All American THROWDOWN (July Only)

"Promises, and they feel all so wasted on myself!"

That was the song playing loudly over the speakers and blaring into the ears of those close enough. People were dancing. Lights were flashing. Drinks were being taken in like a serum through a syringe. Cigarette smoke littered the air to mimic the toxicity of the modern day. Feet shuffled around like decks of cards in the mode of travel. Various degrees and examples of illegal substances were being sold like stolen rims for tires. No matter how someone could slice it there was no hiding the fact that nothing here had even the appearance of being legal. Nothing here could ever be more wrong and more twisted. The multitude of the residents in this venue belonged to the young adult age group. Some were even questionable in terms of age. However, illegal activities were not questioned. Money was the only police here.


That was an announcer giving a play by play description of a fight. This wasn't just a club. This was a fighting event. Not a single one of the competitors had a license. Nobody here was a professional. Instead, what was being displayed like chopped meat were nothing more than a bunch of amateurs showing the same amount of skill and agility that could be found in a mosquito with arthritis. These guys were terrible and yet the crowd loved it. Whenever someone stepped into the large wired cage with the octagon shape and black tape as a theme there would be nothing but cheering. That same dark adhesive was stained in blood. Sanitation wasn't exactly a huge concern when one was doing something that could land a hefty jail sentence.

Inside the ring the action was all but over. Or was it? The audience was giving out verbal commands that could be linked to the ideas of death. This wasn't just a fight to crown a winner. This was a fight to the death. In response to the people's demands the victor began pummeling the opponent's head into the ground with a heavy stomping. The skull was being crushed like a rotting watermelon. It was easy to see why there weren't many witnesses to this kind of human rights violation. The winners wouldn't say anything, the people who came to watch and place bets certainly wasn't going to say a thing and the losers, being the lose ends, had their head stomped in. Hard to complain of human gladiator sports in an underground fashion if one can't even walk from brain damage.

Two men dressed in black suits apprehended the limp loser and tossed the man out of the ring. That guy could have been dead and neither one of them would care. It was apart of the business. Another part of this business was finding someone who would fight a man who didn't care about killing. This "Dynamo" character tipped the odds into his favor by being nearly seven feet tall and looking like a steroid pumped freak from the planet Mars. Then again, if this man never beat as many opponents as he did it would be hard to take him seriously. After all, who wears a pink set of underwear-like trousers and pink wrestling boots? He looked like a circus freak but one can't argue his results. There was a reason why he was undefeated.


The hype man was doing his job well. But he, like the pink clown in the octagon, didn't dress the part with his yellow suit jacket and red neck tie. People were about to leave. Hardly anybody challenged someone who clearly couldn't be beaten. It was one thing to be dominant but being unbeatable meant boredom. Something had to be done. This place was about to lose money if somebody wasn't going to challenge this guy. That somebody was already being scoped out by club security. The announcer came into the structure with the pink titan.

Nobody was foolish enough to try. Some were considering it but was wise not to go along with the crazy plan. There was one who was considering in the crowd and she looked like the lost step child of the very same man standing in the structure of pain. She was about to leave but club security grabbed her up. Dynamo needed an easy win to keep the people excited. A woman was a likely target given the fact that there was a general belief by the people in management that women could not fight as well as men. They would, unfortunately or fortunately, pick the wrong girl for the task.

"You better let me go or I'll do to you what Vanilla Ice did to rap music!" Her shouts were not taken seriously. The woman that was being carried into the octagon looked crazy enough where she might have done the challenge without force. She was dressed in a brown teddy bear suit. She didn't even dress the part. The only reason why the girl was here was because she loved to watch the fights. However, there was never a desire to become the main attraction.

The small female was tossed into the octagon and landed on the flooring with a hard thud. "Good luck!" That was the well wishing of one of the thugs who just placed her into this situation. She got up to hear clapping and cheering. The girl scratched her head revealing brown hair underneath the bear eye covering on the top of her head. Both of her brown eyes looked around frantically for an exit. She would have to climb her way out of her. She didn't want to fight. All this young woman wanted was to watch a fight, go home, maybe have a beer or two and call it a night.

"WHOOOOOOA! We have a competitor! Looks like somebody is brave enough to challenge Dynamo!"

She turned around to see the weapon of destruction walking over towards her. The girl looked terrified. The man stopped in the middle of the structure. The announcer made a hand motion for her to come towards them. Slowly this teddy girl took scared step after horrified step towards the center of the ring. She held her hands up towards her mouth in fear. The microphone was lifted up towards the mouth of the monster breathing hard like a steam powered freight train. "I need no introductions!" That was what this man shouted.


The microphone was then held up to the teddy suit person. She knew what she was supposed to do but was afraid to do it. People started cheering for her at first but then booed her in response to her timidness. "Come on, tell the people who you are. At least then we can put your words on your tombstone," the announcer joked. The girl finally gave the response of, "R-Reiko. My name is Reiko." This was pitiful. Not only was this girl conceivably about to be beaten within an inch of her life but she was being made fun of. The announcer laughed at her. To him, putting a young girl in harm's way was nothing more than a joke.


Out of nowhere the monster pushed the smaller competitor. She didn't topple over. The announcer got the hell out of there. The bell was supposed to ring before any violence was showed. This young lady looked like she was about to cry. Dynamo got down on all fours like a bull before charging at her with all three hundred pounds of force accompanying him. Just when people were about to gasp in response to the slaughter of this young lamb that was sure to come they gasped for another reason. This girl executed what had to be one of the faster upward and left leaning knee strikes to the side of the head that any one of these people had ever witnessed. She shouted, "Headlights meets deer!" The bigger competitor was knocked out cold upon impact. Extent of damage? Of course, there would be a huge bump on that head but there was an indent where the crash site occurred that depicted the shape of a knee bone.


The cheering was immense. This girl looked around and smiled. Reiko couldn't believe what she had just did. Her hands went up into the air and she moved the bear eared hoodie. This moment would live with her forever. Well, at least until alcohol was involved then she'd forget it like everything else. However, this was her time. Never had she considered using her fighting talent again to gain glory. The only reason why she was evil was because she felt unappreciated. Finally, she could stop being the victim and do what she loved to do; kick ass.