Chapter 1: November, 1984

Balrog is training with his girlfriend, Maria, in the ring with focus mitt drills. He hates these drills, because it's hard for him to not look at her. She doesn't have his in blue tank tops and boxing trunks, instead she likes to wear to thin white shirts and tight running pants. Her Dominican body is tall and fit, but her hazel eyes always drew him in. He's in hell, but Run DMC's Rock Box playing on the radio helps him to concentrate a little.

She is just as talented with boxing as she is with beauty. She doesn't have the muscle he has but she's just as fit. She was the best female boxer at the YMCA they went together when they were kids. She could have gone to the league starting up California this year if it wasn't for her condition, a rare brain cancer that the doctor called with a name he couldn't understand or remember. All he remembers is that it's partially beguine and that she can live a normal life without boxing; that was all he needed to know.

"Come on Balrog, you're slipping. One, two, three...go!"

Balrog hits the mitts in a three punch combination.

"One, two, three…go!"

Balrog hits the mitts in the same three punch combination, but his timing is perfect.

"Good! Two short hooks and an uppercut…go!"

Balrog hits the mitts with speed and intensity. He's feeling the sweet science coming together.

"Again…go!"

As he hits the bag, he's growing in his confidence as she smiles and sees the love in her eyes.

"Here comes Balrog, the next champion of the world. Again…go!"

As he punches, he envisions the championship belt on one shoulder and Maria on the other. After launching a heavy uppercut that connects hard against the Mitt, Maria is knocked back against the ropes, with a body spasm that lasted only for two seconds before she stood up straight.

"Yo Maria, you alright," Balrog asks when he walks to her side.

She doesn't answer back; she just starts to touch her head. The other trainers that were watching his footwork start to run into the ring, but as soon as they take the mitts off she pushes them away, yelling, "Get back, I'm fine." The trainers do, taking the mitts away. The only thing they feared aside from death, taxes, and Maria's temper was making her do anything that pushed her too much; it was a constant balance between her health and her pride.

"Don't look at me like that!" Maria slaps Balrog against the side of his head. No offense taken, he gave her the ok to do that years ago, it's the hardest part of his body; although it's a privilege she takes too often for his liking. Pointing at his face, she says, "Hey, I'm fine. Don't lose that momentum. Do some shadow boxing, ok?"

"But…"

She interrupts, "Hey! I'm right here." She points to his heart. "And I'm here." She touches his forehead. "And I'm here." She touches his red boxing gloves. She says a little gentler, "Now do some shadow boxing while I watch for five minutes, then hit the heavy-bag."

He walks to the center of the ring and starts, but his eyes looks at her for a moment.

"That's ten minutes to your heavy-bag drills. And I'm going to add another then every time you lose focus."

He knows she means it. As he works on his form and his jabs, he thinks about the fight coming up in a few months that will make him the number one contender for the championship belt. A lot of eyes are on him, but he's considered the underdog against Bubba "The Ice Man" Johnson. It's nothing new to Balrog; he's been considered an underdog all his life. It doesn't matter, he has all the people he needs in his corner.