Date: May 11th 2014
Location: Miami, Wesley's car shop
Time: 11:42 AM

Wesley was off with the two truck to pick up a car so Nikolai was alone in the shop. As he was working on the engine of an old school Mustang, he started succumbing himself to his thoughts. "Hmm! I wonder what Kravinov is doing. He is probably turning himself upside down trying to find me. Allthese efforts for one man. Why can't he just let it go. But anyway...if he discovers me here I will have home field advantage. I've been here for 4 years and i've come to know this place quite well. I gotta say Miami is one hell of a city. Beautiful women everywhere you go, palm trees, and the weather is ten times better then Russia. I never really liked the cold anyway..." Nikolai snapped out of his thoughts as the sound of a horn caught his attention. It was Wesley. He arrived with a Chevrolet Impala that was pretty messed up from an accident.

Nikolai then helped Wesley push the car in. "What happened man? You didn't even hear me arrive." Asked Wesley, turning his view to Nikolai. "I'm sorry. I was thinking...about stuff." Said Nikolai as he was scratching the back of his head and smiling. "Eh whatever. Look at this, 1995 Chevy Impala SS. Very nice car. The owner trashed it a little in a car accident. And now we gotta fix it. You finish that Mustang. because the client is coming late this afternoon to pick it up and i'll start working on this one." Said Wesley as he was gesturing. " Got it." Said Nikolai as he and Wesley went to their business.

This fight has had specialists from all over the world talking, Joe. While not really something special in and of itself, it has been talked about by Mixed Martial Arts fans around the world. Many for, and many against, what are your thoughts?

Well, Mike, bringing a fighter out of prison to fight in an official event is never something that is going to go unheard of, and there are many eyes on Gavrilov now, as he is entered the country, going through customs. He is going to attend a Q&A press conference soon, and we will be able to see how well he does. His history in official fights has been nothing short of amazing. 15-0 is his record, with 13 knockouts, and 2 submissions. He has been under the current rules of the UFC, but that was almost ten years ago now. Fighting in prison is different from fighting in the octagon. But, without a doubt, while there's controversy surrounding this fight, it is also estimated to be one of the most watched events since the beginning of the UFC.

I can't help but agree. He is a very versatile fighter, and very complete on the ground, grappling and on his feet, although his main strength, from what we can see, is from his striking power. His high and low kicks are very powerful and very fast. His punching is a little slow, but it's made up for in accuracy and the pure strength behind the blows. His opponent next Saturday night is former Light-Heavyweight Champion Max Jones, who, if he wins will be going for another shot at the title that he lost last summer to Mike Rhames, from Canada. But, from what we can see, he will have one hell of a fight ahead of him, make no mistake. Jones' strength is obvious. He is a power wrestler, former Boxer and with a black-belt in Muay-Thai and BJJ, Gavrilov and Jones are very alike in style, but I think Jones has the advantage in technique, Joe.

(Swtiches to screen to Max Jones) This guy's an internet sensation, and that's all he is. Miami is my town, it's where I fight, and it's where I win. The guy can dance around all he likes, but he is gonna have a hard time getting through me. I get the title in my sights, baby, and ain't no punk ass Russian gonna take that away from me.

(Back to Mike and Joe) Well, there you have it, from the man with a plan and sights on the belt once more. You can look up the logo of the fight on ufc.com. The main event will be the fight between Rhames and Mark Brokovich for the Light-Heavyweight belt, but most eyes will be on the Garilov vs. Jones next Saturday.



The air here was different. From the moment that he stepped off of the plane, he felt the dense heat that this place was covered in. He enjoyed heat, for the most part, but the climate shock wasn't good. He shook his head and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Once he had been released from prison, he had been taken to a hotel, where he had been scrubbed down. Then the tests, which in his opinion were stupid. Where the fuck was a guy to get performance enhancing drugs in prison? Crude poisons, yes. Recreational drugs with certainty. But not steroids and the like.

Next he had been taken to a shopping mall. Again, stupid, but the press boys wanted something other than a scraggly Russian to appear on the logos of their event. Barbershop first, to trip his goatee and make his hair more stylish. He growled at the very word. Next a clothing store, where they bought everything for him from training gear to suits, ties and underwear. His look for now, they decided, would a long, leather trench coat, reaching to his ankles, a suit underneath and wearing a felt fedora. They said it made him look... what was it... gangstah? He supposed that they meant intimidating.

He was treated to a fine meal, and a nice night of rest in the most comfortable bed that he had slept in... well, his entire life, he supposed. Then, an early rise, going to the gym to be walked through several training exercises to see what kind of shape he was in. The gorilla of a man that was training him gave him one look and said that he was ready to step into the ring at that moment, but sponsors had to be placated and assured, so they just went through the motions. He was in perfect shape, and he didn't need any fucking doctors to tell him so. He never drank overmuch, never smoked anything past the occasional cigar that he could get his hands on in jail. Recreational drugs were untouchables to him, along with the people that used them. The fact that the men that had worked behind the scenes to get him this far made their bread and butter off of these people disgusted him. While it hadn't been told to him directly, he wasn't an idiot. He knew that the rumors were that his long-estranged brother was currently residing in the US. He also knew that nobody stepped out of prison without a nod from the Mob bosses, and they didn't nod unless they needed something done on the outside. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what was going on. He was being sent to find his brother. Maybe even kill him with his own hands.

Two weeks in Moscow had been spent training, filling out forms, signing papers that meant that his name and face were allowed to be used by the UFC logo to make money for them, more training, more paper signing, more tests, pictures taken with him in his new trunks and his most intimidating look to go on the promotional poster of his fight. The gloves were a bit of a hindrance, but he got used to them quickly. The parts that he hated the most was dealing with the press. Every day there was an hour or so set aside for him to answer their seemingly interminable line of questions. None were dealing with his family, but mostly his past, love life, his experiences in prison. Jackals of the media food chain, these reporters, living off of the scraps that those better than them tossed.

Finally, plane to Miami, Florida, USA. He had set foot outside of Russia twice, both for fighting events, and each country felt different. USA was no different. The sun was off, somehow, shining right in his eyes as he stepped out of the executive jet, seeing off in the corner as a handful of photographers captured the moment that he set foot for the first time on US soil. He had seen their sensationalist writing about him. But he had to take it. Just going through the motions. He growled softly and took off his jacket. It was fucking hot here.