward roundhouse smashed into Carly's head and threw her spiralling down to the mat.

Gasping for air, Carly barely rolled over before Demon began slamming his foot into her gut. The pigtailed girl bounced off the floor, flopping with each of the eight kicks that her opponent sank into her body. After Demon stopped, Carly could only convulse and cough, her cute smile long-replaced by an agonized expression. Grabbing the back of the pigtailed girl's scalp, Demon forced her back onto her feet and walked her to the center of the ring. Then, he smashed her head down into his lifting knee, snapping one of her hair elastics and causing one of her pigtails to splay open as her skull was rocked back. Carly fell to her knees, arms hanging at her sides as all the hair of her former pigtail hung over one side of her head and face. Her face was pained and defeated, tears and sweat running down her skin as Demon held her upright by the back of her neck. Carly's lip quivered as she was pulled to her very-unsure feet again, stumbling in place before a turning side kick crushed her belly. The young fighter doubled over, spitting something up onto the mat. Before she toppled over, Demon executed a spinning roundhouse to the side of Carly's head. The girl span through the air, limp as a tossed ragdoll, before landing in a heap. Demon knelt by her, grabbing Carly's hair to lift her head, and punched her twice before the referee pulled him away. Standing victorious, Demon spat on the young fighter that lay splayed out at his feet, while a few audience members got closer to the ring to film Carly's bloodied and unconscious form.


Turning lightly from side to side in her chair, she sat through the meeting mostly ignored, doodling on her notepad while appearing to take notes. The internship was in the heart of a crushing doldrum. No matter what she offered to the team, everybody eventually sent her to the photocopiers to replicate documents and disappear from their day. She could not wait for this Friday to end, so that she could hop in a taxi and head to the airport for her week-long retreat.


Dressed in a black and white striped tanktop with short black trunks, Sammy Rose's dyed red hair and white skin made her stand out immensely from the other fighters in the club. While waiting for her fight, she had used a silver sharpie to scribble some gothic livery on the black tape around her wrists and ankles. Everyone in the local Thailand club took notice of the foreign girl as soon as she put her name in as a competitor, and Sammy knew she would have an interesting night when she came out of the locker rooms dressed to get in the ring.

"You! America girl! Now you fight!"

Smirking, Sammy stood up and headed into the ring. She slid under the ropes and stood, turning to raise her arms to a cheering crowd. Feeling a moment of encouragement, she quickly realized they were cheering for the man stepping through the ropes behind her, a top-knotted thai boxer with gaunt features and empty eyes. As the introductions were announced, Sammy Rose heard that her opponent was named Tong Po. Throwing a few punches and kicks to warm up, the crowd's adoration of Tong Po made her begin to wonder if she had been put into a spectacle for her first match of the evening.

After the bell, Sammy Rose and Tong Po traded a few blows as they aggressively felt out each other's styles. Very quickly, Sammy could see that while she was feeling a burn from every strike that connected with her body, Tong Po was recovering from all of her own attacks with inhuman speed. And worse, kicking Tong Po was like smashing her leg against a cement pillar. Sammy knew she could not keep up the fight for long, and tried to end it with a jumping knee strike to her opponent's head. Tong Po took the hit, but also got one arm under Sammy's leg. Lifting the red-haired girl off the floor, the thai fighter threw her onto the top rope of the ring, partly tangling her up on it as he began to throw kneelifts into her body. Sammy thrashed as she both tried to get free and had to take pulverizing knees to her stomach. When she finally got both of her feet onto the mat, Tong Po struck her with a back elbow that whipped her head to one side. As she cradled her jaw, Sammy did not see the spinning back kick coming until it cracked against her head and span her down to the mat.

Using the ropes of the nearby corner to climb back to a standing position, Sammy breathed heavily and realized just how different kickboxing could be in a lawless thai fight club. Then, she screamed in agony as Tong Po thrusted his weight knee-first into the small of her back, pushing her face-first into the ring post as he did so. Not letting the girl fall, Tong Po instead turned her around by her shoulder to face him, and then sank another knee into her gut. After she doubled over, he set her upright, and then delivered a brutal headbutt. Four times in total, Sammy's body was rocked by a cranial impact, her arms draped over the ropes as the repeated headbutts drew blood and battered the fight out of her. Letting her slowly sag in the corner for a moment, Tong Po took hold of Sammy's chin. The red-haired girl stared at him with glossy eyes, blinking blood out of them as it ran down from her forehead. A hard elbow knocked her out of her glazed reverie, forcing a cry of pain from Sammy before another five knee lifts forced her to cough up some blood and fall forward onto the mat.

Tong Po followed her as she made a pitiful attempt to crawl away, waiting until she reached the center of the ring before he grabbed the back of her scalp and hauled her to her feet. Sammy began to surrender loudly, but her words were cut off by a hard kick to the side of her head. Sammy fell sideways, landing facedown in a heap. Shuddering and moaning, she shakily got onto her hands and knees, watching drops of blood and sweat land on the canvas before her face. Tong Po knelt beside her, raising one arm and roaring to the cheers of the crowd. Finally, he dropped an elbow into Sammy's spine with a sickening crunch. The girl flopped to the mat immediately, splayed out and unmoving. Grabbing a handful of her hair, Tong Po raised Sammy's head off the floor to show her bloodied and gaping unconscious expression to the crowd, before slamming her face back down into the canvas. Sammy Rose lay on the canvas for several minutes, completely motionless until she was finally dragged out of the ring and dumped on the floor in the back of the club.


She walked barefoot in the grass of the park, arms outstretched while she took deep, happy breaths. The cool breeze, the soft turf, and the bright sun brought her a dose of peace that she always craved before the kind of night that lay ahead of her. Sliding a colourful shawl over her shoulders, she turned around and skipped back through the park, doing a cartwheel or two on her way.


"Windy Fisher, versus, The Beast!"

Dropping her colorful shawl at the edge of the ring, the wild-haired blonde hippie girl rolled forward and hopped to her feet, arms raised and beaming at the crowd. Pushing up the tie-dyed headband that kept her long locks out of her eyes, Windy was getting her adrenaline running as hard as she could after seeing that her first opponent was a massive and musclebound man named Beast, who wore imposing military shorts and boots. Windy's soles bounced on the mat as she hopped in place, wearing blue denim daisy dukes and a white bikini-style top, with colourful braided bracelets on her wrists. Her opponent looked at her without a hint of interest, which made her a little worried as the match began.

Inching forward as Beast walked towards her, Windy began a combination of five kicks to his body. The first two struck hard, causing Beast to raise his arms to cover up and block the next two. Windy's final kick hit the side of Beast's head, and as she stepped back, the hippie girl looked astonished as Beast turned back and simply looked at her. With a shrill yell, Windy threw another high kick. Beast blocked it with his forearm, and then struck Windy hard in the center of her chest. The hippie girl made a gutteral noise as she flew back, feet pointed straight up in the air as she landed on her back, before her legs flopped down a few seconds later.

Clutching her chest as she crawled to her feet, Windy's bounce and spunk were crushed as she fought to stay standing. Beast pulled her head under his arm, striking her twice in the flank to stifle her struggles long enough to lift her into a vertical suplex. Held upside-down and prone in mid-air, Windy began to cry out in fear as Beast walked a few steps backwards and let the blood run into his opponent's head. Once she finally received the suplex, Windy arched her back and writhed, rolling onto her stomach as she groaned in pain. Beast grabbed Windy's head and pulled her to her feet, then slammed a knee into her body with a crunch. Windy doubled over, folding up and defenseless as her opponent then slammed a forearm into her exposed back. Crumpling to the mat, Windy moaned and began to curl up in a ball. Beast quickly shoved her over onto her back with his boot, and then dropped an elbow into her chest that forced a second crunch from her body as she coughed up a spray of spittle.

Not letting up, Beast scooped Windy up in his arms, then raised her over his head. Kicking her legs and waving her arms as she lifted higher in the air, Windy shrieked as her opponent threw her across the ring. It felt like an eternity to the hippie girl as she lay on her back, her body wracked with pain and only able to writhe as she tried to get back up. When Beast took hold of the back of her neck and stood her up, Windy's arms hung at her sides as she stumbled in place, a sad look of resignation on her face as she realized her first match in the Kumite would also be her last. Beast swang his arm in a wide arc that nearly took her head off, connecting with a lariat that flipped Windy head-over-heels in place. The hippie girl landed on her back, barely conscious and slowly lifting her head an inch off the mat. Beast leapt forward and dropped a stomp to Windy's skull that finished her off. Windy flopped in place, laying spreadeagled and completely beaten on the mat.

Beast turned to his employer, who gave a hand-signal that demanded an example to be made by his sponsored fighter. Turning back towards his fallen opponent, Beast went down to one knee as he slid an arm under Windy's head and lifted it off the floor. He stood up, raising Windy off the ground and holding her in a dragon sleeper hold. The hippie girl was mostly unconscious, her arms slowly coming to life and pawing at the bicep that squashed against the side of her face. Beast tightened and twisted the dragon sleeper, pushing down on Windy's chest as he did so. There was a loud snap as Windy's body spasmed once violently, and Beast let her fall back to the floor. The hippie girl lay on the mat, splayed out as she twitched twice, her tongue hanging out of her open mouth. Windy was unmoving, her neck broken and body left to be dragged off of the mat.


The Red Fist Tournament's pre-brackets training area was filled with both competitors, and fighters hopeful to take the few remaining spots by proving themselves in sparring matches before the day of the first round. A older man was showing his protege around the gym, explaining who some of the tougher matches may be.

He came to a sparring mat, where one would-be competitor was being violently beaten down by an established fighter.

"Chin Woo. Champion of last year. He grew up in Vietnam, a victim of napalm. He takes revenge on the world by often killing opponents."

As the older man and his protege continued on, a younger fighter had her back to them as she sat crosslegged on the floor, leaning against some stacked mats and chewing some gum. She grinned to herself as she blew a bubble, well aware that her cute looks and small size were garnering her some attention. She looked down at her bruised knuckles, then over to another fighter who still lay unconscious on the floor. She got herself into the Red Fist Tournament, and was itching to do battle in front of a real audience.


"Our first combatant of the evening! Enya Munroe!"

The teenaged girl came down the blue walkway, jogging lightly towards the spotlit fighting platform. She pulled down the hood of her tracksuit jacket as she entered the ring, unzipping it and dropping it near one of the edges of the mat as she kicked off her canvas shoes. Her brown hair was in a messy ponytail, several strands perpetually on her face. Enya wore a white tanktop tucked into the waistband of her bright blue gym shorts, which shimmered as she threw a few practice kicks and warmed up.

"She faces...our reigning champion, Chin Woo!"

Entering the arena to a roaring crowd, a meaty vietnamese man with a mohawk in a black robe stomped towards the ring, glaring up at several different parts of the audience. He threw aside his robe, revealing his attire of dark pants and matching wristbands, before finally looking at his opponent.

Her eyes as wide as a doomed doe's, Enya was clearly unhappy to hear the words 'reigning champion' in front of her very first opponent that night. It took several seconds after the opening gong for her to shake off the nervousness and focus on the match.

After throwing two hard kicks into Chin Woo's chest, Enya had to step back and rub her aching foot. Her opponent immediately advanced, forcing her to throw a wild high kick. The vietnamese fighter caught her leg under his arm, and then grabbed her jaw with his free hand. Enya punched at her opponent several times as she hopped on one foot, otherwise trapped. Chin Woo proceeded to lift her straight off the floor, holding her aloft as his arms were extended up as far as they could go. Enya threw her free leg back and forth, trying to loosen Chin Woo's grip by kneeing one of his arms as she clawed at the hand that gripped her jaw tightly enough to hurt her teeth.

Chin Woo turned to each corner of the ring as his opponent began to feel humiliated by her helpless position. Finally, he dropped her stomach-first onto his knee. Enya made a wet grunt as her insides were pulverized within her belly, bouncing and landing on her hands and knees. The teenage fighter managed to crawl a few inches before her opponent dropped a hard elbow onto the back of her head. Enya flopped facefirst onto the mat, barely conscious and almost unmoving as Chin Woo stood over her. She was all but beaten in two moves, but the crowd rumbled in anticipation of what their champion would do next.

Crying out as Chin Woo's fingers dug into her scalp, Enya was forced back to her feet by the vietnamese fighter. Stumbling for a moment, she sprang to life as adrenaline filled her and punched Chin Woo twice in the chest, before throwing two kneelifts and a roundhouse towards his head. Chin Woo parried the final blow by punching straight into Enya's oncoming ankle. There was a soft crunch before the teenage fighter wailed in pain, almost falling back to the mat before her opponent grabbed hold of the back of her head. Chin Woo rammed a knee into her gut, then took hold of one of her wrists to pull an arm forward. Enya howled after her opponent's fist cracked up into her bicep, and then screamed as he slammed a palm down against it with a loud crack. Clutching her arm and limping on an injured ankle, Enya was easily pummelled as Chin Woo delivered a series of hard punches to her face and chest, continuing the punishment as she slumped to her knees.

Grabbing Enya's throat and waistband, Chin Woo once again raised her overhead, listening to her pleas for a moment before dropping her stomach onto his knee. The teenage fighter went straight to the mat after the impact, laying on her face as her opponent pushed a knee into her back and grabbed her face. He pulled back, twisting Enya's head slowly and forcing her to scream until her throat was raw as her vertebrae popped and cracked. Releasing his opponent, the vietnamese fighter stood up, and then pushed Enya onto her back with his foot. Then, he stomped it down into her chest with a sickening crunch, forcing her to cough up some blood as she flopped beneath his heel. He raised his foot, and then dropped it straight onto Enya's face with another horrible noise.

Laying on her back and convulsing as she choked for breath, the bloodied teenage fighter made a whimpering sound as Chin Woo grabbed hold of her and lifted her up. The champion held his beaten opponent over his head like a trophy, as she limply flinched like a twitching ragdoll. A mixture of drippings from Enya's face spattered onto Chin Woo's shoulder as she begged for mercy, but he ignored everything but the roar of the crowd. Finally, he dropped Enya stomach-first onto his knee once more. The teenage fighter could not even cry out as her body gave another crunch upon impact. Chin Woo did not even look at Enya once she hit the mat, walking away from her as she lay face-down in a puddle that grew out from her own head. It was unclear if the beaten young fighter was breathing or merely twitching, before she was dragged away. Two ring attendents trailed close behind, mopping up the bloody mess on the canvas that her face left behind.


"What's a little lady like me, doing on this boat?" Her australian-accented voice was clearly amused. "Why, the same as the most of its passengers, sir. I'm here to represent my country."

With a cloche hat over her bobbed hair, and a long coat covering most of her body, she turned and walked to the side of the vessel in order to watch the water pass by. She felt a distinct honour to be seeing the Lost City, especially for the reasons that brought her there in particular. "The twentieth century's as old as I am," thought the 25-year-old, "and we've already seen so much. I can't wait. I simply cannot wait."


