MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Training soon began in earnest.

The national team threw themselves into training, each fighter focused on their individual matchups. Enjoy new stories from My Virtual Library Empire

Coaches barked instructions, and the gym reverberated with the sound of pads being hit, bodies colliding, and the odd roar of victory after landing a perfect technique.

Ireland's fighters were getting more and more attention from the media, so they shared regular reports on social media.

There were lots of clips of sparring sessions, strength training, and strategy meetings all over the platforms.

All of them showed how hard people were working to get ready for the tournament.

Fans could not take their eyes off of every post and were analyzing every component.

Some clips showed the team as a whole, which showed how well they worked together.

Others focused on certain fighters, like Damon Cross, whose striking combinations and moves from grappling to striking lit up the show.

There were a lot of guesses, supportive comments, and even some funny trash talk.@@novelbin@@

But among the flurry of excitement, fans began to notice something curious.

Collin NcGyver, a fighter whose name carried weight in Irish MMA, was absent from every post.

The lightweight fighter was nowhere to be seen, no sparring footage, no group photos, nothing.

Speculation grew fast. Chirper threads popped up, questioning if Collin was injured or if there was trouble behind the scenes.

Some wondered if the media team was deliberately leaving him out, while others believed it was Collin himself, choosing to stay out of the spotlight.

The lack of clarity only fueled the rumors.

Fans began debating if this meant Ireland's lightweight division was in trouble or if Collin had a secret plan up his sleeve.

Whatever the reason, his absence became the talk of the media feeds, threatening to overshadow the rest of the team's progress.

Inside the dimly lit office of Ireland's national MMA management team, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Papers were scattered across the table, and a whiteboard filled with fight schedules sat ignored in the corner.

Tommy Hughes, the grizzled head coach, stood at the center of it all, his voice booming with his thick Irish accent.

"It's a bloody disgrace, that's what it is!" Tommy slammed his fist on the table, his face red with frustration. "Collin NcGyver hasn't darkened the door of the gym once since the qualifiers! Not once, lads! And we're supposed to be preppin' for the biggest tournament in MMA history? This fella thinks he's above it all!"

One of the younger staff members, clearly uncomfortable with Tommy's tone, tried to calm him down. "Tommy, come on now. Collin's Collin. Ye know how he works, he's got his own routine. And let's not forget, he put us on the map! Without him, we wouldn't even be in this position!"

Tommy scoffed, his laugh sharp and biting. "On the map? Aye, sure. By what? Getting bloody knocked out! That's what put us here, was it? Getting his arse handed to him in front of the whole world?!"

Another staff member leaned forward, his own Irish accent laced with exasperation. "Don't be ridiculous, Tommy. Ye know as well as I do that Collin's talent is second to none. He's the pride of Irish MMA! The fans love him, the sponsors love him, he's a bloody star!"

"Star, me arse!" Tommy shot back, glaring around the room. "Stars show up! Stars train! Stars earn their place! Collin's too busy gallivantin' about like he's already won somethin'. And don't even start with this pride o' Ireland nonsense. A real fighter's the pride of this country, not some eejit who thinks he's too good to show up for his own team!"

The room erupted into murmurs as staff members took sides. Some nodded in agreement with Tommy, while others muttered defenses of Collin.

Another voice rose above the fray. "Tommy, ye're lettin' yer bias blind ye. Collin's not perfect, aye, but he's the best fighter we've got! Damon's good, no one's sayin' he's not, but Collin's the reason we've got all these eyes on us. He's the one who made Ireland relevant in this sport!"

Tommy leaned forward, his voice dropping into a deadly calm. "Aye, and where's he now? Where's yer big, shiny star when the team needs him, eh? He's not here, that's for damn sure. Meanwhile, Damon Cross is out there bustin' his arse every day, workin' harder than anyone. And ye've the gall to tell me Collin's the best? Open yer feckin' eyes!"

Before the argument could spiral any further, the head of the management team, a calm but authoritative man with decades of experience, raised his hand. "That's enough," he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.

The head leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the table. "This isn't about who we like better or who we think is the future. This is about Ireland, and what's best for the team."

Tommy, who had known the head for years, narrowed his eyes but held his tongue.

After a pause, he spoke, his tone quieter but no less firm. "I've been in this game longer than most o' ye have been alive, and I'm tellin' ye plain, Collin NcGyver's not fit to represent this country. Aye, he's talented. Aye, he's got the fans. But he's no leader, and he's no role model. Damon Cross? That lad's the real deal. He's got the skill, the discipline, and the heart. Mark me words, it'll be Damon who wins this tournament for us, not Collin."

The room remained silent, the tension thick.

The head studied Tommy for a long moment before finally nodding. "I'll take what ye've said under advisement, Tommy. But for now, we've got to focus on the bigger picture. Both Collin and Damon are part of this team, and we need them both at their best if we're to stand a chance."

Tommy sat back in his chair, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He didn't argue further, but the fire in his eyes made it clear he wasn't backing down.

As the meeting adjourned and the staff filed out, Tommy lingered behind, catching the head's attention.

"Ye'll see," Tommy said quietly, his voice steady and unwavering. "Collin's gonna let us down. And when he does, it'll be Damon who carries the flag for Ireland. Ye can count on it."