MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon approached the group with a grin. "Eyy, what's up, guys?"

"Oh, hey, looky here, it's the main man Damon!" the California guy joked, causing the others to laugh as they greeted him back.

Damon pulled up a chair and sat down, joining the conversation. One of the fighters turned to him, curious. "So, where you from, Damon?"

"Me? Well..." Damon blew out a puff of air, thinking for a second. "I grew up here in the States, but I was born in Ireland. Lived there for a bit."

"Oh, nice!" one of the guys responded with a grin. "Wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't said. So, what city did you live in?"

"Stockton, with my mom," Damon replied, keeping it brief. "Got into some small events, then moved here to L.A., trained, and now I'm here."

Damon purposely left out the part about being homeless.

He didn't want to give anyone ammo for trash talk, especially with the competition heating up.

You never knew who might use something against you, and he figured it was better to stay cautious.

"So, what's your guys' names?" Damon asked, shifting the focus back to the group.

Even though they had all been introduced during the team selection, it wasn't like anyone remembered each other right off the bat, except for the first picks, which had been him and Kofi.

One by one, the fighters reintroduced themselves, the banter flowing easily as they got to know each other a bit more.

The atmosphere was still relaxed.

The California guy leaned back, laughing as he told his story. "Bro, I'm telling you, that man was crazy. His girl got taken away, so what does he do? He goes and takes her mom and that guy's mom and has a threesome. Like, who does that? That's next level!"

The group burst out laughing, Damon included. "Cali is wild, man," Damon said between chuckles. "Been here for two years, and I've seen things I still don't understand."

Everyone laughed again, but the conversation slowly quieted down. One of the guys, glancing at the house, noticed that three of their teammates were still inside while it was just the five of them out here.

He looked back at the group, a bit more serious now. "What do you guys think of the other team?" he asked, breaking the silence.

His question hung in the air for a moment as everyone fell quiet, thinking it over.

Damon was the first to speak. "I don't know, but you know what to expect in places like this. Everyone's here for the same reason."

They all nodded in agreement. The Philly guy grinned and broke the tension, "Well, I think they'll all lose, you know." He laughed, and the others joined in, the mood lightening once again.

They all knew the competition was tough, but for now, it was just about keeping things relaxed before the storm of fights that would come soon.

As they chilled, sounds and yells from the house sounded so loud they reached them.

Damon narrowed his eyes at the sound but quickly leaned back again, shrugging it off. Whatever.

Not long after, two of their teammates came outside, carrying boxes and grinning widely. "Guess what we got, suckers!" one of them announced.

Damon glanced at the box they were carrying. It was beer. He noticed everyone's eyes light up at the sight.

"Wait, is that even allowed here?" the Brazilian guy asked, looking a little nervous. He clearly didn't want to risk getting kicked out of the house for breaking any rules.

The California guy smirked, unfazed. "I'm sure these two didn't sneak it in, so they must've found it here. And they wouldn't put something around that they didn't want us touching."

Without hesitation, he grabbed the box, opened it, and started passing the bottles around. "Here we go!"

Damon saw a bottle coming his way and caught it midair. Around him, the others popped theirs open and started drinking with no hesitation, enjoying the moment while they could.

He stared at the bottle for a second, debating whether to join in.

Damon placed the bottle down, choosing not to drink. He didn't want anything messing with his focus or affecting his performance, especially not when the competition was about to heat up.

One of the guys noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Don't want it?"

"Nah, I don't drink," Damon replied casually. It wasn't entirely true—he did drink on occasion, but not often, and definitely not during a situation like this.

He wasn't a casual drinker, and he wasn't about to start picking up bad habits, especially when so much was on the line.

They looked at him, some surprised. The Philly guy shook his head, chuckling. "Nah, bro. All the Irish dudes I've met are heavy drinkers. I mean, look at Collin Ncgyver, that guy is insane."

Damon laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, not all of us are like that. Besides, I'm here to win, not party."

The others laughed along, though a couple still looked skeptical.

Damon just shrugged it off, keeping his mind focused on what really mattered, getting through this show and making a name for himself in the UFA.

"Well, man, you need to loosen up," one of the guys said with a grin. "I mean, if everyone's drinking, no one's got an advantage."

Damon didn't respond immediately. He just took a deep breath, letting the comment slide.

He'd already said his piece, and he wasn't going to be drawn into a debate over it.

If they kept pushing, he might as well keep to himself and stay focused.

Instead of reacting, he leaned back in his seat, quietly watching the others.

He wasn't here to make waves or enemies, but he also wasn't going to compromise his own approach just to fit in.

And so they drank, bottles clinking and laughter echoing through the yard. Damon sat back, observing the scene.

From the loud talking and laughter coming from the house, it was pretty clear that the other team was probably doing the same, drinking and letting loose.

Damon smirked to himself, shaking his head slightly. Everyone's getting comfortable, he thought.

But in the back of his mind, he knew this was just the calm before the storm.

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