MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon removed the interface, the golden light fading from his sight. He stretched his arms, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him.

He had won a punching bag, and he couldn't wait to start training with it.

Opening the shop, he browsed through the items, his eyes scanning the list. He stopped at the food section and selected a banana, purchasing it for one system coin. "Ehh, I have plenty," he thought, "and I'm not going to stop getting more."

He packed up his plastic bag, which had his normal clothes, and headed towards the locker room showers.

The smell of sweat and soap filled the air as he entered the locker room. He put his stuff on the bench, his eyes adjusting to the bright lights.

Damon walked into the shower, the warm water enveloping him. He let out a sigh, feeling the tension in his muscles ease.

He grabbed the soap and started washing himself, the suds sliding down his skin.

The water pounded against his skin, a steady beat that seemed to wash away his worries.

Damon closed his eyes, letting the warmth seep into his bones. He stood there for a moment, savoring the feeling of relaxation.

As he washed, Damon thought about his next move. He had the punching bag, and he was eager to start training.

He would have to find a good spot to set it up, maybe the parking lot, but he would have to take it back in the room, if he wanted still have something to train with, who knew what those crackhead would do for drug money.

As the warm water flowed down his body, Damon's mind began to wander to his past fights.

He thought about the mistakes he had made, the opportunities he had missed, and the weaknesses he had exposed. He wasn't perfect, far from it. He was unskilled, and he knew it.

Even with the system, he still had to hone himself so he wouldn't even dare call himself a real fighter until he won in a way he felt satisfied by it.

Damon's thoughts lingered on his fight today and the one before it. He had wanted to ignore going to the ground, to avoid it at all costs.

But he knew he couldn't ignore it forever. His Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu skills were limited to knowledge, not practical experience.

He had the knowledge from the system, but he had never actually practiced it.

The reality of his weakness hit him hard. If someone who actually knew what they were doing took him down, he was done for.

That was exactly what had almost happened today. If Mark hadn't made that small mistake, Damon would have lost the fight. He had to admit it to himself - he had won that match by fluke.

Damon's thoughts swirled with frustration. He couldn't rely on luck to win fights, but how could he improve without a training partner?

He kinda missed his friend, and wished he was here to help him train. If Joey were here, Damon knew he would have pushed him to be better.

But then again, if Joey hadn't left, maybe this opportunity with Battle Xtreme wouldn't have existed.

Maybe Damon would still be fighting in backyard brawls, which he enjoyed, but didn't want to be his life. He wanted more.

Damon's frustration grew, and he let out a growl. He punched the tile wall, a mistake that made him wince in pain. He shook his hand, relieved he hadn't broken it.

Just then, a voice came from the locker room. "Hey dude, you fine in there?" Damon realized he may not be alone. He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist.

"Ahh yeah, I'm fine," he said, trying to sound calm. "Just going through my fight analysis." He didn't want to draw attention to his frustration.

Damon stepped out of the shower, his eyes adjusting to the bright lights of the locker room.

He saw a figure sitting on the bench, looking at him with concern. Damon nodded, trying to reassure him.

Damon's eyes met Edward's, and he smiled, feeling a sense of camaraderie. Edward's handshake was firm, his hand small but strong.

As they shook hands, Damon took in Edward's appearance. He was short, probably around 5'5", with a lean build.

His hair was messy, a sandy blond color that stuck up in every direction. His eyes were a bright blue, sparkling with friendliness.

"Haha I was just thinking about my match," Damon said, his voice deep and smooth.

"It's cool, I do that too," the guy replied, his eyes sparkling with friendliness. "Wait, you were the one opening the match tonight, right? Saw your submission, good job, man. I heard you don't have a team."

Damon nodded, feeling a sense of connection with Edward. "Yeah, that's me," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "Thanks, man. I was lucky to get the submission."

Edward grinned, his teeth white and even. "Lucky? Nah, you were skilled, man. I saw the whole thing. You've got some serious talent."

Damon shrugged, feeling a sense of pride. "Thanks, I try my best."

As they talked, Damon noticed the sound of lockers opening and closing, seems people were coming in

Edward nodded, his eyes serious. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm trying my luck too i dont exactly have a team or coach yet. Maybe we'll see each other around."

Damon's eyes widened at the coincidence. "I'm Damon, by the way."

"Edward, but my friends call me Eddie," the guy said, his smile still plastered on his face.

"Anyway, Eddie, I gotta bounce," Damon said, nodding. "I can't stay long. I'll probably see you next event. Need to rest and recover, then back to training."

As they parted ways, Damon felt a sense of connection with Edward. They were both fighters, both alone in this competition.

Damon continued dressing, his movements slow and deliberate. He pulled on his shirt, feeling the soft fabric slide over his skin. His jeans were next. He laced up his shoes, then stomped them on the ground.

He grabbed his plastic, slinging it over his shoulder, and headed out of the locker room.

As Damon walked out of the building, the guards gave him a friendly pat-down, then nodded and let him pass.

Walking across the parking lot, he reached into his bag and pulled out a banana. He peeled it with a quick flick of his wrist, then took a bite, and he chewed contentedly.

As he walked, he spotted a trash can and tossed the banana peel into it. He continued on, his eyes scanning the street for a cab.

After a few minutes of walking, he spotted a taxi and hailed it. The driver pulled over, and Damon got in, giving him the address of his hotel.

As the cab drove off, Damon settled back into the seat, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over him. He closed his eyes, letting the motion of the car put him into a state of relaxation.

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