Spencer: Bad Boy MMA Cage Fighter : Bad Boy Fights The Fight Of His Life For His Girl! (An MMA Fight by P.T. Macias (distant reading TXT) 📕

The owner, Carlos Reyes, is a dangerously powerful man. Reyes gets a kick out of the name he gave the gym, Apollo. Yup, it’s the one that means the Greek God and the name linked to the Greek verb that means to destroy.

I walk down the hall into the small kitchen to get some breakfast before working out. I open the refrigerator, peering inside before finally grabbing some eggs, spinach, and avocado.

I always make it a point to eat healthy high protein meals. It takes a few minutes to cook the scrambled eggs with spinach, onions, tomatoes, and avocado slice.

I take a drink from my cup of coffee, looking out the window into the parking lot full of old beat-up cars.

So, the apartment isn’t in the best part of town, but at least I have somewhere to live.

I pull out my cell, swiping the screen with my finger, I press on my bank app. My finger moves to scrolls down, looking at my bank statement. I stare at the balance clenching my jaw.

I can’t fucking believe it!

I’m not going to make it at this rate.

The fight is still three months away. I don’t have anything to sell, and I’ll be damn if I ask my stepdad for any money. He didn’t hesitate to kick me out of his fancy-ass mansion the day that I turned eighteen. And then I joined the Marines.

What hurts the most is that my mother never stopped the abuse. He’s an admired, influential, upstanding citizen, and everyone loves him. I bet that his friends at the country club don’t know that he’s an abusive bastard.

Countless nights the bastard would beat me until I couldn’t move, so I learned how to fight back. That’s the only good thing out of his fucking abuse because thanks to all of the beatings, I learned the necessary skills to fight back. I excel in the fighting game plus the high school wrestling team. Fuck, I can still hear his voice echo in my mind.

Spencer, you’re a fucking loser. What the fuck are you going to do now that you’ve graduated from high school? Do I need to remind you that you don’t have the grades for college? I told you that you wouldn’t amount to anything. I’m not going to support your rotten ass. I did everything I could to help you grow into a successful man, but no, you only wanted to go against everything I say. Now, you’re on your own.

I’m going to prove him wrong.

I don’t need his money or his approval.

I’ll figure it out.

I know that I can make some money to hold me over fighting in the illegal underworld fight.

I know that once I win this fight, I’m all set with the UFC, Ultimate Fighting Championship, contract. I know this is the moment when everything is going to change.

I need to get training; I’m making damn sure that I’m winning this fight.

I slide my cell into my pocket; then, I grab my dirty dishes, placing them in the sink to wash.

I try to keep the apartment clean since I can’t afford to have a maid. Besides, I live in a shitty part. Nobody has a maid.

I walk out of the apartment, looking around the parking lot, nodding. I pull up my hoodie, sprinting off to the gym in the early morning mist.

A few minutes later, I walk into the gym, looking around. As a greeting at my buddies, I do a chin lift, walking over to start my workout.

“Hey, Spencer, do you want to spar?” Ash asks.

“Hell, yes, I need all the practice I can get Ash. I really need to win this match,” I say, nodding.

I walk over to him, standing next to him. I watch him do some sit-ups, working his core.

It’s essential to work out your core because that’s the power behind the strength in the kicks, punches, knees, and elbows.

I start my core work out on the mat a few feet from Ash. In a few I’m inhaling and exhaling deeply. The work out kicks ass.

I finish my core work out, reaching over to grab the towel, wiping the sweat off  my face. Now I’m ready to spar with Ash. I walk over to where Ash is punching the bag.

“I’m ready; let me get my hands wrapped really quick,” I say, twisting the water bottle cap off. I take several long pulls, and then I smash the plastic bottle in my hands. I walk over to the recycle bin, throwing the bottle inside.

“Great, I know that you have a good chance to win, Spencer. I love sparring with you,” Ash says, handing me a water bottle.

“I’ll get X to coach,” Ash says, walking over to the cage.

I smirk, following Ash across the gym room. I nod at several fighters.

“Hey Spencer, I need a favor,” Ethan says, a fighter in the light heavyweight division. He has several wins.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I say, looking over at him. Ethan wipes his neck with a towel cracking his neck.

“I have this sweet job that pays fuckingtastic, but I need to take care of my mom. She’s ill, and I don’t want to lose this job. Could you stand in for me until I return,” Ethan asks, rubbing his neck, furrows his forehead, looking anxious?

“Yeah, but I need more details, but I think that I can fill in for you,” I say, nodding, throwing the towel over my shoulder, crossing my arms, standing with a wide stance.

“It’s a guard job for a very important man. You’ll be guarding his child, making sure that they’re safe,” Ethan says, nodding.

“Fuck, that sounds easy, I can do that. How did you get the job?” I ask, raising my eyebrow, looking at him.

“My buddy Ryan got me the