(Three stories about three fighters whose pre-fight nerves were almost as intense as fighting itself)
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On the last night of her last day of summer before her first day of college, Annabelle Wheeler was not preparing to move into her dorm, or having a big, crazy night out among friends. Instead, she was preparing to have the craziest night of her life to date, as she waited in the dark backstage hall.
Nobody knew she had come. Two of her friends had their suspicions, when their honor-rolled comrade had quietly asked them for amateur coaching in their respective sports. She told them both it was a personal thing, to grow her confidence, and to expand her horizons beyond simple things like running or aerobics.
Nobody knew it had started with a quiet and intense viewing of a grey market video recording. It was not just the excitement of watching a fight that had imprinted upon her, but also the idea of being there in the ring as well. Having your body on display to the audience as you pitted it against someone else’s, and not stopping until one of you lay at the other’s feet.
The demure and doe-eyed math wiz of homeroom D now stood nervously in the dark, wearing an icy-white swimsuit leotard with only knee pads as accompaniment, which she had quickly begun to use after her first few practice rounds of grappling under the guise of amateur exercise. Her wavy dark-brown hair hung over one of her bare shoulders, while she tried to keep her breathing steady.
“Making her way to the ring, a new rookie challenger...Annabelle Wheeler!!”
It was time. Annabelle quickly stepped forward and soon found herself walking towards the Wrestletorium ring, with a cheering crowd welcoming her to her first match. She barely noticed herself suddenly faced with the ring apron, quickly pulling herself up onto the edge of the mat. She turned around, and in a moment of excitement, raised both of her fists with a beaming grin before stepping through the ropes and pacing across the combat area.
“And her opponent, the eastern deathmatch mistress...Angela Steel!!”
Standing over 6 feet tall with raven hair and intimidating muscles, Angela Steel roared at the crowd, and they roared back. Wearing a black and red bikini ensemble with tassels tied around her biceps and violent black face-paint around her pitiless eyes, she wasted little time heading to the ring, but still took a few moments to put an unforgettable glare into a few of the men and women in front row seats.
Like a young deer staring into oncoming headlights, Annabelle’s heart was pounding the moment she heard the name, and her jaw hung slightly as soon as she saw her opponent’s amazonian form. The video that started her down the path of underground fighting was one of Angela Steel, who was recorded taking on an arrogant young judo girl. The actual match only took a few minutes, but the beating had likely ended a promising career. Angela’s opponent went limp in a over-the-shoulder backbreaker hold, only jerking back to life for a hideous moment as an awful cracking sound came out of her spine loudly enough to make Annabelle gasp as it filled her headphones.
And with the sound of the bell, Annabelle was now in a match, one-on-one with a woman she had seen physically break another trained fighter. She was no longer an anonymous spectator, but instead another challenger standing on the mat. Her pale cheeks flushed as she realized somebody, anybody might see footage of her dressed in her fight attire as she pitted her smaller body against the amazon that loomed towards her.
Gripping her toes into the mat as she inched in a circle around the ring, Annabelle’s worries also brought about visions of glory. If she put up a good fight, anybody who watched her would be proud. Instead of asking what she thought she was doing, her friends would look up to her. They’d see her bared arms and legs, and realize what a warrior they’d had hiding in their midst. And if she took an upset victory, she would be the strongest girl on her block. Perhaps even her entire neighborhood. She saw herself standing atop the toppled form of the warrior that faced her in the ring, and grew very hungry.
The next thing Annabelle saw was a massive arm filling her vision as Angela Steel rushed forward with superhuman speed. With a crack that echoed through the arena, Annabelle was flipped over in place by a colossal lariat, landing messily on her face. Eyes still wide in surprise, she began to push herself up, and was immediately pressed back down onto the mat. Angela held the struggling young fighter down with one foot, posing for the crowd as Annabelle’s hands and feet slid around and slapped against the canvas. The humiliating situation ended painfully as Angela twisted her heel into her opponent’s back before stepping away, leaving Annabelle writhing at her feet.
Still debilitated and unable to collect herself, Annabelle squeaked fearfully as two hands firmly clasped around her throat and lifted her up to a standing position. Angela gave her a headbutt to keep her stunned, and then effortlessly raised her into an overhead press. The amazonian fighter began raising and lowering her young opponent in a simultaneous show of strength and dominance, leaving Annabelle flush with embarrassment while she tried to brace herself for whatever was to come next. She tried to tell herself she would quickly find her second wind, but also could not stop her lower lip from quivering as she heard the crowd cheer at the sight of her helpless body. Angela finally threw the young fighter down in front of her with a loud bang, Annabelle’s stomach instantly winded as she smacked full-body into the mat. Wishing to spring back to her feet, she instead clutched at her gut and wheezed pitifully for breath.
A hand clapped hard against the back of Annabelle’s neck before she was yanked back to her feet, gasping and glassily staring forward as she was made to walk to the center of the ring. She wanted to fight back, but could barely even stay standing without a muscular arm keeping her upright. Annabelle’s eyes teared up slightly as she realized her subconscious was already prepared to just take whatever her opponent planned to do, her will to fight quickly crumbling. Angela Steel smirked as she glanced at the young fighter’s broken expression, before heaving Annabelle into the air and slamming her face-first back into the canvas. Annabelle’s body bounced lifelessly after the impact, clearly knocked out by the monstrous maneuver.
Stirring from the darkness with a confused moan, Annabelle thought she had just been slammed into oblivion, but instead found herself cradled and upright. She thought for a long and merciful moment that she was being removed from the ring with care, before her vision began to clear and she realized the crowd was still cheering, and the one holding her in a supported embrace was her opponent.
