MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Arrived

The rest of the day passed in a blur of relaxation and quiet contemplation. Damon returned to the alley, his mind still reeling from the strange experience in the restroom. He didn't even think about exercising, his body feeling drained from the morning's events.

His mother, on the other hand, was a different story. She continued to push herself, her determination and grit evident in every rep and every set.

Damon watched her with a mix of admiration and concern, hoping that she wouldn't overdo it.

As the day wore on, Damon's thoughts turned to the fight ahead. He hoped that he could win, that he could emerge victorious and take the first step towards a better life.

He knew that a backyard fight was just the beginning, that if he could succeed, he would have the chance to compete on a bigger stage.

He imagined himself on TV, his name and face known to millions. He pictured the crowd cheering, the commentators praising his skills. He saw himself standing in the ring, his hand raised in victory.

But for now, that was just a dream. Damon knew that he had to focus on the present, on the fight ahead. He had to stay calm, stay focused, and trust in his training.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the alley, Damon felt a sense of peace wash over him.

He knew that tomorrow would be a big day, but for now, he just relaxed, enjoying the quiet moment with his mother.

The sound of her heavy breathing, the creaking of the old boxes beneath her feet, the distant hum of traffic - it was all so familiar, so comforting.

Damon closed his eyes, letting the sounds wash over him, and let himself drift off into a state of calm, focused anticipation.

Night fell swiftly, casting a dark shadow over the alley. Damon and his mother succumbed to exhaustion, their bodies surrendering to the allure of sleep.

The sound of their gentle snores filled the air, a soothing melody that echoed off the walls.

...

Morning arrived with ease, the sun peeking through the narrow alleyway like a curious eye. Damon stirred, his body stretching as he sat up. He gently shook his mother awake, "Mom."

Her eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. She gazed at her son, her voice laced with sleep, "Damon, what's wrong?"

Damon's voice was low and even, "I'm leaving. I thought I should let you know. I'll be back late."

His mother's eyes drooped, her lids heavy with fatigue. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, "Okay, be safe... break bones."

A faint smile played on her lips as she drifted off to sleep once more. Damon watched her for a moment, his expression softening. He knew she was still tired from the previous day's exercise.

He turned his attention to the large bin behind which he had stashed his gear. He moved quietly, not wanting to disturb his mother's sleep. As he reached behind the bin, his fingers closed around the plastic bag containing his gear.

The plastic crinkled softly as he pulled it out, the sound echoing through the stillness of the alley. Damon's hands moved deftly, unzipping the bag and revealing the contents.

The gloves and mouthguard lay nestled within, their sleek surfaces glinting in the morning light. Damon's eyes narrowed, his focus intensifying as he prepared for the fight ahead.

Damon emerged from the alley, his feet carrying him away from the familiar surroundings. He broke into a run, his legs pumping furiously as he devoured the distance. However, he quickly realized that running wasn't the best idea - his stamina wasn't exactly top-notch, and he needed to preserve his energy for the fight ahead.

He slowed to a walk, his feet falling into a steady rhythm on the pavement. The walk was surprisingly pleasant, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees and the warm sun casting a comforting glow over everything.

People passed him on the street, but unlike before, he didn't bump into anyone. He felt a sense of calm wash over him, his nerves steadying as he approached his destination.

As he turned the corner onto the street where the house was located, Damon's heart began to beat a little faster.

He could feel a thrill of excitement building in his chest, his senses heightening as he took in the sights and sounds around him.

The houses seemed to loom larger, their windows and doors taking on a sense of importance.

Finally, he arrived at the house, its backyard the venue for the fight. Damon's eyes locked onto the building, his mind focusing intently on the task ahead.

He couldn't help but smile, a sense of determination and anticipation spreading across his face.

This was it - the moment he had been training for. He took a deep breath, feeling a sense of readiness wash over him. Bring it on.

Damon entered the house and made his way to the backyard, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of the event.

There were a few people milling about, but it seemed that the fight hadn't started yet. He spotted a bench in the corner, partially shaded by a tree, and made his way over.

As he approached, he noticed that there were already a few girls sitting on the bench, their ages similar to his.

They seemed to be engrossed in their own conversation, but their eyes flicked towards him as he drew near.

Damon didn't hesitate, taking a seat beside them on the bench. The girls immediately turned their attention to him, their eyes narrowing as if trying to intimidate him.

One of them raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on his worn clothes and messy hair.

The girls slid away from him, their movements almost synchronized. One of them wrinkled her nose in distaste, whispering "creep" under her breath. Another chimed in with a soft "ew", their voices barely audible but their disdain clear.

Damon didn't react, his expression neutral. He wasn't here to make friends or impress anyone, especially not these girls. He had more important things on his mind, like the fight ahead.

He settled into the bench, his eyes scanning the surrounding area. The girls' whispers and giggles continued, but Damon tuned them out, focusing on his own thoughts.

He wasn't bothered by their behavior; he was used to being ignored or dismissed. His mind was already on the fight, his strategy, and his opponent.