"Alright Kareela, fight hard. Whatever happens, be proud that you've made it this far." Kareela's trainer massaged her shoulders as she sat in one of the seats that surrounded the large circular ring of combat. "And be ready for anything," he continued.

Glancing over her shoulder, Kareela nodded with a smile. Her blonde bob-styled hair brushed against the towel draped over her shoulders, while she idly tapped her bared feet on the cold floor. The first round of the Ghang-gheng had seen several matches already, and she was still waiting for her own debut in the venerable arena.

"Australia, versus, Mongolia!"

Kareela stood up, untying her robe and dropping it on the chair behind her, then sliding the towel off her shoulders and tossing it on top. She walked towards one of the wooden bridges that connected the ring to the outer seating area, dressed in a blue camisole leotard with a white sash belt. After stepping onto the hard floor of the combat platform, Kareela hopped in place and swung her arms forwards and backwards, loosening up as her opponent entered the ring. Mongolia's fighter was mustached and bare-chested, dressed in red pants and black boots. Squatting and leaning from side to side to continue stretching, Kareela kept her eyes on his stocky frame. She knew his name was Khan, and that his minor bulk hid a powerful strength. She also knew that her own slim body was toned and crafted to be unassumingly strong, with muscles not large but able to do more than many other girls her age and size.

After a loud gong, Kareela and Khan both stepped towards each other. The two fighters crouched slightly as they looked at each other, and after a few moments they both charged forward and locked up. Kareela and Khan grappled in the center of the ring, fighting for control as their grips shifted and bodies pushed forward against one another. Getting her arms around Khan's waist, Kareela lifted him up a few inches off the floor. Khan swang his arms up over his head, then down as his momentum pulled him back towards the ground. His fists slammed into Kareela's back, forcing a grunt from her before she planted her feet and tried to lift him once again. Just as before, Khan used the momentum to deliver a double axehandle blow to his opponent's back, this time forcing her to release him. Before she could retreat, Khan grabbed Kareela's jaw and cracked a headbutt into her skull that caused her to fall backwards onto the mat. The mongolian fighter ran towards her as she stood, but Kareela was able to turn and slid her arms around him, before slamming Khan with a belly-to-belly suplex.

Karella rolled over and got on top of Khan, trying to get a chokehold into place. Khan slammed both of his hands on either side of the australian girl's head, pulling his arms back as she was stunned, and then delivering the same skull-shaking attack again. Kareela fell to one side, clutching her head and rolling away while Khan got back up to his feet. As she stood, Kareela's head immediately snapped back as a punch struck her in the face. She span around, cradling her jaw, and then cried out as Khan pummeled her lower back with his fists. Kareela threw a wild spinning back elbow, missing the mark as Khan leaned back. The mongolian fighter's hand grabbed hold of Kareela's throat, forcing a loud gag from the anguished girl. As Khan reached in to grapple with her, Kareela leapt up and wrapped her legs around Khan's extended arm. She snaked her body around her opponent's limb, beginning to stretch and twist it at the elbow and bicep. Khan fell to one knee as Kareela's shoulders touched the mat. Beads of sweat ran down the australian fighter as she tried to end the fight then and there. Her sounds of exertion grew confused and fearful as she realized Khan had begun to lift his arm, and with it her entire body, up into the air. Kareela's eyes were wide before Khan slammed her down onto the mat, but she held on tightly despite the pain. Khan slammed her two more times before her grip loosened, and continued to slam her five more times before stepping back and massaging his aching arm. Kareela lay splayed out and staring at the ceiling, her eyes slightly glazed as she writhed gently and barely hung on to consciousness, her back and shoulders feeling as though they were on fire.

Despite the protests of her trainer and assistants, Kareela was snapped back to her senses as Khan's hand once again snatched her by the throat and slowly hauled her to her feet. The australian fighter was only able to weakly claw and beat at Khan's arm as he pulled her, stumbling, to the center of the ring. Pulling her forward to expose her back, Khan delivered two huge blows to Kareela's spine, loosening his grip on her throat to let her howl in pain as her back arched and she slumped to her knees. Lifting her to her feet, Khan got his other hand around one of Kareela's thighs, and then lifted her overhead. The australian girl was in a daze, suspended over her opponent and weakly slapping at the arm that held her throat. She knew she had lost, and she knew that Khan was holding her aloft like a trophy. Then, as he pulled her down, she had a moment to realize that he was making an example of her to his future opponents. Kareela bent over Khan's knee as her back hit it with a crunch, one loud and choked squawk escaping her lips along with a spray of blood. Her eyes rolled up slightly as a small tear slipped down her face, her throat making one last noise as her upper body spasmed lightly.

Satisfied, Khan rolled Kareela's limp body off of his knee. She lay facedown and lifeless on the mat, broken and defeated in the heart of the Lost City.


Potential Patron
Sep 5, 2012
Hello,I like your stories very much.I went to your deviant art page and I saw that this is the last chapter.Are you going to continue?


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

The Colosseum is an unreal arena of combat. Deep beneath the city, a large sandy ring rests within an enormous circular bleacher structure. It is lit by hundreds of overhead lights, somehow replicating the atmostphere of the outdoor combat pits of ancient Rome. Fighters walk a circular path starting at the outer rim of the ring, meeting in single combat within circles drawn in the sand. The winner advances to the next inner ring, and the loser often meets his or her end laying beaten and lifeless in the winner's wake.

Many powerful fighters attend Colosseum tournaments for truly deadly combat practice, some rarely seen outside of their sweeping fatal winstreaks when they appear on its sandy grounds. And many upstart combatants underestimate just who they will meet in one of the most dangerous pitfight venues to ever exist.



Thoughts of the film "Bloodsport" in her head, the hawaiian girl's brunette hair was in thick, frizzy curls held back by a large floral scrunchie. She was still amazed by the size of the Colosseum, looking up at the crowd as she approached the circle that would contain her first match as a fighter on the illegal circuit. She had felt an inspiration after seeing Van Damme's film, already training in the martial arts thanks to her father. Now she saw herself as the titular hero, garbed in nothing more than a blue swimsuit and a small chain of flowers around one ankle. The Colosseum was still too young a venue for her to have known what kind of competition she had entered.

Standing across from her in the circle was an incredibly muscular man with crew-cut hair and wearing a small pair of red briefs. Arthur Volkov was a man being trained as a living weapon by the Soviet Union, and once his superiors had found out about The Colosseum, they had sent him to its next competition at once. His opponent bowed to him, and continued eyeing him as he did not even flinch at her attempted show of respect.

Assuming a very textbook stance, the hawaiian girl shifted from foot to foot as she edged closer to her opponent. Feeling a growing pressure as he continued to stare her down, she let out a shrill kiai and she threw a kick into his chest. Arther was knocked a step back, and the hawaiian girl took a moment to realize she should follow up before delivering one more kick to the same spot. Seeing a much lesser effect on Arther from the second attack, she quickly wound up and went for a hard chop to his neck. She caught up to the fact that he had caught her by the wrist just as his other hand slammed a punch into her gut. The hawaiian girl was taken off-guard, never expecting a single punch to hurt so much, and then discovered another new kind of pain as Arther bent her wrist back with one hand. Hot pangs ran down her forearm as she reached to pull her wrist free, but she had barely brushed her fingers on Arthur's before he twisted her hand further. Moaning loudly, the hawaiian girl slowly went down to her knees as her opponent took complete control of the match with a one-handed wrist-lock.

Her face flushing red from both the pain and the notion that, with one hand, her very first opponent already had her at his mercy, the hawaiian girl managed to get one foot planted back on the ground as she pulled at Arthur's hand. The russian man yanked up on her arm as he ducked down, sliding his other hand between his opponent's legs as he pulled her into a fireman's carry. Standing up, Arthur dumped the hawaiian girl onto her back on his other side. Still keeping a grip on her twisted wrist, Arthur stamped a foot down onto her shoulder. After a swift twist of his heel and pull of his hand, there was a loud crack. The hawaiian girl's wrist was finally released, and she howled in agony as she rolled over and clutched her newly-injured arm.

Taking some time to get up, the hawaiian girl blinked tears out of her eyes as she saw her opponent still staring her down. Weakly raising her hands, she threw two sloppy jabs that Arthur avoided with ease. A fist snapped across her jaw in return, before another punch impacted her right kidney. Her body barely able to stay standing, the hawaiian girl's eyes bugged out as her opponent drove another punch right into her liver. She doubled over, retching and falling forward. Arthur caught her by the back of her neck, forcing her to stay on her feet. Spitting up something as she spoke, the hawaiian girl raised an open hand as she spoke a desperate surrender. She had had enough, and tasted blood in her mouth as she asked for no more.

Arthur responded silently with a headbutt straight into her forehead. Gripping the back of her neck, the russian man headbutted her twice more on the right side of her face. Taking hold of his opponent's head in both hands as her arms wobbled limply at her sides, he delivered one more center-targetted headbutt that snapped the hawaiian girl's floral scrunchie in half. Her frizzy hair splaying out messily as she slumped to her knees, she slowly tipped forward right into Arthur's waiting arms. Wrapping his arms around her waist as she fell, Arthur pulled the hawaiian girl up in a wide arc, turning and slamming her headfirst into the ground. She folded up like a matchbook before flopping facedown on the arena floor.

Digging a knee into the small of his opponent's back, Arthur painfully brought the hawaiian girl back to her senses before getting his arms around her head and neck. He began to pull her head up and off the ground, bending her back towards and past a natural angle as she screamed and pounded her hands and feet on the floor helplessly. With a harsh twist to one side, Arthur forced a loud squawk out of his opponent as something in her spine cracked and broke. The hawaiian girl's arms went taut and her mouth was wide open, no longer screaming but instead making uneven croaking noises. Keeping ahold of her head, Arthur stood and maneuvered around her body, pulling her into a front facelock before yanking up with all his strength. The hawaiian girl made a short and choked cry as her neck gave out a loud crunch, her body flopping like a ragdoll as the maneuver pulled her back up to her feet as it ended her life. She slumped, held up only by the front facelock as her legs sagged back down to the ground. Arthur jerked her head once more, hearing another crunch before letting go. Turning his back on his fallen opponent as she lay facedown and motionless behind him, Arthur crossed his arms and silently waited for the next contest.



Olive-skinned with curly dark hair, the arabian girl wore white pants and a matching top. She was ready to finally kill an opponent, though there were pangs of doubt still lingering in the back of her mind. Waiting in her circle, she went over her training several times in her head. As her opponent arrived, she began to wonder exactly how to apply it to a fighter such as the one that faced her.

Face painted in a tentacle pattern and dressed in a silver swimsuit, Lady Kraken's stocky body gave her a clear weight advantage over the arabian girl. Her eyes shot a cruel glare to her opponent, locking onto her as the match began. Lady Kraken stood her ground, simply watching as the arabian girl performed a flowing series of maneuvers before entering her stance.

Turning and spinning towards Lady Kraken several times, the arabian girl finally executed a beautiful overhead crescent kick that cracked into the facepainted woman's forehead loudly. Lady Kraken's head dipped down, but she immediately retaliated with a double-handed uppercut that flipped her opponent over in place. The arabian girl lay facedown in the dirt, picking herself up painfully and staring at the drops of her blood that fell from her lip. She got her body a few inches off the ground before Lady Kraken clubbed her fists into her spine, forcing the arabian girl to flop back down with a cry of pain.

As she was pulled back to her feet, the arabian girl filled with adrenaline and hurled a knee into Lady Kraken to try and take back the momentum. After sinking the blow into her opponent's gut, she paused for breath and prepared to throw another knee. Her eyes filled with dread as she saw Lady Kraken reach for her throat, managing to make a small noise before she was lifted off her feet and throttled. The arabian girl could only kick and claw at the fingers that squeezed her windpipe, tearing up slightly. She began to think that for all her training, she would literally be strangled to death in the ring. When her eyes began to roll back, Lady Kraken slammed her down into the ground.

Coughing hoarsely and unable to breath clearly, the arabian girl lay shuddering at Lady Kraken's feet. She raised her arms instinctively to prepare for a mount, and then spat up some blood as her opponent stamped down onto her gut. Curling up and gagging, the arabian girl was easily rolled over onto her stomach before Lady Kraken stomped her back. The facepainted woman sat down, pinning her opponent beneath her and applying a camel clutch hold. She pulled the girl's head back, bending her as she listened to her screams. The arabian girl was lost, only aware of her agony as Lady Kraken took her time in torturing her. Only one other fight had ended in the round, so Lady Kraken decided to enjoy herself and prolong her opponent's suffering. She twisted the arabian girl slightly at the waist, turning left and right as she strained the girl's vertebrae well beyond any safe limits.

Finally, Lady Kraken yanked back and felt her opponent's spine break beneath her. The arabian girl screamed even louder, eyes screwed shut as her legs went numb. Her face was locked in its agonized expression when Lady Kraken twisted her skull, leaving her neck bent at a horrific angle before releasing her body and standing up. The facepainted woman sat down once more, and then slammed her fists down onto the girl's head. Savouring the echoes of the consecutive crunches, Lady Kraken stood again and turned away, leaving a body behind her as she waited to move on to the next match.



The youngster had become a runaway to make a name for herself in the pitfighting circuit, and at first was leaping at the chance to become one of the combatants in the infamous Colosseum. Rookies like herself were not rare, but not many took the risk of entering that arena, which meant huge fame for the few who survived. She was a redhead, with short hair and long bangs, wearing short orange gym shorts with a yellow tank-top. Arriving at her circle first, she dug her toes into the ground for a few moments before exhaling and loosening up. Then, her eyes slowly grew wide as she saw who was coming to face her.

A powerfully muscular italian wrestler, clad in animal-pelt briefs and a pair of wrist bracers, entered the circle before turning away from his opponent to flex at the crowd. The young fighter recognized Titus Marius immediately, and began to panic at her impending match with the two-time Colosseum champion. Balling her hands into fists, she entered a loose and bouncing stance as she gulped and watched Titus turn around. The italian fighter raised his hands forward in a wrestling posture, and began to step forward.

Circling and retreating, the rookie was halfways on the run as she looked over her incoming opponent with dread. Finally unable to back up any farther, she thrust a hard kick into her opponent's chest. Two more times she delivered the same blow, with little effect. Her last kick was blocked and caught, leaving the redhead bouncing on one foot as Titus held her ankle under one arm. She whimpered, raising her hands to try and prepare to grapple as the italian fighter finally reached forward. Titus immediately had her head locked under his other arm, before lifting her in a suspended fisherman's suplex. The young fighter's free leg waved in the air frantically before she was driven headfirst into the ground and left in a stunned heap.

She finally rose in time to see her opponent still flexing to the crowd. The rookie clutched her throbbing skull and staggered to the side, fearful as Titus turned back to face her. The italian wrestler quickly locked up with his opponent, who tried in vain to pull away from his grasp. She went to her knees, hoping to slip through Titus's clutches and crawl away, but instead the struggling rookie was forced back onto her feet before she was scooped up to receive a bodyslam. She stared out at the arena as she was wielded overhead for some time, helpless until she was thrown to the floor.

