NOTE: This take place after the World of Light.

DING! DING! DING!

The bell signals the end of the eighth round in the Ultimate Fighting Championship exhibition match. An twenty five year old African American male in white trunks had his opponent, who was clad in forest green trunks, in a rear naked choke. It took the referee to pry the two men loose. Finally separated, they both head towards their corners to remedy any wounds that slipped through their trained eye. The ebony male's name is Alphonse, also known as 'Al', Starks. He had a black, taper fade with a bushy goatee; he was average built with a fair amount of muscle that you would usually see on a mixed martial artist. Now, Al, is a...unique individual with a handicap. A physical one at that: he had a congenital limb deficiency that cost him his right forearm at birth. His parents was devastated at the horrid reveal about their son.

Quickly, Al had to adjust to live a normal life with only one hand: he had learn how to tie his shoes, write, play anything involved two hands, and learned to grasp objects with his stump. The first sport that he played was football at the age of ten. It was grueling for the poor guy. He can take a tackle but he couldn't catch to save his life as he wanted to play wide receiver. At the end of practice, his coach shook his head at the pitiful display and told him to just go home. Heartbroken, Al ran home in tears as his peers mocked him for his failure. His father comforted him as Al cried his heart out. He eventually got over it but this set a pit of white hot fire in Al's stomach as he willed himself to learn how to catch the ball with the help of his friends and father. Next year, he returned and fought for his spot, which he won. Afterwards, he played until he was seventeen, winning a few championships here and there.

He then turned his attention to MMA, which he watched regularly on his downtime. His idol was Jim Abbott, who also had the same disability as Al. Abbott's achievements in the realm of baseball prompted Al to take on the challenge of being an UFC fighter; however, he need to learn how to fight. He asked his father to enroll him in the local Muay Thai classes in downtown New York. His father was somewhat against the idea but trusted that his son can take of himself. Al's time during his Muay Thai classes was one of the hardest things he did in his life. He had to learn how to block with one hand and he was beaten senseless but he eventually earned his keep and his black belt. He worked his way through the amateur fight scene but it was tough to come by good competition because of his stump of an arm and also pride of losing and/or fighting a man with a disability. You think that was hard, he had to bust his ass to finally fight in the UFC, which no one else of his caliber attempted.

"Alright, kid. Last round. I see that you've been working his head but he got one good shot on your right rib. You need to keep a tight guard on it until you can get a good shot on his noggin. You get me?" Reggie Price, Al's coach and trainer, informed while patting an ice cold towel on Al's right eyebrow.

Al hissed in pain from the stinging sensation, "Loud and clear, Reg."

"Atta boy! Make 'em hurt!" Reggie grinned, patting Al on his shoulder.

DING! DING! DING!

Rising up, Al walked to the middle of the octagon where his opponent did the same. The crowd blew the roof off with their cheers as they glared each other down. "Fighters...ready?!" The referee shouted over the cheers. Al nodded and so did his opponent as they touched gloves. The referee nodded before he stepped back, "Alright...FIGHT!"

Raising his stump closer to his face along with his left fist, Al slowly circled the ring while his opponent pranced around as well. The opponent had the strength advantage and is a formidable grappler. Earlier in the fight, he got a good right hook to Al's right rib...and slammed him with a hip toss on the same aching rib. Al used his speed and opted for hit and run tactics to wear him down. Growling, the opponent attempted to grab Al, which the Afro male dodged with a simple sidestep. The opponent tried again but Al used the chain-link wall to maneuver around him; however, the opponent capitalized this by pouncing Al as he landed, tacking him into an abdominal stretch on Al's right side. Pain rattled Al's body as he struggled to squirm free, sending out more shock waves of distress from his ribs. Grunting in frustration, Al began to jab his right elbow to his opponent's face repeatedly to make him let go.

Eventually, the method work as the opponent finally released Al to tend to his throbbing head. Ignoring his aching ribs, Al advanced quickly to the opponent with the intention of putting him to the canvas for good. Left hook. Right elbow. Left cross. Right knee. Left uppercut. Right roundhouse. Left spinning backhand. All of these connected to the opponent on any unprotected areas of the head, forcing him to one knee as the crowd's excitement for this bloodbath shined through and through. Sprinting towards the opponent one more time, Al jumped and drove his knee underneath the opponent's jaw and then swinging his right elbow to the opponent's right cheek. Reeling from the assault, the opponent finally goes down and never gets up again. Once more, Al began running but is stopped by the referee.

"Stop, STOP! I think he's down," The referee stated, looking over his shoulder to the battered opponent. Breathing heavily, Al stepped back and watched as the referee counted to ten. The opponent didn't even twitch a finger in response to the count out.

"THE WINNER IS ALPHONSE STARKS BY A TECHNICAL KNOCKOUT!" The announcer exclaimed triumphantly as the referee raised Al's arm. Alphonse took in the bouts of cheers, whoops, and hollers. His own team grabbed him in a group hug as they celebrated with their fighter.

"Good job, Al! Never doubted you for a second," Reggie praised honestly, clutching Al's shoulder with a warm smile.

Al smiled in response, "Well, you know not to lose faith in yours truly, Reg." The two shared a laugh as Reggie look out to the crowd who was chanting Al's name. He sighed before turning to Al with a sad smile.

"This is one of the reasons I loved working with guys like you, kid. These bloodthirsty maniacs right here! The money and the girls to a lesser extent but you know what I mean. Are you sure that you want to throw all of this away?" Reggie pried, causing Al to roll his eyes and shake his head.

"Reggie, we've talked about this. I'm just...not feelin' this anymore, man. Also, more and more young fighters had their careers cut short because of them being careless. I know that I don't have room to talk because of my cockiness but I know DAMN well to fold 'em," Al retorted, swigging down some water from a water bottle.

Reggie shrugged with an frown, clearly undaunted by Al's confession but he understood and respected his decision, "Fine, kid. Your life, not mines. Now, how are you gonna break to everyone at the post match conference?" He asked, pointing to the audience.

"Eh, I just be blunt with 'em. It worked for me in the past. Besides, it ain't gonna kill 'em," Al grinned.

Reggie nodded, "True." They began to make their way to the locker room so that Al can get changed.

A/N: What's this?! A brand new story!? Yep, after keeping up with Smash Ultimate for the past few months, this was brewing inside my stomach for a while until I finally said: fuck it, lets do this. Now, I know that this OC in this particular situation is very uncanny but there are actually a guy that has a physical disability that plays in professional sports; however, he's in the NFL, not the UFC, and his name is Shaquem Griffin. In that case, anything is possible and it inspired me to write this story. Now, things are going to be slow until chapter three so hang tight. I just wrote this so that I can lay down the foundations of this story.

Oh naw, they nerfed Luigi's grab!? *takes out phone* Siri, cancel my preorder!