"Men often make up in wrath what they want in reason"- Wiliam R. Alger

He had known it was going to be a bad day. He just knew it.

When he had woken up that morning, his wife was sleeping half off of the bed and half on it. It was nothing new to see Dana sleeping like that, she tossed and turned in his sleep. He chuckled and headed into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth before glancing at the calender.

It was the biggest day of his life and he had forgotten.

He bustled around the bedroom, trying to pack his things to get ready for the day. His name was Lucas Turner and he was the fastest rising star that the UFC had to offer.

He wasn't a naturally violent man, no. He had been rasied in a good home by his single father. Yet he was a man who enjoyed to fight, enjoyed karate and other martial arts. They made him feel at peace in his head. Made him forget all the bad things that had happened to him in his life.

He was not wrathful, just knowing.

And he knew that today was the day he had trained for. It was his first shot at not only headlining an event but his first title opportunity as well. He kissed his wife, his one year old daughter Emily, and his newborn daughter Alyssa before leaving to catch his flight. Today would solidify his name in the history of the UFC.

Just not for the reason he assumed.

The rest of the day flowed smoothly. He caught his flight on time, managed to sign a few autographs for fans. The work out at the gym had been just what he needed to let out some of his pent up aggression. Not that he had a lot of that, not, most of his rage and wrath were let out every time he saw his family. It turned into love and devotion. And what his family didn't turn into love and devotion, his punches at the bag evaporated.

Then came time for the fight. He was geared up: black trunks with gold tribal designs up and down the sides with matching boots, a black mouth guard, and black padding. If everyone didn't know how kind and caring he was, he could have looked down right mean and vicious.

He was the first person to make his way out to the octagon. The steel structure had always worried him in his first few fights but as time progressed, he learned how to stay away from it. He was no longer a vulnerable child stepping to the octagon against better opponents. Today he knew he was the underdog but after today? After today he would be the champion.

He stepped through the door to the cage, a grin spread wide across his face. His eyes watched as his opponent, Duke Carroll, headed to the ring. Duke reminded Lucas of a super hero. He was tall, powerful, and dedicated. Everything that Lucas was not, Duke was. The two were so evenly matched that every fan in the audience knew it was going to be a good match.

None of them knew it was going to be a dreadful day.

The first round went through, both men faring well in their battle. Then came the second round. Near the end of the round, Lucas landed the all powerful left hook that ended so many rounds with others. Duke went down for the ten count, Lucas had won.

But Duke didn't get back up.

The ref checked on him and there was a panic as the medics were called. Everyone was in an uproar as more than one medic rushed in to the octagon. The lights came up and Lucas stood there in awe as the medics mumbled one phrase to one another.

No pulse.
No pulse.
No pulse.

The next few moments were choatic. The crowd panicked, Lucas was escorted to the back and made to wait for police. When he did talk to police, he was cuffed and taken back to the station.

He was charged with murder.

The wrath of the court system was swift and left Lucas in prison for five years. He lost everything: his wife, his children, his home. His father died while he was in prison. No longer was he the bright eyed young man who had enjoyed so much, he had became a cold heared, fierce man.

He was wrathful and he changed.