After playing to the crowd for some time, Titus turned to see his opponent still on the floor and crawling aimlessly around the circle. Heading over to the rookie before pulling her onto her feet, Titus wrapped his arms around her body before wrenching them together. The girl squawked as spittle sprayed from her mouth, her body cracking once in the italian fighter's brief bearhug. Then, Titus threw her overhead in a belly-to-belly suplex that tossed the redhead across the sand. She tumbled to a rest on the other side of the circle, curling up and writhing in pain.

As soon as she felt the hand grab her ankle and drag her into the middle of the circle, the rookie screamed in terror and scrambled to get free. Titus grappled with her struggling body, and slowly forced her to stand. Trying desperately to escape, the rookie realized with dread that her arms were trapped underneath her opponent's. She shook her head, knowing full well that her opponent meant to finish her off with the famous Titan Crippler combination. She did not want to be pulverized by such a show of dominance, and pleaded for mercy as humiliation and fear overcame her.

Titus cut off his opponent's pleas with a hard headbutt. The rookie's made stunned noises as she took two more headbutts, a painful pause between each one giving her just enough time to see the next one coming. Titus released her arms, letting her stumble in place for a moment before falling to her knees. As her opponent reached over her head and grabbed hold of her waist, the rookie slapped once at his body in weak retaliation before she was lifted up and powerbombed into the ground. Her legs kicking loosely in the air as she was raised up again, the redhead begged once more before being piledriven into the floor a second time. Her neck and shoulders audibly cracked, forcing a new howl of pain from her as she was lifted and then span to lay across her opponent's shoulders. Titus leapt into the air, landing and yanking down to bend his opponent harshly. The rookie screamed in agony, feeling her spine pop and gasping rapidly in panic. Titus leapt again, pushing the girl off his shoulders and pulling her down over his knee as he landed. Her back broke loudly and visibly as she cried out until her throat was raw. Titus let her slowly flop onto the floor, and then sat down on her back. The rookie was gasping louder, her body in shock from the crippling finisher. Titus gripped her head between his hands tightly, lifting it up and off the floor before delivering a final headbutt to the back of his opponent's skull. The rookie spasmed hard as her skull crunched, her eyes glossed and staring blankly as her jaw hung slack. Titus squeezed her head until it cracked again, and held her head off the ground until her body went limp. Standing and planting a foot on the broken redhead's back, he flexed his arms and roared to the crowd.



As she entered her circle, the british girl tapped her foot on the ground and waited with her hands on her hips. Her dark hair was in a messy bob cut, with blue streaks throughout one side. She wore turqoise capri leggings and a pink sports bra over her toned physique. She was a well-trained kickfighter, experienced, and proud to know she had won three fights to the death in the venue known as The Emergency Ward. The feeling of a neck being broken no longer made her nauseous, and the idea of taking the Colosseum crown filled her mind with thoughts of conquest and admiration.

She stifled a laugh upon seeing that her opponent was dressed in a brown bear mask, complete with fake animal ears, and a matching swimsuit leotard. The Bear Woman was tall and clearly built like a grappler, but the british girl had faced more than one of her kind before. She bowed deeply and theatrically, eliciting nothing more than a blank stare from her masked opponent.

With a beautiful stance, the british girl closed in on the Bear Woman. Seeing her opponent's arms at her sides, the british girl threw a powerful high kick into the side of the masked grappler's head. The Bear Woman stood her ground, prompting her opponent to throw two more kicks, equally as hard and straight into the same part of her skull. The kickfighter retreated, astonished at her unmoving opponent, and winced as her toes touched the sandy floor of the arena. The bones in her foot had taken an unexpected beating against the side of the Bear Woman's head, and now felt like needles of pain each time she put weight on them.

With the Bear Woman marching towards her, the british girl threw two hard kicks into her opponent's midsection. This stunned the masked fighter, but the british girl had to retreat as her leg once again took its own level of punishment from striking the Bear Woman's body. After placing a hand on her stomach, the Bear Woman resumed her approach before swinging a wide-arc lariat at her opponent's head. The british girl ducked underneath and around the masked grappler, turning and building momentum as she leapt in the air to deliver a roundhouse counterattack. However, the Bear Woman cut her off mid-jump as she swang her arm with surprising speed, swatting the kickfighter out of the air in the middle of her flourish.

The british girl span several times before landing on the ground, cradling her jaw as she looked up at the Bear Woman and scowled. Spitting something out of her mouth, she stood up and bared her teeth angrily. Advancing rapidly, the british girl threw alternating kicks into her opponent's midsection and chest. With a loud shout, she raised a leg and dropped her heel straight down into the Bear Woman's head. The masked grappler grabbed the ankle of the foot that had just smashed into her forehead, before swinging a hammerblow down into the british girl's kneecap. Crying out as she barely kept her footing, the british girl clutched her leg and glared up at her opponent with a pained and angry expression. Her voice cracked slightly as she made one more battlecry, throwing a hard kick into the side of the Bear Woman's body. The masked grappler immediately grabbed hold of her opponent's leg under one arm, letting the british girl hop helplessly on one foot for a few seconds and watching desperate realization wash over her face. The Bear Woman then slammed three hard blows down into her kneecap, holding onto the kickfighter's leg as she eventually fell to the mat. Turning and yanking on her opponent's trapped limb, the Bear Woman threw her across the sandy surface of their ring of combat.

Tumbling several times before coming to a rest, the british girl's body shook as she slowly got to her feet, and then nearly fell back down as one of her legs could barely hold up her weight anymore. She limped as she circled around her advancing opponent, trying to ignore the pain that filled one of her kickfighting weapons. As the Bear Woman closed in, the british girl made a desperate battlecry and dove in with a rapid series of kneelifts. Throwing knee strikes over and over, the kickfighter's voice grew weary as she began to slow down. Looking up at her opponent and seeing an unphased masked face looking back down at her, the british girl's will finally broke as she choked back a frustrated sob and tried to continue her attack. The Bear Woman caught her leg and hooked an arm under the knee, before grabbing the back of her opponent's neck with her other hand. The british girl was completely trapped, trying to push herself away from the masked grappler until a sudden headbutt stunned her. Making a loud noise, the kickfighter took two more headbutts as her eyes grew wider and glazed. The Bear Woman then lifted her opponent up and overhead, turning to face the furthest border of the combat circle. The british girl began to regain her senses, quickly wishing she hadn't as she was thrown through the air. Her frightened squeal ended in a grunt as she hit the ground, tumbling once again across the sandy floor and skidding to a rest near the edge of the circle.

As she painfully got to her feet, the british girl's clothes and skin were scuffed and marked with sand and sweat. The proud fighter that started the match had become a dishevelled mess, barely able to stand and blinking tears out of her eyes. She threw a desperate elbow at the Bear Woman, who immediately responded an overhand blow to the british girl's head. Catching her opponent before she fell, the Bear Woman then pulled her into a tight standing bearhug. Stamping her feet and clawing at her opponent's arms, the kickfighter felt her body begin to creak as the pressure of the hold increased with startling severity. She screamed in agony as two of her ribs cracked and broke, and then slumped onto her back as her opponent released her. Clutching her chest and wheezing, the british girl began to crawl backwards along the floor, stopping as she felt two large pikes slam into the ground behind her. The ring attendents ensured that she did not flee, so the fallen kickfighter resorted to begging for mercy, raising a hand and shaking her head as she succumbed to the fear that had filled three past opponents whose lives she had ended herself. The Bear Woman very quietly sighed before stamping a foot into her opponent's chest, pinning her to the floor and cracking another rib. Gasping for air, the british girl was unable to prevent the Bear Woman from reaching down and collecting her off the ground, and then raising her up into a spine-bending bearhug. Her feet could no longer touch the floor as the kickfighter was wrenched left and right, wailing in terror and pain as her back was crushed in her opponent's arms. The british girl's eyes snapped open, wide and fearful as a vertebrae cracked. Her body went stiff, shuddering with her unintelligible moans as a few more pops and creaks came out of her body. Finally, she loudly coughed up some spittle as her back broke in the Bear Woman's signature finisher. The masked grappler continued grinding a few crunches out of her opponent's spine, watching the british girl's spasming body until one last squeeze forced a spurt of blood out of her mouth. The defeated kickfighter's eyes slowly rolled back during the Bear Woman's final squeezes, her tongue hanging out as she made her last agonized noises. Landing with a dead thud as she was released, the british girl lay spreadeagled on the floor of the arena as the Bear Woman walked away.


Club Regular
Aug 10, 2015
Well done Pitwar I have seen how you have improved your style from the first Extras story to the last one and how you have given depth to your charcters as well as fleshing out the fighting arenas.

I look forward to reading more of these fine stories.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

Pinning down the girl beneath her on the hotel room floor, she grinned hungrily as she counted aloud to three. She raised her arms and posed, seated on her fellow catfighter's body, waiting for the video shoot to end so that she could collect her pay. She was certain that pre-scripted fights to sell online were soon going to be behind her for good.


The catfighter's bared skin was glistening with sweat, her thick black hair and silver bikini completing a gorgeous appearance even as she took a third bodyslam and lay panting on the mat. She had come prepared to prove that she was more than a glorified model for hire, but had the misfortune of facing an opponent who could more than readily overpower her amateur grappling attempts. Rukov Sablin, a bald and bearded russian wrestler in black and green tights, lifted one of his tree-trunk legs and dropped it across his opponent's throat. The catfighter gagged and choked from the legdrop, clutching at her neck as she rolled over onto her stomach. Rukov helped her up to her hands and knees, and then smashed a forearm down onto her back, instantly collapsing her back onto the mat.

Weakened and dazed, the catfighter put up no fight as Rukov raised her up into the air, straight off the floor. Bracing herself for another bodyslam, she then cried out in pain as her opponent dropped her into a kneeling backbreaker. She writhed softly, unable to escape the knee that stabbed into her lower back until Rukov lifted her off of it and stood back up. Adjusting his grip, he slid one forearm up and over the raven-haired girl's collarbone, and the other through her legs and up over the higher one of her thighs. Her body was horizontal, with Rukov's hairy chest pressed against her back as he carried her in a position she did not recognize from any of her wrestling experiences. Rukov then pulled back on her collarbone and thigh, bending her body and stretching her spine across his chest. The catfighter grunted as her back flared up, and began to moan as the pain rapidly grew. A crackling creaking noise came out of her torso as Rukov continued to bend her more and more. She was soon screaming her submission and howling in agony, her arms and legs only able to wave and kick uselessly in the air. The catfighter's limbs began to shiver and tighten as her body approached its limit of flexibility. Her luscious dark hair was everywhere as she shook her head desperately, clinging to her face as her struggles became a shuddering tightening of every muscle in her body. Her eyes were wide and agonized as her screams became one long, choked squeak.

Rukov jerked his arms back, suddenly forcing loud cracks and crunches out of his opponent's body. She made a long and hideous shriek as her limbs went limp, bouncing freely in the air with each pull of Rukov's arms. Her cries grew quiet after the fourth awful noise came out of her spine, as her tearful eyes half-closed and rolled back. Rukov paused after he forced a particularly grinding crunch from his beaten opponent's body, glancing down and seeing the string of drool that dripped from her slackened jaw. She was completely limp in his grasp, spasming softly every few seconds. He released the catfighter, letting her glistening and bikini-clad body fall facedown at his feet. She hit the mat like a piece of meat, completely out cold and almost entirely motionless other than a few irregular twitches and gasps.


Brushing her hands off on her apron, she quickly retrieved muffins from the oven and took a breath to bask in their aroma. She was a baker's daughter and loved her craft. From the smells to the tastes to the smiles of her customers, she felt like she had her fill of satisfaction, yet craved one more flavor in her life.


Standing on the mat in her flour-stained brown slacks and white tank-top, the baker's daughter tried to focus on what was in front of her. Long messy strands of her dark hair stuck to her face and hung in every direction, as most of it had come loose from the bun it was held in at the start of the match. The bulgarian fighter, Boyan Popov, was a blurry shape that grew larger as he marched towards his opponent. She threw a right hook, and gave her opponent a sad and tired look as she felt him catch her fist in the palm of his hand. The burly, bare-chested man wore red tights and had a nasty grin spread across his face. The baker's daughter cried out desperately and threw a wild kick, which Boyan caught with his other hand. With one arm and one leg trapped, she teetered on one foot before her opponent yanked her up into the air by her captured limbs. Boyan raised her nearly a foot off the ground, and then slammed a headbutt straight forward into her gut as it came up to eye-level. The baker's daughter doubled-over in mid-air, falling to her knees as soon as she came back down to the ground.

Clutching her stomach, she could barely grab at Boyan's arm as he took hold of the back of her neck and forced her to stand up next to him. He roared loudly at her as her defeated expression filled with sadness and dread, and then delivered a headbutt to the side of her face that cracked something in her cheekbone. Keeping her upright as her arms flailed outwards after the hit, Boyan delivered another headbutt to the bridge of her nose. The baker's daughter made a single loud noise as her eyes snapped open, staring into nothing. A third headbutt struck her squarely in the center of her forehead, causing her eyes to roll up slightly as she sank to her knees. Boyan kept a grip on the back of her neck, keeping her on her knees as her tongue began to protrude from one side of her mouth. After another battlecry, he gave the baker's daughter three more headbutts. Her arms flopped with each hit as a spurt of blood shot from her injured skull, bloody streaks running down her face as she was finally released and collapsed forward onto the mat.

Raising an arm, Boyan delivered an unnecessary finishing elbow drop to the small of his opponent's back, forcing a full-body flop out of the unconscious girl as she lay facedown in a bloody smear in the center of the ring.


Rubbing her forehead tiredly, the college student closed a textbook and then looked at the pile that it had come from. Finishing up one report just meant that it was time to start on the next. She looked out the window at the summer night sky, and decided to give herself a break from her studies. Pulling on a grey hoodie over her white tank-top and small pink jogging shorts, she stepped into a pair of thong sandals and headed out for a walk.


The noise of a crowd had drawn her into the warehouse, where the sight of pitfighting filled her with a primal urge she had not felt before. One that felt like the perfect way to take her mind off of her studies, for an evening. Kicking off her sandals and tying her brunette hair up in a messy bun, soon she saw a card with her name on it go up alongside one that read ‘Nicasio’. She entered the ring to fight a male greek grappler in blue briefs, not expecting to fight a man, and hoping her rusty training would give her a good match.

One minute later, and the college girl’s hopes of victory faded as she was slammed into the dusty floor of the ring for a third time. She had wanted to kickbox her opponent, but Nicasio never let her out of his grasp for more than a few seconds. He hooked her arms before she could make it to her knees, lifting her up into the air for an underhook suplex. He held her upside down for a few seconds, smiling as he heard her breathing turn fearful and more rapid, before driving her headfirst into the ground.

