THE FOLLOWING IS A FAN-BASED PARODY.

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"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!" the ring announcer roared, the arena's speakers and sound system barely elevating his voice above the tundra of noise the audience generated." BOYS AND GIRLS AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN! THIS IS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR!"

The crowd's noise swelled like a great Tidal wave of an approaching hurricane. Any louder, and Diego would be pretty sure a window was about to be shattered or something.

"WELCOME TO THE RAGE IN THE CAGE!" the announcer spoke again, his voice doing little to calm the fire Diego felt burning in his chest." SPONSORED BY THE ANTOINETTE ARMSTRONG ASSOCIATION AND THE DOA WRESTLING FEDERATION, ARE YOU READY?!"

The question was met with yet another roar from the crowd, even louder than the previous one. To the point where Diego honestly felt like his eardrum would burst if it got any louder than it was now.

This was quickly becoming Diego's least favorite part of the evening. The pageantry of everything around him made his skin crawl, like he was being leered at by thousands of strangers. Fighting was personal to Diego, almost intimate in its nature. Hence, the fewer people involved in any scrape on the street or in some half-forgotten war zone on the other side of the world, the better it was. At least, that's how Diego saw it.

The rapid shouts of thousands of wrestling fans, drunk on adrenaline and overpriced beer, was a far cry from the crowd watching him on the streets. Diego huffed again and shook his head. He came here expecting a workout but now found himself in the middle of the world's biggest game of pretend. At the same time, millions of people watched on with bated breath either ignorant of Diego's inner torment or secretly savoring it. It sort of felt like someone was playing a practical joke on him.

"What's with the long face Diego." Jacky Bryant spoke from behind. Whatever snide or sarcastic comment bouncing around his head was ignored for a seemingly benign comment." Don't tell me you're still upset about the rules, are you?"

Diego rolled his eyes; of course, he was upset. He didn't come all the way down here to play a game of make-believe! he was promised a real fight, dammit! He'd assumed Bass Armstrong would be for a bit of bloodshed and some friendly competition to spice up the festivities. Still, to Diego's disappointment, the man seemed as serious about the "rules" of the evening as the street fighter had seen the colossal Texan about pretty much anything.

So why was he even here again?

"Na. I'm over it." Diego said with a sigh, not fully over his disappointment but entirely on his way to getting there." Just want this night to get over and done with."

"Sure you are." Bryant said with a roll of his eyes, that same cocky smirk that Diego was quickly starting to dislike plastered on his face as he looked at him." I totally believe you."

Diego huffed, already trying his best to ignore the other man's presence as he turned back to the announcer declaring the start of the first match of the evening. An exhibition in a cage of all things, who in their right mind would...

"I PRESENT TO YOU THE BROOKLYN BRAWLER! THE BRONX BOMBSHELL! THE LIONESS OF HELLS KITCHEN! THE WOMAN KNOWN ONLY AS MILA!"

Diego felt himself stiffen as he watched the woman walk down the stage. The applause and shouts of the crowd, wrapping around her like an indestructible armor, were so loud her entrance music was barely audible.

He didn't know Mila was here.

She looked natural as she walked confidently down to the cage, with a bright smile and strength radiating from her eyes. It had been a year since Diego had seen Mila, but she looked just as...

"Oh, man! Who brought the rocket!" Bryant said, whistling to himself as his eyes traveled up and down Mila's body as she waved to the audience. "Maybe this won't be a waste of time after all!"

Diego felt his hand curl into a fist as he heard his blonde companion's words. He didn't like people talking about Mila like that. Like she was a piece of meat to be gawked at. His momma tried to teach him many things, most of which she failed to do.

He didn't stay in school, he didn't stop getting into fights, and he sure didn't stop himself from sticking his nose where it didn't belong. But his momma certainly taught Diego to never treat women like they were things.

"You talk about her like that again," Diego said without even looking at the older man. "And we're gonna have a problem."

"What brought this on?" The blonde said, his voice carrying confusion as he looked back at the scarred face of his companion." Do you call dibs or something? Cause you have to call dibs out loud for it to count."

"I didn't call dibs!" Diego spat, more heat in his voice than he intended. He and Mila weren't like that. They were just friends. A guy from the old neighborhood was just looking out for what was best for a girl from that neighborhood." So just drop it and find another girl to embarrass yourself in front of."

"Oh? Is someone getting a little jealous?" The formula one racer said, his smirk now even brighter and smugger than it was before. "Maybe you should worry more about..."

"AND HER OPPONENT! THE QUEEN OF THE CALIFORNIAN JEET KUN DO SCENE! THE MISTRESS OF PAIN! AND PROOF THAT THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES IS DEADLIER THAN THE MALE. THE ONE AND ONLY SARA BRYANT!"

