Hallie had big plans for her life, and she wanted more than anything to become an important and famous journalist. That would teach Brad, who had put her into this position in the first place. The best revenge was to live well, and for her that meant becoming a successful and respected jornalist. Maybe she could start by writing about her experiences in the fight ring. She'd have to be careful about that, because these people were dancing on the edge of legality with this gambling on extreme female fights, and would likely sue her big time if they didn't like what she wrote.

Right now she had trouble meeting rent, and if they would also put her up for a while, while she got on her feet financially, that she could handle. Giving up her boarding house room with shared bathroom would be no problem, and she could also live with not having to pay for groceries, but to be on long-term contract meant you got dinged for lots of costs that would eat a big hole in your earnings. Of course it said they provided almost everything for you.

On the other hand, if she just went at it fight by fight there were no deductions from the prize money, and she would happily step into the ring with a few people she could think of for a $1,000. payoff. It would be humiliating to submit to some of the conditions, including being nude in public, but nobody she knew went to those fights, so it wasn't really public, just low-life gamblers.

It was only weird people and gamblers who went to the casinos, and most of them were probably more interested in winnings than in doing anything to sexy women. They just wanted to see women doing it to each other, hurting each other, and to get their rocks off getting glimpses of cunts and tits while making themselves big money from betting on the winner. She rationalized that doing this in front of low-life people wouldn’t necessarily make her low-life. She’d walk away with a big check, and leave the seediness in the casiono. She could handle that, for the kind of money they were offering.

Hallie had taken care of herself, and was blessed with a great body which she took care to keep in top trim. She couldn't afford a membership in a Training Club or gym, but she ran three times a week and played pick-up volleyball on the beach in summer. She also took really good care of her skin, pampering herself with the best creams available which she applied every night before she went to bed, and again when she got up in the morning.

Her skin was like a ten year old's, and glowed when she stepped out of the bath. Except for that horrid junior high school rape, for which her clothes had not been removed, she had never been seen nude except by Brad. She was not in the least ashamed of her body, and if everybody at the fights were strangers she saw no harm in showing herself off. The idea of getting gamblers excited and sexually stimulated was actually quite appealing. If all the D-Ring fighters were bare naked she could get used to it quickly.

She finished her sandwich and returned to her cubicle early. It looked like nobody was nearby. She hesitated a moment, then picked up the phone. She stood up and looked over the dividers to make sure nobody was able to listen to her, then dialed the number that was printed in several pages on the ourageous papers. ‘This is a great chance to get back at that Vivian bitch,' she thought. ‘If this thing is for real, I'll soon find out.'

"Good afternoon, D-RING Recruiting Department. How may I help you?" It was the pleasant voice of a mature woman, not some arrogant or stupid bimbo, as she had feared.

"I just saw your recruiting material, and was curious to know if its for real," she said, knowing from the woman's assured greeting that this was the real McCoy.

"When are you free for an appointment?" the woman asked, getting straight to business by taking her past the phase of asking if she wanted one. "I have an opening at 5:00 today, can you fill in the form and drop it by?"

Hallie hesitated, swallowing hard, wondering what the hell she was doing. She paused. "Maybe, Um-hum, I guess I could," she said. What's this? Do I really want to do this? "I can try to leave work a bit early," she said.

"We have a discrete office on the 17th floor of the Grain Exchange Building," the woman said, "which also houses a gym on the 2nd floor. You may want this appointment to be nobody else’s business. If you have a gym bag, anyone seeing you enter will believe you are going to work out, but if you don't have one handy, nobody will know the nature of your visit, since there are nearly eighty small companies in this building. Ours is located in 1701, and the sign on the door says D-Ring Binders and Closers. You'll also see that name on the lobby directory."

"Cute," said Hallie, "and thanks, really." These people were real professionals. Anyone wandering into the building would think they were in the business of making loose leaf binders for school and college kids. Smart.

"Because you may be here for a couple of hours, we'll have dinner prepared for you. What do you prefer, salmon, lamb or beef?"

"Beef would be great," she said. ‘My God,' she thought, ‘they really know how to make sure I don't back out.'

"Thank you, and who should we expect?"

"My name is Hallie Hart," she said. "That was my married name, and I still have it," she said. ‘Holy Hell, she thought, am I ever nervous! Listen to me ramble!' she thought. ‘I didn't have to volunteer that information.'

"Do you have access to a fax machine? It would help if you could fax over the application before you come."

"Yes, there's one here in my department. What is the number?"

The woman gave it to her and she wrote it on the ad. "We'll see you at 5:00 then," the woman said pleasantly. "Ask for Ms. Loretta de Coeur. Thank you for calling D-Ring. Our job is to create great opportunities for women willing to risk."