“Time to finish you,” uttered Angela Steel, with a cruel grin.
“N-No,” stammered Annabelle, shaking her head weakly as she was moved into a tight frontal hug.
Angela’s arms were wrapped around her upper body, trapping one of her arms raised up against her neck. Then, the amazonian fighter lifted her off her feet and began to wring her out like a ragdoll. Angela Steel’s favourite finisher, a modified elevated triangle hold that was somewhere between a choke and a bearhug, allowed Annabelle to kick her feet and swing her free arm freely as the life was crushed out of her. The young fighter shrieked as she choked, her eyes quickly rolling back as her tongue pushed out and over her lower lip with a wave of foamy saliva. Feeling her smaller opponent’s body begin to go limp, Angela jerked Annabelle up several times, forcing her to live through a cracking rib and a crunching shoulder without the mercy of passing out until her senses were fully overwhelmed. Annabelle’s bare feet shivered as they dangled, her opponent squeezing one more time to ensure that she was finished off. Holding the nearly lifeless girl aloft a few more seconds, Angela finally released her, tossing her to one side and letting her crumple in a heap face-down on the mat. A harsh push with one foot rolled Annabelle over onto her back, before the same foot stamped down onto her chest. As the crowd chanted a three-count pinfall, Annabelle was nearly motionless beyond a small body-wide spasm every few seconds. For all her courage and lofty dreams, her debut match was an absolute squash.
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“Winner! Lada Dulik!”
Raising a fist before bowing to the crowd, Lada’s skin glistened with sweat that left her ponytailed blonde hair slightly matted and messy. Dressed in a slim and slightly undersized karate gi, she had managed to fell her first opponent of the night with a fairly clean victory. A striking battle with a kickboxer was not child’s play, but Lada was proud to have landed the finishing punch that blacked out her opponent, leaving them unconscious at her feet.
Returning to her seat on the other side of the cage, Lada drank a deep mouthful of water. Hers had been the last match of the first round, and there would not be much time before the second round began. The fiery karateka was a slim and muscular girl, still wearing her first gi despite its tightness on her body. She quietly enjoyed the feeling, as it reminded her that her trained sinews and ligaments were growing into weapons that her father would be proud of. To represent her dojo at the tournament was a great honor, and Lada intended to fight with pride to the bitter end.
However, she also knew the tournament was dangerous, with little safety for those participating. And despite her best efforts, she could not help but feel a chill in the pit of her stomach as she had watched one fighter’s first match, earlier that night. A behemoth named…
“Giant Andino!”
The second round had already begun, and the first fighter called into the ring was that very same behemoth. Known in some circles as the muscle king, he was famous for his physique, and doubly famous for breaking the bodies of his opponents for sport. Standing 6’9 with deeply-tanned skin, his body was barely contained in his dark-blue singlet. He was strong-jawed with naturally curly hair hanging down below his ears, and was already posing for the thirsty crowd.
“His opponent! Lada Dulik!”
The chill in Lada’s stomach immediately spread through her entire body. The second round would begin with her taking on the muscle king. She tried to calm her nerves with another sip of water, unable to forget the sight of him overcoming his opponent in the first round. A mighty sumo wrestler’s body had somehow bent unnaturally as Giant Andino not only bested them in a contest of strength, but broke them with a powerful bearhug.
Making herself walk into the cage, Lada stepped onto the mat and bowed respectfully to the crowd, who cheered eagerly as they anticipated another exciting contest. She bowed to Andino as well, who sneered and simply responded with a pump of his pectoral muscles. Her hair still matted and messy from the match just minutes prior, Lada assumed her fighting stance and tried to see her opponent’s intimidating body not as something that would break her in half, but instead as an object to be broken.
Hearing the gong that signalled the beginning of the match, Lada recalled that Andino was a grappler, and one of considerable size. That always left the legs as an easy target. Without stability at his base, he would not be able to keep his large weight upright as easily. His fatigue would leave his throat open for a quick coup de gras. Lada exhaled slowly as she circled the ring. She had seen Andino quickly counter-grapple his first opponent. She would open with a feint, and a kick to his right hip. From there, blows to the knee and thigh. He wouldn’t have a chance to catch up.
Lada Dulik will be the champion.
That was her thought as she advanced to initiate her plan. After a successful feint, she went for the first kick. Lada’s kiai quickly became a shriek of surprise as Andino took the blow, ignored it, and pushed in before scooping her entire body up off the ground. The muscle king carried his opponent across his chest, ignoring her fists and knees as they were desperately thrown against his back and shoulders. Lada began crying out in a mixture of frustration and fear as she heard the crowd clearly enjoy her immediate predicament. She knew she was at her opponent’s mercy until she got her feet back on the ground.
Giant Andino finally dropped to one knee, bending Lada sideways as her ribcage was crushed down onto his massive thigh. The blonde karateka grunted in agony, simply waiting for the moment she would hit the mat and get a chance to fight back. Instead, Andino held onto her and stood back up, before dropping to one knee again and repeating the maneuver. This time, Lada’s cry was longer and louder, one of her ribs already cracking from the second impact. Andino’s arms shifted, but rather than releasing Lada, he instead clasped his hands beneath his thigh and began to bearhug her injured ribs against the tree-trunk of his thigh. Lada struggled, and quickly began to howl in pain. Her arms and legs kicked and swatted wildly in the air as her torso creaked and shivered. Andino’s biceps swelled as he exerted greater force, resulting in a satisfying crunch. The side of Lada’s body compressed slightly as her ribs gave out, her scream of pain causing a roar of approval from the crowd. Her body went stiff, shuddering for a few seconds, and then grew limp.
