Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.1

I can feel it dripping down my face from the cut above my brow. Blood reddens my view as I stare down my opponent: the current Bantamweight Champion. It was close. A five round title shot. And I'd won two rounds and she'd won two rounds. I feel a hard blow to my ribs but I am able to take it. I step in, jumping in to my strike and catch my opponent on the jaw. Her head flies back and she goes down hard, knocked out. And suddenly I feel the ref pulling me back, shouting time. I step away from the woman, hear the roar of the crowd and see Greg coming in to the Octagon.
"You knocked her out kid. You're the new Champion. Nineteen fucking years old and you're the Champion." Greg praises, patting my abs as I pant around my mouthpiece. I spit it out, sucking off the saliva on it, and hold ot up to the crowd who roar even louder. I throw it into the reaching hands of the spectators and watch as a guy wearing an American Fighter tee shirt catches it. He looks like one of those guys who casually trains MMA but only because he watches too much UFC. I can't talk though- it's how I got in to MMA. Bruce Buffer comes in to the arena.
"And now for the final call from our judges. We call a stop to this competition at two minutes, thirty six seconds in the fifth round in the UFC- BANTAMWEIGHT division- the winner by TKO! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND NEW!!! MARTIAL! MISHA! MARTEL!!!" He enunciates each of my M's and I feel the ref raise my hand. I sport the blue tape, and the Bantamweight belt is slapped across my abs and buckled in place. The former champ buckles and falls to her knees with tears in her eyes. I shake off the ref and pick her up, raising her fist as well. I lean close.
"You're the best I've ever fought. I was nearly done for in the third round when you got the hooks in on that triangle." I tell her. "Thank you." I start the crowd chanting for her and she shakes off her sad face and manages a smile at the roar of the crowd.

The presser was painful. My eyebrow is bleeding. My lip is swelling. I have bruises and cuts all over my arms and legs. Not to mention we're in Montreal and outside so I'm fucking cold since it is past two in the morning and temps drop quick here. My opponent is worse off than me by far yet I still feel like shit. I slammed down two ibuprofen and guzzled a Nos energy drink just before the presser started though. I'm feeling a bit better as the final questions roll out. Mostly because the pain meds have kicked in and Greg brought me a hoodie.
"What was it like switching camps right before your title shot?" Someone asks.
"Well I've switched camps a lot. I was at this little ghetto ass place when I started and the coach there... I still see him from time to time, got me through my amateur career and saw me off to my first pro fight in the UFC. After that first fight though, I mean I struggled in that fight. Pulled out the win because my conditioning was better. But I needed to move on. So I went to Frank Campana's about two months out from my second pro fight and blew everyone away with my improvement. And he's probably the best ground coach training right now. But I was getting a bit weak with the Boxing and my stand up... Got offered a spot at Greg Jackson's and switched for the last month of my camp. Greg has me as fit as I've ever been and hell if I'm not happy. I mean I never thought I'd hold this belt... I hope that answered your question." I chuckle. Dana- the UFC president informs me that only two more questions will be taken.
"Who do you want to see get a title shot?"
"Against me or in general?" I ask for clarification.
"Both I guess." I recognize him as the guy who caught my mouthpiece.
"I'd like to fight Miesha Tate on principal." I earn a chuckle. "Call it Misha versus Miesha. But in all seriousness... If it was Gina Carano, I'd be happy. Or Holly Holm. My division is strong right now so there are options open. I'm just excited to be in a title defense position. As far as anyone else... I'd love to see Carlos Condit get a title shot against GSP. I train with Carlos since we're both at Jackson's and he is putting out the best workouts of any of the guys."
"Last question." Dana interjects.
"Where are you heading after this?"
"I think I'll go home for a week or two before settling back in to camp. I'm gonna go see my old coaches and visit my family. Gain back the weight I cut for this fight and all that jazz."
"Thank you everyone for coming out. We'll see you next time." Dana comes over to me and smiles. "I was hoping you'd win. You've got a great way about you in front of the cameras."
"I was majoring in theater before I quit to do this full time." I explain. "I'd better be good at talking."
"Well I think Greg was looking for you. Wanted to introduce you to someone." Dana releases me and I go to find Greg. He's standing backstage with a man I recognize.
"Dana said you were looking for me?" I ask calmly, grabbing my towel and dabbing at my eyebrow. That bitch was gonna scar. Oh well. First eyebrow scar to remember my title win.
"Hey. Found this fucker wandering around. Thought you'd like to meet him, since you're contemporaries now. You missed him at my place because you came during his break time." The man turns and of course I recognize him. He's Georges St-Pierre. The man I just said I'd like to see fight Condit. The welterweight champion and my idol.
"Hi." I manage, holding out a hand, "Misha Martel."
"Triple M." He confirms, shaking my hand and then bringing my knuckles up to his lips to kiss them. "I'm Georges."
"I know." I smirk, taking my hand back. He smiles at me and Greg pulls us aside and we walk out of the press area.
"Misha, we're having a little party for you back at the penthouse of your hotel. Georges is sponsoring the drinks."
"I'm also here on behalf of one of my sponsors... Affliction wants to offer you a sponsorship."
"That's incredible. Get me in touch. I accept." I can not believe this night. It has quickly become amazing. Won my title. Free drinks. A new sponsorship. And I got to meet one of my idols.
"You rode over with Greg right?" Georges asks. I nod.
"Why don't you ride with Georges?" Greg asks. "You'll want to get that sponsorship straightened out." Georges nods, placing his hand on my lower back. He takes a tee shirt off the back loop of his jeans and hands it to me.
"A gift from your new sponsor." It is a red shirt with the Affliction logo on it and it is distressed on the back and crisscrossed with black to make an x pattern. I slide it on, finding the material soft and it feels expensive.
"I'll do my best to earn it." I tell him. He nods and we head out to his car. He has a Range Rover. He lets me in and then gets in the driver's seat.
"We have to get the drinks." He tells me, "What do you like?"
"I'm nineteen."
"What do you like?" He asks in a joking tone. I chuckle. No nineteen year old has never had alcohol before and I'm legal drinking age in Canada. I celebrated my first amateur fight at fifteen with tequila.
"I like Maker's Mark." I tell him, "But we can't get it in Canada so I'll take Jack Daniels."
"I can like a girl who enjoys good Whiskey." He winks and we head to the nearest liqueur store.