Pushing a knee into the kickboxing college girl’s back, Nicasio locked his fingers under her jaw and pulled her into a painful chinlock. She made a long wincing noise as she pried at his hands, unable to loosen their grip before Nicasio himself let her go. As his opponent’s head fell back to the floor, the greek grappler slid his legs around her midsection and rolled her into a bodyscissor hold. As she squirmed and gasped, he looked to the crowd and flexed an arm, posing as he squeezed the college girl’s body within his thighs. As she managed to get one hand under one of his legs, she then found her face pushed back into the floor as he quickly released the hold and leapt on top of her. Nicasio took the struggling kickboxer’s legs and pulled them under his arms, standing up to put her into a brutal boston crab hold. After wearing down his opponent’s back, the greek grappler then began to release her, stomping a heel down into her spine before her legs hit the ground.

Feeling Nicasio’s arms slide around hers, the college girl realized she was being put into a full nelson even as she lay facedown on the warehouse floor. She kicked her legs as she tried to get free, while her opponent slowly lifted her off the ground and up in front of him. The motion continued as he then executed a full-nelson suplex that folded the kickboxer’s body in half upon impact. Her struggles were much weaker as Nicasio held on, rolling her over and into a standing full-nelson, before repositioning his arms to put her into a double chickenwing hold. He lifted his opponent up, letting her bare feet kick wildly in the air as they lost their traction on the ground. The college girl howled as her shoulderblades began to pop from the pressure of the hold, looking out into the crowd for help and only hearing cheers. She felt her feet touch the floor as Nicasio put her back down, but it was only momentary. He slammed her with a chickenwing suplex that almost knocked her out on impact, before that same impact caused one of her shoulders to crack.

The college girl lay in a heap, shuddering in agony. Her hair had mostly been knocked loose from the messy bun she had made at the start of the match, many strands sticking sloppily to her face. Nicasio stomped on her shoulders and legs until she lay spread out at his feet, and then sat down in front of her stomach. He lay back on her midriff, sliding one arm around her upper back and the other around her posterior, and then began to pull them together. The kickboxing college girl had no idea what was happening until her body began to curl around Nicasio’s back, as he forced her spine to bend forward around him. Something cracked inside of her, and she began screaming her submission. Her hands slapped at Nicasio’s body while her feet kicked helplessly next to his head, but he did not let her go. She continued to verbally submit until there was another crack, at which point she simply howled in agony.

Nicasio leaned forward and began to stand up, still holding his opponent’s bent torso tightly around his back. He looked at the college girl’s head, which was curled up painfully under his left arm. She saw her legs sticking out from under his other arm, and kicked them so that she knew she was not paralyzed. Nicasio began to laugh, causing her to blush with shame and fear. She was at his mercy, almost comically trapped and completely beaten. She began tapping out against his shoulder once again, gasping weakly that she was giving up. He glanced at her reddened tearful face and sneered as he shook his head, before leaping into the air and turning to one side. Her last thought as she fell was that she should have worn her proper kickboxing attire.

Nicasio drove his opponent’s skull straight into the floor, putting both his and her weight directly down into her twisted neck with an awful wet crunch. He released her upon impact, letting her body violently splay out and come to a rest. She lay sprawled on her back, her chest moving unevenly as she made choked gurgling noises. Her eyes were wide, staring at the warehouse ceiling as her body fought to breathe. Nicasio stood over her and flexed, deciding that that it was not worth the bother to finish the job of snapping her neck. The kickboxing college girl lay at his feet, slowly succumbing to her injuries on the warehouse floor.


Focusing on the calm of the garden behind her family’s restaurant, the demure japanese girl carefully arranged flowers as her parents served their dwindling clientele. Protection money was owed to a local gang, and they simply could not make the payment deadline. The gang’s only ultimatum was for a member of the family to defeat their leader in single combat, and she was the only one even capable of defending herself.


She had been made to wait outside of a closed door, when she arrived on the 8th floor of the gang’s headquarters. She heard an awful cry and a loud crack before she was ushered inside, and stepped through the door to see an unconscious young girl in a judo gi spreadeagled and convulsing on the mat in the center of the room. Averting her eyes as the beaten combatant was dragged unceremoniously past her, the japanese flower girl took off her jacket and slippers, stepping onto the mat herself. She wore a modified pink and blue ankle-length kimono over a dark blue swimsuit leotard, cut to let her bare legs move freely through the swishing cloth. The sleeves hung low and loose off her wrists, adding more distracting movement to her motions. Her hair hung down her cheeks, the back part tied into a long ponytail.

She bowed deeply as her opponent entered the room. Tetsu Ichi’s large tattooed body was garbed in a black mawashi. The flower girl had not known what his fighting style was prior to their meeting, and felt a small sense of dread upon seeing that she faced a sumo wrestler. Her own style was aiki-jujutsu, and while she was quite proficient, she had only ever faced classmates and family in friendly practice. Seeing Tetsu Ichi beckon for her to attack him, she breathed deeply to try and calm herself before moving in.

The first three minutes of the fight were a long and tiring game of attrition, as the flower girl tried every technique she could think of to take down or at least injure her opponent. Tetsu Ichi only reacted, often letting her tire herself out before countering with a hard slap or monstrous throw. As she painfully picked herself up off the mat for what felt like the hundredth time, the flower girl was startled as her opponent actually initiated an attack, grabbing hold of her body by the waist and lifting her several inches off the ground. She struggled to free herself, kicking her legs and striking at Tetsu Ichi’s head. The sumo wrestler turned to ask an onlooking subordinate what the time was, ignoring the desperate fighter until his underling answered him. Then, he turned quickly and threw the flower girl’s body into a nearby wall with incredible force. She crumpled and curled up, her hair messily covering her face. Tetsu Ichi grabbed hold of her head and squeezed, forcing a long moan out of his opponent as he lifted her to her feet. Walking to another wall as he nearly dragged the flower girl along with him, Tetsu Ichi then threw her in a high arc through the air. Crashing into the wall, she fell in a heap and briefly considered running from the match, before thoughts of her family’s honor made her decide otherwise.

Not giving her a chance to flee, Tetsu Ichi dragged his opponent by the back of her neck into the center of the room, where she had seen the young judoka laid out when she first arrived. The flower girl was constantly kept off balance, never able to plant her feet on the mat mount a comeback. Tetsu Ichi wrapped his arms around her body and lifted her into the air as he locked his opponent within a powerful bearhug. He pushed his head forward against her cheek as she tried to claw at his face, and tightened the hold as he felt her struggles grow more violent and desperate. The flower girl began screaming as her body was crushed in her opponent’s arms, beating her bare hands and feet against him as her bending back forced her to look up at the ceiling of the room. A sudden pop and crack came out of her spine as she screamed again, pleading for mercy before something permanently snapped. “PLEASE, I SUBMIT!! I BEG YOU, I SUBMIT!!”

Dumped on the mat, the flower girl lay sprawled before Tetsu Ichi suddenly stepped forward and sat his weight down onto her body. She flopped beneath him, gagging as the air was forced out of her lungs. The sumo wrestler stood, looking down at her as he said “I have not trained with aiki-jujutsu in a long time. That was fun. You have two more weeks to pay.” The flower girl began to reply, but Tetsu Ichi’s large foot stamped down into her chest and cut her off. Her entire body curled up around the sumo wrestler’s sole for a moment as she coughed up some bubbly saliva and wheezed. “Two weeks and you pay, or you fight me again,” he added, stepping his weight down into her body as he walked over her. The flower girl lay convulsing as she weakly clutched at her chest, helpless and writhing as she saw him lift one leg high up into the air. Tetsu Ichi then dropped his foot onto her one more time, audibly cracking ribs as his fallen opponent flopped again. She coughed up more spittle with a loud retch before she passed out, her eyes rolling back as her tongue hung out of the side of her mouth. She twitched every few seconds as she lay out cold on the mat.

A young man entered, seeing a beaten girl in a kimono in the center of the room. He tried to avert his eyes as she was dragged out of the door, trying to focus on the battle he was soon to have with the gang’s boss for the sake of his own family.


Finishing her song, the blonde girl beamed as she received a positive response from the audience of the run-down karaoke club. Brushing her hair out of her eyes as she grinned, she leaned back into the microphone and winked. “And I don’t just sing! Tomorrow night I’ll be debuting at the Wrestlehouse! C’mon down if you wanna see the brawn behind the beauty!”


The teenage wannabe pop idol had come ready to reignite the rock’n’wrestling connection, strutting to the ring in a glittery jacket and blinged-out running shoes. After taking off her entrance gear, she continued playing to the crowd in her wrestling outfit of silver silken gym shorts and a golden sports bra. Her blonde hair was an expensively styled mane, and she had spent just as much time warming up as she had applying workout-ready makeup. She planned to market herself very hard, on the back of her debut match.

And when she saw the Wrestlehouse champion, Crusher Calloway, heading to the ring as her opponent, it did not occur to her that her attitude may have rubbed the entire event staff the wrong way. Watching the large, powerful bald man step through the ropes, her first thought was that his simple outfit of green trunks was incredibly pedestrian. Her second thought was that a spunky little wrestlerette taking on a big veteran would get her all the attention she desired.

Her bouncy and youthful vigor was cut short as Crusher quickly got ahold of her after the bell, and soon had her suspended in the air in a hanging vertical suplex. The teenager’s body glitter shimmered as she kicked her bare legs wildly and wriggled to get free. Crusher held her easily, waiting until her struggles slowed and her breathing grew tired. Then, he finished the suplex, and the wannabe pop star howled as she clutched her back and found out how hard the Wrestlehouse mat really was.

Two bodyslams later, the rookie fighter was laid out writhing on the canvas, her body wracked with pain as panic clouded all of her combat training. A stomp to her gut forced her to sit up, and she slowly got to her knees before Crusher grabbed her shoulders and gave her a headbutt. The teenager lay dazed, trying and failing several times to get back up. Crusher deadlifted her off the mat by her waist, ignoring her wildly flailing limbs as he got her in position, before flipping her over and slamming her back into the ground. Her hair was a mess as she lay splayed out and stunned at her opponent’s feet, jerking back to life after Crusher dropped an elbow into her chest hard enough to make her cough up some spit.

It was the “CRUSH HER, CRUSHER” chant that finally broke the blonde girl’s spirit, as she tried and failed to crawl away while her opponent dragged her by one ankle into the center of the ring. Crusher hauled the young fighter up off the mat, and then booted her in the gut. She doubled over with a low-pitched grunt, and had no idea what to do when Crusher’s thighs were suddenly viced around her head. She held onto them out of dazed instinct, but had a sudden realization as she felt two arms slide around her waist. Crusher lifted the wannabe pop star up onto his shoulders, holding her aloft as tearful fear filled her wide and pleading eyes. She shook her head as her arms waved around unbalancedly, as she looked to the unforgiving crowd and cried “NO! NO! NOOO!!”, as they chanted for her defeat. She shrieked as she felt herself suddenly whipped down towards the mat.

The powerbomb had all but finished her, as the impact ran a shockwave through her body from head to toe. However, Crusher held onto her waist and began to lift her up again. The teenager shook her head weakly as she was raised into position again, her arms slackened as tears ran down her cheeks. The crowd was cheering loudly as her opponent made a show out of defeating her, and all she could do was weakly protest. The second powerbomb forced a loud noise out of her, even as it smashed her senses almost into unconsciousness. She wished she had been knocked out at that point, as her limp and gasping body was raised up one last time before Crusher executed a third and final powerbomb.

His beaten opponent folded up against the ground as he released her, flipping over and flopping to a rest on her stomach. Her limbs were rubbery as he shoved her over onto her back and pinned her, hooking a leg instinctively as the crowd counted. The defeated rookie was all but motionless as the count reached ten, her bare foot bouncing lifelessly off the mat as Crusher released her leg and stood back up. Her chest heaved with breath as she lay out cold in the ring, mostly ignored aside from a few karaoke audience members who took pictures from their seats, until she was finally dragged away before the next match.


Returning to her hotel room with her bronze medal, the fitness model had achieved a mild success in her latest solo kata competition. She was used to displaying forms for an audience, and had spent a few years modelling flashy martial arts gear for her sponsor while doing so. It paid well enough, but she felt almost no respect from fellow practitioners who participated in legitimate combat. So when her sponsor offered to pay her triple her usual earnings to fight a real exhibition match against a local Hong Kong champion, she instantly agreed, regardless of the risk.


Entering the Hong Kong Hilton’s underground arena, the model approached the simple canvas mat with a practiced strut, hopping over the wooden barrier and posing for the crowd. She was introduced in Cantonese, and did not speak the language well enough to understand much of what was being announced, but the yellowed lighting and murky atmosphere was as far as she could get from her usual setting of a spotlit kata stage. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was held back with a metallic pink headband, which matched her metallic pink sports bra and capri leggings.

Her opponent, a very wide and large chinese man named Gong Wei, wore a brown loincloth and a greasy head of short black hair. Already knowing that he was a champion, the fitness model had gone into the match ready to come out with more than a few injuries. But when she was finally facing her massive opponent on the mat, her heart was pounding before she even began one of the many combination attacks in her performance repertoire.

As her fists and feet smacked against Gong Wei’s sturdy body, the pink-clad girl had to pause for breath once she had exhausted over half of her library of maneuvers. The chinese fighter yawned, slapping a hand against the most recently-struck part of his upper body, and caused a look of dread to wash over his opponent. The fitness model went into the last of her kata combinations, beads of sweat running down her skin as she began crying out in frustration with each successful attack. Gong Wei was entirely unphased, and once his opponent completed her final attempt to take him down, she began to back away with visibly sapped confidence. Once she felt herself bump against the wooden barrier around the ring, the fitness model let out a shrill roar and threw herself shoulder-first at her incoming opponent in a final and desperate attack.

Reaching down and grabbing hold of the pink-clad fighter, Gong Wei forced her body upright before delivering a single headbutt that nearly caused her to flip over in place. Collecting the stunned girl off the mat, Gong Wei shoved her against the wooden barrier and held her against it with one arm. He delivered two more headbutts, snapping the fitness model’s metallic pink headband and causing her auburn hair to splay messily over her shoulders and face. Rearing back, the chinese fighter then chopped a massive hand down into her chest. He turned to walk away with an arm raised in celebration, as the fitness model let out a long moan and crumpled to the floor, clutching at the center of her ribcage. Her head still spinning, she was helpless as her opponent pushed her onto her back and planted a large foot right onto the aching part of her upper body. Gong Wei then took a step forward, pushing his titanic weight down into his opponent’s chest for an agonizing moment. The pink-clad fighter made a retching noise as she thrashed against the mat, immediately curling into a ball once her opponent had stepped off of her.

Taking hold of the back of the fitness model’s neck, Gong Wei easily lifted her off the ground before tossing her up and catching her in a bearhug. His enormous arms and massive chest made quick work of the struggling girl, squeezing the fight out of her as her arms and legs flailed wildly for a few moments. She shook her head as she cried out her surrender over and over, and coughed up some spittle when her opponent jerked her to one side with an extra application of pressure. Gong Wei opened his arms, letting the fitness model crumple at his feet. Then, he stepped forward and sat down on her chest. She flopped beneath him with a gagging cry, coughing up more foamy saliva as he squashed her like a bug. He took his time sitting up, ignoring the convulsing fighter that lay on the mat as he looked to the audience and waited.