All Lada wanted was to pass out. Every breath hurt, and the cheers of the crowd were like daggers through her heart. She knew she had lost, plucked off the mat like a toy and crushed without ever returning to it. A moment of irrational relief hit her when she finally felt herself being released, but that soon turned into panic when she realized Andino had simply resumed the previous position of holding her across his chest, and once again was standing up. She could only grunt and groan, sputtering in aimless denial before she felt herself suddenly drop.
With a loud crack, Lada was thrown down into a kneeling backbreaker. Her bare feet finally returned to the mat for the first time in the entire match, but only because her entire body was bent over Giant Andino’s knee. Lada screamed in agony, her mouth still wide open even as her voice gave out. The pain was unimaginable, growing exponentially each time Lada tried and failed to roll herself out of the finishing maneuver. She looked up to see Giant Andino flexing his arms with her draped across his knee, realizing she had been reduced to nothing more than a training dummy to showcase his strength. The match felt like an eternity of pain, but had only been going on for just shy of two minutes. Seeing the clock out of the corner of her tear-stung eyes, Lada could not believe she had been crushed in under two minutes.
As the fear, pain, and shame overcame Lada’s senses, Giant Andino suddenly pressed one palm down onto her chin, and the other down onto her nearest thigh. Still feeling the mat against her toes had been a small reprieve, but Lada realized what kind of example she was about to be made into. “NUHHNO! NO!!” she cried. Andino simply began to press down. Lada kicked her free leg and clawed at Andino’s wrist, but her body was very quickly bending further over his knee.
“NOOAAUUUARRGHHA-...AUH!!!”
Lada’s escalating and throaty scream was joined by an escalating series of crackles, both noises ending in a crunch as her body bent and her back was broken. Her kicking leg spasmed and fell still as her lower body went numb. Lada’s face was frozen at the peak of her agony, mouth wide and eyes screwed shut. Andino looked down and began pushing again, needlessly forcing her body to crunch against his knee several more times. Reaching down to pull Lada’s head up by the back of her scalp, Andino remained on one knee as he forced his finished opponent into a crooked bearhug, squeezing her upper body with a fresh round of sickening bone-cracking noises. Lada’s tongue now hung out of her mouth, one eye half-open and rolled back as a few breathless rattles were crushed out of her.
Finally standing to celebrate, Giant Andino immediately ignored the broken karateka’s lifeless body as it rolled off his knee and flopped onto the mat. The muscle king’s deadly statement had been made to his next opponent, and the crowd quickly forgot about the disappointing karate girl as she was unceremoniously dragged out of the cage.
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Though she had seen every primary, training, and amateur tier ring under The Kumite’s franchise banner many times in her burgeoning career, Sasha Dubois found herself unable to feel at ease standing at ringside for the first time. A graphic artist and part-time assistant producer, she had been with the company for nearly two years before finding herself nervously submitting her name to the Overtime schedule. While entirely voluntary, Kumite network employees were encouraged to fill out training and promotional performance rosters in times of need, with massive bonus pay doled out to those who ended up working that unique extra shift.
Sasha had thought little of it at first, seeing it as a strange analogue to jury duty, and often joked about it with her co-workers during her first year. However, she could never find the courage to actually submit her name, always stopping short and telling herself to get back to doing what she was good at. Another year went by, and her constant exposure to The Kumite’s programming began to fill her mind. She had dreams about getting into the ring, and while she had been hesitant to apply for Overtime, Sasha very quickly took up the company’s free offers of gym time and basic combat training. No reason to pass up on staying fit, bonding with co-workers, and even learning a few moves to boost her confidence.
While she had no idea what caused her to put her name in for Overtime, Sasha’s heart still skipped a beat when she received the email stating that her name had been pulled from the pool. With curt instructions and a 72-hour preparation window ahead of her, it was hard to keep her mind on her actual work while she processed what lay ahead of her. It felt like little time had passed before she was getting changed, following the edicts of the email and avoiding any branded or patterned attire. She wore a simple red tank-top over a white pair of workout briefs, taking a moment to exhale as she reminded herself that she looked fine, and nobody was watching the footage specifically to see her. Her long, curly brown hair was fastened hastily in a loose ponytail as she headed to Promotional Studio 8, where she tried to fit in with a group of young fighter applicants that she had been added to while they waited around a sleek dark mat that was fixed to the floor. She had to blend in and not make it obvious that she was there to fill a space, which led her into a friendly conversation with a chatty brunette until their matches began.
Sasha knew the company’s Medikade technology would keep her safe, and she knew that applicant matches in promo studios were primarily to make established fighters look good. But she still felt an unreal chill in her gut as she watched the chatty brunette, a lean girl in simple black bikini tights, screaming in pain before her very eyes. Alala, a muscular blonde greek woman in a white toga-style leotard, was racking the brunette across her shoulders with practiced posture. She shifted her pose, bending the brunette fighter even more harshly as cameras recorded the sight for future promotional use. Alala’s opponent had barely gotten a move in before the seasoned grappler had her at her mercy, and was already clearly finished as her arms and legs flailed desperately in the air. Satisfied with her performance so far, Alala planted her feet and bared her teeth, her muscles flexing as she suddenly poured on the pressure. The brunette shrieked as her back cracked, and managed to make one more awful noise as something else crunched within her. Holding the bent and broken young fighter in a cruel show of strength, Alala then tossed the brunette aside to be dragged off the mat.
