Today marked the day before the fight.
The official weigh-in had already taken place a few days earlier, but now it was ti for the ceremonial weigh-in, a spectacle for the fans.
The minibus ca to a stop at Madison Square Garden.
Damon peered at the iconic building, his nerves kicking in.
He wasn't soone who feared crowds, but this felt different, overwhelming even.
The door swung open.
He glanced at Whittier, who looked calm and casual, as if he had done this a thousand tis before.
And in reality, he had.
Damon envied that calmness, feeling a knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach.
As they stepped out, the noise hit them, a roar of voices calling out from all directions. "Whittier! Donald Whittier!" The fans were chanting for his coach, not him.
Damon's na was absent from the shouts, and while he didn't expect a hero's welco, the reality of it stung.
He forced himself to look up at the towering building ahead, its size intimidating.
Together, they walked past the fans and paparazzi, heading inside without breaking stride, shutting out the noise behind them. Continue your saga on m|v-l'e -
Damon followed Whittier through the bustling backroom, trying to absorb the atmosphere.
He was finally here, standing in the sa place where so many legendary fighters had prepared for their bouts.
The mont felt surreal, and he caught glimpses of a few familiar faces, famous fighters who were chatting or stretching.
It was a reminder of the level he was about to compete at.
Whittier gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "You handled that pretty well," he said, a small smile on his face. "Now, let's get the dical check-up done and confirm the weights."
Damon nodded, taking a deep breath as they made their way toward the dical staff.
.
.
The dical check-up was brief, and the weigh-in confirmation went smoothly.
Damon's weight was right on target, as expected.
Now, he found himself standing in the corridor leading to the stage of the Hulu Theater, where the ceremonial weigh-in would take place.
The cheers from the crowd echoed through the hall, growing louder by the second.
He heard the unmistakable voice of Jim Logan, the legendary comntator, known for his passion and enthusiasm for the sport.
"Alright, ladies and gentlen, lets move on to the ceremonial weigh-in for The Supre Fighter Finals! We've had an incredible season, and now it all cos down to this, two warriors who have battled their way to the top for a shot at greatness. This is the mont where we et the finalists who will step into the cage tomorrow night to determine who will beco The Supre Fighter champion!"
The crowd roared with excitent as Jim continued. "Introducing first, representing Team Chemasov, he's been a force to be reckoned with throughout this competition. Please welco, Brian Walker!"
The theater erupted with cheers and applause as Brian made his way onto the stage.
Brian stepped onto the scale and took off his shirt, revealing his lean, muscular fra.
Intense excitent filled the room as Jim Logan leaned in to say the weight.
"Official weight: 185 pounds on the dot for Brian Walker!" Jim called out, his voice booming through the theater.
The crowd cheered as Brian raised a fist in acknowledgnt before starting to step off the scale.
He was about to go back the way he ca.
But the official motioned for him to stay.
"Hang on, Brian. We're going to get the face-off done right now," the official said, gesturing for him to remain in place.
Jim Logan's voice echoed through the theater, "And now, introducing his opponent, fighting out of Team Whittier, Damon Cross!"
Damon swung the door open and made his way toward the stage.
As he stepped up, the sight of the packed arena hit him like a wave.
It was overwhelming, knowing that this was just the weigh-in, not even the main event.
The stage was set up with bright spotlights illuminating the center, where the scale and the fighters stood.
Behind them was a massive LED screen displaying "The Supre Fighter" logo, casting a glow across the area.
The UFA emblem and sponsor banners adorned the backdrop, enhancing the lavishness of the occasion.
The crowd filled the theater to its capacity, with rows of seats extending upward, creating a coliseum-like effect.
Fans waved signs and chanted nas, while others captured the mont on their phones, eager to share the excitent.
A rush of cheers, shouts, and cara flashes filled the air as anticipation built.
The atmosphere was electrifying, fitting for a crucial point in the competition.
Keeping his focus, he moved to the scale, taking off his shirt and tossing it aside.
Standing there, the caras flashed from all directions, capturing every angle.
"Official weight, 185 pounds on the mark for Damon Cross!" Jim Logan announced, his voice filled with enthusiasm as the crowd erupted in cheers and applause.
As Damon stepped down from the scale, the caras kept flashing continuously, capturing every mont.
Damon approached Brian for the face-off, his steps steady.
As they stood face to face, fists raised, the tension was palpable.
He could see the hint of nerves in Brian's eyes, though Brian tried to mask it, just as Damon did.
Jim Logan, standing beside them, took to the microphone, his voice booming across the theater, "Tomorrow night, in our co-main event, we have a fight that's been brewing since the start of this season. In the middleweight division, it's Brian Walker versus Damon Cross!
These two have battled through the toughest competition to make it to this stage, and now they'll go head-to-head to determine who will be crowned the next Supre Fighter!"
As Damon and Brian kept staring at each other, the cheers of the audience erupted into a ferocious roar.
When they broke the stare down, Jim Logan approached Brian, microphone in hand. "Brian, anything you'd like to say to your opponent?"
Brian smirked confidently. "I don't have much to say, but I'll repeat my brother's words, tomorrow night, I'll show you how to act in front of the man of the house, son."
The audience's excitent was obvious as they cheered and applauded.
Damon didn't react outwardly to Brian's taunt, keeping his composure, though his clenched fist betrayed the tension simring beneath the surface.
Jim Logan grinned, clearly enjoying the tension. He stepped closer to Damon. "Damon, any response to that statent?"
The crowd went silent, a hush falling over the arena that sent a jolt through Damon.
But he didn't falter. He glanced at Brian, considering what to say.
Giving an emotional response would be easy, but he knew the fans appreciated a bit of flair.
"I an, he can say whatever he wants," Damon replied with a smirk. "I've already beaten his brother. I'll beat him too. In my opinion, I took out the toughest opponent last week, so you, boy, are just easy work."
The crowd roared in approval, cheering loudly.
Jim Logan took a step back and spoke loudly. "There you have it, Damon Cross versus Brian Walker, tomorrow night for The Supre Fighter finale! Thank you, gentlen!"
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