MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 610: Old Suits and Fake Smiles

They arrived at the small corner office tucked between an outdated liquor store and a print shop.

A little too dusty for downtown, but just polished enough to be legitimate.

Damon pulled into the narrow parking lot, turning the engine off as Victor came into view.

Victor stood outside, arms crossed as he finished a conversation with an older man in a neatly pressed grey suit.

The guy looked like he hadn't missed a business meeting in twenty years.

His hair was silver, combed back with shine, and his smile was well-rehearsed.

As Damon and Svetlana got out, the man shook Victor's hand firmly.

"I wish you well with the promotion, Mr. Steele," the man said, voice clear and pleasant. "I'm sure you'll do well. Your name carries weight, and so does your vision."

Victor nodded politely. "Appreciate it, Ben."

The man's eyes flicked over, catching sight of Damon approaching. His gaze sharpened for half a second, recognition, then calculation.

"Is this Damon Cross?" he said, stepping forward. "I remember you talking about him back when he was still green, Victor. You told the board he had it. I knew it. I knew you were right. Saw the champ in him the moment I saw one of his amateur clips."

He extended a hand toward Damon, who took it after a brief pause.

"Pleasure," Damon said simply.

The man grinned a little too wide. "Pleasure's mine. Really. That last fight, just… wow. You're a beast, young man. Absolute monster in there."

Damon nodded again, giving a small, polite smile. but internally, it was weird. The energy didn't match.

The guy was talking like they were old friends, like he'd mentored him or funded his career. In truth, Damon had no idea who he was.

It felt like that fake praise some people gave when they wanted to ride a wave they didn't help build.

Victor caught Damon's eye, giving the faintest smirk. he knew what this was too.

"Well," the man said, patting Victor's shoulder again, "I'll leave you three to it. Good luck with everything."

He walked off toward his black sedan, still smiling until the door shut behind him.

Damon watched the car pull away, then looked at Victor.

"Friends of yours?" he asked flatly.

Victor exhaled. "Nah. Just someone who used to tell me I was wasting money on a fighter with no name."

Svetlana raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

Victor shrugged. "Now you're worth shaking hands over."

Damon shook his head with a dry laugh. "Funny how that works."

Victor turned to the little girl in Svetlana's arms, and for a moment, his usually sharp features softened. A warm, genuine smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"There's my girl," he said quietly, gently tapping Ava's foot. She blinked up at him, curious but calm, then reached for his tie. Svetlana chuckled and shifted her grip.

The three of them walked into the modest office.

It was sparsely decorated, just a desk, a few chairs, and some faded posters of past events pinned to the wall.

The place had potential, but it needed work.

Damon took a slow look around. "So… what happens now?"

Victor sat down behind the desk, motioning them to sit. "First step is cleaning up the business. Need to look through the books, re-evaluate the current structure. I'll have to see how many fighters are on active contracts and how many are ghosts on paper."

Damon nodded. That sounded like a mountain of paperwork. "Gonna be a lot."

Victor leaned back. "Yeah. And with that, I probably won't be at the gym much for a while. I'll have someone else step in while I'm sorting this out."

Damon smirked, half-joking, "I can coach myself."

Victor didn't return the smile. He looked at Damon with a firm expression. "Never be your own coach. Can't be a soldier and a general at the same time."

Damon held his gaze, then gave a quiet nod. There was weight in those words, and he knew Victor was right.

They sat there for a while, going through the basics, licensing, staffing, scouting prospects, and potential revenue models.

It was clear Victor had been thinking about this for a long time. Damon mostly listened, offering his thoughts when needed, but he never pretended to be the business type.

When Victor first asked Damon to come in with him, Damon had made it clear he didn't want to play entrepreneur.

His life was already split between fighting, training, and family.

But he respected Victor, owed him too much not to support him in something he was passionate about.

So, Damon invested. Quietly, fully, and promised to help wherever Victor needed him. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

Eventually, the conversation lightened up. The old man leaned back, rubbing his shoulder.

"Alright, that's enough paperwork and talking for now," Victor said, standing up with a groan. "How about we do something that doesn't make me feel a hundred years old?"

Damon chuckled. "Like what?"

"I say we go have some fun," Victor replied. "Later tonight, there's an Extreme Battle event happening, figured we could check it out. See what kind of product we're inheriting."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "You're keeping that name?"

Victor grimaced. "Hell no. 'Extreme Battle' sounds like something from a backyard VHS tape in the 90s. I'm thinking we rebrand. Something cleaner. Something that doesn't sound like middle school kids came up with it."

Damon laughed, nodding. "Yeah, it's got 'shirtless guys in a parking lot' energy."

Victor smirked. "Exactly. We'll see what kind of talent shows up. Might find the next Damon Cross in there."

Damon shrugged. "Hope not. One's enough."

They both grinned, then turned to gather their things and head out.

Svetlana had taken Ava out earlier, deciding to let Damon and Victor talk business without distractions.

She mentioned something about grabbing coffee and finding a small park nearby to let Ava get some fresh air.

Now, with the conversation wrapping up, Damon glanced at his phone.

A message from Svetlana had popped up a few minutes ago.