MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon adjusted the jacket as he faced the mirror, checking the fit across his shoulders and chest.

The suit was deep charcoal, tailored close but not tight, the kind that looked clean without trying too hard.

He tugged once at the sleeve, then gave a slow nod. This actually looked good.

Behind him, Aoife stood up from the sofa where she'd been watching quietly. She walked over, her steps steady, hands folded in front of her. Her voice came soft, and her Irish accent slipped out thicker than usual.

"Oh, love… would ya look at ya," she said. "You clean up alright, don't ya?"

Damon cracked a grin without turning. "It's the suit."

She shook her head, eyes warm. "No. It's you."

He turned slightly to look at her. "That so?"

Aoife let out a breath through her nose, then nodded. "You were this tiny little thing once. Wouldn't wear anything but those red boots with the holes in 'em. Now you're up here getting married. I don't know how it all flew by."

"Still feel like that kid some days," Damon said.

She smiled faintly. "Maybe. But you've built your own life. On your own back. And I know it hasn't always been easy. But I'm proud of you, Damon. Really proud."

Damon didn't say anything for a second. He just nodded, hands in his pockets.

"I didn't think I'd ever see a day like this," Aoife added, voice quieter now. "Not when things were hard. But you got us through, and now look. A good man. A good partner. A good dad."

Damon looked down, then back at the mirror. "Still figuring it out."

Aoife stepped closer, resting her hand on his arm. "You're doing more than fine."

He nodded again.

"Alright," she said, blinking once and trying not to make it a thing. "I'll get out of the way. Just needed a moment."

Damon chuckled at his mom's reaction. This was just a suit fitting, nothing huge, but she looked like she might tear up any second.

He had brought her on purpose. The wedding was still ahead, but the road leading there meant something to him, and he wanted her on that road too. Just like she had walked every hard step with him before.

They had been through a lot. Some of it never spoken about, and some of it still lingering in the corners. But Aoife had always been there.

No matter how rough things got, no matter how far Damon had to climb, she never let go of him.

So now, he wasn't letting go of her either.

He stood there a moment longer in the mirror, then looked over at her as she wiped under her eye casually, pretending it was dust.

"You're gonna cry before we even hit the church," he said.

"Shut up and let me have a moment," Aoife muttered.

Damon smiled. "You got as many as you want."

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In the UFA Office <><> Late Afternoon

The meeting room had the usual sterile edge to it. Frosted windows, polished floors, championship posters hanging along the walls.

Several UFA officials sat around the long table, folders open, some with tablets in hand. Water bottles, coffee cups, and the occasional sigh filled the space.

One of the senior officials stood up, adjusting his jacket.

"Well, here we are again," he said. "It's that time, we need to lock in the coaches for the upcoming season of The Supreme."

The others nodded, a few tapping pens or scrolling through files.

He continued, "We've already run through a dozen names. There's excitement building for this one. We want it to feel like a real clash. Skill, story, and eyes on the screen."

Another exec leaned forward. "Last time we floated Damon's name. It makes sense, he's undefeated, double champ potential, and he's already a household name now."

"Yeah," someone across the table agreed. "But Damon doesn't have a rivalry with anyone."

A younger coordinator chimed in, "What about Damon and Tereira? That fight's massive. Everyone's watching it already."

The room paused.

Then one of the senior officials shook his head. "It's already booked. Main event. Two months out. That's not enough time to shoot the show. Not unless we push everything back, and we're not doing that."

"Right," someone else said. "The timing's off. We need coaches who can stay on schedule and build hype, not distract from an already-set fight."

There was a beat of silence. Then the conversation moved again, new options, new pairings, but Damon and Tereira stayed in the background.

One of the officials leaned forward, tapping the table with the back of his pen.

"I do have an idea."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"Damon's fight with Tereira is already set. That's locked in. But we also know Damon's long-term trajectory.

Assuming he wins at light heavyweight, his next move is back to middleweight, to unify."

There were a few nods around the room.

He continued, "Ivan Novak and RRD are set to fight for the interim middleweight belt. Both have solid fanbases, and Ivan's profile is blowing up. What if we used The Supreme to build that next fight?"

"You mean... make Ivan and Damon the coaches?" someone asked.

"Exactly. Or RRD, if he wins. Either way, it becomes more than just a title unification. It builds anticipation. We give fans months of weekly content to invest in that matchup. And if Damon beats Tereira? Now it's champ vs champ, or champ champ vs champ. That's historic."

Someone leaned back in their chair, thinking. "That's big. Smart too. The tournament plays out, the show gets heat, and then the winner steps into a super fight."

Another official added, "It gives us time to market both. If Novak wins, we sell it as the tactical chess match, two of the most well-rounded fighters. If it's RRD, we push the storyline of the veteran coming to reclaim his throne from the new king."

"It all hinges on Tereira vs Damon," someone warned.

"Yes," the original speaker agreed. "But either way, Damon's next fight is already written. All we have to do is frame it."

No one disagreed. The idea had weight. And the room quietly began shifting from skepticism to strategy.