Although Déesse begins each throwdown with these same words, I never tire of hearing them. It reminds me of my own power. I can do anything if I put my mind to it. My destiny is not fixed. It is manifested.
Déesse continues. “Today I want to talk about our hands. These hands. Back then we relied on others to make our things. Food. Clothes. Weapons. Globalization, they called it. A fancy word. A big word. It meant not looking within our own talent and relying more and more outside. How do we feel about that?”
There is a chorus of boos.
“Everything made in Mega City is done by us, for us. We reuse every single scrap. Repurpose every item. With these hands, no one can stop us.”
“Say it, Déesse,” yells Truck.
Her words wash away my anxiety. My mother once told me how hard life was for her when she was a child. Hunger and disease wiped out many families. Violence was rampant. It wasn’t until sueño tabs were created that the city turned around. Food pellets have the essential nutrients a person needs. It was Déesse and her family who worked on a way to produce them on a large scale. She shared the knowledge with everyone.
“They, the money people, the liars, the men, they destroyed the homes we had. With our hands we now have a new place. Don’t ever forget we did this together and we are going to continue to build a better future. Together.”
How can one woman bring so much hope simply by speaking? Old-timers say Déesse learned the art of oratory from her great-grandmother. Listening to her speak, I am reminded of how my future can be reshaped, even if I’m living off of trades or sleeping on dirt floors. If Déesse wants me to throw this fight, I’m willing to lose if it means I’ll eventually be closer to her.
“Today is a special night,” Déesse says. “Each month we prove we are triumphant in the streets. We can come together and defend our home. This isn’t La Casa de Déesse. No, children. This is our house! And we protect it with this.”
She raises her fists, and everyone goes wild. Déesse waits for the roar to subside.
“Go ahead, Sule. Speak to your sisters.”
Only a few toilers, mostly out of pity, welcome Sule with claps. She mumbles so quietly. Those behind me scream at her to speak up. Sule repeats herself. No one can make out what she’s saying. This only makes her fumble even more. She huffs and reveals a flash of anger that causes a few of us to laugh.
Anyone else in Sule’s position would love to be dressed in such beautiful clothes, to be part of such a beloved family. Not Sule. I don’t know how Déesse can produce such a plain, boring daughter. There’s a joke going around that if you want to insult a person’s beauty, just tell them they are “pulling a Sule.”
“We are very happy to be here tonight,” Sule says. “To, ummm, for these fights.”
She practically throws the microphone back to her mother and walks farther into the balcony so no one can see her. Poor Sule. She doesn’t have her brother’s smarts or her mother’s looks. She can’t even fight, although her mother has arranged for the best soldiers to try to work their magic on her. Kind of a waste if you ask me.
Santo stands beside Sule. He’s dressed in armor although he will never fight because of his gender. What type of conversation did he have with his mother? Will Santo lose respect for me for throwing the fight?
This angers me. Screw him and screw me for allowing my thoughts to be tied to what he thinks. There’s only the goal. There’s no room for feelings.
“As you know, these streets have been patrolled by two of my most trustworthy crews. Las Mal Criadas are a true bunch.” The crowd goes crazy. They don’t let Déesse finish. She begins again.
“Las Mal Criadas are a true bunch. They’re the Bad Girls. The E-ratic Commanders, the Wild Ones. With Chief Rocka as their leader, these soldiers have taken many a crew down with their strength and wisdom.”
Toilers behind me pat my back. It feels good to be loved.
“The Deadly Venoms have been by my side for a while. The Mighty Demons, the Thunderous Bandits, the Female MCs. Destiny has shaped her crew in her likeness—forward crushers. Now they are the ones to beat.”
Everyone screams around me. The noise deafens to the point where the sounds blend into one.
“Of the two, only one will stand. The victors will be placed on my right-hand side.”
The time has come. A toiler picks up the clave and begins the rhythm. The “ta-ta, ta-ta-ta.” My crew begins the chant, our chant. Las Mal Criadas’ call to action, in synch with the clave.
“Mal-Mal, Mal-Mal-Mal.”
The repeating chant is soon joined with the sound of the congas. The thumping of the same beat over and over again. It follows the rhythm of my pulsating heart, the sound of my crew’s heart. I join in on the chant and focus on every word and what they mean. To be bad. To be born into this world for only one thing—to cause pain. Yes, I’ll lose this fight, but first I’m going to cause Destiny’s crew misery.
We line up in formation. To my left, the muscle of my crew, Truck and Smiley, take up space. Smiley wears a gold grill, one that marks the victims she bites with an “LMC.” Her hair stands in multiple directions. Her lips are lined in bright red. Nena stays close to the middle, right beside my girl, Shi. Shi may be short, she’s also super fast, a quality most people underestimate. Her long black bangs conceal most of her face.
I take one more view of the Towers. Those nameless strangers shout and throw petals down. Soon I will be among them.
“Don’t forget, LMC. This is our moment,” I say to my crew. “Stick to the plan. Remember, we are sisters, family, and we look out for each other.”
I face each of them. Tap them on their shoulders. They are ready.
Déesse nods to Santo. He will light a malasuerte signaling the start of the throwdown.
I focus on Destiny’s grotesque lips and wait to hear the explosion. Destiny voices foul curses. Those are the lips I will punch for the times she called me Santo’s whore. For insulting my crew. For disrespecting my house and the house of Déesse. And for killing Manos Dura. She will pay right before I lose the fight.
Boom.
Her crew gallops toward us. What a bunch of chicken heads. They fan out into a semicircle so Destiny stays protected behind them. My crew’s mission is to wipe them off one by one. Everyone is up for grabs except for Destiny. They have no clue about my plan to fake this fight.
I take the first Deadly Venom with a jab to the stomach. I finish her off with several kicks to the groin. Before I can charge toward Destiny, another Deadly Venom jumps on my back. She’s a crazed devil, yelling indescribable noise in my ear and ramming her fists onto my head. I try to flip her over. It’s a no go. Instead of a bear hug, she’s now going for my eyes. A baby recruit who thinks she’s got a chance with me. Not tonight, young gun. I push back, forcing us both to fall backward. When we drop, I elbow her in the ribs. While she catches her breath, I turn and straddle her body. I rain a flurry of jabs on her, destroying her face until her lip splits and her eyes roll back.
Quick tally on the LMCs. Nena is being tag-teamed by two Deadly Venoms. Smiley comes to her rescue, takes a big bite out of one of them. Nena gets her bearings back and is able to get in a couple of good blows. A Deadly Venom holds a bag by her side. This is a tip I gave my girls before the fight. The Deadly Venoms are known for storing shit and rubbing handfuls of it into their opponent’s mouth. Disgusting and effective as hell. Nena sees the girl and outsmarts her by jumping on her first. The shit bag falls from her hands. I don’t wait to see what happens next.