Madison Square Garden, 20,789 people had paid an average of $98.72 cents for the privilege of watching the fight live. According to the promoters, another 100 million people would pony up the $69.99 to watch the event on pay-per-view.

A solemn knock on the door before it burst open, the florid-faced events coordinator stepped in, his voice squeaked.

“You’re up . . . Good luck.”

Through the open door the strains of Puscifer’s - The Undertaker roared through the stadium, followed by a cacophony of cheers and boos.

You were way out of line
Went and turned it all around on me again
How can I not smell your lie
Through the smoke and arrogance?

Jake “The Under” Taker stood up, letting the satin black robe cascade down his body. The heavy black fingered gloves clenched several times.

The handlers, hanger-on’s and fight men began their banal pep talks, all of which were ignored as Jake strode through the door. In the bright, clean hallway, photographers snapped their pictures; well-wishers cast their words, which fell away as soon as Jake passed them.

But now I know
So you will not get away with it again
I'm distant in those hollow eyes
For I have reached my end

The heavy curtains peeled away, followed by wild cheers and thousands of feet stamping, making the Garden reverberate with impacts. As soon as Jake stepped through, he focused on the music, his mahogany eyes on the shimmering boxing ring.

Thank you for
Makin' me
Feel like
I'm guilty
Makin' it
Easier to
Murder your sweet
Memory

Once inside the ring, Jake stopped just inside the ropes; his head down as the crowd erupted. Their ragged, screaming voice following the song.

Before I go tell me
Were you ever who you claimed yourself to be?
Either way I must say goodbye
You are dead to me

At that moment Jake dropped the robe, exposing his heavily, muscled body. Broad shouldered and narrow hipped, thick butt and heavily muscled thighs made Jake Taker one of the world’s best MMA fighters. The muscles provided the force, but it was his uncanny speed of hand and foot that made him deadly. His punches were measured well over 3,350 lbs. of force, and his kicks registered 4,277 lbs. of force. A punch/kick combo was once registered at 7,000+ lbs. of force.

Stepping into the center of the ring, he shook his long arms and legs, pausing a moment facing each of the four sides of the ring, bowing slowly. When he was done he turned to face the tunnel, waiting for his opponent.

Thank you for
Makin' me
Feel like
I'm guilty
Makin' it
Easier to
Murder your sweet
Memory, I'm
Severin' the
Heart line, I'm
Leavin' your
Corpse behind
Not dead, but
Soon to be, though
I'm not gonna be the one that kills you

I'm gonna leave that up to you
I'm gonna leave that up to you
I'm gonna leave that up to you
I'm gonna leave that up to you (I told you so)

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...."

Standing at 6’3 and weighing in at 247 lbs. Jake was not considered a small man by many and by all accounts fearless. However seeing his opponent gave him pause. So it was true. His opponent was not, well let’s not beat around the bush, he was not human. Jake smiled slightly as Michael Buffer began his spiel.

“Ladies and Gentleman, tonight we are going to witness the most anticipated fighting exposition in history. To those in attendance . . . Are you ready? Boxing fans . . . Are you ready? MMA fans . . . Are you ready? Fans around the world . . . Are you ready? Let’s get ready to ruuuuuuuummmmmble!”

With that Michael Buffer pointed towards Jake. “In the black corner, fighting out of The Big Kahuna Gym in Kona Hawaii is. . . Jake ‘The Under’ Taker.”

Again a thousand voices howling in support at the announcement filled the air, clashing with an equal number in opposition. It was all part of the game, all part of the rush that made fighting in the Garden special.

Stepping to the center of the ring, Jake kept his arms loose as he studied his bony, emancipated opponent. Searching for weaknesses and finding little to none visible. He had of course heard about the power and speed that T'Mass allegedly possessed.

It was show time. Nodding subtly to Michal Buffer, who returned the gesture began turning towards T’Mass, his grip on the mic loose. In a flash, Jake had snatched the mic from him, glowering at Michael Buffer who protested loudly and with great indignation. The crowd stomped their feet, their cries raising several decibels above a jet engine.

Jake smiled and waited a few seconds as the noise died down, they wanted to hear him speak, to recite the prayer.

Pointing at T’Mass, he growled into the mic.

“O Lord, may the end of my life be the best of it;
my closing acts be my best acts,
and may the best of my days be the day when I meet Thee.”

