MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Days passed, and Team Whittier zeroed in on Felipe's training camp.

Every session was more intense than the last, with all eyes focused on the upcoming match against Brian.

The strategy, as Whittier laid it out, was straightforward, keep the fight standing as much as possible.

Felipe's striking was sharp, and that would be his best weapon.

But Whittier wasn't naive. He knew Brian's wrestling could be a serious problem if the fight went to the ground.

That's where Felipe's Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu came into play.

If Brian managed to drag the fight down, Felipe needed to be ready to outmaneuver him with technique, rather than brute force.

The key would be to stay calm, control the positions, and find openings to either escape or lock in a submission.

Whittier stood with his arms crossed, watching Felipe work through drills. "Stay light on your feet, keep those hands up."

Felipe nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration as he moved around the cage, shadowboxing while one of the assistant coaches called out instructions.

The rest of the team watched closely, offering their own bits of encouragement between rounds.

Miles leaned over to Damon, "You think he's ready? Brian's not going to let this stay on the feet for long."

Damon shrugged, his eyes locked on Felipe as he practiced his footwork. "Felipe's got the skill. It's all about whether he can stick to the plan."

The sessions continued, each one designed to simulate the different scenarios Felipe might face.

They drilled defensive wrestling relentlessly, forcing Felipe to sprawl, scramble, and fight his way back to his feet over and over again.

As the days ticked by.

Felipe remained focused, determined to follow the game plan.

.....

The room was filled with fighters as the weigh-ins had just wrapped up, and the fighters were now in the final moments before stepping into the cage.

Both teams sat in their respective corners, the mood tense but electric.

Team Whittier occupied one side of the room, whispering among themselves, casting glances toward Team Chemasov on the opposite side.

Damon sat quietly among his teammates, his eyes scanning the room as they waited for the fighters to emerge.

Felipe and Brian were preparing for their showdown, and everyone knew this was going to be a high-stakes battle.

Damon's mind wasn't on the match at hand, though.

He was running through his own future matchups, knowing his time in the cage would come again soon.

Miles leaned over, breaking the silence. "How do you think Felipe's feeling right now?"

Damon shrugged slightly, his gaze still forward. "Focused, I hope. Brian's gonna come out swinging, that's for sure."

Ivan, sitting next to Damon, uncrossed his arms, his thick Russian accent cutting through the quiet. "Felipe is tough, but Brian... he has fire in his eyes. This fight, not just physical for him. He fight with... how you say...

vendetta?"

The teams stayed seated, exchanging quiet conversations, waiting for the fighters to make their entrance.

Damon leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. He knew this fight was going to be a turning point for both teams.

The winner would go to the Semifinals. Discover your next read on m_vl_em_p_yr

The music blared through the speakers, and the door swung open as Brian emerged from the backroom, his face set in a determined scowl.

His coaches followed close behind, offering last-minute words of advice.

Brian walked with purpose, his eyes locked on the octagon ahead.

As he reached the official, he went through the usual routine: mouthguard checked, cup in place, and Vaseline applied to his face.

He barely blinked, his focus entirely on what lay ahead.

With a final nod, he made his way into the cage, the metal door clanging shut behind him.

Brian circled the octagon briefly, bouncing lightly on his toes, shaking out his arms as if ready to explode at any moment.

Then it was Felipe's turn.

The music changed, and the door opened once again.

Felipe walked out, his demeanor calmer than Brian's, though there was a hint of tension in the way he clenched his fists.

He made his way to the official, who checked his gear with the same routine.

As the Vaseline was smeared across his cheekbones, Felipe took a deep breath, turning briefly to look back at his teammates.

He flashed them a quick smile, a momentary gesture of confidence, but his eyes quickly returned to the task ahead.

He stepped into the octagon, his movements fluid, his eyes immediately meeting Brian's.

The two fighters stood across from each other, the intensity building as they awaited the referee's final instructions.

Brian's gaze didn't waver, his jaw clenched, ready for whatever Felipe was about to bring.

Felipe, on the other hand, kept his expression neutral, focused but calm, his body loose and prepared.

The cage door clanged shut once more, locking the two fighters in. There were no words exchanged.

Referee Hank Binn, a towering figure in the cage, took a step forward, his hands gesturing for both fighters to step in closer.

His voice was calm but firm, just like it always was when he demanded attention in the octagon.

"Alright, gentlemen," Hank began, his eyes moving between Brian and Felipe. "You both know the rules. I want a clean fight. Protect yourselves at all times, follow my instructions at all times."

He paused for a second, ensuring both fighters were listening.

Brian's nostrils flared as he kept his eyes locked on Felipe, who stood focused, breathing steadily.

"If you want to touch gloves, do it now," Hank added, his tone suggesting he didn't expect either of them to.

Neither fighter moved, both keeping their hands at their sides. Hank nodded, unfazed by the intensity.

"Alright, back to your corners and let's keep it clean. You ready?" Hank looked at Felipe, who gave a slight nod, his fists raised.

"You ready?" Hank turned to Brian, who answered with a sharp nod and raised fists, his gaze never leaving Felipe.

"Let's do this," Hank called, stepping back as the tension in the octagon finally reached its peak.