Picture the Thunderdome. A shadow filed, iron caged, dome with a dirt floor the color of rust from recently spilled blood. The moving shadows are created by the post-apocalyptic spectators hanging along the outside of the cage, clad in various leather costumes with open sores oozing puss. You are Mad Max, you have a whistle, and your opponent is Master Blaster, a physically intimidating champion controlled by a small genius. “Two men enter, one man leaves! Two men enter, one man leaves.”