"Why the fuck is she here?!" Jacky responded to the sight of the tall and beautiful blonde walking down to the ring, the long strides of her long legs doing little to calm the almost ravenous cheers of her admirers. But unlike Mila, who took the attention as a fish does to water, the blonde seemed almost embarrassed by the attention. Flattered, to be sure but certainly not accustomed to the blatant admiration she was facing.

Diego would be embarrassed too if he saw that many people holding signs asking him to step on them.

"Well! What do we get here?" Diego said, trying his best to imitate the mocking tone of voice the racer next to him had used just a moment ago." You didn't tell me you had a sister."

"Drop it." Jacky responded in barely held anger, a far cry from how he spoke before." In case you didn't notice, that's my sister you're talking about."

"Forget about Mila then, "Diego answered back, looking at the blonde like a hunter would to a predator he had in his sights, daring Jacky to make the first move. "And we won't have a problem."

Diego smiled at the grunt of agreement that left the ordinarily boisterous racer's lips. The sweet sense of victory allowed him a moment to realize that something was off.

The two combatants were face to face in the middle of the ring with the referee, a woman wearing all black that Mila had at one point called "a real sweetheart," rattling off the contest's rules. Mila's smile was bright as she stared at the confident smirk of her opponent, the two touching gloves as they wished the other good luck. But instead, their confidence turned to confusion as their eyes turned to the ramp they had just walked down from.

Why was Taka-Arashi walking down to the ring?

The towering Sumo moved like a battleship against the waves. The ends of his robe dangled a foot off the ground. He marched forward, less like the Ronin he viewed himself as and more like an Oni ready to plunder a village. His heavy steps echoed across the arena like the heartbeat of some giant monster.

The man...did not look happy.

Diego was far enough away that the faces of the people in the ring lost some detail. Still, a blind man in a dark room could see the Sumo champion carrying himself like a shark, ready to rip and tear through a fat seal.

Diego has seen fewer angry faces on horror movie monsters before.

"Is this a skit?" Jacky said, trying to gauge Diego's thoughts." Because I'm pretty sure I don't remember reading this in the script."

Diego had to agree. He wasn't the biggest wrestling fan growing up, unlike Mila. But even a novice like him knew that to make a wrestling show go off well took an immense amount of preparation behind the scenes.

And Bass Armstrong was a perfectionist when it came to wrestling. Say what you will about the guy; if Diego was drunk enough, he would gladly do it. But the bull of a man took his profession seriously like an artist would their medium of choice.

Diego didn't think Pablo Picasso fucked around regarding his paintings. Beethoven didn't fuck around when it came to music. Hideo Kojima doesn't fuck around when it comes to video games. And Bass Armstrong doesn't fuck around when it comes to pro wrestling.

Taka-Arashi stood in the middle of the ring, ignoring the confused stares of everyone else in the ring. The ring announcer took his sunglasses off, his eyes not leaving the hulking form of the sumo champion as he nervously asked for clarification from the referee. But even then, Diego knew what was about to happen. He could almost feel it in his bones.

Mila walked towards Sarah. The fire that burned in her eyes a moment prior was dimmed as she answered her confused opponent with a shrug of her shoulders. But Diego could tell that Mila could see the same thing he could sense.

The moment someone experiences an angry Bass Armstrong, they develop a sixth sense regarding it. Like their bodies had quickly evolved a way to avoid the Texan behemoth whenever he was angry enough to start throwing punches.

So when Bass Armstrong's entrance music blasted over the arena speakers, Diego wasn't surprised. Instead, he was surprised by seeing just how mad the king of Pro wrestling was. If Taka-Arashi was a cold fury, then Bass was a raging inferno.

"Well, he looks happy." Jacky said with a scoff, a familial tone to his voice as he watched the scene unfold." It's been a while since I've seen Armstrong this mad before."

Diego felt the urge to ask what the cocky and headstrong Jacky Bryant had to do to get Bass anywhere near as pissed as he looked right now, but honestly? That sounded like something he didn't even want to know about. So whatever dumb thing Jacky may or may not have done wasn't any of his business after all.

What was his business was that some dumb fuck sumo made the mistake of upsetting Mila while in Diego's presence. Of course, the last person who made that mistake couldn't eat solid food for a whole week for dining and dashing during Mila's shift, but Diego felt that would be child's play compared to what he was about to do.

So preoccupied with his thoughts of violence, Diego didn't notice his companion push off the wall he was leaning on. In fact, it wasn't until Jacky started shoving and pushing his way into the crowd of audience members that Diego was finally taken out of his thoughts.

