They had told him that the Madison Square Garden venue was sacred. That the whose who of all sporting events had performed here, or had aspirations to perform here. Anyone in the combat sports business wanted their name on the marquee of Madison Square Garden, that legends like Hulk Hogan had once been immortalized here, that Ultimate Fighting Championship, a predecessor to Universal Fight Championship, had done it's biggest live gate here. Twenty Million Dollars. It was here World Wrestling Entertainment, and Ultimate Fighting Championship, announced their forthcoming merger, and the birth of the Universal Fighing Championship. Since then, it all skyrocketed.
The crowd outside his locker room roared, penetrating the formerly eerie silence with the chorus of cheers, boos, cat calls, and stomps. The man stood tall inside the room, and despite the jitters that almost cerainly coursed through what would be a stomach, he stood still.
A knock brought the still man out of his almost prayful reverie, and he turned towards the door. Jackson, a oddly faced events coordinator for tonight peered in, squinting to see if anyone was in the darkness.
"Tre'yan T'Mass..."
T'Mass didn't answer, and the coordinator started to turn. Before he released the door however, T'Mass spoke. "I'm here..."
"The Under just stepped into the ring, you're up." Jackson started to leave, but stopped one more time. "Good Look."
There was no reply, and the door shut, just as Tre'Yan's music began to play.
I'm Feeling like Muhammad Ali
Down goes Frazier
I'm the mot--
Click.
The door shut, and the darkness returned, the soft hum of his music was drowned out as his eyes closed.
Tap. Tap.
His fists slammed together at the signal, and he turned towards the door - striding, almost gliding, out of the door and into the bright lights of Madison Square Garden. Cameras clicked, and even in the brights lights of the Garden their flashes tried to penetrate the impossible blackness that his hooded robes cast over his face. He knew they knew, he knew his opponent would have known. Yet, there was a reason he kept the hood up. And that reason was all his own.
Flanked by his trainer, and his coach, Tre'Yan made his way down the all, the thinning crowd murmuring mutely as he approached the end of the tunnel.
The crowd roared, but his music roared louder.
I'm the motherfucking greatest
I'm Feeling like Muhammad Ali
Down goes Frazier
The cheers were defeaning and drowned out the boos and stomps.
I'm the motherfucking greatest
I feel like Jordan in his Prime,
I feel like Magic Johnson 1980 Lakers
His second spoke to him, but they flowed in one ear and out the other. He had heard it all before, and his coach knew it.
I'm the motherfucking greatest
Rap Game Tony Hawk
I been on the road like a skater
The steps loomed before him.
I'm the motherfucking greatest
Used to be a legend in the making
Now I'm feeling like the Greatest
He had made it to the ring and stepped quietly up the steps. He didn't showboat, he didn't drag it out. Here, at the greatest fight of his life, before the thousands in attendance, on cameras for the hundred million watching at home.
T'Mass gulped and reached up and removed the hood from his head, revealing what would inevitably make the crowds both in person, and at home, gasp audibly. His boned head, similar to a cubone of former Pokemon fame, turned and watched the flashes of the cameras and the stunned looks on the faces of everyone. The rest of the robe followed, and his virtually bone based body was revealed to the world, once more, for yet another fight.
His hands were wrapped in fighting tape, as were his thighs, calves, and feet. His tail swished back and forth, as he turned and stared towards his opponent, Jake "The Under" Taker. His fists clenched, fists that could virtually punch a five inch dent in a thick steel wall; that could produce a two piece that could pierce that very same wall. His bones, as natural looking as they were, were petrified and had been trained to sustain thousands of pounds of force, though word was that his opponent tonight had either matched such force or was on the verge of doing so - tonight he would put that to the test. His advantage, or so many had assumed, was how fast he was. Smaller fighters were naturally faster - but Tre'yan had taken it to the next level. He was absolutely killer when it came to movement speed and footwork.
But where he and Jake were both different, and yet so similar, was that while Tre'Yan was a boxer, he had learned and perfected a varied range of boxing styles and Stances. Southpaw, Brawling, Peek-A-Boo, Counter Boxing, Hitman, In/Out Fighter, Unorthodox, Freedom, Hybrid, and Box Puncher. It was rare he ever pulled out most of them, settling for a few in a fight to keep his opponent off balance. He had the time, after all, his death in the boxing ring had given him all the time in the world.
He turned from his opponent and moved towards his coach and trainer, bowing to them both. The commentators jabbered away.
The ring announcer stepped up, and pulled the microphone to his lips...
"Ladies and...."
Scrawl Banditta,
Ohm,
KactusPunch