“Jíbài!” bellowed the ring announcer.

Confused and frightened as she felt her half-conscious body flipped over onto its stomach, the fitness model filled with terrified adrenaline as she felt a painful weight sit down on her back. Her legs kicked and toes clawed at the mat as Gong Wei reached down and slid his arms under her own, wrapping them around her chest. The chinese fighter began squeezing his beaten opponent in a reverse bearhug, while remaining seated on the small of her back. The pink-clad girl’s eyes grew wide as her body began to compress within Gong Wei’s arms. Her arms flailed uselessly, unable to grab hold of anything, and her screams grew choked as her ribs began to buckle and audibly crack. Suddenly, Gong Wei’s arms closed even tighter, crushing his opponent’s ribcage as she squawked and squeaked in horrified agony. Her legs thrashed and shuddered as she began to go into shock, flecks of blood spurting from her mouth. Gong Wei then pulled his opponent back into a reverse bearhug camel clutch, bending the fitness model violently as her spine quickly snapped beneath him. Her bare feet flopped once against the mat as her entire body spasmed, a pathetic noise coming out of her gaping mouth before her tongue protruded lifelessly over her lower lip. As the girl’s eyes rolled back, Gong Wei squeezed a few shuddering crunches out of his defeated opponent’s body while the crowd roared their approval, before letting the fitness model flop facedown on the canvas as he stood to receive their adulation for crushing another foreign challenger. The beaten fighter lay flattened and limp, a small pool of blood growing from her still-gaping mouth before her body was dragged away to receive life-saving MediKade treatment from the Hong Kong Hilton’s newly-installed recuperation facility.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012


Beneath a lavish hotel, many unsuspecting foreign fighters find themselves in combat against local champions, with the losers often only surviving thanks to the venue’s advanced medical technology.


After a long day working a booth at a health and fitness conference, the serenity of a swim and a yoga session in the hotel’s gym and spa were just what the young iranian girl needed to relax. She had a day to herself before the flight back home, and almost felt satisfied with her first real business trip.

However, something gnawed at the back of her mind, planting a seed of restlessness that led her to explore another kind of workout that was rumored to be available at the Hong Kong Hilton.


“PARISA LAJANI!” declared the announcer, gesturing to the new fighter as she approached the ring.

Still wearing her white crop top and maroon mesh shorts from the yoga session earlier on, the iranian girl climbed over the wooden barrier around the mat and entered the ring. Brushing her curly bangs away from her eyes, she paced nervously under yellowed lighting as the excitement of the crowd felt strangely adversarial towards her. All she wanted was the rush of a fight, and the atmosphere of the underground arena began to make her regret her decision. But, with the warm mat beneath her feet and the wooden barrier around her, she felt there was no time to take it back.

The announcer gave another introduction in chinese, gesturing a hand to a doorway on the other side of the venue. "<The goddess body has come to humble this foreign challenger! Behold!> XU CHENG-HUA!"

A muscular, long-haired chinese woman in a tiger-striped bikini strode through the doorway, flexing her arms as the crowd parted around her. She leapt over the wooden barrier with little effort, as her opponent stared in shock at her powerful form. Parisa blinked twice, coming to her senses before stepping forward to shake Cheng-Hua’s hand. The chinese woman looked at the gesture for a moment, and responded by firmly shoving the girl back by her face.

With a shocked look on her face, Parisa looked back at her opponent in anger and ran towards her. The iranian girl threw a high kick that Cheng-Hua calmly leaned away from. Parisa followed up with a punch, and looked astonished as her opponent caught her fist in one hand. The chinese woman gripped her fingers more tightly, not releasing Parisa’s fist even as the girl began to throw punches with her free hand. Suddenly, Parisa found both of her fists held in Cheng-Hua’s hands. Trapped in a test of strength, Parisa barely managed to throw a defensive kick before her opponent’s powerful arms pushed her down to her knees. As the last of her anger dissolved into the realization of her position, Parisa’s enraged expression grew desperate. Cheng-Hua suddenly moved her arms in outward loops, twisting Parisa’s wrists before pulling up on them and forcing the iranian girl to stand back up as she cried out in pain. Leaning back and falling backwards onto the floor, Cheng-Hua pressed a foot against Parisa’s chest and launched the girl into the air, hopping back to her feet as she heard her opponent land heavily behind her.

Stunned by what had occurred, Parisa was slow to get back up, and a muscular arm wrapped around her head before she could right herself. Trapped in a crushing headlock, Parisa was yanked around in a small circle as her opponent maintained a dominant position. The pressure around her skull was intense, and she began to give in to her instinct to tap out. Then, Cheng-Hua swivelled around and switched arms, putting Parisa into a front facelock. The chinese woman rolled to one side, taking her opponent with her to the ground. Parisa had completely lost track of her position, only aware that Cheng-Hua was on top of her before she felt herself lifted off the mat. Jumping back to her feet, Cheng-Hua held her opponent by the waistline and flipped her up and over through the air, before slamming the iranian girl back-first onto the ground. Without releasing Parisa, Cheng-Hua stood back up and took her opponent with her. She yanked Parisa into a spin, and then dropped her into a kneeling backbreaker. The iranian girl’s hoarse cry of pain turned into an agonized scream as Cheng-Hua pressed down on her chin and thigh, slowly bending her body over the knee that was jammed into her spine. Holding down firmly as Parisa struggled wildly to surrender and free herself, Cheng-Hua waited until the iranian girl had gone limp before releasing the pressure and raising her arms to flex for the crowd, her opponent still draped over her knee.

The announcer’s voice suddenly called out, "Jíbài!!"

Collecting Parisa in her arms, Cheng-Hua stood up and then lifted the half-conscious fighter onto her shoulders. Wrapping one arm around Parisa’s head and the other around the iranian girl’s lowermost thigh, Cheng-Hua began to curl her opponent around herself like a shawl. Parisa’s eyes blinked rapidly as she began to moan. She had blacked out in the agony of the backbreaker, and awoke just as her body began to feel a fresh kind of spinal torture. With Cheng-Hua’s arm also crushing itself around her skull as she was bent further in the hold, Parisa swung her arms and kicked her free leg wildly in the air as she was overwhelmed with pain. Her back creaked and cracked, before giving off a wet snap as her body suddenly bent several degrees further. Parisa gave a delayed squawk, her eyes wide as her body quivered. Cheng-Hua then squeezed her arm tighter around the broken girl’s head, eventually causing something to crack inside of Parisa’s skull. The iranian girl’s eyes rolled up as a stream of spittle dripped from her mouth, before she was released and slid off of Cheng-Hua’s shoulders to land in a heap facedown on the mat.

Posing over her opponent’s body before it was dragged away for MediKade treatment, Cheng-Hua beamed as the announcer declared, "<Another foreign challenger lies broken at the feet of a champion! Your winner>, XU CHENG-HUA!"



Fighters are herded into a fenced-off pen as they await their matches within a classic underground cage.


Her panting and her heartbeat were the only sounds in her ears, until she crossed the finish line. Bending over to catch her breath, the young track athlete winced as she began to worry that she had not managed to clear the necessary time.

“Well, you came real close,” said the girl with the stopwatch.

“Aw, come on,” whined the runner, shaking her head.

“Listen,” continued the stopwatch girl, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “All you need is more stamina. And if you REALLY want to get on the team, I know a way you can build some HARDCORE stamina.”

Tilting her head curiously, the runner wiped some sweat from her brow and blinked. “Tell me more.”



Peeling off a pair of sneaker socks before stepping onto the mat, the track athlete put her long blonde locks up in a messy bun and began to limber up. Wearing a white tank top that was tucked into the waistband of a navy blue pair of high cut athletic briefs, the leggy young fighter looked more like she was preparing for a casual workout than a caged pit fight.

Her expression changed as soon as she saw Willie, a massively wide black man in a dark blue singlet, with short hair and a moustache. She briefly looked around with a pouting frown as she saw that the cage was sealed and the match was about to begin, and chewed her lower lip as she faced her opponent. The only reasons Madison had even decided to agree to a stamina training session in the Battle Pit ring was because she had taken many afternoon kickboxing lessons, and had a basic understanding of amateur wrestling from up until she failed to qualify for the school team. She thought she would have a basic MMA match and come away with a couple of bruises. Locking eyes with Willie, the only relief on her mind was that she had decided not to invite her usual social circle to come and spectate.

Forcing herself to think of it as any other competitive sport she had participated in, Madison assumed a basic kickboxing stance and inched towards her opponent. Willie had a near-permanent dour look on his face, standing his ground and waiting to see what she would do. The track athlete threw a cautious kick that smacked against Willie’s wide stomach. Waiting an awkward moment as she saw the strike have little effect, Madison began throwing more kicks, switching legs as her calves grew sore. Willie grunted as the impacts grew in number, raising his arms to prevent anything from hitting him above his chest. Stepping back and panting heavily, the track athlete bent forward slightly to rub her aching legs as a disbelieving look washed over her face. Her opponent began to march forward, swinging tree-trunk arms at the leggy young fighter. She managed to duck and weave out of the way several times, not realizing that she was being herded in a certain direction until she tried to dodge and found herself running straight into the cage wall. Willie’s forearm clubbed her hard enough to drop her to the ground, and he simply loomed over her as she held the side of her head and began to get back up.

Seeing her opponent’s massive form standing right in front of her as she righted herself, Madison lifted leg to defend herself. Willie simply seized her entire body, scooping her up into the air and over his shoulders. The track athlete cried out in surprise as she travelled a high arc up and over her opponent, landing heavily on her back when she eventually slammed onto the mat. She bounced, flipping over onto her stomach, and coughed as it took a moment for her to regain her breath. Willie stepped over her as she began to push herself off the floor, and reached down to yank her up into a rear full-nelson hold. Kicking her strong and bared legs several times in front of her as hard as she could, the track athlete soon grew tired and weary as Willie held her trapped and ground her shoulder blades together. He grunted as he lobbed her to one side, releasing the hold and tossing the leggy young fighter a full meter before she tumbled further across the ring.

Soaked in sweat with her hair having mostly come loose from its messy bun, Madison was a gasping mess as she crawled to her feet, thick blond strands plastered to her face. Willie punched a fist right through her defenses and into her torso, and followed up with another body blow that dropped the track athlete to her knees with a winded cry. He reached down and lifted her back up into a standing bear hug, grunting loudly as he quickly forced a cracking noise from his opponent’s ribcage with one squeeze. Madison croaked as her head whipped back from the sudden pain, and gave little resistance as Willie threw her back and into the cage wall. A meaty hand grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the floor, holding her body against the cage as she gagged and grabbed at Willie’s unmoving fingers. She managed to kick her opponent’s chest once before he speared a fist into her ribcage hard enough to shake the cage. Willie pushed his knuckles in deeply as his opponent moaned woefully, and then sharply twisted his fist. Madison’s ribs audibly cracked, and she spasmed violently as she rapidly choked and gasped, saliva dripping out of her mouth. Willie pulled her forward and released her throat, only to hold her horizontally across his chest.

Kicking her legs weakly, the young fighter made a futile attempt to wriggle free. She had enough sense to know that she was being carried, and was fearful of what would happen when her opponent reached his destination. Stopping in the center of the ring, Willie grunted loudly and raised the track athlete up. Madison shrieked hoarsely in terror, shaking her head until she was slammed back-first onto the mat. Willie drove his body down on top of hers as she fell, and the track athlete’s legs flopped with an impact shockwave as her torso was crushed beneath her opponent’s, her ribs crunching loudly. Her head bounced twice off the canvas as blood squirted from her throat and over her lips. Madison lay unconscious and mostly unmoving on her back with her mouth gaping open, her lungs fighting to breathe even after Willie got off of her to celebrate.



Formerly a prestigious training center, the abandoned ring was soon taken over as a dangerous venue often filled with fresh-faced novices seeking early glory, and sadistic veterans seeking violent satisfaction.


Wiping the sweat from her brow, she squatted to lift another box of books, and began another journey through the library’s warehouse. She was happy to do the manual labor that other junior assistants often avoided. It helped her stay strong.

“Break for lunch!”

Glancing over her shoulder, she decided to finish carrying the load before going off the clock. After all, she needed all the strength-training she could get.



The young samoan girl approached the ring with a nervous expression, glancing left and right at the hungry crowd that watched her step through the ropes and onto the mat. Wearing a strapless green leotard, her bare limbs and shoulders were toned and strong beneath the arena lights. Lulu absently pushed back her dark curly hair as she limbered up for the fight.


Stomping with purpose towards her foe, the thick and curvy filipino woman cracked her knuckles and snarled. Her wild black hair and dark eyeshadow gave her glare a smoldering intensity. Killer Singh wore a black and silver swimsuit leotard, with black tape around her wrists. When she entered the ring, she silently regarded her opponent for a moment, before stomping a bare foot onto the mat and roaring at the intimidated younger girl.


The two fighters squared up, Killer Singh almost hypnotizing Lulu with her glare before the samoan girl shook it off and threw a high kick into the side of her opponent’s head. Killer Singh did not blink as the kick connected, and immediately grabbed hold of Lulu’s bare foot before shoving the young fighter straight down to the mat. Lulu tumbled head over heels, coming to a rest on her hands and knees as she stared up at her looming opponent. Killer Singh grabbed hold of her head with both hands, forcing Lulu to stand up with a pained squeal. Without letting go, Singh proceeded to hurl Lulu up and over her shoulder like a medicine ball. Lulu cried out in fear before hitting the canvas, stunned and scrambling to get back to her feet.

Lulu turned around just in time to see Killer Singh’s entire body rushing towards her. The larger fighter ran chest-first into her opponent, physically bouncing Lulu off of her. Lulu made a startled grunt before she flew back, landing on the back of her head and flipping over to come to a rest on her stomach. Her head was spinning, struggling to comprehend what had just happened to her, when she suddenly found herself lifted off the ground. Killer Singh twirled the young fighter around in her arms before dropping Lulu into a dominating backbreaker, forcing an agonized noise out of the samoan girl. Lulu bent harshly over Singh’s knee, and then just as quickly flopped over onto the mat in a writhing heap. Killer Singh waited until her opponent was on her back, and then delivered an elbow-drop straight into the center of Lulu’s chest. A spray of spittle burst from the samoan girl’s mouth as she bounced in place, laying splayed out and gasping for breath.

A hand dug its fingers into Lulu’s forehead, drawing a growing noise out of her mouth as Killer Singh squeezed her skull. Then, the larger fighter pulled her opponent right off the mat with the same hand, and slammed her back down. Twice more, the iron claw locked onto Lulu’s head lifted and slammed her as it crushed a throbbing ache into her brain. Killer Singh finally used her other hand, picking Lulu back up. The samoan girl stared in a fearful daze as her opponent roared, arms outstretched to either side. Then, there was a loud clap of skin on skin as Killer Singh decimated the young fighter’s collarbone with a mongolian chop. Lulu fell to her knees instantly, crying out a long and painful noise. Her mouth continued gaping as Killer Singh pulled her into a bearhug, violently pumping the young fighter’s body as Lulu shrieked and shook her head, no longer able to take the pain. Killer Singh did not stop until Lulu’s limbs were bouncing limply in the air, pausing only to look at the unconscious girl being crushed in her arms.