Along with thousands of fans he finished his ritual spiel, “Are you ready to meet your maker?”

Handing the mic back to Michael Buffer he just stared with impassioned eyes at T’Mass.

Knowledge is power, but knowledge never stops the reactions. Tre'Yan tilted his head at Jake, who had paused, even for a big man the sight of the returned Boxer gave him a pause. Tre'Yan didn't expect it to limit the man's fighting however, in fact, it would probably have the opposite effect.

Michael Buffer, the storied ring announcer, announced his opponent first. Jake 'The Under' Taker. The crowd seemed split on the man fighting out of the Big Kahuna Gym, but wasn't that what made fighting here so special? He'd heard the stories! Some of the most vocal fans in existence congregated on Madison Square Garden to let their voices be heard, and tonight it would be no different. They'd gotten over their fear of what Tre'Yan was, and now they were anxious for the fight to start.

Tre'Yan nodded towards Buffer as he turned towards him, but before the legendary man could announce him Jake snatched the microphone out of the man's hand, with such speed that Tre'Yan was sure most of the crowd hadn't caught it, not until a second or so after the fact anyway. It only served to make them louder.

'O Lord, may the end of my life be the best of it;
my closing acts be my best acts,
and may the best of my days be the day when I meet Thee.'

It was true, Jake often prayed to the Lord, or whatever he called his Maker, before every prayer. The same Prayer. Every time. Tre'Yan looked towards the man, but shifted his eyes just slightly to the left, out into the sea of twenty thousand, and for a moment became lost in the world.

'Are you ready to meet your Maker?'

Jake's voice brought him back to the ring, and back into the pre fight ritual. Buffer had the microphone back now, and was beginning to announce Tre'Yan T'Mass.

"And standing in the White Corner, at a height and weight of six foot one, two hundred twenty pounds," His weight was by virtue of his bones being heavier than they seemed; it added to his power, and his weighted training made him feel as light as a feather, especially in the ring. "...Fighting out of the Kuromara Gym of Toyko, Japan.... Tre'Yan T'Mass!"

The crowd erupted in a maelstrom of cheers, boos, and stomps. While the cheers were definitely louder, it wasn't by much and seemed as close to a split as they had been for Jake. Meekly, the man reached out and grasped the microphone from Michael Buffer, who with the same protest, and took a step forward.

"I've met the Maker, and every day I fight to not meet him a second time."

His hushed voice, amplified by the microphone, barely sounded above a normal conversational tone. It was a wonder that this man was considered among the best fighters in the Universe when he was put into a confined place to enact his skill set. He handed the microphone back to Buffer, and in the future someone will correctly claim to have seen him whisper an apology to the man, before turning back to Taker.

Buffer looked back and forth between the two, and sighed. He had a job to finish. "I want a good clean fight; when I say break, you break, no shots to the nether regions. You boys know the rules. Now touch gloves!"

For a moment, the crowd grew hushed and the skeletal hand extended out a fist ready to be bumped. Buffer slowly edged his way away, knowing this fight would be a nothing more than a blur once the gloves were touched. Many anticipated this to go no longer than the first round. A punch from either of these men would fell a normal fighter, including ones such as Muhammad Ali and Floyd "Money" Mayweather.

Touching fists both men went to their corner after the normal rules and the special rules were explained. Standing in his corner, Jake listened to his handlers as the mouthpiece was inserted and went flush against his teeth.

The bell sounded, faint against the cheers and jeers of the crowd. Jake shuffled forward, his feet lifting and dropping with the quickness of a practiced fighter. Hands up, elbows tucked in close to his ribs, he wasn’t a fool.

Once in the center of the ring, his stance was an orthodox one. His feet comfortably apart, the left foot forward. His weight distributed on the balls of his feet. This allowed him to feel "on balance" and able to move easily forward or back, left or right. Knees slightly bent because the explosive power of punches or kicks would come from this. His front foot, hip, and shoulders in line, maximizing his reach and minimizing the target area while defending his body.

His gloved left hand, balled into a fist in line with top of his shoulders, elbow slightly extended but still in position to protect his body. His right hand fist close to his chin, elbow close to his ribs, perpendicular to the floor, his neck and shoulders relaxed and ready to react.

