MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

As they finished up dinner, the warm glow of the table lamp casting a cozy ambiance over the motel room, Damon suddenly remembered the envelope Mr. Steele had given him.

He had almost forgotten about it, but now his curiosity was piqued.

He walked towards his bed, his footstep were quiet over the carpet, "Mom, I have something to show you," he called out, excited to see what was in, well he already knew, but still.

Aoife stopped what she was doing, her hands pausing mid-air as she turned to face Damon.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and she made her way to him.

She sat down beside him on the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath her weight. "What do you want to show me?" she asked with anticipation on her voice.

Damon chuckled, a low, throaty sound, as he picked up the envelope from his bed. "I don't know, we're about to find out," he said, his eyes lighting with mischief.

Aoife shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips, but she didn't mind the suspense.

She waited patiently, her eyes fixed on the envelope, as Damon's fingers worked to open the seal.

Damon's fingers carefully tore open the top of the envelope.

He pulled out a thick stack of cash, the bills neatly bound together.

Aoife's eyes widened in shock, and she let out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.

Damon's face broke into a wide, toothy grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

He placed the stack of cash on the bed, the bills rustling softly against each other. For now, he didn't care about counting it; he had more important things to share.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he filled his lungs with air. "Mom, I have something to tell you," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. He turned to face Aoife, his eyes locking onto hers. Aoife's expression was a mix of confusion and concern, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Is it bad news?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of fear. She placed a reassuring hand on Damon's back.

Damon shook his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "No, actually, it's good news," he said, his words spilling out in a rush.

"You remember the man I told you about, the one who said if I won my three fights, he would fund my career?" Aoife nodded, her eyes still clouded with skepticism.

JShe had always found it hard to believe that someone would offer such a generous deal without expecting anything in return.

Damon took another deep breath, his eyes falling as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, since I won those fights, he invited me... well, us... to go stay in LA," he said, his words trailing off as he waited for Aoife's reaction.

Damon was expecting a firm no from his mother, but instead, she raised a thoughtful question. "Damon, have you thought this through? You can't trust him just because he said so." Her words made Damkn pause

He looked at his mother, her eyes filled with concern, and he knew she was right. What if Mr. Steele was not what he seemed? What if this was all a ruse?

Damon's mind accommodated the doubts, but then he thought about his dreams, his newfound love for MMA.

He couldn't just give up, not now, not when he was so close.

He took a deep breath and looked at his mother. "Mom, I think it's worth it," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "You know, things have been great, he promised to pay all expenses. I know it's sketchy, and I don't have proof if he's legit or not, but still... I can't just give up. Sometimes risks are good."

Aoife smiled, a warm, gentle smile that filled Damon's heart with love. She stood up, walking and stood in front of him.

She placed a hand on his head, her touch warm and comforting. "Damon," she said, her voice filled with pride. "You are grown now. You don't have to ask for my permission. I'm proud of the man you are becoming. Chase your dreams, my boy.

I'll follow right behind you and support you whenever."

Aoife's words continued, a soothing balm for his soul. "If you want to move to LA, then I'll come with you. We're in this together, remember? As long as you achieve your dreams, then I can rest easy in life." Her voice was filled with conviction, as she planted a kiss on his forehead.

Damon's eyes twitched, a tiny movement that betrayed his emotions.

He didn't like it when his mom mentioned death, even indirectly.

Why did parents always have to think about their mortality? It was as if they were reminding you that they wouldn't be around forever.

Damon sighed, a deep, heartfelt sigh that came from the depths of his soul. "Thank you, mom," he said, his voice only a whisper.

Damon's eyes scanned the pages of the contract, his mind absorbing the words and terms. He had never finished school, but he was far from illiterate.

He could read and comprehend complex sentences, and his understanding of numbers was decent, except for the occasional struggle with big figures.

As he delved into the contract, he began to grasp the terms and conditions.

The contract stated that Damon's primary objective was to reach the Ultimate Fighting Association (UFA) and become the champion. That was it.

No hidden agendas, no secret clauses. The contract seemed straightforward, almost too good to be true.

Damon's skepticism grew as he read on, searching for any loopholes or tricks.

One clause caught his attention, making him feel uneasy.

It stated that he couldn't quit unless he suffered an injury or, more disturbingly, death, of course this meant he can't quit before he became champion in the UFA.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the rest of the contract.

As he continued to read, Damon couldn't find any hidden terms or conditions that would require him to share his earnings with Mr. Steele.

The contract explicitly stated that Mr. Steele would cover all expenses until Damon started generating income.

Damon's mind filled with questions, but the more he read, the more he became convinced that the contract was legitimate.

He checked again, and again, scouring the pages for any fine print or cleverly worded clauses that might trip him up.

But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find any tricks or loopholes.

Damon's eyes narrowed as he continued to examine the template contract.

He knew that this was only a draft, a precursor to the actual agreement.

He recalled Mr. Steele's words, promising to call him soon to discuss the details.

What if Mr. Steele had made changes to the contract? What if there were new terms or conditions that weren't included in this template?

Damon's caution kicked in, and he made a mental note to himself not to sign anything until he was absolutely sure.

He would wait for Mr. Steele's call, and then he would carefully review the actual contract.

He would ask questions, seek clarification on any doubts, and ensure that he understood every clause and condition.