The referee stepped into the center, motioning both fighters forward. Damon and Ivan closed the distance, their eyes locked but their bodies calm.
"Alright, gentlemen," the referee began, his voice firm but steady. "We've gone over the rules in the back. Protect yourselves at all times. Follow my instructions at all times. If you want to touch gloves, do it now. Good luck."
Without hesitation, Damon extended his glove. Ivan met it instantly, a sharp smack between them.
Whatever bad blood lingered outside the cage, inside it was stripped down to respect and the fight itself.
The crowd roared at the gesture, the tension boiling into pure anticipation.
Both men backed into their corners, shaking out their arms, bouncing lightly on their toes. The referee glanced at the timekeeper, raised his hand—
The storm was about to begin.
The referee checked both corners, then raised his hands.
"Ready?" he pointed at Ivan.
Ivan nodded, fists high.
"Ready?" he turned to Damon.
