MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

"Come on, again!" As Damon tried to get another takedown, Ty yelled out, and his voice rang through the room.

Ty, a heavyweight who was much bigger than Damon, spread out and pushed down on his shoulders to protect himself.

Even though there was resistance, Damon's resolve didn't change.

He adjusted quickly, switching to a single-leg attempt, his grip firm and controlled. Ty grunted as he had to put more effort into maintaining his balance.

"Damn, man," Ty muttered, gritting his teeth. "When did your wrestling get this good?"

Damon didn't answer right away. Instead, he pushed forward, and as Ty fought for control, Damon's foreheqd hit Ty's hip.

Ty was able to push him back, but it wasn't easy.

"You're stronger than you look, Cross," Ty said, stepping back and shaking out his arms. "But seriously, what's up with this? A couple of months ago, you barely even tried to wrestle, and now it's like you know everything."

Damon smirked, breathing heavily but clearly not done. "I've been working on it."

"Yeah, no kidding." Ty wiped the sweat from his brow. "Feels like you already know the moves, you just need to smooth out the rough edges."

"That's the plan," Damon replied, already resetting his stance. His eyes locked onto Ty, focused and unrelenting.

"Alright," Ty said, his tone laced with amusement. "One more round, but don't think I'm gonna go easy on you."

They fought again, with Damon's moves being quick and well-thought-out.

It was clear that Damon had gotten better, but Ty still had the upper hand in size and weight.

He used angles and timing to his advantage, avoiding Ty's attempts to overpower him.

After a few more exchanges, Damon managed to get under Ty's defenses, sweeping his leg and driving him to the mat.

"Holy shit," Ty groaned, lying flat on his back. "Alright, you win this one."

Damon stood, extending a hand to help Ty up. "Thanks for the work, man."

Ty took the hand, letting Damon pull him to his feet. "No problem. But seriously, dude, whatever you've been doing… keep doing it. You're a whole new fighter."

Damon smirked and wiped his forehead to dry. "Soon enough, Ty, I'll be handing you your ass."

Ty raised an eyebrow, leaning against the ropes. "Sure, Damon. Keep dreaming." His tone was dry, but the faint smirk on his face gave him away.

Damon chuckled, circling his arms to loosen his shoulders. "Come on, admit it. My wrestling's getting better."

Ty grabbed his water bottle, taking a sip before answering. "It is," he said simply, capping the bottle and tossing it into his gym bag. "You're still raw, but... not bad."

Damon blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. "Wow, high praise from Ty. Should I frame that?"

Ty shrugged, his expression as neutral as ever. "Just saying. You're improving, but don't let it go to your head."

He grabbed his towel and threw it over his shoulder. "You're still not taking me down easily."

Damon smirked, leaning on the ropes. "Not yet. But soon."

Ty glanced at him, shaking his head slightly. "We'll see."

As Ty began to pack up his things, there was a short period of silence.

"You heading out?" Damon asked.

"Yeah," Ty replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Victor gave you the key, right?"

"Yeah," Damon nodded. "I'll lock up."

Ty paused at the door, turning back to Damon. "Don't overdo it. Your fight's next week. You've been putting in work—don't burn yourself out."

Damon nodded, appreciating the advice. "I hear you. Thanks."

Without another word, Ty nodded and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Damon stood in the now-empty gym, his breath still steadying from the sparring session.

He glanced at the clock, then at the mats.

"One more drill," he muttered to himself, grabbing the mop to clean up first.

Damon finished mopping the mats, the sound of the mop dragging against the floor echoing in the quiet gym.

While wiping the sweat off his forehead, he leaned on the mop handle for a moment and looked around the room. Now that everything was clean, just like how Victor liked it.

Time had passed since his return to California, and a lot had changed.

Since his date, and kiss with Svetlana, things felt different. A good kind of different.

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Their relationship, though still new and undefined, was building into something real, something solid.

They hadn't told anyone in their friend group yet, but Damon had a feeling they already knew.

Ty, Ash, and even Joey weren't exactly oblivious.

They probably noticed the way he'd been a little more distracted lately, or how Svetlana had a different kind of smile when he was around.

But Damon and Svetlana didn't care much about hiding it.

They weren't making a big deal out of it either, it was just… theirs, something private and special.

Damon set the mop aside, stretching his arms over his head as he let out a long exhale.

Things were going well.

Training was progressing, his wrestling was improving, and his fight next week was looming closer.

Everything felt like it was falling into place. But with that came the pressure, the kind he thrived on.

Walking over to his bag, Damon grabbed his phone.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

A notification blinked on the screen, and a small smile tugged at his lips as he saw Svetlana's name.

It was a simple text.

[Don't work too hard.]

He chuckled softly, typing a quick response.

[Never do 😉.]

He felt a strange calm come over him as he hit "send."

Things have never been great. He was right where he needed to be for now, though.

Damon slung his gym bag over his shoulder and glanced around the empty gym, making sure everything was in order.

The mats were cleaned, the equipment was neatly stacked, and the lights were dimmed.

"Alright, time to close up this place," he muttered to himself, pulling out the key Victor had given him.

The gym had been his sanctuary these past weeks, but now, with his fight drawing near, the intensity of his training would taper off.

He'd already put in the work, pushed his body to the limit. Now it was about staying sharp, refining his strategy, and letting his body recover.

As he locked the front door and stepped out.

He wasn't one to get cocky, but there was a quiet certainty in the way he carried himself.

He was ready.