“Next!”
The sights and sounds were not new to her, but Sasha had always been at a distance. Watching through monitors, or working on post-production. Now she was there, watching Alala cut off another hopeful fighter in one move. A thick-limbed italian girl in a t-shirt and yoga pants had gone in for a single kick, and now was held in the air by her throat. Alala shifted her grip on the rookie’s leg to press her overhead, maintaining a vice-like grip around the italian fighter’s neck. The greek grappler looked straight into the eyes of the remaining applicants as her current opponent choked and gagged, growing more lifeless as she lost blood-flow and oxygen.
“Next!”
After throwing another defeated fighter away like dead meat, Alala faced a terrified young wrestler in a bubblegum pink singlet. Sinking a hard kick into the rookie’s gut, Alala lifted the applicant off the mat by her waist, planting her feet to apply a very showy upside-down and reversed bearhug. As the greek fighter stared straight at her, Sasha quickly glanced around, and then down at her feet. She was the only one left, and Alala’s eyes were fixed upon her. The challenger howled in submission as her ribs cracked in the hold, and then blacked out with an awful shriek as Alala jerked her hard to one side with a meaty crunch. Carrying the now-limp wrestler, still inverted and bent sideways in her grasp, Alala grinned broadly at Sasha before hurling the beaten girl down onto the floor in front of her.
“...hold. Alala, to studio 4, it’s time for your interview.” The greek fighter frowned, turning to leave without a word before the producer continued over the intercom. “Sash, I mean, remaining applicant, you’ve got Rita.”
Feeling her entire body relax, Sasha stepped into the center of the studio and warmed up. She was still nervous to face the seasoned kickboxer “Rocket” Rita, but in that moment, she was simply thankful to not have a backbreaking mauling in her immediate future. While she knew Rita would likely outclass her, she inexplicably felt a small surge of confidence. Perhaps she could keep up with a kickboxer that underestimated her, or possibly even cause an upset. A small voice in her head tried to question where that idea was coming from, to remind her that she was not there as a featured competitor. Even as the red-clad woman approached to size her up, Sasha began to embrace the intoxicating effect of preparing to do battle under warm studio lights with the feeling of the mat underfoot, gripping and relaxing her toes as she rested her hands on her hips.
“Oh, I recognize you,” said Rita, smirking. “You handled my promos last season. Sasha.”
“You got it,” replied Sasha, flushing slightly.
“Working overtime, huh? Well, let’s make sure it’s a good one.” Rita offered a friendly fist, which Sasha awkwardly tapped with her own.
“You got it!” she exclaimed, filling with excitement as the match began.
Sasha managed to take two steps, before a sudden thunderous kick cracked straight into her body. Breath left her body immediately as the blow smashed against her liver, causing Sasha to crumple where she stood. Crawling to her hands and knees, Sasha retched as another wave of pain washed over her, forcing her to cough up a handful of saliva on the mat beneath her.
“That won’t cut it,” hissed Rita, hooking an arm around Sasha’s head to force her to stand on quivering legs. “I need a few more money shots to make up for that godawful trash you marketed me with.”
“Wh-wha,” stammered Sasha, before a hard knee crushed into her stomach. Rita tightened her arms, applying a front facelock that immediately choked out her opponent with a pathetic squeaking inhalation. Feeling Sasha go limp in her grip, Rita set about waking her back up with elbows to her back and knees to her chest. Quickly, Sasha began to make noises again, grunting and moaning as her torso was brutalized on both sides. Rita forcefully moved Sasha into a bent-over position in front of her, and began machine-gunning knees into her gut. Sasha bounced in place, her eyes screwed shut as she barely had the breath to cry out in pain. A final kneelift once again ruptured her liver, causing Sasha to collapse with an awful scream, her eyes rolled back before she hit the mat.
Looking down at the once-again unconscious and convulsing girl at her feet, Rita circled around her before plunging and grinding a heel into the prone challenger’s back. Sasha quickly roused with a howl, raising her head off the ground. Seizing the moment, Rita yanked Sasha up onto her knees, and then wrapped one leg forward around Sasha’s neck. Standing on one foot with her other leg hooked around her opponent’s throat, Rita slowly held out her arms in early celebration.
“Time to finish you off, Sash,” coo’d Rita, quietly. Sasha’s hands clawed weakly at the powerful calf and thigh that squeezed around her neck and jaw, muffled desperate noises trying to escape her lips. “Have fun with the Medikade.”
Sasha’s eyes widened as she felt the pressure suddenly increase. Rita jerked her hips, tightening her hooked leg as a cracking noise echoed through the studio. Sasha’s arms flailed out and fell limp, her head bending back at the neck enough to free her lips as they spat out a hoarse squawk. Rita looked down at Sasha’s face, watching her tongue meekly push forward as her eyes stared glassily at the ceiling. Still held upright on her knees, Sasha’s pelvis pumped with erratic spasms, while small choked noises stuttered out of her injured throat. The kickboxer jerked her hips again, hearing another satisfying crack come out of Sasha’s neck as it bent harshly to one side within the grasp of Rita’s leg.
Releasing her beaten opponent, Rita watched contently as Sasha flopped facedown onto the mat, and proceeded to stamp a foot down on the back of the girl’s head in order to pose for another shot.
“Hey,” called out Rita, “once you fix this cow’s neck with the Medikade, tell her I accept her apology.”
“Will, uh…will do,” replied the producer over the intercom.
“And tell the producers I’ll cover the Christmas party if they make her next overtime shift a best-of-3 with Sukh,” added Rita, looking forward to a very relaxing weekend.