Putting the telephone down, Hallie sat back in her chair and sighed. What was she thinking? Letting them stuff a coarse tampon into her twat and another up her bum! That's what it said on the ad. That was phat. These people really pushed the limits, right in your face from the get-go. The only conciliation was that bitch Vivian would have to undergo the same humiliation.

How would she get the bitch to take part? She read through the papers again, paying careful attention every word now that she knew they were genuine, and saw once again just above where she was to fill in her personal information the offer to take care of that part for her. They made the same offer in bold type at the bottom of the same page. All she had to do was identify the bitch Vivian. They would take care of the rest and reel her in.

That's probably how it always happened. She couldn't believe what she had just done, and it excited her. The ad menitoned all kinds of kinky businesses they had, all of them suggesting extreme violence and worse for the professional ladies who took part. As an amature she was in control of what happened, but it really got serious, if the names of their branch fight companies meant anything.

She really hated Vivian enough to do this. Ever since Brad had left her for that bitch she had wanted to hurt her somehow for destroying her life. She wasn't sure she could go through with it, with the photos and the crowd and everything. What if the people she had to deal with were cold and hard and not caring? She couldn't believe that was true, because of the nice woman who answered the phone.

But she was probably just a recruiter, not one of the people that made the fighters do what they had to do. It all came down to the fact that she really wanted to hurt that bitch Vivian, and let people see it so the stupid cunt would be really humiliated. She would hurt the big breasted bitch in a way that she always remembered. Forever. She did her audition, passed with flying colors, and before leaving did an outrageous nude photo session to provve she was serious.


*

Just after lunch she was debating calling Ms. Loretta to see how things were coming when the phone rang. It was Brad.

"Vivian's disappeared," he said, worried.

"What's that got to do with me?" she asked. She could hardly contain her excitement. It looked like the wheels were turning, and she would get her fight after all, and soon.

"The cops have been around asking questions, and I think they suspect me of something, maybe murder!" His voice was shaky, and Hallie was glad he could not see her smile of genuine satisfaction. Maybe that would teach him for dumping her for that eighteen-year-old blonde bitch with the big boobs.

"What did you do to her?" she asked, "Did you beat her? I remember how you hit me when you were drunk. Has she run away?"

"Hell no," he said, "We're in love, and I've never hit her. Don't you ever tell anyone I hit you or you'll be very sorry!" He paused. "Viv just didn't come home yesterday, and I'm worried sick. I don't know what's happened to her, maybe something terrible. This is not like her."

"Don't come crying to me, asshole," she said, and slammed down the phone, just for effect. The prick was getting exactly what he deserved, and if Vivian didn't ever show up, maybe he really would be charged with murder. That would serve the prick right. One thing she knew for certain was that when the cunt surfaced she would be severely beaten, because she would take care of that. She would make it very personal, and very very hurtful! When nobody believed Vivian’s bizarre story about what happened to her, maybe Brad would take the wrap for that.

The telephone rang again.

"I don't know where Vivian is," she screamed into it.

"I do," said the voice she found so comforting.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Loretta, I thought it was Brad. He just called me and is taking heat for Vivian's disappearance."

"That's how our people set it up, leaving just enough evidence to point to him."

"That's great!" Hallie said. "He has no regard for women; he's just after whatever they can offer him." She had a delayed reaction to what she had just heard. "Won't Vivian be going home after, I mean when she agrees to fight me, or at least after we've had our fight?"

Now Ms. Loretta paused. "No, I've met with her, and although she doesn't know it yet, she has some exciting potential for our purposes. You did well in nominating her. I think she could make a very good fighter, so we plan to make her an offer similar to the one I want to make you. There is justice, my dear. I have some very good news for you. Why don't you come by."

"When would be good?" she asked, excitement rising.

"Right away would be fine. Our law department would like to talk to you about the legal arrangements, paperwork and the like. Then if you'd like, I can recommend we bypass the qualifying through a novice fight, although of course you can have yours, but we can sign you up to a full contract as fully qualified, if you like.

You showed us at your audition you know how to handle yourself and be a great entertainer. By the way, I saw your photos and they are terrific. You look wonderful in front of the cameras. You have a gift, my dear, and can become a major star in our business if that suits you. You will make a great deal of money, and quite quickly. Come on down and let's talk."

Hallie was too excited to take a bus, and instead spent most of her remaining cash on a taxi. The driver gave her a hard look. “Do you do internet porno?” he asked her, fixing his gaze on her until she answered.

"Yes, I do fight photos," she said, playing to his expectations, "Lethal fights. Nude. Brutal fights to the death. D-Ring fights. Would you like to get it on?" She surprised herself with her open assertiveness.

"Sure, lady, you think I want my nuts kicked?" He turned and got back to his business, but she saw him checking her in the rear view mirror. He was not sure whether or not to believe her, but she had been specific, and his memory of the photos he had seen in the past few days was still vivid. Hallie returned his stare, winked at him, and enjoyed his curiosity.

