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The following two fights went by with little enthusiasm from the audience. Their thirst for blood had been beyond satiated, and now they were simply left sick. Foley withstood his opponent’s attacks as always, waiting for him to tire before opening his defenses and striking back. Saimallah crushed his opponent without touching him, ending the match in seconds.

“Don’t you lecture me. You’re just fighting so that people will like you. You’re so desperate for their approval, yet have the nerve to call me spiteful. My path as a warrior doesn’t lead to acknowledgment or people carrying me on their shoulders. I don’t fight in life because I want to be idolized. I fight to understand myself, to know my limits, to know what I’m capable of, and to go even farther. The challenges I’ve overcome, the setbacks I’ve endured, the boundaries I’ve surpassed! Those are what define me as a man, as a warrior! I walk this path because life is most valuable when you have to fight for it!”

It was a warm night tonight as the night before. They barely needed the sheets with no air conditioning running. She grabbed the loose end of the sheet resting above her father’s hand and slowly pulled it back. It was almost like a strip tease. His pecks, chest and stomach all came into view, very nice to see but she’d already had her fill of them this morning. Finally, the sheet pulled back to reveal his waist, his short patch of curly pubic hair coming into view. She slowed herself down, carefully pulling the sheet over his bulge and not daring to look until she dropped the sheet down on his thighs.