He tossed a left jab forward with a powerful snap to test his range against the bony fighter. The speed was dazzling, impressive and deadly. But Jake was sure that Tre'yan would not be caught by such a basic move. As the extended hand retracted he shuffled to his right, a quick move to test Tre’yan’s mobility. These first few moments would be to test one another, to feel each other out to determine the best avenue and chance for success against one another.

The soft thud of their touch was lost in the almost constant uproar of the crowd. He turned and slowly approached the men in his corner, though neither said anything. He was thankful for that, that they knew not to say anything.

Ding.

That was the bell and with it, everything melted away - the change was coming. He turned to face his opponent, his formerly shy face twisted into a savage grin. His opponent thought it wise to try and combat him with a boxing stance. His form was immaculate, but Tre'Yan was superior when it came to the stand up game.

Different from his normal fights, he immediately adopted an outfighter stance. His left hand extended outward and his right up towards his face, the crowd realized the man was adopting the southpaw style. T'Mass was naturally a right handed boxer, which led to a two piece right-right combo to finish off his opponents. He stepped his left foot out, and dashed towards his opponent, though his movement was cut short.

The sounds of two left handed shots connecting resounded in the stadium! Both men started with jabs. Tre'Yan gazed at his opponent, and nodded. While the jab was an opening gambit, it had some heat behind it and could have very well broken a lesser fighter's hand.

Jake moved to his own right, prompting T'Mass to move to his own. Almost immediately, he sent out a flashing two piece left hand only combo. With his second, he let his lead foot, the left slide forward just a half inch, giving him that much more reach. He didn't expect either to land, but hopefully the power behind each would be enough to knock Jake off balance. Should that succeed, his right foot would slide to accommodate his left, as T'Mass was aiming to get in position to utilize his right hand.

The left jabs, swift and sure, grazed one another allowing each fighter to feel the power of the punches. Ranged, exploratory shots fired in what might turn into a longer fight. Jake shrugged up his shoulder as he shifted, the smaller Tre’yan following suit. Slide and drag, each moved to their right. Jake was surprised, not by the speed, that was a given. No, he was surprised that smaller man had lashed out with his left.

Jake realized that Tre’yan was a right hand dominate fighter. He had given himself away with his step forward on his left foot that that left jab. Natural southpaws would lead and jab with their right as it was the lead hand and foot. However Tre’yan had not, he struck out with a much longer and slower shot with his left hand, which was closer to his body.

With explosively fast hands the smaller man again launched a quick combo with his left hand. Jake pulled back slightly in a beautifully executed classic pull defense and as the left hand withdrew he followed it with a quick step-inside with his right foot. Since Tre’yan was moving forward with his left they would meet.

Jake’s right hand dipped down in a fraction of a second then exploded into a lead upper-cut to the left side of Tre’yan’s head. It was a blur of motion as both men moved simultaneously towards one another, Jake’s right foot and Tre’yan’s left. The lead right upper-cut should come as a surprise as nothing had given it away. His right arm crooked at a 90-degree angle, never fully extended as he didn’t need to. After all, his target was coming to him. The shot should by virtue of their movements rocket up and inside the right of Tra’yan, striking somewhere on the under-left side of the man’s jaw. The blow while punishing most likely would not knock out Tre’yan but it would serve notice that he was not in the ring with a novice, but a skilled boxer as well.

Jake had taken the southpaw stance now.

Tre'Yan was certain his shot would confuse the man, but his opponent was umlike any he had faced before. He pressed backwards and avoided both shots from his slightly extended left hand! It wasn't a shot he expected to do much, if any damage, but his opponent had masterfully his way inside, after easily evading the two left combo.

The crowd was in an uproar, but his training quickly drowned them out. He registered, barely, the drop in his opponent's right hand, as he slid forward. The shot would take a total of less than a second, and it would be a vicious one. Despite Tre'Yan being a 'for life' boxer, Jake was showing considerable skill. Tre'Yan instantly reacted, and got his right hand in position to guard his jaw from the shot, as his right was closer to his face.

If shock could have been a physical weapon, Tre'Yan would have been a battered mess. His bones withstood the assault of the wicked uppercut, but the power behind it was something to behold. There was no way another fighter would have been able to withstand the shot without losing an arm, and Tre'yan realized too many more of them would spell his downfall.