"Hey!" the street fighter said as he watched the brash formula one racer walk into the dense mob of bodies in front of them, "Where're you going?"

"No one fucks with my little sister and gets away with it!" Jacky said without bothering to turn to look at his scarred companion as he shoulder-checked an audience member." That's my entire job!"

The street fighter said nothing as he watched the spikey blond disappear into the crowd before a smile slowly appeared on his face. As Diego followed, cutting through the audience with the reckless abandon of an angry bull trying his hardest to get to the sumo wrestler he was about to kick the shit out of.

Diego was never the best at metaphors.

But as the two fighters moved closer and closer to their destination, something in the back of Diego's head told him something was wrong. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him that something big would happen.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the announcer spoke again, trying to ignore the chaos of the ever-filling ring as he did his job. "IT SEEMS WE HAVE A BIT OF A SHAKE-UP THIS EVENING!"

Diego shoved past yet another spectator, the burning feeling in his chest burning hotter with each step he took forward. Then, finally, he turned to look at the growing confusion on his comrade's face.

Diego could only describe it as the moment when a Predator suddenly realizes that it's prey.

"MAY I INTRODUCE YOU TO, FROM PARTS UNKNOWN, WEIGHING 335 POUNDS, THE MAN KNOWN ONLY AS HALSEY!"


"I'm sorry, Darlin," the thundering voice of Bass Armstrong rumbled in her ears. "Far be it for me to willing step on another performer's toes and all..."

"It's okay Mr. Armstrong..."Mila said and gave a tired smile, the perfect picture of an innocent woman suffering because of the emotional outburst of a man. That would end up being the title of Mila's autobiography when it was all said and done.

It was like her senior prom all over again.

Tonight was going to be incredible. Honestly, it should have been fantastic. It should have been the best night of Mila's life in all rights. A coveted spot on one of the most significant events of the year? Check! Going viral on social media after her open training session with the press? Check!

Being on a first-name basis with Sarah Bryant, THE SARAH BRYANT, the woman she had only ever seen fight on video streams she would sneak watch on her phone growing up? Like, were you kidding Mila right now? Double-check straight to the moon!

That's not to mention the "Girl's night out" later in the evening with the most extraordinary women Mila had ever met in her life. This night had the makings of being nothing short of legendary.

So why was Mila so embarrassed and upset? How did this little hiccup completely ruin her night? It was just one match, after all! So what was the big deal about having her match canceled right before her eyes?

She was glad you asked.

She had promised the neighborhood kids she would be on T.V. tonight. She even promised the Joshua twins that she would win her match for their birthday. Their parents had even let them stay up past their bedtimes to watch her.

She hated disappointing those kids.

"It is not your fault Mr. Armstrong," Mila said as she reached up to pat the enormous man's shoulders. Sure she was upset, but like her mother always said, "No need to be upset over things you can't control." No need to make it a whole big thing."

"But it is a big thing, little lady." the man said, some heat breaking through the sullen and regretful tone he spoke with a sentence before. "It's that oversized baby, throwing HIMSELF A FUCKING FIT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY CHARITY EVENT!"

The Texan behemoth shouted over his shoulder, the all-consuming rage he had barely bit back roaring to the surface the more he stared at the legendary Yokozuna. But to his credit, Taka-Arashi said nothing. In fact, the Sumo's eyes had not even left the ramp leading to the entrance stage, even as Bass shouted his voice raw.

"It certainly sounds like something Taka-Arashi would do." Sarah Bryant spoke, her usually calm voice tinged with the coolness of a glacier." I'd hoped he'd have grown up since I saw him last."

"What can I say?" the Texan said with a roll of his shoulders as he again turned towards the obstinate Sumo with a sneer melting his face." Once a prima donna, always a prima donna!"

By its very nature, professional wrestling is a business that runs on a strict timetable. Every behind-the-screen interview, every filmed bit, and wrestling match had been calculated down to the last tenth of a second.

That schedule? The one Bass had helped write down and perfect throughout his adult life? It was the second most influential book in Bass Armstrong's life. It was this same book Taka-Arashi had just spat on when he demanded not only to change the start time of his match but the person he was going to fight.

The main event would have to be changed since Taka-Arashi was supposed to compete alongside his former " king of the iron fist" competitor against the Armstrong family. But now?!

The whole event had been thrown into chaos.

"He got a wild hair up his ass about some guy backstage not respecting him enough." Bass grumbled, his annoyance making the huge man look more like a teddy bear than the grizzly he looked like when he was shouting." I told him I'd have no problem letting him have a brawl any other night. But did he listen? No sir ye!"