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On the last night of her last day of summer before her first day of college, Annabelle Wheeler was not preparing to move into her dorm, or having a big, crazy night out among friends. Instead, she was preparing to have the craziest night of her life to date, as she waited in the dark backstage hall.
Nobody knew she had come. Two of her friends had their suspicions, when their honor-rolled comrade had quietly asked them for amateur coaching in their respective sports. She told them both it was a personal thing, to grow her confidence, and to expand her horizons beyond simple things like running or aerobics.
Nobody knew it had started with a quiet and intense viewing of a grey market video recording. It was not just the excitement of watching a fight that had imprinted upon her, but also the idea of being there in the ring as well. Having your body on display to the audience as you pitted it against someone else’s, and not stopping until one of you lay at the other’s feet.
The demure and doe-eyed math wiz of homeroom D now stood nervously in the dark, wearing an icy-white swimsuit leotard with only knee pads as accompaniment, which she had quickly begun to use after her first few practice rounds of grappling under the guise of amateur exercise. Her wavy dark-brown hair hung over one of her bare shoulders, while she tried to keep her breathing steady.
“Making her way to the ring, a new rookie challenger...Annabelle Wheeler!!”
It was time. Annabelle quickly stepped forward and soon found herself walking towards the Wrestletorium ring, with a cheering crowd welcoming her to her first match. She barely noticed herself suddenly faced with the ring apron, quickly pulling herself up onto the edge of the mat. She turned around, and in a moment of excitement, raised both of her fists with a beaming grin before stepping through the ropes and pacing across the combat area.
“And her opponent, the eastern deathmatch mistress...Angela Steel!!”
Standing over 6 feet tall with raven hair and intimidating muscles, Angela Steel roared at the crowd, and they roared back. Wearing a black and red bikini ensemble with tassels tied around her biceps and violent black face-paint around her pitiless eyes, she wasted little time heading to the ring, but still took a few moments to put an unforgettable glare into a few of the men and women in front row seats.
Like a young deer staring into oncoming headlights, Annabelle’s heart was pounding the moment she heard the name, and her jaw hung slightly as soon as she saw her opponent’s amazonian form. The video that started her down the path of underground fighting was one of Angela Steel, who was recorded taking on an arrogant young judo girl. The actual match only took a few minutes, but the beating had likely ended a promising career. Angela’s opponent went limp in a over-the-shoulder backbreaker hold, only jerking back to life for a hideous moment as an awful cracking sound came out of her spine loudly enough to make Annabelle gasp as it filled her headphones.
And with the sound of the bell, Annabelle was now in a match, one-on-one with a woman she had seen physically break another trained fighter. She was no longer an anonymous spectator, but instead another challenger standing on the mat. Her pale cheeks flushed as she realized somebody, anybody might see footage of her dressed in her fight attire as she pitted her smaller body against the amazon that loomed towards her.
Gripping her toes into the mat as she inched in a circle around the ring, Annabelle’s worries also brought about visions of glory. If she put up a good fight, anybody who watched her would be proud. Instead of asking what she thought she was doing, her friends would look up to her. They’d see her bared arms and legs, and realize what a warrior they’d had hiding in their midst. And if she took an upset victory, she would be the strongest girl on her block. Perhaps even her entire neighborhood. She saw herself standing atop the toppled form of the warrior that faced her in the ring, and grew very hungry.
The next thing Annabelle saw was a massive arm filling her vision as Angela Steel rushed forward with superhuman speed. With a crack that echoed through the arena, Annabelle was flipped over in place by a colossal lariat, landing messily on her face. Eyes still wide in surprise, she began to push herself up, and was immediately pressed back down onto the mat. Angela held the struggling young fighter down with one foot, posing for the crowd as Annabelle’s hands and feet slid around and slapped against the canvas. The humiliating situation ended painfully as Angela twisted her heel into her opponent’s back before stepping away, leaving Annabelle writhing at her feet.
Still debilitated and unable to collect herself, Annabelle squeaked fearfully as two hands firmly clasped around her throat and lifted her up to a standing position. Angela gave her a headbutt to keep her stunned, and then effortlessly raised her into an overhead press. The amazonian fighter began raising and lowering her young opponent in a simultaneous show of strength and dominance, leaving Annabelle flush with embarrassment while she tried to brace herself for whatever was to come next. She tried to tell herself she would quickly find her second wind, but also could not stop her lower lip from quivering as she heard the crowd cheer at the sight of her helpless body. Angela finally threw the young fighter down in front of her with a loud bang, Annabelle’s stomach instantly winded as she smacked full-body into the mat. Wishing to spring back to her feet, she instead clutched at her gut and wheezed pitifully for breath.
A hand clapped hard against the back of Annabelle’s neck before she was yanked back to her feet, gasping and glassily staring forward as she was made to walk to the center of the ring. She wanted to fight back, but could barely even stay standing without a muscular arm keeping her upright. Annabelle’s eyes teared up slightly as she realized her subconscious was already prepared to just take whatever her opponent planned to do, her will to fight quickly crumbling. Angela Steel smirked as she glanced at the young fighter’s broken expression, before heaving Annabelle into the air and slamming her face-first back into the canvas. Annabelle’s body bounced lifelessly after the impact, clearly knocked out by the monstrous maneuver.
Stirring from the darkness with a confused moan, Annabelle thought she had just been slammed into oblivion, but instead found herself cradled and upright. She thought for a long and merciful moment that she was being removed from the ring with care, before her vision began to clear and she realized the crowd was still cheering, and the one holding her in a supported embrace was her opponent.