Just ask quickly as the shot came, he compensated by stepping in time with it, letting the strike graze off his arm. The backward step was accompanied by a change in stances, with Tre'yan adopting a in-fighter style referred to as 'Peek-a-boo'. He had wanted to keep the fight at a distance, as his opponent was an MMA fighter, and would dominate a fight that included the ground and grappling. For now, Tre'Yan gazed over his fists. He wanted to see what his opponent had up his sleeve, and this style was perfect for mid-fight scouting.

A perverse smile flickered a moment. The impact was powerful, punishing and Jake knew the measure of his opponent. Tre’Yan was tough, tougher than most, but that glancing punch told Jake all he needed to know.

Move and counter; follow-up and punishment. The fight game was a decidedly macabre dance. As Tre’Yan stepped back, switching stances, Jake struck again. Sliding his left foot forward, he hunched his shoulders a tad. The right foot was in motion, moving towards the 12 position, Jake was coming still. However instead of planting the foot continued in a side-swing action, the shin headed for the lead thigh of Tre’Yan.

It was an MMA move, a switch kick towards an opponent’s thigh. It was a punishing blow. It was designed to sap the strength of the person hit. Take away your opponents legs and you take away their ability to generate power. Take away their power and you win.

If the blow hit it, it might weaken Tre’Yan. It might cause him to rethink his choice to engage in this fight. Of course it might just make him mad. Either way it would be painful since Jake’s shins were hardened after years of Muay Thai training. The point of impact would be just above and inside of the knee on the lead leg of Tre’Yan.

The advantage of legs was an obvious one, they provided greater striking range. Jake being taller by three inches would use any advantage he could garner. He had seen film on Tre’Yan. His fists were devastating in-close. But he was not adept at kicks or sweeps. Was it dirty? Perhaps the true boxing fans might think so, but this was a mixed bout, kicks and sweeps were allowed.

His opponent, an accomplished MMA fighter, had nearly rocked his dome with a powerful uppercut. Tre'yan would not soon forget that, and so, as he quickly shifted stances he began watching his opponent. Jake, the MMA fighter, had a very distinct advantage over Tre'Yan, and that came down to a simple matter of sport. Tre'Yan was a boxer, through and through. Jake was an MMA man, and thus, was trained in not only punches, but kicks and grappling. If the fight ever went to ground, Tre'Yan would be in a horrible position. He had only one option.

Keep the match one between the hands. A pure boxing match.

Tre'Yan watched his opponent over his fists, which was - in hindsight - probably not the best position to take. Jake moved, and Tre'Yan caught the movement of the right side of Jake's body, and reacted quickly. He leapt in the same direction the kick was coming, as well as slightly back. The toes of his opponent barely missed his legs. Yet it was all the time he needed.

In the ring, he was an artist, it seemed as though he could move anywhere in the ring at anytime. It was his home. No later than he landed, he was already dashing in, attempting the avoid the lifted leg. Having never fought an MMA fighter, he hoped that the man would have a limited range of motion until he could right his leg. He quickly closed the distance, and aimed a vicious, sharp right hook towards Jake's ribs. His body rottated into the attempt, using his powerful legs to provide the extra oomph he wanted to add.

Assuming Jake was unable to get a proper footing, Tre'Yan was betting that any retalitory blow from the right would be underpowered, and slower, granting him a swifter dodge, and if lucky an opening for a counter blow that would use that momentum against him. However, he kept his left hand up, ready to intercept any incoming blow his opponent might devise from that side.

Damn the kid was fast. Probably faster than anyone else Jake has seen in the ring. Ever. Jake had just missed with the kick as Tre’Yan jumped back. The distance was not far, but it gave the kid room to do whatever he wanted to. As Tre’Yan landed from his evasive move, so too did Jake’s right foot hit the canvas of the ring, simultaneously.

Fully expecting to have to reset and chase down the boney fighter, Jake was mildly surprised that Tre’Yan chose to come back in swinging. Jake was in a good stance, even after the missed kick. His weight distributed between the feet, balanced. However he was not in a good position to strike a solid punch or kick to slow, deter or otherwise keep Tre’Yan away.

Tre’Yan was moving in, his flashing right hand coiled to be released as a wicked right hook. Without thought, without hesitation training kicked in. Jake dropped his center of gravity and body mass, simply by dropping his hips down. As he did his right foot moved forward, splitting Tre’Yan’s legs.

In the mind-numbingly fast movements of both men, the right hook slammed home into Jake’s left shoulder with tremendous force. That was going to hurt after the fight, when the adrenaline was gone. The power the kid possessed demanded respect.

