MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Victor pulled out the tablet he had been carrying, his expression unreadable as he swiped through a few screens.

Damon, standing beside him, looked on in confusion, unsure of what Victor was about to show him.

Finally, Victor opened up a video. "Watch this," he said, passing the tablet over to Damon.

Damon took the tablet and pressed play. The screen lit up with the familiar scene of an arena, a fight was about to start.

As he watched the footage, it dawned on him that this was a UFA match, but it seemed a bit older, like something from a past generation.

He waited as the match intro played, curious about what Victor wanted him to see.

Damon pressed play and leaned closer to the screen as the grainy footage began.

The arena was packed, the crowd buzzing with excitement.

The camera panned around the octagon, focusing on two fighters standing in their respective corners.

One wore blue shorts, the other green. Their faces weren't clearly visible due to the pixelation, but the tension in the air was palpable.

The commentators' voices crackled through the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the UFA Light Heavyweight Championship match, and we've got two top-tier fighters here tonight! In the blue corner, we've got the undefeated powerhouse, Victor Steele, known for his relentless aggression and knockout power.

And in the green corner, we have the submission expert, The Champion Raul 'The Constrictor' Ramirez, a man who can wrap you up like a boa constrictor and squeeze the fight right out of you!"

Damon's interest piqued. A light heavyweight championship? He didn't expect this.

'Victor Steele? Is this him? No way right, guy looks nothing like Vic'

The referee signaled the start of the match, and the two fighters approached each other cautiously.

The crowd's roar was barely contained as the fighters began to exchange jabs, each testing the other's defenses.

Victor, the man in blue, immediately took control of the center of the octagon, his movements precise and confident.

His striking was sharp, landing crisp jabs and hard low kicks that echoed through the arena.

"Steele is looking sharp tonight!" one of the commentators said, excitement building in his voice. "He's keeping the pressure on Ramirez, not letting him get comfortable in the early moments of the fight."

Damon watched as the fighter in green struggled to find his rhythm.

Raul attempted to close the distance, hoping to engage in a clinch or shoot for a takedown, but every time he tried, Victor countered with a stiff jab or a well-placed kick to the body.

Damon was impressed. The way Victor moved, the way he dominated the fight, it was clear he was in control.

"Look at Steele's footwork," the second commentator chimed in. "He's staying light on his feet, keeping Ramirez guessing, and those body shots are adding up."

As the first round wore on, Victor landed a clean overhand right that stunned Raul.

The crowd erupted as Victor followed up with a series of brutal punches, backing his opponent up against the cage.

Raul tried to cover up, but Victor's punches broke through his defense, and it looked like the fight might be over.

"He's pouring it on! Steele is relentless!" one of the commentators yelled. "This could be it!"

But Raul, despite being rocked, managed to survive the onslaught.

He ducked under a punch and clinched with Victor, dragging the fight into the grappling realm where he was most comfortable.

The two fighters grappled against the cage, Victor using his strength to prevent the takedown while Raul searched for any opening.

The second round began, and Victor continued to dominate on the feet.

He peppered Raul with more low kicks and a few head kicks that were partially blocked.

Damon could see the fatigue setting in on Raul's face, his attempts to close the distance becoming more desperate.

Victor, on the other hand, seemed to be gaining confidence, throwing a mix of high and low attacks that kept Raul off balance.

"Steele's got to be careful not to get overconfident," the commentator warned. "Ramirez is dangerous when he's in trouble, and all it takes is one mistake for him to lock in a submission."

Midway through the second round, that mistake happened.

Victor, growing bolder, threw a high kick that Raul managed to catch. In one swift motion, Raul pulled Victor's leg in and shot for a takedown.

This time, it worked. Victor fell to the ground, and the crowd gasped as Raul quickly transitioned to top position.

"Ramirez has him on the ground now! This is his world!"

Raul wasted no time, moving fluidly as he secured side control, then advanced to a full mount.

Victor struggled underneath, trying to buck Raul off, but Raul's experience in grappling was very strong.

He maintained control, slowly working to isolate one of Victor's arms for a submission attempt.

Victor, sensing the danger, bridged explosively and managed to reverse the position, landing on top of Raul.

The crowd erupted again as Victor rained down heavy punches.

"Steele turns the tables! What a reversal!"

Just when it seemed like Victor had regained control, Raul made his move.

With lightning speed, he hooked one of Victor's legs and locked it in place, transitioning into a leg lock.

Damon's eyes widened as he saw Raul wrap his body around Victor's leg, tightening the grip.

"Oh no! Ramirez has the leg! He's got that leg lock in deep!" the commentator shouted.

Victor grimaced, trying to free himself, but Raul's grip was iron-tight.

He twisted Victor's leg at an unnatural angle, cranking on it with all his might.

Victor's face contorted in pain, but he refused to tap. Damon could see the struggle in every fiber of his body.

"Steele is in trouble! He needs to tap!" the second commentator screamed.

But Victor didn't tap. He gritted his teeth, his hands clawing at Raul's body, trying to pry himself free.

The crowd held its breath as Victor's leg bent further and further.

"Tap, Steele! Tap before it's too late!"

Then, in an instant, it happened. A sickening crack echoed through the arena, followed by Victor's agonized scream.

His leg broke, swinging grotesquely as the referee rushed in to stop the fight.

"Oh my God! His leg is broken! His leg is shattered!" the commentator yelled, his voice filled with shock and horror.

The camera zoomed in on the scene, the gruesome image of Victor's leg hanging unnaturally.

The referee waved off the fight as medical personnel rushed into the octagon, trying to stabilize the injury.

The commentator's voice was frantic. "Victor Steele's leg is broken! This is a disaster! What a tragic end to a championship fight!"

Damon's heart pounded in his chest as the camera zoomed in on Victor's face.

Despite the poor quality of the footage, Damon could see the pain etched in his expression.

But there was something else that struck him. The man on the screen, the fighter whose leg had just been shattered, it looked like Victor.

He froze, the tablet trembling slightly in his hands.

'Bu-ut how? This is'

The commentator's voice confirmed what he had feared. "Victor Steele's leg is broken, and the fight is over!"

Damon looked up at Victor, standing by the lake, calm and quiet.

The realization hit him hard. He hadn't known that Victor had fought, let alone that he had suffered such a career-ending injury.

Victor met his gaze, his eyes hard but not unkind. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke as he looked out at the water.

As he had lit another cig.

"Now you know," Victor said quietly. "That was my last fight."