Turning her smaller foe over in her arms, Killer Singh held Lulu across her chest, in position for any number of slamming maneuvers. Instead, she bit down into the side of the girl’s abdomen until Lulu spasmed back to life, screeching in horror as she awoke to a biting pain. Immediately, Killer Singh dropped Lulu’s ribs down onto her knee, cracking one with the modified backbreaker. The samoan girl kicked her legs and beat her fists against her opponent’s shoulder, wracked in agony. Killer Singh simply stood up, still holding onto the young fighter. Then, she raised Lulu overhead, letting the terrified samoan girl fully take in the height of her helpless situation.

Lulu croaked sharply when she was finally thrown down into an over-the-knee backbreaker, her spine cracking loudly. Killer Singh lifted Lulu off her knee, raising her body to shoulder height before throwing her straight down onto the mat. Lulu splayed out upon impact, her back cracking once again against the canvas. She gasped weakly as her head lolled to one side, seeing Killer Singh’s body blocking out the lights above her. The larger fighter splashed down onto Lulu’s torso, causing several muffled cracks and a meaty crunch while Lulu’s limbs and head flopped against the mat. One of Lulu’s legs twitched softly as her opponent lay on top of her.

Killer Singh righted herself to begin to get up. Snarling, she grabbed Lulu’s hair and pulled the defeated fighter into one last needless headbutt before letting the beaten girl slump back to the mat. Killer Singh stood over her crushed and comatose opponent for a few moments, like a predator guarding its fresh catch, before leaving the ring.



Constructed within the ruins of an ancient Greek city, the Pankratorum ring is surrounded by solid stone walls and columns, and its audience decides whether or not the winner of a match shows mercy to their defeated opponent.


“Of course I’m nervous! Fuck.”

She paced around her hotel room, ruffling her hair with one hand as she held the phone with the other.

“Where are you, anyway? I need you to spot me in case I need help getting back to my room.”

Hopping on one foot as she pulled off one leg of her jeans, she sighed.

“Yes, yes that’s what I mean, but I’m not going out there to lose, I’m...shit!”

After falling onto the carpeted floor, she blew some hair out of her eyes and began to scoot out of her jeans.


Padding towards her duffel bag, she shook her head.

“I’m not gonna trip when I’m out there, obviously! Anyway. Get here before 9. I need to finish getting changed. Weren’t you going to enter the tournament too?”

After a pause, she rolled her eyes.

“How merciful of you.”



The nervous New Zealander let out a long exhale as she stepped onto the fighting platform. She had an average and unimpressive slim build, despite her magenta singlet’s best attempts to cling to her physique. Running a hand through the bangs of her medium-length dark hair, she hopped in place and swung her arms, before slowing to a pause as she was joined in the ring.

A titan of a german man in dark slacks and a sleeveless shirt, Bardrick Kraus’ perfect ponytail matched his flawless silhouette. He slowly uncrossed his arms, looking over his opponent with an assessing eye that immediately made her feel less like a fighter, and more like an obstacle.


Her work on stage gave Marissa the small advantage of being able to assume a role and block out the thoughts of being fed to another competitor as a warm-up match. Her brow locked in intense focus as she only let herself be the amateur wrestler that had found a taste for underground combat. She crouched slightly and inched forward, flexing her fingers as she looked over her opponent’s powerful body. Kraus had assumed a fist-fighting stance, which made Marissa confident she could take him to the ground and keep him there.

When she finally leapt in, Kraus immediately cut her off with a punch to the face. Marissa stumbled to one side, quickly finding her footing as she rubbed her jaw. She exhaled, finding her stance again as she circled the center of the ring. The grappling kiwi girl went for another takedown, managing to ram herself shoulder-first into Kraus’ gut and grab hold of his waist. The massive german soon slammed a forearm onto her back, following up with a knee-lift into her gut. Marissa’s arms came loose as the wind was smashed out of her, still doubled-over from the grapple attempt. Kraus sent her spinning down to the mat with a wide-arcing backhand blow.

Crawling off the floor, Marissa looked up to see that her opponent was no longer even looking at her, raising an arm as he flexed it for the crowd. Gripping her fingers and toes against the mat, Marissa proceeded to launch herself at Kraus, catching his midsection in her grasp and using her momentum to slam him heavily onto the canvas. She swiftly swivelled around to seat herself alongside his body and pulled Kraus into a neck-cranking headlock. Two hands soon reached up to grip her temple and jaw, as Kraus began to twist and crank Marissa’s neck in response. The kiwi fighter fought to maintain her hold, despite her opponent’s neck muscles feeling like steel in her arms. Slowly, Kraus twisted Marissa’s head further, and she began to moan. Her biceps quivering in effort, Marissa was finally forced to release the hold as the pain in her neck joined the exhaustion in her arms to overwhelm her senses. She howled loudly until Kraus shoved her head away, but the relief was only momentary. A sharp punch to her throat made Marissa gag, and Kraus pulled her down to receive a headbutt that sent her reeling in a heap on the mat.

Barely getting to her hands and knees, Marissa felt a hand take hold of her scalp to expose her neck, before a hard chop to the back of her throat dropped her back onto the floor. Kraus raised an arm, and then dropped an elbow into the small of his opponent’s back, forcing her to flop and roll over in a spasm of pain. Standing up and raising his arm again, Kraus took time to flex a bicep before dropping his elbow again, this time straight into the center of Marissa’s chest. She spat up a spray of saliva and sweat as she grunted, flopping once again before curling up and turning over onto her side. Kraus scooped her up in his arms and raised her overhead in a show of strength, letting his opponent cry out in surprise and confusion before throwing her back down onto the canvas. Her body smacked loudly against the platform, and Marissa went stiff as her whole body went through a fresh wave of aching fatigue. Her attempt to retreat amounted to simply reaching for the lights overhead, before slumping face-down at her opponent’s feet.

Kraus was already upon her, kneeling down to pull her head under one arm. Locking in a front face lock, Kraus forced Marissa to stand up with him, his height eventually causing her to stand on her toes as she pulled fruitlessly at his forearm. The german giant began to tighten the hold, and his muscles began to smother and choke out the struggling grappler, whose croaks grew louder and higher in pitch. Applying full pressure caused Marissa’s head and neck to dip down, which made her feet leave the mat. Her eyes were bulging and rolling up as foamy bubbles of spit pushed out of her lips, and her toes spread and clawed as they frantically tried to grasp at the canvas that rested nearly an inch out of their reach.

When Marissa’s arms slumped down from their futile attempt to free her from the hold, Kraus raised his free hand as he loosened the hold. He maintained it to keep his beaten opponent upright, letting her feet once again touch the mat as her body shuddered half-consciously. Kraus hammered a forearm down into Marissa’s back twice, each crushing blow ensuring that she did not completely pass out. Finally seeing a thumbs-down signal from the crowd, Kraus hammered her back once more, kneeling down with the strike to allow Marissa to crumple to her hands and knees.

Marissa’s world was a gasping, choking daze of agony, with every muscle in her neck and back crying out for her to stop fighting. The flesh of her back had softly crunched beneath the last hammer blow, and she was aware enough to hear the crowd’s roars escalating. Something was going to happen to finish her off, and all of her pre-fight nerves rushed back to fill her stomach with dread and shame.

Kraus finally threw his coup de gras, slamming a fist and forearm down into Marissa’s back with a much louder and meaty crunch. The defeated kiwi girl flopped out face-down on the mat, her sweaty body splayed out and motionless once it had come to a rest. Kraus firmly stomped down on the back of her shoulders, raising a fist in victory as he stood atop the beaten grappler, whose only signs of life were the uneven shudders of her unconscious breaths.



A simple raised platform surrounded by benches may not look very threatening, but the venue’s reputation for ending careers has grown with each passing season.


Walking into the dancewear section of the department store with hushed giggles, the haitian girl and her korean friend began picking through the racks of clothing.

“This one looks good,” began the korean girl, before turning to her friend and gasping. “Omigod, you can’t seriously want to wear that!”

“I heard these things are like that old Wrestlemania,” replied the haitian girl, grinning mischievously. “I’m gonna be a diva for that crowd and, I dunno, get noticed by a bigtime manager.”

“Uuugh!” The korean girl turned back to the rack next to her and looked once again at the item she had picked up. “I just wanna look swag when I fight for real.”

The haitian girl walked over and slung an arm over her friend’s shoulder. “After class on Friday, we’re gonna be pitfight superstars, honey.”


“Lovelie, to the ring!”

Hearing her name, the haitian girl sprang to her feet and leapt onto the raised fighting platform. She flashed a broad and gleaming smile as she winked at her friend and blew kisses into the crowd. Her frizzy hair bounced as she performed a few flashy dance-styled kick combos, wearing a shiny silver bikini. While her legs were toned, her body looked very soft from the waist-up, but that did not seem to stop the confidence that permeated her appearance as she stood in the Pit Brutale ring.

“Fujo, to the ring!”

A very large african woman in a black swimsuit stepped onto the platform. Her wild dreadlocks shook as she began pounding her chest, before loudly stomping a foot onto the mat with a roar.

At the sound of the bell, the haitian girl began to move quickly, bouncing on her soles and smiling as she circled her opponent. She was so certain that her speed and grace would let her easily take out the legs of such a large target, she even took the time to to a few cartwheels and a handstand. Flipping back to her fighting stance, she grinned and called out, “Come get some pain, fatass!”

Seeing Fujo continue to glare at her, the bikini-clad fighter finally moved in and swirled around to open up with a spinning savate kick. With sudden speed, Fujo swatted the haitian girl’s leg away before the kick could land. Knocked off-balance, Lovelie suddenly found herself toe-to-toe with her opponent as the african woman wrapped her in a bearhug. With her arms trapped at her sides, the haitian girl only managed to clutch at the edges of Fujo’s swimsuit before the larger fighter’s arms began to squeeze with immense force. Gasping loudly as the air was suddenly forced from her lungs, Lovelie desperately struggled to get free as she was lifted up, her toes barely brushing the mat as they kicked wildly. With a roar, Fujo began to wrench her opponent left and right as she squeezed harder. It did not take long for the haitian girl to begin screaming as the fight was wrung out of her body. All of her confidence was gone as she shook her head and wailed, “No more, no more, please!!” Fujo responded by hugging her hard enough to bend her backwards, licking her lips as her opponent’s body cracked and shuddered. Lovelie’s legs pumped involuntarily as her eyes began to slacken and glaze.

Turning quickly, Fujo threw her weakened foe down onto the mat with a loud bang, leaving her opponent sprawled out on her stomach. Lovelie began to gasp for breath, but the moment of mercy ended as Fujo delivered a body-splash across her back. The bikini-clad fighter’s arms and legs rippled against the floor as a shockwave went through her body, forcing a defeated noise out of her throat. Fujo got up, stepping one leg over her opponent as the girl beneath her once again tried to breathe deeply. Then, the african woman sat down heavily, forcing another visible shockwave through her opponent as her weight came down on the haitian girl’s suffering back. Ignoring Lovelie’s sobbing after the impact had forced another shrill grunt out of her, Fujo stood up and violently sat down again.

There was an audible crunch as the haitian girl’s eyes went wide, her head jerking up and shuddering briefly as she choked on shock and pain, making a long croaking noise. Her legs had stopped struggling, once they came to a rest from the shockwave, and her head slumped back to the mat as tears began to run from her vacant eyes. Lovelie’s lips softly quivered as Fujo stood up once more. Dropping her weight down a third time, Fujo bellowed in victory as she further crushed the haitian girl’s freshly-broken back. Lovelie limply flopped once with another crunch, as a spurt of blood sprayed from her mouth and across the mat. Fujo slammed her fists down onto the back of the bikini-clad fighter’s head, before she raised them triumphantly. After she felt the girl beneath her cease shuddering, the african woman got up and began to walk away.

Horrified by the sight of her friend being pulverized on the mat in front of her, the korean girl had already begun to stand up when ring attendants took hold of her beaten friend’s ankles and began to drag her limp form off the canvas. Tears in her eyes, the korean girl locked a hateful stare with Fujo’s hungry gaze. The african woman pointed at her and beckoned her to the ring, as the attendants dropped Lovelie’s legs and left her prone body at ringside.

“Fujo accepts another challenge! Soo-mi, to the ring! Let the grudge match begin!”

Soo-mi was already in the ring, wearing a sparkling sports top with matching shorts, both in a magenta mermaid-pattern. The ponytailed korean girl’s eyes betrayed her already-falling confidence before she charged angrily towards Fujo, leaping to throw a series of taekwondo kicks. The first two struck her opponent’s body, while the third connected with Fujo’s jaw and forced the larger fighter to turn in place and fall to one knee. Reality briefly asserted itself with Soo-mi as she paused, staring at her handiwork while trying to figure out what to do next.

While the korean girl began to rush in for her next attack, she had given Fujo enough time to clench a fist. With devastating speed for her size, Fujo whirled around and almost broke her opponent’s neck with a deafening lariat. The sheer weight and speed behind Fujo’s arm flipped Soo-mi head-over-heels, her body spiralling forward under its own momentum before crashing onto the mat. She was completely motionless until Fujo splashed on top of her, possibly waking her up with the crushing impact.

Soo-mi felt like she had been hit by a truck and squashed with its payload, her eyes unfocused as she clawed uselessly at the mat to try and crawl away. Fujo slid her arms beneath the korean girl, locking in a reverse bearhug on the helpless fighter that was trapped under her weight. Struggling and squealing like an animal rather than a martial artist, Soo-mi’s body cracked within the hold, her ribs quickly giving out as a small spurt of blood escaped her lips. Fujo held on tightly as she lifted Soo-mi off the ground and into the air, before slamming her onto the mat. Still maintaining the reverse bearhug, Fujo lifted and slammed Soo-mi again, while the korean girl’s wide-eyed face was nearly frozen in shock. Ignoring her opponent’s hand weakly tapping the mat to surrender, Fujo hauled Soo-mi into the air once more. The taekwondo fighter’s tears and drool trailed in an arc, her eyes half-rolled up as she howled a pleading noise. The final slam came with a crunch of both bone and wood, as Soo-mi’s broken body left a dent in the mat. Fujo finally released her lifeless opponent, crossing her arms and watching as Soo-mi was dragged off the mat to make way for some quick ring repairs, her crushed form dumped on top of Lovelie’s while a stretcher was summoned to remove both of them from the arena.


Swell Supporter
May 9, 2012

“Rock ‘em, sock ‘em! Take ‘em down!” Bouncing in unison with her fellow cheerleaders, she grinned broadly as she cheered for her team. While projecting a bubbly and supporting attitude, she was hungry to see the players sweat, and smash into each other. Even though she had to watch from the sidelines, her bright eyes were eager to see some primal violence.


“Next up! Tanya, get in there!”

