[Chapter 35: Boring Fights]
"Bang..."
Suddenly, a sharp drumbeat sounded, electrifying the crowd before silence fell. Then, just outside the octagon, a host in a suit appeared, holding a microphone.
John glanced at his watch -- it was exactly midnight. He thought to himself, 'Right on time.'
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening, and welcome to tonight's Crazy Night.
Tonight, we have two fight bouts lined up: one between the Rollin' 60s Crips and Eight Tray Gangster Crips factions, and another between the Black Vipers and the New York Crew. Both matchups promise some intense action.
After the fights, there will be an auction. We hope everyone has a fantastic evening.
Now, let's get the first bout started -- Rollin' 60s Crips versus Eight Tray Gangster Crips. The first fight of the night officially begins."
---
As the host finished speaking, a fighter from the Rollin' 60s faction and one from the Eight Tray Gangster side each entered through side doors and stepped into the octagon. A referee followed.
Allen had told John that the referee's job was mainly to explain the rules and wouldn't stop the match unless a fighter surrendered or was knocked out.
Sure enough, once the fighters took their positions, the referee clearly laid out the rules over the loudspeakers: no low kicks, no strikes to the throat or temples, no eye gouging. Then he separated the fighters and called to start.
...
As the fights went on, John felt a strong sense of deja vu, like watching MMA bouts online in his previous life.
Of course, considering this was an underground fight event, the fighters could wear special masks, but most chose not to -- masks might hinder their performance. The only exception was the referee.
In professional MMA, if one fighter knocked down the other and kept attacking, the referee would step in. But tonight, the ref's job was simple -- watch for fouls and call out "start" each round, and only stop when there's a clear defeat or knockout.
Actual surrender was rare -- pride often kept fighters from giving up, and many simply couldn't admit defeat fast enough.
...
In the first match, when the Eight Tray Gangster Crips fighter fell, the Rollin' 60s Crips fighter kept delivering heavy kicks even though the opponent was barely conscious. Only then did the referee stop the fight and allow medics inside.
Allen mentioned that these fights usually tried to avoid fatalities, since this wasn't a chaotic era from decades ago anymore.
John could only admire how even the underworld had evolved with the times.
All in all, the Rollin' 60s faction scored two quick wins over the Eight Tray group before the latter gave up the third match.
---
Next up was their team's turn.
True to form, with the announcer's energetic commentary, Bob stood up from his seat, changed into professional fight gear, and faced off against a similarly built black opponent.
Bob and Adam were evenly matched in skill, and they drew straws to decide who would go first. Bob won the draw.
At the referee's "start" signal, both fighters circled each other with measured footwork.
After just two rounds, John sensed Bob outclassed his opponent in strength, speed, and reaction time -- he had lost interest pretty quick.
He had originally planned to intervene with a little magical trick, like firing an ice needle sneak attack when no one was paying attention, but it seemed unnecessary now -- Bob clearly had the upper hand.
"Allen, don't Bob and that guy look like brothers?" John joked, looking between the two fighters.
Allen glanced at Bob's dark complexion, the opponent's similar build, shaved head, and tough faces. They really did look like brothers, which made Allen laugh out loud -- his reaction nearly got him scolded for breaking decorum.
"Don't worry, Bob's a sure winner; the other guy just doesn't measure up."
"Here's hoping."
Just then, Bob punched his opponent square in the face, causing him to stagger backward. Bob pressed on with a flurry of punches and knees, eventually knocking him down.
Without hesitation, Bob delivered a flying kick to the man's face, knocking him out cold and ending the match.
As the crowd cheered and Allen and the others jumped up to celebrate, Bob roared triumphantly in the ring. John couldn't help but share their excitement.
...
Truthfully, John had already lost interest in the rest of the fights. Between Bob and Adam, their sheer physical talent left no real competition. If it came down to a fair fight, neither should lose.
But things rarely went according to plan.
When Adam stepped into the octagon, his opponent was a small black guy under six feet tall -- unexpected, considering the usual size advantage.
Yet to John's surprise, the small fighter held his own -- and the two were evenly matched.
Strength and speed were nearly identical, belying the notable physical difference. This shocked the crowd and made them nervous for Adam.
Luckily, Adam had learned some of John's world-class martial techniques, preventing him from falling behind.
Seeing that the match was close, John decided it was time to end it quickly.
While no one was paying attention, he quietly fired a tiny ice needle at the sole of the opponent's foot.
As Adam and the fighter exchanged synchronized kicks, the opponent suddenly faltered -- his power dropped and his movement stiffened.
Adam seized the moment, launching a flurry of punches and kicks that knocked the man out cold. The fight was over.
Watching Adam's victory, John thought to himself, 'Not bad -- my little cheat worked.' He silently apologized to the fighter up in the ring.
...
After watching the night's fights, John felt a bit jaded compared to the MMA bouts he had watched online in his previous life.
The so-called underground fight scene was more hype than substance.
Of course, if anyone here overheard John's honest opinion about the night's intense matches, they'd probably give him a piece of their minds.
*****
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