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The sun peaked over the horizon signalling the new day had begun. In houses across town people were waking up to the fresh smell of coffee. Others weren't. In fact there were fourteen men in town that didn't get a minute of sleep. Some paced in their cells, other lay in their beds staring up at the ceiling. Today was they're day. It wouldn't be a good day to die.
Godzillius Blitz awoke, and strode over to Split Peon the First. Split Peon had been arguing with himself alnight about whether or not he should return to the salt mines. A dried out human tongue hung around Godzillius' neck and briefly hung out over Split's face as Godzillius bent over to sit down next to his cell mate.
"Having second thoughts are you?" asked Gozillius in a calm tone. The question was reduntant, but the silence had to be broken. Godzillius continued with the small talk, but realized that Split just wasn't in the mood.
"Fine," Godzillius said, "But just remember, if you bring your doubt to the thunderdome with you, there's NO doubt you'll get yourself killed."
Across town similar conversations were going on. In House Corax, Calaleus was giving last minute tips to Jeeberus Dee. The instructions were pointless. Most of these men had been warriors at some time or other and became slaves through capture. Melee was still foreign to most of them, since the high-powered rifle made such weapons obsolete. Yet, freedom was their goal, and to attain it, they had to risk their lives.
Fans of the bloodsport would tell you that fights between Rank 1 slaves are the best. Nobody really knows what they are doing, and the survival instinct is apparent on everybody's face. As the slaves get more fights under their belts, they become numb to the pressure and are more willing to accept their fate. Fights between highly ranked opponents are fun, but they are rarely messy. Rank 1 slaves often lose limbs and entrails. Rank 9 slaves can put their opponents out of their misery with one fell strike. Yes, rank 1 fights, those are the spectator favorites.
Today, the spectators will not be disappointed. Today, there is a record seven Rank 1 fights. No, the big bank and high profile celebrities will not be there. But the pure fans of the sport will come in droves to catch a glimpse of the shooting star. Women will annoy their husbands by placing bets according to how a fighter's name sounds or what color he is waring. Children will flock to the paddocks to get an autograph or two of a fighter who could some day become a superstar. Superstars like Torbjorg, Four Fingered Flynn, Raven Hawk and The Rooster. These were the elite. These men are heroes.
Such a grand spectacle Sunday's at Thunderdome had become. Today tickets are plentiful and the price is low. But on the day of a big fight, you can be sure that tickets are hard to come by. The best seats in the house can fetch scalped prices upwards of $300. The eight week season is short, but brutal. Fighters who can make it through one season of the carnage are revered as gods among men.
Yet, gods they are not. Today, at noon, these men will face their fears. Seven will live. Seven will die. Once a fighter is inside the Thunderdome, only one rule applies:
TWO MEN ENTER. ONE MAN LEAVES.
Freedom. Is it worth risking your life? Today fourteen men say that it is. Seven will pay and seven will escape the reaper for another week. Who will that be? Tune in today at noon (CST) for THUNDERDOME!
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