The leg splitting was a designed move, as the blow hit, so too did Jake’s knee, right into the mat. As he did so, his right shoulder slammed into the midsection of Tre’Yan, just above the belt line. Jake’s right hand swing around and behind the left knee of the smaller opponent. The move in effect loaded Tre’Yan’s body onto Jake’s right shoulder. His left hand swung behind the right knee as his left leg was slipped around and behind the right buttock whilst his head, fully under the right hand and arm, driving tightly against the bony right hip.

Now cutting with his arms, pressing against Tre’Yan’s legs he scooped up the smaller man and took him down. Could Tre’Yan avoid it? Not likely as the entire defensive double-leg take down was precipitated by the bony boxer’s action. Lifting slightly the taller and heavier man drove the small man onto his back. Putting Jake in a side control position where his body was on smaller boxers left side, and his body pressed against Tre’Yan’s chest.. They were on the ground now, probably not the best place for Tre’Yan to be. It would not be difficult to assume a more advantageous position against the smaller man, who had little to no command of any kind of ground fighting. This is where Jake thrived. While his left shoulder still stung, he would suffer the pain later. Tre’Yan was about to be introduced to the deadly world of Brazilian Ju-Jitsu.

Step in.

Dash.

Twist the hips.

His attack was as perfectly executed as could be allowed, the flow of his strength swimming through his arm, arcing through the air! The aim, of course, as his opponent's liver in what was referred to as a 'Liver Blow'. The crowd hummed with excitement, as the swing came.

Crash!

His fist connected, but not with the flesh of a torso, or the hard bones of a ribcage protecting a high value target. Jake had crouched, taking the hit in the shoulder. It was a solid, direct hit, with a great amount of power behind it. He knew Jake would be feeling that come morning.

Yet to revel in his success, though his opponent was not crippled, was not an opportunity Tre'Yan was afforded. As the attack connected, and his opponent ducked; he sought to punish him with a vicious left uppercut! No sooner than he swung, a shoulder connected with his midsection, an arm around his legs.

Tre'Yan knew not if his uppercut had succeeded, because he found himself midair, and then just as suddenly on his back. His opponent had exploited the difference in their styles, and the rules.

With a double leg takedown.

Tre'Yan was beginning to despise MMA.

Jake was fluid, and quickly excerised his expertise and went into a manuever Tre'yan vaguely recalled was named side control. His left hand was trapped, yet his right hand wasn't.

Thus.

His fist balled up, and with the little space afforded to him, sent a smashing shot towards the left side of Jake's head. Even with the lack of distance, Tre'yan commanded a considerable amount of strength. His back ached from the takedown, but years of punches to the chest forbade his breath from being knocked away. But it was a damn close call. Just how strong was the MMA fighter?

He also commanded a considerable amount of self awareness. Jake was in a favorable position, one that would allow him any number of transitions or bone wrenching holds; including the vicious Kimura Lock, and the equally brutal Triangle Choke. So with that knowledge, he hoped his hit would dislodge Jake, and if not, he would continue to fire them off until they did, or Jake put him in a position he couldn't get a good shot in from.

It was a beautiful how things fell into place. Sometimes a fight just goes so well that even the fighters themselves are surprised at the artistry and magic they exhibit. This was one of those moments. 20,789 people were witnessing it live, and millions upon millions around the world saw it on television.

Tre’Yan was full of vinegar and vim. He was a true fighter, no, he was a warrior. Never backing down, never surrendering for even a moment. As Jake was completing the masterfully executed double-leg takedown, the boney boxer threw an upper cut, sadly to no avail. Time stopped as thousands of people collectively held their breaths, and then an explosion of sound as the two men slammed onto the canvas.

Tre’Yan was on his back, Jake was atop him, pinning his left arm against his body with his knees. Sprawled across Tre’Yan’s chest, Jake had his right forearm lay across Tre’Yan’s forehead. Jake’s left arm lay atop of Tre’Yan’s abdomen. While it had been an excellent takedown, in a flash the kid had managed to squirm enough to take Jake out of position to execute a kimura. Now he would have to work to gain some form of control. As Jake began to work he was rocked by a quick and vicious punch from his pinned opponent. It was a sudden punch, full of whatever strength that Tre’Yan could muster. It stung. After this fight he’d have to take the kid out for a beer, he earned it.