Grinning broadly as she put on a brave and bubbly face, Tanya’s strong legs and fit cheerleader body was on display as she stepped through the ropes and onto the mat, wearing a deep navy swimsuit leotard and nothing else. She struck a showy pose, knowing that she had an admirer waiting for her in the crowd, and playfully brushed back her auburn locks as she moved to one corner of the ring.

“And your opponent! Angela Steel, get in there!”

A heavy black robe dropped to the floor as it fell from the shoulders of an enormous amazonian woman in crimson and black bikini tights, with similarly colored tassels hanging from her thick biceps. Raven-haired with bloodied darkened tattoos and warpaint all over her powerful body, her cold gray eyes fixed on Tanya as a broad smile grew across her lips.


Tanya’s face was flinching as she took in the powerful fighter that shared the ring with her, but bolstered by the fact that someone was watching her do battle, she bravely pushed forward and threw a series of swirling kicks. Angela’s face jerked from side to side as she took them head-on, letting Tanya’s feet fly against her cheeks and chest. Excited that her kicks were landing, Tanya’s beaming face began to falter as she paused for breath and realized her opponent was still standing quite comfortably in front of her. Angela began to grin, even as Tanya let out a shrill kiai and swatted a foot across her face with a jumping roundhouse kick.

Staring in fear and disbelief, Tanya was like a deer in the headlights when Angela reached forward to lock up with her, pulling the smaller girl into a standing grappling contest. Unequipped for such a contest of raw strength, Tanya could only grunt and groan with effort as her bare limbs and back started to glisten with sweat. With ease, Angela slid an arm down and scooped her opponent up into the air, wielding her in position for a bodyslam. Tanya’s lithe legs kicked helplessly as she tried to throw her knees towards her assaulter’s head, while Angela carried her around the ring to demonstrate her dominance in the opening minutes of the match. Then, the raven-haired amazon threw her opponent down onto her knee, transitioning the move into a backbreaker that forced a stunned squawk out of Tanya’s throat.

Knowing that she already felt something pop inside of her back, Tanya writhed in pain while her fighting spirit evaporated from her mind. Her kicks had barely scratched the powerful woman who proceeded to manhandle and humiliate her with just one move. And before she could roll onto the mat, Angela yanked her up off of her knee and stood up, before gorilla-pressing Tanya overhead in another show of strength. Tanya’s arms and legs began flailing in the air as she squealed in fear, her cheeks reddening as Angela proceeded to pump her body up and down to the crowd’s delight. The amazon warrior turned to face each side of the ring, grinning widely as she heard her opponent’s will break down into frightened cries above her, and pausing as she heard a particularly fearful cry from the audience. Someone pushing her way to the front row was clearly invested in Tanya’s health, and Angela could not resist the chance to exhibit some cruelty in response.

Tanya shrieked as she was hurled into the air, soaring over the top rope and into a long fall towards the concrete floor outside. Her sweaty body landed with an awful smack, leaving her sprawled facedown as a familiar voice was begging her to get up. Angela eventually arrived to oblige, yanking Tanya up to her feet by the back of her throat. The brutalized cheerleader stared woefully at the face of her admirer at ringside, humiliated to be thrown around in front of her. Then her eyes snapped wide open as she was lifted up and slammed face-first into the top of the ringside barricade. Leaving strings of bloody drool behind as Angela pulled her back and walked her towards the side of the ring, Tanya was stumbling and dazed, helpless as her admirer reached out and was held back by venue security.

Turning her opponent around to face her, Angela wrapped one arm around Tanya’s head, and the other under Tanya’s arm, before raising the beaten cheerleader off her feet and into a lifting triangle hold. As her upper spine and throat were bearhugged, Tanya’s free arm and legs flailed wildly while she was ragdolled from side to side. Angela glared right at the girl in the audience as she forced her to watch Tanya’s body get ravaged while facing away from her. Screaming in pain, Tanya began to beg for mercy before her speech grew slurred and her struggles grew weaker. Angela planted her feet before wrenching her opponent hard to one side, leaning down as she did so. Tanya let out an awful sound as a sickening crack came out of her shoulder, which visibly dislocated before her arm was further mashed against her throat. The cheerleader’s eyes went glassy as she was choked into unconsciousness, foamy drool spilling out of her mouth as her head hung back and stared blankly at her admirer’s horrified face.

Rather than simply releasing the beaten girl in her grasp, Angela adjusted her grip to lift Tanya’s limp form overhead once again, holding the cheerleader’s throat and thigh firmly. Parading her opponent’s body for a few steps, Angela arrived at one of the corners of the ring, and proceeded to slam Tanya’s body straight into the steel post. Tanya’s back crunched as she bent backwards around the ring post, sweat and saliva spraying from her body after the horrible impact.

The crowd cheered as Tanya’s broken body dropped facedown to the floor like a bag of meat, drowning out the cries of her admirer while Angela raised her arms in victory.

Dancing with swirling silken cloths in each hand, the performer delighted in all the eyes that watched her body move on the stage. While this was a dance representing a flowing, tranquil river, she quietly brimmed with excitement at the opposing performance she would be giving in just a few more hours.

“Round 2 final match! Angela Steel, back in the ring!”

Grinning with excitement, the amazonian fighter strode back into the ring, raising her arms and roaring as she flexed her muscles for the crowd. She could still feel her first opponent’s body succumbing in her grasp, and the look of horror on the girl’s admirer lit a cruel fire in Angela that was aching for more fuel.

“And your opponent, Willow! Back in the ring!”

Her lip pouting with a look of worry on her face, Willow tried to shake it off by performing a twirling flourish for the crowd as she approached the ring. The gorgeous dancer’s thick dark hair swirled around her bare shoulders as her skin glistened under the lights, mostly revealed by her scant fight attire of off-white dance briefs with a matching camisole bra top. Her strong legs and eager confidence got the crowd behind her in the first round, where she managed to pin and choke out her opponent with her thick thighs. However, she had also seen what Angela did in her own opening fight, and did not want to suffer the same brutal fate as the near-lifeless girl that was dragged off the floor in its aftermath.


As Angela strode towards the center of the ring, she could already tell that her opponent was trying and failing to hide her intimidation, creeping in a slow circle with her eyes darting between Angela’s arms and face. The amazonian fighter let a neutral smile form on her lips as she opened her arms wide. Willow saw the invitation, and intended to make Angela pay for allowing her to open the engagement. Feinting and spinning towards her, Willow finally unleashed a high roundhouse kick that was almost acrobatic in its lead-up.

And Angela did find herself enjoying the show, before she shot her arm up and bent it to snatch Willow’s ankle between her bicep and forearm. Willow barely had a chance to hop on one foot before Angela’s other hand grabbed hold of her throat and lifted her up by her neck and her captured leg. The fighting dancer made a series of whimpering and frightened noises as she stared down with wide eyes, almost in disbelief that she was already being overpowered in such a way, while Angela ran her towards her starting corner. Willow’s back exploded in pain as it was slammed down into the turnbuckles, leaving her stunned and gasping, slumped against the corner that she had only just left at the beginning of the match.

Realizing her leg was still hooked and trapped by one of her opponent’s arms, Willow began to struggle. Angela reached forward and grabbed the back of her head, and quickly gave the dancer a new unbelievable situation as she began slamming Willow’s head into her own captured knee. After five loud cracks of knee against skull, Angela released her opponent and took a few steps back. Willow’s eyes were wide and slightly crossed, confused and pained noises coming out of her mouth with a trickle of drool. She was trying to process what had just happened, but after a few seconds she let out a sharp cry of pain as Angela charged in and slammed a lariat into her chest and throat. Willow collapsed out of her corner, crumpling facedown on the mat.

Every ounce of confidence from her first-round win had been beaten out of her, leaving the dazed dancer crawling across the mat like a slug. A hand suddenly clapped onto the back of her neck, before Angela lifted her straight up several feet off the mat, and then slammed her back down into it. Willow’s body flopped and bounced with a defeated grunt. She lay prone and groaning as Angela knelt down over her back, quickly grabbing one of her ankles and bending her leg up and over the amazon’s shoulder. Angela’s other hand cupped under Willow’s chin and pulled her head up, stretching her back, leg, and neck. While she was very flexible, Willow felt trapped, pinned, and pretzeled. She was quickly slapping her hands and free foot against the mat.

“Oh, it’s not time for that yet,” sneered Angela. Then, the amazonian fighter began pounding Willow’s captured foot into the back of her own head like a bludgeon. Screaming shrill noises of pain and shock, Willow tried to process the feeling of her own bare sole against her skull as every impact battered her brain and bent her body harshly. Willow’s arms and free leg stopped struggling after a few hits and simply began flopping against the mat, while saliva spurted out of her slacken mouth.

Finally releasing her opponent, Angela stood and regarded the dominated dancer that lay quivering at her feet. She reached down, once again gripping the back of Willow’s neck, before dragging her up to her feet. Willow’s eyes were glazed, staring glassily forward as her face fell into a tired mixture of defeat and fear. Angela yanked her around and began to crush her shoulder and spine, lifting the now-howling dancer up off the mat to brutally ragdoll her from side to side in a lifted triangle hold. Willow’s bare feet flailed helplessly in the air as her eyes began to flutter and her voice grew weaker. Then, her eyes snapped open as Angela’s arms sharply tightened and yanked down, crunching something in her shoulder and cracking something near her neck. Willow screamed unintelligibly before Angela firmly tightened the hold and pulled her up higher, forcing gurgles and spasms out of the dancer for several seconds. Not permitted to simply pass out, Willow lost consciousness as her brain was overwhelmed by the sheer pain of the crushing and choking maneuver, before Angela threw her aside like a broken doll and left her body sprawled on the mat.


With a long sigh, she watched her phone as it recorded her a few feet away. Then, she put on a practiced smile, kicking a foot towards the phone’s camera and spreading her toes, before swiveling on her heel to throw more flashy kicks into the waiting training dummy that stood alongside her. Her account’s followers would eat up the vapid content, but she couldn’t wait for the day that she would have fans of her upcoming pitfighting victories, rather than her online karate demonstrations.


Stepping onto the matted floor of one of the Crush Club’s cubicle fight rings, Karen Southpaw waved some of the artificial smoke out of her eyes. The Crush Club’s cubes were fairly small and square combat arenas, framed in metal with bulletproof glass windows along each of their four walls. While she did not know who her opponent would be, the digital display outside let onlookers know the names and styles of each combatant. Karen had her blonde hair in a messy bun, proudly wearing her clean white karate gi and ready to prove that she was a warrior, especially to her followers that came to watch her do battle.

What she was not ready for was the sight of her opponent, Kujira, a massive japanese woman built like a steamroller. Kujira wore a black swimsuit with a wide white strip running up from her belly, flowing into the white makeup that covered her face and neck along with black warpaint around her eyes. Her long dark hair hung in unkempt strings and blades, framing her face as she let out a monstrous roar and stamped a foot into the mat.

Karen gulped deeply, but shook her head and returned the roar with a shrill kiai of her own. No matter what happened next, she would be a warrior. Her fans would respect her, and she would give this monster the fight of her life. Karen bravely marched forward to meet her approaching foe in the middle of the mat, and unleashed two powerful punches into Kujira’s chest, followed by a hard snap kick.

After watching her opponent’s bare hands and foot smack against her broad chest solidly, Kujira shot her arms over Karen’s shoulder and under Karen’s groin to scoop her right off the mat. Marching towards one of the bulletproof glass windows, Kujira ignored the karate girl’s wild struggles and increasingly desperate yelps before she began smashing Karen’s entire body into the unforgiving glass wall. Crushed between the clear surface and her opponent’s heavy chest, Karen cried out in shock and pain as she was bashed into the wall four times. Her bare feet left footprints on the glass as her arms and legs slapped against it, and many of her fans began recording the influencer’s beating for their own accounts as Kujira proceeded to throw her body down to the mat. Kelly fell slightly out of sight with a loud thud and a winded grunt, laying behind the metal framing that ran around the edges of the cube. But then her legs kicked back up into view once Kujira lifted a massive foot and stomped it down into her chest.

With a large footprint marring the front of her gi jacket and her hair halfways coming loose in a haze of blonde strands, Karen whimpered in a daze as Kujira lifted her up to her feet by her collar. Then, she cried out in agony as her opponent’s arms wrapped around her upper body, sliding under her arms and compressing tightly around her ribs. Raising both her hands to tap out, Karen screamed as she was sharply hoisted up and ragdolled from side to side, feeling her ribs cracking apart within Kujira’s bearhug while her arms and legs flailed helplessly. Kujira planted her feet and squeezed until she felt a torturous crunch that easily reached the ears of her audience, all but ignoring Karen’s attempts to surrender before several snapped ribs sent the karateka influencer into spasms.

Letting out a wet grunt as she was thrown against the glass wall, Karen slide sideways onto the mat, gasping and weakly clutching at her chest. Kujira took hold of one of her bare ankles, dragging the injured karate girl to the center of the ring. Seeing a massive leg raise above her, Karen extended both of her hands in a sobbing plea before Kujira’s foot stamped down into her chest. Karen’s ribs cracked and snapped again as Kujira’s sole pressed a hideous footprint right into the beaten karateka’s body, caving a dent into her chest. Spitting out a gob of bloody saliva, Karen’s eyes bugged out as she curled up and shuddered around Kujira’s foot like a squashed bug. Gagging loudly as Kujira raised her other foot, putting her entire weight into Karen’s horribly crushed chest, the karateka let out a shriek that cut off when Kujira’s bare foot slammed down onto her face. Karen’s legs curled up and shivered rapidly while her toes twitched, as her hands clawed onto Kujira’s calf. Then, Karen’s limbs very suddenly went slack and flopped onto the mat. Standing on her flattened and brutalized opponent, Kujira removed a foot from Karen’s chest, leaving a horrible dent in its wake. Then she lifted her other foot, lifting Karen’s head off the mat a few inches before it peeled off her sole with a trail of stringy and bloody drool. Gurgling and twitching softly, Karen’s tongue hung out of her crookedly gaping mouth, her eyes blank even as her head bounced to a rest on the mat. Squashed to a pulp beneath her opponent’s feet, Karen barely showed signs of life as Kujira raised two arms with a roar.

Sweeping a broom across the waxed floor of the gymnasium, the tall senior student was eager to finish her volunteer hours. She was the only one who eagerly put her name in for after hours gym cleanup, making many of her classmates both happy to skip those duties while also wary of such enthusiasm. They already mocked her for her tall build and awkward nature, so she didn’t pay them much mind. Not when she could do what she wanted most.

With her duties complete and the gym to herself, she dragged out a well-worn training dummy, and prepared to spar once again with her only opponent.


Fear and regret filled Una’s freckled face as the cubicle sealed shut behind her and she saw her opponent. The young wrestler was naturally tall and very fit from months of solitary training after classes, and even fought her way to a win against her first ever actual opponent. But then the Crush Club management pressured her to continue on to a second match, easily convincing the naive girl that she was properly warmed up for another round of combat, and promising her three times the payout. Shortly afterwards she realized some of her classmates were in the crowd of onlookers, and would see their shy peer in the raw and primal clash of a pit fight, if they hadn’t already. And now, trapped in the sealed cubicle arena, she saw that her opponent was the monstrous sumo wrestler whose prior match caused horrible sounds that Una had tried and failed to ignore.

