"Ladies and gentlemen, it's time! Ohh, look at that…" one of the commentators said, his voice rising as the music hit.
The crowd responded instantly.
Cheers erupted. Phones went up. There wasn't a single boo in the mix, just roaring energy. A wave of sound rolling through the arena.
The lights dimmed.
Then they began to pulse, synchronized to the bass of the walkout track, heavy and loud. Spotlights danced across the crowd before finally locking onto the end of the tunnel.
There he was.
A lone figure standing in the dark, hood up, arms at his sides.
Damon Cross.
He smiled, taking it in. The sound. The love.
Still in his hoodie, but no warm-up pants, just fight tights and, golden gloves.
Gloves only wore by champions.
Across the cage, his opponent, PDD, was already waiting, bouncing, pacing, trying to stay warm.
But Damon took his time.
