The atmosphere at the Bizzaar buzzed with energy, an energetic tapestry of noise and excitement. The air thrummed with the raucous cheers of fervent spectators, their voices drowning out the animated shouts of vendors hawking their wares. The enticing aromas of sizzling mystery meats wafted through the air, mingling with the rich, fragrant spices of various dishes. Above, an array of brightly colored banners fluttered in the breeze, each representing one of the fighters who would soon clash in The Ring.
The monthly fights had evolved into a cornerstone of the Bizzaar's allure, pulling crowds from all corners of the wastes. As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over the scene, the excitement in the air intensified, reaching a fever pitch as the Announcer strode confidently into the ring. His presence commanded attention, and he took a moment to soak in the crowd's collective energy, reveling in their cheers and chants that echoed like thunder. The Announcer raised his hand, silencing the jubilant uproar; the crowd gradually fell into a hush, their excitement fading to a low, eager murmur.
"Welcome one and all to the Bizzaar!" he boomed.
In response, the crowd erupted into loud applause and cheering. The Announcer raised his hand again, signaling for silence in the venue. Gradually, the clamor subsided until a hush settled over the crowd.
Taking a deep breath, the Announcer projected his voice, "Welcome to Friday Night Fights!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the audience responded with an earth-shaking roar, a sheer explosion of sound reverberating across the Bizzaar. The vibration of their cheers reverberated through the Bizzaar, momentarily drowning out the distant groans of the encroaching zombie horde. The wall guards, stationed strategically to keep unrest at bay, felt the icy grip of fear run down their spines as they remained vigilant. Their main task was to hold back the attracted undead, drawn by the overwhelming noise of excitement.
With a hand raised to quell the growing roar for a third time, the Announcer stood taller, his voice commanding, "Now, making his way to the ring, standing at an imposing 6 foot 5 inches and weighing in at a solid 250 pounds, the fierce and legendary former heavyweight champion, WILDCAT!"
Wildcat strode out to the ring confidently, towering over the crowd. He moved with purpose, ignoring the cheers and jeers that surrounded him. As he approached, a ring hand opened the gate of the chain-link fence encircling the ring. Wildcat stepped inside, his broad shoulders squared and muscles rippling, heading straight for his corner, showcasing the spirit of a seasoned fighter ready for battle.
"And his opponent, the behemoth of the night, standing at an astonishing 7 feet tall and weighing a monstrous 300 pounds, fearsome and relentless, we present to you ROMULOUS!"
Wildcat's opponent, Romulus, entered the ring with a whole entourage. His hands sported wicked-looking claws that glinted in the firelight of torches. A wild mane of hair cascaded down a dark like a dark waterfall, shrouding his face in deep shadow.
As he stepped into the ring, the tension escalated. He moved like a wild animal, settling into his corner while his piercing eyes locked onto Wildcat, brimming with an intensity that sent shivers down the spines of lesser men.
The Announcer seized the moment, cutting through the crowd's murmurs with his voice. "Ladies and gentlemen," he bellowed, regaining their attention. The rules for tonight's showdown are straightforward. No killing," he declared, directing a stern gaze at Romulus. Beyond that, anything goes. The only way to victory is to remain the last one standing." The audience roared with approval at the declaration.
The fight was a thrilling spectacle that lasted late into the night. Romulus took the lead early, using his size and strength to his benefit, pummeling Wildcat to the mat with devastating blows, then lifting Wildcat and repeatedly tossing him into the chain link fence. He battered Wildcat with vicious elbows that Wildcat tried desperately to defend against. Romulus was bigger, stronger, and more brutal than any opponent Wildcat had faced.
What Wildcat possessed was a keen strategic mind and exceptional skill.
He also could take a beating.
Wildcat opened his eyes to the sterile whiteness of the infirmary inside the Bizzaar. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he saw the nurse standing at his bedside.
"You've been unconscious for several days," she said gently. As she continued, a smile blossomed on her face. "But you have some good news: you won the prize."
Wildcat's eyes went wide. The nurse continued, "You've earned $1000 in Dollar Deb Dollars, a thousand rounds of ammunition in the caliber of his choosing, and as much fuel as he could haul."
The nurse went on to tell him how Romulus had broken the first rule of the ring, using his vicious claws to eviscerate Wildcat in a barbarous display of ferocity.
Wildcat recovered entirely within days. After collecting his winnings, a small fortune in the wastes of the ZomPoc, he turned his back on the bustling chaos of the Bizzaar.