Mila looked at the towering Sumo in the ring. His presence was intimidating, that much Mila would admit. Like a giant readying to grind someone's bones to make his bread.

"It's the disrespect that gets me," Sarah responded as she crossed her arms against her chest, staring with barely-held in contempt at someone she once considered a compatriot. "But Taka-Arashi is Taka-Arashi, and he wouldn't be him if he didn't do something stupid like this."

Disrespect was not an uncommon event for Mila. No one who was ever a waitress for as long as she was could say that. She could handle rude and hostile as well as anyone. But Mila had rarely felt so...dismissed by a person before.

Like she wasn't even worth his time to utter a single word of explanation as he simply waited for someone to accept the terms of his demands. She got people so angry with her that they were red in the face. She even had people talk down to her like she was a child. She had even had people treat her like she was no more than a dog on the street or a raccoon rummaging through a dumpster. That was the first and only time she had ever struck a customer before and the last time she worked the late-morning to early afternoon shift on a Sunday.

"Who is this guy anyway?" Mila said, her voice quiet as she watched for the figure, whoever it may be, to make his appearance. Whoever had been the cause of whatever drama had to have been someone special, right? She would hate to think that her big night was delayed over something small and insignificant. It had to be something big, right? An ancient blood feud, maybe? Or perhaps Taka-Arashi was defending the honor of his master from the cruel words of some rival...

"Some guy he ran into in the locker rooms," Bass grumbled as he gave the referee and the announcer a signal indicating the change in plans. If he noticed the heartbroken look on Mila's face, he didn't mention it. "I swear ta God, if this shit show ends up ruing the rest of the night, I'm gonna end up skinning both of 'em!"

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the announcer shouted as he drove the audience into a frenzy, "IT SEEMS WE HAVE A BIT OF A SHAKE-UP THIS EVENING!"

Mila could only imagine the chaos going on backstage right now. Corralling a new opponent and accommodating a new match that had been thrown together with what felt like duck tape over the short few minutes. Not something Mila would want to do, that's for sure. "MAY I INTRODUCE YOU TO, FROM PARTS UNKNOWN, WEIGHING 335 POUNDS, THE MAN KNOWN ONLY AS HALSEY!"

Mila looked to the stage, disappointed at hearing no music play over the sound system. What kind of professional wrestler didn't have a theme song after all? But the entire audience seemed to take a deep breath simultaneously when this Halsey guy came into view.

Mila had been left star-struck multiple times in her life. But, sue her. She was a fangirl with every fiber of her being regarding most things that involve fighting.

Different brands of fight apparel? Fighting game character design? She could geek out on pretty much everything and anything that could catch her interest.

Mila had shared the ring and the locker room with literal legends, many of whom were her girlhood heroes and inspirations during the early years of her fight career.

But Mila had never felt so overwhelmed by a person's presence before.

The crowd around Mila gawked and cried, some with confusion, others with apprehension, but most with awe that very few human beings could ever truly master.

Bass once called it the "IT Factor" that every star had to have to even hope to make it to the top of this business. That spark separated the good from the greats and the greats from the best. You could be as strong as an ox and as fast as a cheetah, and as deadly as a cobra, but if you didn't have the charisma or strength of character to back it up, you would not have a very long career. No one could describe what "IT" was but, whatever "IT" was, Mila was confident this man had "IT" in spades.

"Look at the size of that ham hawk!" Bass said as he removed his patented sunglasses to get a better look at the man. "I didn't know they grew them that big anymore!"

Mila agreed as the man came closer, entering the ring with little fanfare as he stepped over the ropes. His colossal form made Mila feel smaller, an incredible achievement considering the other massive figures filling up the wrestling ring.

He moved to the corner of the ring, looking as if he was going to get a haircut instead of fighting the most decorated sumo champion in history on short notice. It was a little scary how non-intimidated the man looked and acted as he surveyed all around him.

"That.." Sarah said, her eyes never leaving the newcomer's massive form as she spoke. " Is a big guy."

"eyup!" The Texan said with a smile, his hands gripping the edge of the ring rig tightly as he leaned forward. "This might be less one-sided beat down than I thought!"

Mila had to agree.

She had never seen this guy before. Mila followed many people when it came to fighting and martial arts. She was considered an expert in knowing who could do what and where those people applied their trade. But this guy? The fact that she had never heard of him said a lot. He wasn't from any of the big-name Martial arts tournament circuits or any of the world fighting leagues. Not a boxer, not an MMA fighter, not a former Olympian, or even one of the few underground fighting mainstays like Diego who gained enough of a reputation to break in into the mainstream.