Jake knew he couldn’t handle another shot like that without giving some ground. Damn that kid was amazingly strong. However Tre’Yan not being a ground fighter had made a mistake in throwing that punch.

In a quick body heave, barely moving off Tre’Yan’s body Jake snaked across the boxer’s torso. As the young boxer drew his arm back to try and launch another shot, Jake was already making his move. The right arm that had been grinding the forehead shot forward grasping the boxers forearm up by the wrist, just below the palm heel as the left arm slipped under Tre’Yan’s right arm. The body shift still pinned the boxers left arm against the boney body, however the right knee was up higher now, pressing into the left shoulder.

Jake’s left hand gripped his own right forearm, Tre’Yan’s elbow rested on Jake’s left arm. Now it was just about pressure. Using his greater weight he fought to stretch out Tre’Yan’s right arm. There was little doubt that the man would try to fight, but being on his back and with no base to provide any power it would be a losing battle. Rolling up a smidge the larger Jake was going to stretch out Tre’Yan’s right arm, applying pressure to the elbow which was in the precarious position of being broken. Jake’s left arm under it, and the right hand at the wrist pushing it down should by all rights begin to create immense pressure on the joint.

“Kid, I don’t want to break it.” Jake hissed as he cinched up the move, a classic straight arm lock from the side mount. It was a painful joint lock and one that could ruin a man’s career if he was too stubborn to yield because of pride. 7 pound of pressure for a normal man was required to break the elbow. Jake knew that Tre’Yan was not normal, and because of that he knew he would have to apply more pressure, but not much more.

“Tap kid, you fought well but this is the end.”

His first shot wasn't the resounding success that he hoped it would be, but it was a far sight better than his second. The first managed to connect with his opponent, as intended, even if the effect wasn't what he wanted. He had hoped to dislodge his opponent, before the MMA expert could lock in any of the varied submission holds that he knew.

That hadn't worked.

So he resigned himself to throwing another, hopefully successful shot that would complete the work of the first. As he snaked his hand up with blinding speed, his wrist was snatched out of the air by the grasp of Jake. This was it! He struggled as best he could, but Jake was ultimately successful in locking in a straight armbar. His left hand was trapped, and now his right arm was trapped and being bent backwards at the elbow.

The pain was a white fire that seared the joint and surrounding muscles. Tre'yan had two options, tap or survive. It hadn't been anywhere near three minutes, and he was already on the ground. Already his best, and frankly only weapon had been taken from him. Striking.

Jake was talking to him, urging him to tap so that his arm wasn't broken. His arm could take more pressure, but Tre'yan knew the man was correct. He was either going to have to tap, or he was going to have to nurse an injured arm back to health.

He could hear the referee prancing around the ring to get a good angle.

He didn't know how it happened. His arm lifted up, he had resolved to fight it. Put his petrified bones to their greatest test to date. He was a T'Mass, he could rebuild.

Blink.

One moment it wasn't there, the next it was.

A white towel, bundled in the ring, signaled the end. His end.

The referee was tugging Jake off as he called for the bell. Tre'Yan laid there. His coach had done the reasonable thing, and he knew it. He saved a fighter's career in his eyes. He couldn't move though, as though he was frozen.

The crowd was in shocked silence, but a slow rumbling of stamping feet picked up as the crowd registered what would go down in history as a win for Jake 'The Under' Taker.

Damn it the kid wasn’t going to surrender. Jake felt the sinewy boney arm tense, felt his body heave and tense. Shaking his head Jake began applying more pressure, hoping to just dislocate and not break the arm. Suddenly the ref was yanking at him, shouting in his ear.

“It’s over . . .It’s over. Let him up, let him up!”

Jake immediately released the hold and scrambled to his feet, stepping in something. Glancing down he saw the towel crumpled under him.

Reaching down he grabbed the kid's hand and yanked to his feet, leaning in close to be heard above the cacophony.

“You did good kid. Anytime. Anytime you want to go again, you got it. You’re a hell’uva a fighter.”

Jake hugged the kid and raised his arm high before getting pulled away by his corner as the ref was conferring with the judges to make sure they were all on the same page.

Through the arena the refrains from Jake’s fight song blared the final refrains.

Severing the heart, then I'm leaving your corpse behind
Not dead but soon to be and
I'm gonna be the one to say I told you so

FINIS