Una’s curly red tresses were pulled back in a ponytail, though a few bangs still bounced around her cheeks and eyes. With taped fingers and bare feet, she wore a blue tank top with light grey gym shorts, though her long legs made them look almost like briefs. Her cheeks were flush as she already heard a few familiar voices muffled through the thick glass windows of the cubicle, clearly astonished at the sight of their unremarkable classmate on the mat, and equally excited to see how she would fare against a ruthless facepainted sumo warrior.

Crouching slightly as she inched forward, Una felt much smaller than her snarling opponent, who stomped towards her with bared teeth and a hungry glare. She was not much shorter in reality, but had been all but intimidated into submission by the time she found herself locking up to grapple with Kujira. Briefly meeting the sumo wrestler shoulder-to-shoulder, Una was soon forced down and pressed back, struggling with all her might as her feet slowly slid back along the mat. As she tried shifting her grip to her opponent’s legs, Una yelped as Kujira’s grip tightened and yanked her off the mat, throwing the young grappler into a cartwheeling fall that left her sprawled in a heap. Before she could get farther than up to her knees, Kujira grabbed hold of the backs of both her tank-top and the elastic of her shorts, lifting her up into a prone mid-air position. Una’s arms and legs flailed as though she were swimming in place, as she made frightened noises and grew even more flush in her cheeks. She felt helpless and embarrassed, knowing that people who recognized her were watching her predicament first-hand.

Kujira ended the mental torture by pitching Una headfirst into the nearest glass wall, watching as the young grappler almost bounced off of it before landing on the mat, clutching her head and moaning. Una’s world was still spinning when she was hauled up to her feet and shoved back into the glass wall, her face and palms pressed against it as she tried to shake herself back to her senses. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized not only was she facing away from her opponent, but also she could see at least one of her classmates recording the match with a phone, gossiping something to a nearby friend. Una’s worries were smashed out of her as Kujira ran full-speed and bodysplashed her from behind, crushing the young grappler into the glass wall and squashing her face and chest against it for the audience’s amusement. Kujira planted her feet, leaning back to smash her chest into Una’s back twice more before stepping away. Una spat up a glob of saliva onto the glass in front of her after the second crushing sensation, and slowly slid down the clear surface to her knees as she left a trail of spit in her wake before crumpling to the mat.

Writhing as the pain in her back only continued to swell, Una wailed in pain and fear as Kujira firmly gripped the sides of her head and dragged her towards the center of the ring, lifting the gasping young fighter to her feet as they went. As a toothy predatory grin spread across the sumo wrestler’s painted face, Una tried in vain to pry away the hands gripping her skull as she began to nervously sputter out a verbal submission. Kujira responded with a menacing roar, before yanking Una up into the air and then catching the flailing young grappler in a monstrous bearhug. Eyes wide, gaping and paralyzed, Una was frozen and quivering for the first few moments of the hold. In the back of her mind she had been preparing a list of counters for this particular situation, as she was sure she would find herself being squeezed in the sumo wrestler’s arms, but the absolute crushing power overwhelmed her in an instant as her ribs immediately began to creak and crackle. Una wildly came back to life, screwing her eyes shut and screaming in pain as she beat at Kujira’s arms and shoulders, stamping her bare feet against the mat as she felt her upper body muscles tightening and subsequently popping. The young grappler’s voice went up several octaves as several of her ribs suddenly snapped from the pressure of Kujira lifting her off the mat with another brutal squeeze. Una’s head shook and jerked so much from the pain that her ponytail had mostly worked itself loose, making the sight of her domination even more primal, which drew raucous cheers from the crowd.

Bouncing the struggling fighter in her arms, Kujira raised her opponent another inch higher so that the bearhug was now focused entirely on the small of the young grappler’s back. Una’s eyes grew very wide as the hold rapidly grew tighter, forcing her to stare up at the ceiling of the combat cubicle as she felt her back beginning to seize and strain. Her fingers and toes spread as her limbs tightened and shook from the crippling sensation of her body reaching its limit. A long and agonized shriek ended up a sharp squawk as Una’s back broke loudly, forcing a violent spasm out of the young grappler as she felt and heard part of her spine snap in her opponent’s arms. Gaping wide with a tearful expression of pain and terror frozen on her face, Una coughed up something as Kujira wrenched her from side to side, crunching the young grappler’s back one more time. Una blacked out with her eyes once again screwed shut, still gaping and quietly wheezing as her lungs fought to continue functioning. Kujira relaxed her arms, holding the limp form of her broken opponent loosely and hanging to one side for a few seconds before letting the young grappler flop facedown onto the mat. Even Una’s classmates were cheering as Kujira stepped over her body to raise her arms in victory.

“Wow, Una fuckin’ SUCKED. But umm, is she crippled now or something?”

“Bitch no, my uncle told me this place can unbreak your bones like on Kumite TV.”

“Aw sick! We should jump Una if she comes back, enter ourselves and break her fuckin’ back too!”

“Idiot, what if we get put against each other?”

“...break your fuckin’ back too, bet I could…”

“What was that?”

“I said I’m going to the bathroom!”


As another customer lay down for her to do her work, the masseuse got to work with a faraway look on her face. She knew that she was good at her job, and she felt fulfilled to use her hands to bring healing and positivity to so many stressed and weary people. However, she was eager for the workday to end, so that she could finally have a chance to use her hands more destructively to make a life-changing amount of money.


With her dark hair hanging in thick strands, Nana held one hand high as she walked to the center of the ring. The lean, athletic hawaiian girl swiftly removed her sarong skirt. It was green with pink floral print, matching the tube top sports bra and briefs of her fighting attire. Moving back to her corner, she dropped the sarong on the mat, followed by the yellow flower that was set in her hair.


The mohawked filipino man, wearing dark green slacks with a black belt, stepped onto the mat before slowly uncrossing his arms. While he did not have a chiseled physique, his stocky mass and thick arms made it clear that he was a force to be reckoned with.


Crouched and darting from side to side, Nana did most of the work to close distance with her opponent before moving to grapple with him. With her hands clasped around the back of Aguilar’s large neck, Nana threw aerobically fast knee strikes into his body. Growing tired of the feeling, Aguilar violently shoved his opponent away, brushing off his barrel chest as she tumbled head over heels across the mat. Clambering to her feet, Nana roared and ran back towards the filipino fighter, grabbing the back of his head and ramming two elbow shots against his face. Her brave cries suddenly cut off as Aguilar responded with a sharp headbutt. He casually turned and spat out a bit of blood as Nana stumbled in place, cross-eyed and audibly stunned. As her vision cleared, the hawaiian fighter barely raised a fist before a sharp kick to her gut forced her to double over and loudly gag. Aguilar followed up with a brutish uppercut that lifted Nana into the air, flipping her over before she landed heavily on her stomach.

With her agility already beaten out of her, Nana was sluggish and rubbery as she picked herself up off the mat. Aguilar grabbed her head with both of his hands, overpowering her as she tried to pull free. He yanked her into a front headlock, standing firm as she threw a few punches and knee strikes against him while her head was trapped under one of his arms. A single, sudden overhand blow to her back caused Nana to crumple to her knees in an instant, before Aguilar tightened the front headlock hard enough to force her back to her feet. Nana began to quiver, choking and spitting as her neck was compressed in the simple hold. Then, another blow to her back dropped her onto the mat, her opponent finally releasing her as he landed the attack.

Pushing a knee into Nana’s back, Aguilar grabbed her jaw and scalp to pull her face off the canvas, twisting her neck to one side as he did so. Aguilar continued twisting, while Nana began to shriek in agony at the pain of her neck muscles stretching much too far to one side. With his opponent’s neck pulled to its limit, Aguilar proceeded to lean back and begin bending her spine beneath his knee, drawing a fresh level of screaming out of Nana as she began desperately clawing and kicking at the mat. Just as her eyes began to flutter, Nana found herself released. She lay facedown and quivering, barely conscious and ridden with pain.

With purpose, Aguilar pulled his opponent up to her knees. Tears in her eyes, Nana threw a wild right fist into Aguilar’s body. He let her watch the blow land without effect, before throwing several brutal knees into her chest. While she choked through the pain of a freshly cracked rib, Nana was helpless against the follow-up of an overhand blow to her back, and crumpled at her opponent’s feet. Aguilar pulled Nana to her knees once again, holding her head steady by two handfuls of sweaty and frazzled hair. Nana’s arms hung heavy at her sides, her eyes shut and mouth gasping for breath. The filipino fighter looked skyward and began to roar, before slamming a headbutt down into his opponent. Nana’s skull shuddered with a loud bony crack, her body collapsing with the impact before slumping to one side. She flopped to a rest on her back, limbs splayed and mouth agape. Her glassy eyes sagged in opposite directions away from the small dent in her forehead, before they rolled up as a single spasm went through her body.

With a grunt, the filipino fighter reached down to grab hold of his opponent’s throat and thigh. Raising the finished fighter overhead like a ragdoll trophy, Aguilar held Nana’s beaten body in a military press as he walked a circle around the ring, ignoring the dribble of foamy saliva that fell from her lips above him. Satisfied, he then threw her into a long fall towards the unforgiving arena floor, where she slapped lifelessly onto the concrete and lay discarded until she was finally dragged away.

Trying to stay hidden behind her computer monitor, the librarian quickly moved to an equally tall stack of books. Buried beneath a blouse and a sweater over pants and furry boots, she blushed slightly as she knew that she once again had several suitors vying to strike up a conversation with her.

There would be no time for that. They had no idea who she really wished to be. She buried her nose in another volume, reading about ancient gladiatorial combat.


Returning to the mat for her second match of the night, Blaire was still buzzing from her first-round win. The mousy girl’s brown hair was in a smart ponytail, and she blushed slightly as the crowd once again observed her preparing for single combat, barehanded and barefooted in her short-legged stark white wrestling singlet. It was practical, but a far cry from her usual comfort zone of baggy and loose layers, revealing a lot of her fit-yet-untoned body. Coupled with her prior victory though, it did begin to build a confidence within her that she never knew she had.


That confidence buckled as Blaire heard the one name she absolutely did not want to hear as her second-round opponent. The filipino fighter’s brutalization of his first match-up had shaken her immensely, seeing Nana Kahale’s skull cracked and body thrown from the ring like garbage. Blaire was still not sure if she had seen a fellow fighter die in the same ring she now occupied, against the same glowering beast of a man that she now faced on the mat. She tried to push those thoughts into the back of her mind as she assumed a low grappling stance.


Only knowing one main style of combat, Blaire charged in and drove her shoulder into Aguilar’s gut, gripping his waist with one arm and his thigh with her other. After watching the mousy girl try to wrestle him to the ground with little effect, Aguilar grabbed her body and turned violently with a roar, throwing her spinning to the mat. Blaire came to a rest several feet away, clambering back to her feet with a stunned and intimidated look on her face. As Aguilar lumbered towards her, Blaire gave a half-frightened battle cry as she repeated her grappling attempt, almost whimpering as she tried and failed to wrestle her opponent to the ground.

Lacking the patience to let Blaire tire herself out any further, Aguilar grabbed her around her midsection and lifted her straight into the air. Squealing in fear, Blaire was then hurled stomach-first down into the mat. She almost bounced up to her knees, clutching her stomach and chest as she let out a guttural moan. Aguilar immediately grabbed hold of her head and threw two brutal knees into her forehead, letting her crumple facedown on the floor in front of him afterwards. Her vision spinning, Blaire shakily got up to her hands and knees, before Aguilar slammed his fists down into her back. Flopping out onto her stomach after the meaty impact, Blaire’s head then shot up off the mat with a long cry of pain as her opponent’s foot stamped down into her lower back and ground into her spine. Grabbing hold of the mousy girl’s ponytail as a makeshift handle, Aguilar used his other hand to begin bludgeoning the side of her head. After three brutal hits, Blaire’s head fell to the canvas as her increasingly-messy ponytail was released, a small bloody spatter falling from her newly-injured temple. A final stomp to her back made Blaire’s body flop in place with a grunt.

Aguilar walked a small lap around the ring, bellowing at the audience as his opponent lay writhing on the mat, barely able to lift her head off the floor. Trying to convince herself that the match was over, Blaire cried out as a knee suddenly pressed into her aching back, and then began shrieking in terrified agony as Aguilar grabbed hold of her face and head, and began pulling up and twisting. Her bare hands slapped the mat as her bare feet kicked against it wildly, while Blaire tried to spit out a verbal submission as she continued screaming in pain. Aguilar held her head in a mercilessly crooked position as her neck muscles ground and popped, and then threw her back down to the mat.

Grabbing the remnants of Blaire’s ponytail, Aguilar forcefully pulled her shivering body back up to her feet on rubbery legs. Feeling two hands clap around her head in a brutal grip, Blaire weakly pulled at her opponent’s wrists, desperately stating her concession of the match in a slurred and breathless voice. Defeated with her will broken, Blaire was realizing that her opponent was unlikely to let her leave the mat without smashing her skull as well. A hard knee to her body forced Blaire to stop trying to talk, before Aguilar pulled her head under one arm and grabbed hold of one leg of her singlet. Suddenly lifted into a slow vertical suplex, Blaire wailed in terror as she travelled in a long arc through the air, feet facing the ceiling until her back slammed into the canvas. Writhing limply and clutching her back, Blaire wished she was unconscious and prayed that she would be dragged from the ring.

Aguilar slowly forced Blaire back to her feet, once again gripping her head in both hands as her ponytail had completely come apart into a sweaty mess of hair. Pawing at her opponent’s shoulders, Blaire sputtered a plea before Aguilar’s head crushed into hers with a meaty thud. Shifting his grip to the back of her head, Aguilar delivered another headbutt, this time pulling her head into his before it gave off a sickening crunch. Blaire’s wide eyes rolled up and outward in two different directions as her tongue hung out of her mouth, quickly followed by a string of drool. Slumping to her knees, Blaire convulsed unevenly as Aguilar moved behind her and gripped his hands into her shoulders. Pushing a knee into her back, Aguilar yanked back on Blaire’s shoulders. There was a wet snap as Blaire’s spine fractured, a long howl of pain coming out of her barely-conscious throat as the pain pushed through her damaged brain. Bellowing a roar to the sky, Aguilar then slammed his head down into Blaire’s, visibly denting her upper skull with a loud crack. Blaire spat up some blood that stained the front of her singlet before pitching forward, flopping violently onto her face, her bare feet bouncing lifelessly to a rest behind her. The skull-smashed mousy girl spasmed once before falling still, left to lay facedown in a pool of saliva and blood as her opponent simply walked away, not even bothering to throw her body from the ring.


Users who are viewing this thread


Are you 18 or older?

This website requires you to be 18 years of age or older. Please verify your age to view the content, or click Exit to leave.