 When Georges and I get to my hotel we've already straightened out my sponsorship and we had been talking about our personal life. Georges was getting ready to start his camp for his first title defense. We enter with the drinks and everyone cheers. Greg had taken my belt for me and it was on full display in the middle of the room. Georges sets down the bottles he was carrying and we fade in to the party. Coach Jay was mixing drinks, my first coach back in California. He hands me a tumbler. There is an unspoken rule between coach and student, which anyone outside the community wouldn't fully understand- that what happens at the gym stays at the gym and any allocations will be fervently denied. Like when I won my first amateur fight and I got tequila out of it. Greg speaks quietly with Jay and the door opens. Two guys, one I recognize to be Frank Campana, and the other vaguely familiar, but I had no name for him walk in. He is a few years older than Frank, but could be his brother. Frank came over and smiled.
"Little Misha, the champ." He praises. "I can see it now. Bet you'll hold that belt for a record time."
"I hope." I reply. "I didn't expect you or Coach Jay... It's great to see you." I hug him.
"I brought Alvey Kulina with me. I don' t know where he got off to."
"Is that who you came in with?" I ask. "He was a legend in Cali when I was up and coming."
"Yeah he and I met up ringside. One of his old fighters wants back in the UFC... Ryan Wheeler?"
"Shit. Wheeler and I were team mates years and years ago right when he started in MMA... heard he was in prison. He out now?" I ask. Frank nods, rolling his eyes.
"I don't pretend to know what's going on at Navy Street... but I think things are looking up for Alvey. He's got his son pushing through the ranks and Wheeler is sticking with him. He needs some relevant fighters and I think he's finally getting it."
"I'm excited for him." I reply, "Alvey 'King' Kulina... I remember him. I was a nobody when he was the face of cage fighting."

 The party winds down after a few hours and I've had a few drinks. Greg, Coach Jay and Frank are hanging around and everyone else files out. Georges finds me on his way out and slips a piece of paper into my hand.
 "I would like to get to know you better." Georges whispers, and I can only pray I'm not imagining this. My belt is still on the table and I sit for a moment just to take it all in. The new Bantamweight champ... wow.

 In the morning, I'm not hung over, but my coaches- current and past- are. I scrape them off the floor with chiding smiles and force some coffee and eggs in to them. They sober up quickly, all three of them big guys, and tough dudes. They all start passing stories about me, Jay has some interesting ones, which I kind of wish he'd let go, but I'm not complaining. He recounts the time I knocked out a heavyweight in sparring by jumping on his back and choking him out. Then the time I got schooled by a strawweight in BJJ. Frank tells of my aid in Brenden Conlon's camp when he was vying for Sparta. There is a new competition in the works- Sparta II: Brawl on the Beach. It was to be a huge event, and there were talks that it would be a catchweight affair- no weight classes or gender divisions, hearkening back to the old days when the Gracie's ruled supreme in the world of cage fighting- the world Alvey Kulina is from. Greg spends the morning catching my old coaches up on my progress, and after they've eaten, they leave and I go back to bed for a bit. I'm on lay off for two weeks  before I go back to camp. I told Dana I wanted to fight again in two and a half months- ten weeks. That would give me my two week vacation and an eight week camp. It was a solid plan and Greg was already on board. Georges fought again soon- at the same fight night, UFC 83. I would fight but I knew not yet who I would fight.

 When I wake up from my nap, I turn over and see Georges' number scrawled on a hotel room service menu which he'd given me last night. I decide what the hell and pick up the phone to dial him.