“Time to finish you,” uttered Angela Steel, with a cruel grin.
“N-No,” stammered Annabelle, shaking her head weakly as she was moved into a tight frontal hug.
Angela’s arms were wrapped around her upper body, trapping one of her arms raised up against her neck. Then, the amazonian fighter lifted her off her feet and began to wring her out like a ragdoll. Angela Steel’s favourite finisher, a modified elevated triangle hold that was somewhere between a choke and a bearhug, allowed Annabelle to kick her feet and swing her free arm freely as the life was crushed out of her. The young fighter shrieked as she choked, her eyes quickly rolling back as her tongue pushed out and over her lower lip with a wave of foamy saliva. Feeling her smaller opponent’s body begin to go limp, Angela jerked Annabelle up several times, forcing her to live through a cracking rib and a crunching shoulder without the mercy of passing out until her senses were fully overwhelmed. Annabelle’s bare feet shivered as they dangled, her opponent squeezing one more time to ensure that she was finished off. Holding the nearly lifeless girl aloft a few more seconds, Angela finally released her, tossing her to one side and letting her crumple in a heap face-down on the mat. A harsh push with one foot rolled Annabelle over onto her back, before the same foot stamped down onto her chest. As the crowd chanted a three-count pinfall, Annabelle was nearly motionless beyond a small body-wide spasm every few seconds. For all her courage and lofty dreams, her debut match was an absolute squash.
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“Winner! Lada Dulik!”
Raising a fist before bowing to the crowd, Lada’s skin glistened with sweat that left her ponytailed blonde hair slightly matted and messy. Dressed in a slim and slightly undersized karate gi, she had managed to fell her first opponent of the night with a fairly clean victory. A striking battle with a kickboxer was not child’s play, but Lada was proud to have landed the finishing punch that blacked out her opponent, leaving them unconscious at her feet.
Returning to her seat on the other side of the cage, Lada drank a deep mouthful of water. Hers had been the last match of the first round, and there would not be much time before the second round began. The fiery karateka was a slim and muscular girl, still wearing her first gi despite its tightness on her body. She quietly enjoyed the feeling, as it reminded her that her trained sinews and ligaments were growing into weapons that her father would be proud of. To represent her dojo at the tournament was a great honor, and Lada intended to fight with pride to the bitter end.
However, she also knew the tournament was dangerous, with little safety for those participating. And despite her best efforts, she could not help but feel a chill in the pit of her stomach as she had watched one fighter’s first match, earlier that night. A behemoth named…
“Giant Andino!”
The second round had already begun, and the first fighter called into the ring was that very same behemoth. Known in some circles as the muscle king, he was famous for his physique, and doubly famous for breaking the bodies of his opponents for sport. Standing 6’9 with deeply-tanned skin, his body was barely contained in his dark-blue singlet. He was strong-jawed with naturally curly hair hanging down below his ears, and was already posing for the thirsty crowd.
“His opponent! Lada Dulik!”
The chill in Lada’s stomach immediately spread through her entire body. The second round would begin with her taking on the muscle king. She tried to calm her nerves with another sip of water, unable to forget the sight of him overcoming his opponent in the first round. A mighty sumo wrestler’s body had somehow bent unnaturally as Giant Andino not only bested them in a contest of strength, but broke them with a powerful bearhug.
Making herself walk into the cage, Lada stepped onto the mat and bowed respectfully to the crowd, who cheered eagerly as they anticipated another exciting contest. She bowed to Andino as well, who sneered and simply responded with a pump of his pectoral muscles. Her hair still matted and messy from the match just minutes prior, Lada assumed her fighting stance and tried to see her opponent’s intimidating body not as something that would break her in half, but instead as an object to be broken.
Hearing the gong that signalled the beginning of the match, Lada recalled that Andino was a grappler, and one of considerable size. That always left the legs as an easy target. Without stability at his base, he would not be able to keep his large weight upright as easily. His fatigue would leave his throat open for a quick coup de gras. Lada exhaled slowly as she circled the ring. She had seen Andino quickly counter-grapple his first opponent. She would open with a feint, and a kick to his right hip. From there, blows to the knee and thigh. He wouldn’t have a chance to catch up.
Lada Dulik will be the champion.
That was her thought as she advanced to initiate her plan. After a successful feint, she went for the first kick. Lada’s kiai quickly became a shriek of surprise as Andino took the blow, ignored it, and pushed in before scooping her entire body up off the ground. The muscle king carried his opponent across his chest, ignoring her fists and knees as they were desperately thrown against his back and shoulders. Lada began crying out in a mixture of frustration and fear as she heard the crowd clearly enjoy her immediate predicament. She knew she was at her opponent’s mercy until she got her feet back on the ground.
Giant Andino finally dropped to one knee, bending Lada sideways as her ribcage was crushed down onto his massive thigh. The blonde karateka grunted in agony, simply waiting for the moment she would hit the mat and get a chance to fight back. Instead, Andino held onto her and stood back up, before dropping to one knee again and repeating the maneuver. This time, Lada’s cry was longer and louder, one of her ribs already cracking from the second impact. Andino’s arms shifted, but rather than releasing Lada, he instead clasped his hands beneath his thigh and began to bearhug her injured ribs against the tree-trunk of his thigh. Lada struggled, and quickly began to howl in pain. Her arms and legs kicked and swatted wildly in the air as her torso creaked and shivered. Andino’s biceps swelled as he exerted greater force, resulting in a satisfying crunch. The side of Lada’s body compressed slightly as her ribs gave out, her scream of pain causing a roar of approval from the crowd. Her body went stiff, shuddering for a few seconds, and then grew limp.