In twelve minutes she was under escort by a security guard, in the elevator an on her way to 1701.

"You look happy, young lady," the guard said. "You look like you've been offered a great new job."

"Better than you can imagine," she replied, then realized the guard knew the true business of D-Ring binders, and who the women who visited were. Only recruits would come here. Those that looked nervous were coming for an audition, and those with a smile and firm step had been granted a fight.

"That's terrific," he said, "I wish you good luck and a long life in your new career."

He really did know about their business! As soon as she entered reception Gloria with the big knockers, another even shorter skirt and the indrecible walk took her to the legal department, and left her with a pair of lawyers. They talked about big money, dropped some big figures, then more talk about money, prospects, security, and protection.

It was nothing specific, but it impressed the hell out of the excited and desperate girl. They also had a ream of papers for her to sign, and she gave up reading just half way through the first page. What she read said exactly what she understood, and she was too excited to waste time reading legal talk for common sense.

When she was finished signing and initialing the dozen pages provided to her and was about to return to the reception area, one of the lawyers said "We'll need your keys, Ms. Hart."

"What for?" she asked.

"Now that we have full and enduring power of attorney, we will need to clean out your little room. You will be living in our Combatants Community facility from now on.

"No, there's some misunderstanding, I'm just doing the novice fight with Vivian. And then maybe a few more, but nothing long term."

"You can discuss that with Ms. Loretta, but we will need your keys for now." Her purse was on his desk, and before she could reach it he had it. He removed the key chain, then passed her purse to his associate, who removed her wallet, which contained her credit cards and all personal identification. He gave the keys to another associate who was out the door before she could argue. She was escorted back to the lobby, and Gloria took her directly into Ms. Loretta's office.

"There you are, my dear," said the matronly woman. "You've caused quite a stir around here with your talent and remarkable photographs."

"These lawyers think I'm long term, and I definitely am not. I want to do a few fights, but just until I get back on my feet."

"We will be delighted to give you more fights, dear, as long as you perform well. The gamblers are quite fickle, but with your obvious talent I believe you've got lots of great-paying fights in your future." She paused a moment. "You don't want to prove me wrong. We also have some great new photo shoots planned for you, if you're interested. Remember, you get a pay raise every month."

"What about all those travel costs that get deducted?"

"Well, I can assure you we have no travel plans for you in the near future. In fact, if that's all you're worried about, I think we have a deal."

"I need to think about it before I make that kind of commitment," Hallie said. They've got my keys and all my personal stuff. What do they need those for?"

"Now that the papers are all done, you can take the time you need. We have a long term agreement with you in writing," Ms. Loretta said, ignoring her question. "Combatant's don't get near the ring unless they are informed and give full consent, unless of course their opponent gives consent for them by signing the form, which has passed the test in a number of trial cases. It is all consensual, and no further burden of proof is necessary.

For example, the papers you signed this afternoon include your consent for an accidental kill in any of our events, whether you are victim or victor. Its not that we expect you to kill Vivian in your first fight, or for her to kill you; we need your signature on file just as a precaution. When we're working with rage we can't very well prevent a combatant from getting carried away, and the gamblers expect and encourage them to do just that. If we didn't have a bulletproof defense for what happens in our rings, just by killing you, your opponent would be killing us.

“Or of course if there is one of these accidents in one of your fights, you might be the one to kill her. Taking us, a multi-billion dollar international operation, down for that one indiscretion would be totally unjust, particularly when our gambling clients expect they will likely see a death in the ring as part of every evening's entertainment. Our world-wide operations are so vast that there are many such sporting kills in the ring every night, but it is just a matter of scale, and each sport killing is treated like an individual case of unfortunate happenstance.

"Like they say in the movies, sometimes shit happens. We have of course taken that idea a step further to make it quite likely it will happen, and often. We also provide all kinds of stimulation, both psychological and chemical, to ensure our participants enjoy the fighting and sometimes killing as much as the gamblers in the audience do."

"I see what you mean," Hallie said, realizing for the first time how serious this whole business was. This was a very professional business, and these people covered the angles to protect their investments. "What you're saying is that I would not be held responsible if I accidentally killed my opponent."

"That's right, dear. Or even if you did it on purpose, which could never be proven in court. How can we know your intentions? Now that you have signed the consent, it also means we are not responsible. Even if an opponent kills you. Which, of course, is unlikely, because we are not currently asking you to engage in the ultimate solution fights, but once in the ring, as you now know, you are completely on your own; we can't do much to protect either you or your opponent.

With referees no longer used, once you step into the ring you are truly on your own. If in beating your opponent senseless you become so stimulated you actually beat her to death, well, that's the nature of the fight game, isn't it. We could hardly call it extreme fighting if you were not expected to take it to the extreme."