XXXII
Dave / Axel's P.O.V.
The UFC judges come 5 minutes before they should, some of them sitting down, some of them standing and leaning on the wall, but all of them have their arms crossed and look like they take no bullshit.
"Arnold, you better not have brought us all here for nothing, you know we never have time for anything, anyway." one of them says, honestly looking kinda bored and my anxiety levels go up even more than they were before.
"Davis, just shut up and trust me on this, okay?" coach says, exhales a short breath and looks at me, smiling.
"Let's go then, shall we?"
Go? What the fuck? Go where?
I frown. "Go where?" I whisper to coach and he gives me a weird fucking look.
"Didn't I tell you? Oh, must've forgotten, my bad. You're fighting a UFC champion in about ten minutes to show you're good enough and all."
I stop in my track. "I'm what?" I screech. "How could you forget to tell me that?"
He glares at me. "Oh, don't make a fuss about it now. It's not like you won't win."
I stare at him in disbelief. "What do you mean? Of course I won't win! I'm supposed to fight a UFC champion!"
The judges begin to give us weird looks, all 8 of them and coach gives me a look that says "shut up".
I glare at him but shut my mouth and continue walking.
Who the fuck does he think I am? Some fucking professional? Even if I was, I probably wouldn't win against an UFC fighter.
Fuck me, he's probably gonna kill me in the ring.
I gulp and gather all the power I have to keep walking towards something that will make me the biggest fucking idiot ever.
"Which category is he again?" one of the judges ask and coach answers:"Middle weight."
"And how tall is he?" the same one asks, and I leave the coach to answer him. "Six feet three."
"And who am I fighting?" I ask, afraid of the fucking answer.
Another judge turns toward me. "Oh, Arnold didn't tell you?"
I shake my head. He stammers, not really knowing how to answer my question. "Hm, well, I hope this doesn't come as too big of a surprise, but he was the only british fighter who was at home today and felt like coming here."
I still didn't get the fucking answer, and it's not effecting my heart rate well. "Okay, so who is he?"
Coach throws an arm around my shoulders. "Michael Bisping. Don't worry, you'll do just fine."
My fucking legs stop working. "You're fucking with me."
This must be some kind of a terrible fucking joke.
"No, you're actually fighting Michael, but since we know how this situation is, with him being at the top and you not even in the league yet, well, we agreed that if you last 10 seconds, you're in." another one of the judges smiles at me.
Okay, so maybe this isn't a joke and I'm actually fighting the best middleweight UFC champion in a few minutes.
How the fuck did I get myself in this?
Fuck. I'm gonna fucking die.
I shake my arms and force myself to take deep breaths. Then, we reach the part of the gym with the ring and I'm a second away from actually shitting my pants.
"Okay, so this is the deal. I want Sophie at my funeral." I say to coach and he rolls his eyes.
"Axel, you're basically 20 years younger and fitter and stuff. And trust me, nobody has been training like you in these last two weeks." he says and I throw my arms in the air.
"But that's the exact fucking problem! Two weeks, coach, I've only really been training for two years and now I'm supposed to fight the best fucking UFC champion and you honestly fucking think I'm not going to die in that fucking ring?" I whisper-shout at him, but he doesn't get the chance to reply, because in that moment Michael fucking Bisping walks into the fucking gym.
"So who's getting their ass kicked this morning?" he shouts when he walks in and I really fucking want to disappear.
I'm never forgiving my coach for this.
He greets the judges and when he's done, comes toward me, nodding his head in greeting.
"Whaddup?" he asks and I don't say anything, just nod my head as well. I'm half a head taller than him, but I know this could be a disadvantage to me. "Are we gonna do this?"
"Let's go." I force a smile to him.
If I seem nice to him, he might take it easier on me.
"So ten seconds, huh?" he asks me and I nod.
"You have any experience?" he asks me. "'Cuz you're really young and stuff."
"Not much, I just used to train for a couple years and then I met Arnold two weeks ago and somehow he thinks I'm good or something." I explain and he nods.
"Yeah, you don't look like you'd be the easiest to beat. Listen-" he says and looks around to see the judges discussing something. "I'm not gonna go too hard on you, okay? I'm not gonna go easy on you, but I don't want you to land in hospital." he chuckles, and somehow, it sounds like he wants to tell me that if he'd go all out on me, I'd have zero chance against him.
Probably true, but I don't like the way it sounds.
"No worries, you don't have to hold back for me. Let's just have a fair fight, okay?" I say and his brows slightly raise.
Who the fuck does he think he is, he's no better than me.
Well, he probably is, but still. Fuck him.
"Okay then, kiddo." he replies, and I'm close to punching him, even if we aren't in the ring yet.
Pursing my lips, I grab my gloves, and climb in the ring, him coming a few seconds after me.
"You guys ready?" one of the judges asks and Arnold climbs in with us to stop the fight if he needs to.
"Okay..." he begins to count down and I feel my blood boiling in my veins as I watch Michael looking at me like I'm some prey or something.
And then we begin. He launches at me, but I block the punch, then half a second another one. We circle around each other, and I see him preparing to make another punch in my direction.
I block it again.
He makes another punch, and I see it.
I see a perfect opportunity in the way he thinks I'm a coward, never throwing a punch.
So I throw the punch, millisecond after I've blocked one from him, straight to the kidney.
He steps away, unprepared for the punch, and I throw another one, to another kidney.
Immediately he begins to throw punches back, and I miss one, getting hit into my shoulder.
Fuck, that hurt.
In the distance, I can hear a whistle; ten seconds are over.
I'm in the UFC.
Suddenly feeling more confident, since we're both in the same league now, I throw a couple of punches at him, but he manages to block them all and hit me in the kidney meanwhile.
Fucking bitch.
I step away, two steps and I can see that he's sure he won.
He looks away for a second, my opportunity. I quickly come closer and throw a punch straight to his jaw.
He's taken aback, so I throw another punch.
And another, and another, and another, until he's on the floor and I'm being pulled back by Arnold, screaming and jumping around like a little kid.
I just won a fight with the best champion in my category, and I wasn't even in the league yet.
Well, maybe Arnold was right.