All Lada wanted was to pass out. Every breath hurt, and the cheers of the crowd were like daggers through her heart. She knew she had lost, plucked off the mat like a toy and crushed without ever returning to it. A moment of irrational relief hit her when she finally felt herself being released, but that soon turned into panic when she realized Andino had simply resumed the previous position of holding her across his chest, and once again was standing up. She could only grunt and groan, sputtering in aimless denial before she felt herself suddenly drop.
With a loud crack, Lada was thrown down into a kneeling backbreaker. Her bare feet finally returned to the mat for the first time in the entire match, but only because her entire body was bent over Giant Andino’s knee. Lada screamed in agony, her mouth still wide open even as her voice gave out. The pain was unimaginable, growing exponentially each time Lada tried and failed to roll herself out of the finishing maneuver. She looked up to see Giant Andino flexing his arms with her draped across his knee, realizing she had been reduced to nothing more than a training dummy to showcase his strength. The match felt like an eternity of pain, but had only been going on for just shy of two minutes. Seeing the clock out of the corner of her tear-stung eyes, Lada could not believe she had been crushed in under two minutes.
As the fear, pain, and shame overcame Lada’s senses, Giant Andino suddenly pressed one palm down onto her chin, and the other down onto her nearest thigh. Still feeling the mat against her toes had been a small reprieve, but Lada realized what kind of example she was about to be made into. “NUHHNO! NO!!” she cried. Andino simply began to press down. Lada kicked her free leg and clawed at Andino’s wrist, but her body was very quickly bending further over his knee.
“NOOAAUUUARRGHHA-...AUH!!!”
Lada’s escalating and throaty scream was joined by an escalating series of crackles, both noises ending in a crunch as her body bent and her back was broken. Her kicking leg spasmed and fell still as her lower body went numb. Lada’s face was frozen at the peak of her agony, mouth wide and eyes screwed shut. Andino looked down and began pushing again, needlessly forcing her body to crunch against his knee several more times. Reaching down to pull Lada’s head up by the back of her scalp, Andino remained on one knee as he forced his finished opponent into a crooked bearhug, squeezing her upper body with a fresh round of sickening bone-cracking noises. Lada’s tongue now hung out of her mouth, one eye half-open and rolled back as a few breathless rattles were crushed out of her.
Finally standing to celebrate, Giant Andino immediately ignored the broken karateka’s lifeless body as it rolled off his knee and flopped onto the mat. The muscle king’s deadly statement had been made to his next opponent, and the crowd quickly forgot about the disappointing karate girl as she was unceremoniously dragged out of the cage.
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Though she had seen every primary, training, and amateur tier ring under The Kumite’s franchise banner many times in her burgeoning career, Sasha Dubois found herself unable to feel at ease standing at ringside for the first time. A graphic artist and part-time assistant producer, she had been with the company for nearly two years before finding herself nervously submitting her name to the Overtime schedule. While entirely voluntary, Kumite network employees were encouraged to fill out training and promotional performance rosters in times of need, with massive bonus pay doled out to those who ended up working that unique extra shift.
Sasha had thought little of it at first, seeing it as a strange analogue to jury duty, and often joked about it with her co-workers during her first year. However, she could never find the courage to actually submit her name, always stopping short and telling herself to get back to doing what she was good at. Another year went by, and her constant exposure to The Kumite’s programming began to fill her mind. She had dreams about getting into the ring, and while she had been hesitant to apply for Overtime, Sasha very quickly took up the company’s free offers of gym time and basic combat training. No reason to pass up on staying fit, bonding with co-workers, and even learning a few moves to boost her confidence.
While she had no idea what caused her to put her name in for Overtime, Sasha’s heart still skipped a beat when she received the email stating that her name had been pulled from the pool. With curt instructions and a 72-hour preparation window ahead of her, it was hard to keep her mind on her actual work while she processed what lay ahead of her. It felt like little time had passed before she was getting changed, following the edicts of the email and avoiding any branded or patterned attire. She wore a simple red tank-top over a white pair of workout briefs, taking a moment to exhale as she reminded herself that she looked fine, and nobody was watching the footage specifically to see her. Her long, curly brown hair was fastened hastily in a loose ponytail as she headed to Promotional Studio 8, where she tried to fit in with a group of young fighter applicants that she had been added to while they waited around a sleek dark mat that was fixed to the floor. She had to blend in and not make it obvious that she was there to fill a space, which led her into a friendly conversation with a chatty brunette until their matches began.
Sasha knew the company’s Medikade technology would keep her safe, and she knew that applicant matches in promo studios were primarily to make established fighters look good. But she still felt an unreal chill in her gut as she watched the chatty brunette, a lean girl in simple black bikini tights, screaming in pain before her very eyes. Alala, a muscular blonde greek woman in a white toga-style leotard, was racking the brunette across her shoulders with practiced posture. She shifted her pose, bending the brunette fighter even more harshly as cameras recorded the sight for future promotional use. Alala’s opponent had barely gotten a move in before the seasoned grappler had her at her mercy, and was already clearly finished as her arms and legs flailed desperately in the air. Satisfied with her performance so far, Alala planted her feet and bared her teeth, her muscles flexing as she suddenly poured on the pressure. The brunette shrieked as her back cracked, and managed to make one more awful noise as something else crunched within her. Holding the bent and broken young fighter in a cruel show of strength, Alala then tossed the brunette aside to be dragged off the mat.
“Next!”