He was a complete and utter mystery, and that was enough to get Mila's full attention.

"AND HIS OPPONENT! THE GREAT DRAGON OF THE EAST! THE ONI OF MT. FUJI!" The announcer spoke again as he introduced the still silent Sumo as the Japanese man silently removed his ceremonial robe." THE EMPORER OF SUMO AND YOKOZUMA TO END ALL YOKOZUMA..."


The battle plan does not survive the battlefield.

That concept had been drilled into John's head on the first training day. No matter how good he could plan ahead and how much intel he had on any given mission, it could and would blow up in his face at a moment's notice.

"TAKA-ARASHI!" The announcer shouted, his arms shooting toward the dis-robbing sumo wrestler. The sea of onlookers screamed and shouted their voices raw at the announcement. The promise of the encroaching violence reached a fever pitch for the crowd, but for the life of him, John could only scowl.

John should have known that something like this was bound to happen. Still, like most things in this world, he found himself surprised by the illogical motivations and actions of the people around him. But, at least when he fought the flood, he knew what he was getting into.

"Who knew saying a simple no would be the cause of all this," John said to himself, his voice drowned out by the wave of noise around him.

John stepped forward, following the referees' silent command until he was face to face with the man. A sense of Deja Vu filled John as he stared down at the dark-haired man, whose face looked like the side of a mountain as he stared unblinkingly up at John's own.

"I want a good clean fight." The referee said, her voice timid as she read the body language of the two giants she would have to control for the duration of the match. A prospect she certainly was not looking forward to." But, you know the rules."

John sighed. This was the part he was worried most about. This wrestling event was for entertainment purposes. The fighting, the moves, and the techniques are all fake, and the outcomes pre-determined. At least, that's how Cortona explained it to him.

"Think of it like a training exercise!" The A.I. had said with a smirk as she forced him to watch countless wrestling matches on a loop the day before to hammer down how she wanted him to approach the mission." A Neanderthal-like you should fit in like a glove."

"Any questions from the blue corner?" The woman in the black uniform spoke to him, checking to see if he had any lingering problems. John shook his head in the negative as he continued to puzzle how he would go about this fight. How could he hold back enough to ensure the man in front of him survived while still making it look convincing enough for the people around him?

"Any questions from the red corner?" She asked the man in front of him, the storm brewing behind the large Asian man's eyes growing more intense by the moment. She didn't get an answer, not a verbal one anyway, as the Sumo took another step forward into John's personal space.

Chest to chest and eye to eye, the man glowered at John like a brute war chief readying to smash whatever was in front of him to death for the crime of simply being in its way.

"I will not stop." The man said, his eyes like steel as he stared John down." Not until your body is broken beneath my feet."

John said nothing. A fact that seemed to bring a small smile to his opponent's face, a smile that showed equal amounts of arrogance as it did anticipation. Did he assume johns silence meant he was afraid? That seemed logical from his standpoint. From how he walked and treated those around him, John could tell the Sumo in front of him had been used to getting what he wanted through his sheer size and presence. A bully that was used to being stronger than those he chose to intimidate.

John didn't like people like that.

"Touch fists and return to your corner." the referee said, her voice cracking slightly at the sight of the two men not breaking eye contact. The two stood for a brief moment before turning away, the crowd hissing and screaming as they watched the two men refuse to touch gloves" Don't come out of your corners until I say so."

John turned, barely paying attention to his opponent, as he slunk back to his colored corner. His mind was awash with just how much he had to pull his punches to make the evening last as long as Cortona needed.

As John moved back, however, he noticed he was being watched, not by his opponent or the mob of onlookers, but by the presence of three specific figures. The man and two women had left the ring as he made his way down the entrance stage and who had yet to leave the ringside area. The man was large and burly, with an oversized gold belt buckle holding up his studded black and red leather pants and...sleeveless leather jacket?

"Civilians..." John thought with a sigh as he tried to ignore the sparkle in the man's eyes as he watched him, looking far too similar to the man he had fought in Hong Kong less than 48 hours previously.

Thankfully the two women dressed far more practical, considering they were about to fight one another before John was forced to take their places. The three simply watched the scene unfold before them, waiting for something to happen, but John couldn't be sure whatever it was.

"FIGHT!" the referee shouted.

John watched the sumo move towards him like a man possessed, his eyes promising pain whenever he got his hands onto any part of John's body.

It was now or never, John thought to himself as he met his opponent in the center of the ring. The two behemoths crashing into one another like two bull elephants fighting for dominance. John just hoped he was holding back enough not to hurt the man in front of him.

*SMASH*


Hey look it's a new chapter. That's it that's the Authors notes