The sights and sounds were not new to her, but Sasha had always been at a distance. Watching through monitors, or working on post-production. Now she was there, watching Alala cut off another hopeful fighter in one move. A thick-limbed italian girl in a t-shirt and yoga pants had gone in for a single kick, and now was held in the air by her throat. Alala shifted her grip on the rookie’s leg to press her overhead, maintaining a vice-like grip around the italian fighter’s neck. The greek grappler looked straight into the eyes of the remaining applicants as her current opponent choked and gagged, growing more lifeless as she lost blood-flow and oxygen.
“Next!”
After throwing another defeated fighter away like dead meat, Alala faced a terrified young wrestler in a bubblegum pink singlet. Sinking a hard kick into the rookie’s gut, Alala lifted the applicant off the mat by her waist, planting her feet to apply a very showy upside-down and reversed bearhug. As the greek fighter stared straight at her, Sasha quickly glanced around, and then down at her feet. She was the only one left, and Alala’s eyes were fixed upon her. The challenger howled in submission as her ribs cracked in the hold, and then blacked out with an awful shriek as Alala jerked her hard to one side with a meaty crunch. Carrying the now-limp wrestler, still inverted and bent sideways in her grasp, Alala grinned broadly at Sasha before hurling the beaten girl down onto the floor in front of her.
“...hold. Alala, to studio 4, it’s time for your interview.” The greek fighter frowned, turning to leave without a word before the producer continued over the intercom. “Sash, I mean, remaining applicant, you’ve got Rita.”
Feeling her entire body relax, Sasha stepped into the center of the studio and warmed up. She was still nervous to face the seasoned kickboxer “Rocket” Rita, but in that moment, she was simply thankful to not have a backbreaking mauling in her immediate future. While she knew Rita would likely outclass her, she inexplicably felt a small surge of confidence. Perhaps she could keep up with a kickboxer that underestimated her, or possibly even cause an upset. A small voice in her head tried to question where that idea was coming from, to remind her that she was not there as a featured competitor. Even as the red-clad woman approached to size her up, Sasha began to embrace the intoxicating effect of preparing to do battle under warm studio lights with the feeling of the mat underfoot, gripping and relaxing her toes as she rested her hands on her hips.
“Oh, I recognize you,” said Rita, smirking. “You handled my promos last season. Sasha.”
“You got it,” replied Sasha, flushing slightly.
“Working overtime, huh? Well, let’s make sure it’s a good one.” Rita offered a friendly fist, which Sasha awkwardly tapped with her own.
“You got it!” she exclaimed, filling with excitement as the match began.
Sasha managed to take two steps, before a sudden thunderous kick cracked straight into her body. Breath left her body immediately as the blow smashed against her liver, causing Sasha to crumple where she stood. Crawling to her hands and knees, Sasha retched as another wave of pain washed over her, forcing her to cough up a handful of saliva on the mat beneath her.
“That won’t cut it,” hissed Rita, hooking an arm around Sasha’s head to force her to stand on quivering legs. “I need a few more money shots to make up for that godawful trash you marketed me with.”
“Wh-wha,” stammered Sasha, before a hard knee crushed into her stomach. Rita tightened her arms, applying a front facelock that immediately choked out her opponent with a pathetic squeaking inhalation. Feeling Sasha go limp in her grip, Rita set about waking her back up with elbows to her back and knees to her chest. Quickly, Sasha began to make noises again, grunting and moaning as her torso was brutalized on both sides. Rita forcefully moved Sasha into a bent-over position in front of her, and began machine-gunning knees into her gut. Sasha bounced in place, her eyes screwed shut as she barely had the breath to cry out in pain. A final kneelift once again ruptured her liver, causing Sasha to collapse with an awful scream, her eyes rolled back before she hit the mat.
Looking down at the once-again unconscious and convulsing girl at her feet, Rita circled around her before plunging and grinding a heel into the prone challenger’s back. Sasha quickly roused with a howl, raising her head off the ground. Seizing the moment, Rita yanked Sasha up onto her knees, and then wrapped one leg forward around Sasha’s neck. Standing on one foot with her other leg hooked around her opponent’s throat, Rita slowly held out her arms in early celebration.
“Time to finish you off, Sash,” coo’d Rita, quietly. Sasha’s hands clawed weakly at the powerful calf and thigh that squeezed around her neck and jaw, muffled desperate noises trying to escape her lips. “Have fun with the Medikade.”
Sasha’s eyes widened as she felt the pressure suddenly increase. Rita jerked her hips, tightening her hooked leg as a cracking noise echoed through the studio. Sasha’s arms flailed out and fell limp, her head bending back at the neck enough to free her lips as they spat out a hoarse squawk. Rita looked down at Sasha’s face, watching her tongue meekly push forward as her eyes stared glassily at the ceiling. Still held upright on her knees, Sasha’s pelvis pumped with erratic spasms, while small choked noises stuttered out of her injured throat. The kickboxer jerked her hips again, hearing another satisfying crack come out of Sasha’s neck as it bent harshly to one side within the grasp of Rita’s leg.
Releasing her beaten opponent, Rita watched contently as Sasha flopped facedown onto the mat, and proceeded to stamp a foot down on the back of the girl’s head in order to pose for another shot.
“Hey,” called out Rita, “once you fix this cow’s neck with the Medikade, tell her I accept her apology.”
“Will, uh…will do,” replied the producer over the intercom.
“And tell the producers I’ll cover the Christmas party if they make her next overtime shift a best-of-3 with Sukh,” added Rita, looking forward to a very relaxing weekend.
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