Disclaimer: The only purpose of this story is to hopefully entertain anyone who reads it. No profit is being made here and I own nothing but the plot.

Rated M for violence, profanity and sexual content. You have been warned.

Chapter 1. The Funeral

Jackson Overland stood at attention, his ocean blue eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight. The priest's words of honor, bravery and sacrifice hit him like the wild breeze, teasing, hinting but not really making an impingement.

There was no mention of the Australian's sense of humor and short temper, of how he'd go full Weapon X mode when someone calls him "kangaroo", of how he always carried a stuffed bunny toy (his daughter's favorite) before his cage battles to break the tension. That he'd hit a McDonald's the minute they were stateside for a bagful of French fries, hamburger and a bunch of other unhealthy stuffs. The priest didn't know that before he recited the tearful eulogies. Edmund always kissed a photograph of his wife and daughter for good luck before making his way to the the cage. He wouldn't mention Edmund's love for the beach. It didn't matter how hellaciously brutal his fights might have been, the second he was out of every arena he fought in, he'd squander no time and hit the beach with his family and do nothing but enjoy the sun, surf and cool water for weeks. He'd often said those were his compensations for getting punched and kicked in the face for a living.

But that wasn't the Edmund they were honoring right now.

Here, at Burgess City Cemetery, Edmund "Bunnymund" Aster is remembered as a devoted husband, a loving father and a one of a kind mixed martial artist, but what makes him different is what he leaves behind. Here, they were honoring the memories of the nights he stepped into the cage and did things with his body and his heart that never should have been possible.

Jack looked to the crowd in attendance. Referees, commentators, fight announcers, other fighters, even some fans have made the trip to the cemetery to be with the fighter before was buried six feet underground. He was that special. But Jack's focus was locked on his friend's family members, particularly on his wife Thiana and his daughter Margaret and noticed that the raven haired woman was trying her best to keep herself from bursting to tears as she held her daughter's hand. As the priest offered his final words of comfort, his coach, Agdar Winterhaven gently placed Edmund's gloves into Thiana's shaking hands just as her husband's casket was lowered to the ground, and Jack, still watching her intently, noticed that tears had begun to stream out of her jaded eyes.

As the funeral ended, the people around him moved, shifted and left. But he didn't. No, he couldn't.

Not until he talked to her.

He strode towards Thiana's direction and cleared his throat when he was directly behind her. Her shoulders straightened before turning around to face him.

"Tooth, I-I don't know what to say," he began awkwardly. "I'm so so-."

"Stop." She raised her hand as she cut him off harshly. The fact that she was his cousin didn't help things between them since he knocked on her door to inform her of her husband's tragic passing. With a shaky voice, she added, "If you're here just to say sorry. Don't. More than enough people have done that already. So, please, just don't."

"Alright. Just," Jack offered her a apologetic look before continuing, "let me say hi to Margie."

She sniffed and wiped her nose with a little handkerchief before nodding. Jack wasted no time and knelt in front of the little girl.

She looks just like her father.

"Hey, kiddo. You okay?" He asked, sympathy laced with his words. "You know your Papa always wanted you to be brave, right?

The girl shook her head, turning her desolate tear-stained eyes to her uncle. With all the innocence of a four-year old, the next things she asked was more than enough to make her mother's heart shatter into tiny pieces.

"Papa's not coming back?"

Thiana eyed him warily, shifted closer to hear better and wondered what kind of answer he would give.

"No," he said woefully and lightly shook his head as he inwardly cursed himself because he can't say anything, do anything to take the little girl's pain away.

"Does that mean there won't be anymore Easter Egg Hunts?" Margie asked, voice trembling.

Jack gently pulled her against him and let her weep. Once she was leaned into him, he could feel his niece shudder as the besieging sobs wracked through her tiny frame, he delicately patted her back until her sobs mellowed into shuddery breaths. He looked up to see Thiana, one hand pressed firmly to her mouth to forestall herself from breaking down. She softly placed her hand against her daughter's shoulder and Jack automatically received her message, he slowly pulled away from the girl before wiping her eyes and offering her an encouraging smile.

"Remember what uncle Jack said, Margie," he said to the little girl, "You have to be brave and strong because that's what your Papa wants, okay?"

The girl nodded weakly and turned around to take her mother's hand. Jack stood up muttered the words take care to his cousin and niece before he watched them depart the scene.

A suave-looking man with a scruffy goatee joined him scattering his thoughts. Grateful for the distraction, Jack directed his attention to Eugene Fitzherbert, his friend and teammate. His hair as brown and gleaming as the jacket he chose to wear, the man towered over Jack's own five feet eleven by at least two inches.

"You know what I'll miss the most about Edmund?" The taller man asked.

"What?"

Eugene smiled. "The way he loses his shit whenever we call him a kangaroo."

Both men grinned and let out a series of loose chuckles before their faces turned gloomy and Cimmerian.

"God, I'll miss him," Jack said in a calm and melancholic voice.

"We all will," Eugene added, echoing his sentiments.

They were quiet for several seconds before Jack clenched his fists as the bitter memory of a particular event clouded his mind. "He should have-."

"Not now, Jack," the brown haired man stopped him before he could say the word tapped. Eugene turned to look at him and shook his head. "Not now."

Jack was about to open his mouth when the familiar voice of their coach, Agdar Winterhaven was heard from behind.

"Gentlemen," the older man greeted.

"Coach," the two said at the same time as they returned his greetings.

"I know this is a hard loss not only for our team but for your family as well, Jack. Your cousin, well... make sure to let Mrs. Aster and her daughter know that they have my sympathies."

"You have my word." That is if she ever talks to me again.

"And another thing, the gym's closed for a month or two." Agdar suddenly announced after a long moment of silence and Jack could practically hear the sound of Eugene's jaw dropping to the ground.

"For what, coach?" he asked in disbelief.

"I hate to say this myself but guys, like it or not, we have to recuperate from this loss, we need to focus on our training and we most certainly cannot do that while mourning Edmund." His head dropped, guilt overwhelming him, he really was not kidding when he said I hate to say this myself. "Look, I'm sorry for that, but I only want what's best for you boys. But you know, we can still-."

"We understand, coach. Have you told the others though?" Jack suddenly asked, cutting him off.

"Actually, you two are the last to know."

"Looks like it's time for a trip home. My father will be oh so thrilled to see me. Thank you, coach."

You simply had to admire Eugene Fitzherbert's habit, no talent for lying. Aside from his excellent Tae Kwon Do skills, it's one of his greatest assets. The man had a way with honesty that, when added to that smile, was pure gold. At least it was if you weren't the one he was conning. The truth was, Eugene hated visiting Corona and his father hated having him there. Yet the guy still smirked proudly as though the UFC Heavyweight Championship was put around his waist.

That's why Edmund had always called him Flynn Rider. The slick and suave guy who never runs out of sarcastic things to unload from his mouth. Jack was Frosty. The calm and calculated, even when he's faced against the greatest of adversaries, he never loses his cool. And Edmund? He'd been the Wolverine. The no-bullshitting and all-business guy, his whole life was focused on being steadfast, on being the best fighter he could be.

Eugene excused himself when his phone vibrated in his pocket, leaving Jack and Agdar standing alone. The rest of the people who attended Edmund's funeral were dispersing, their shoulders dropped as they made their way across the glade.

"Jack?" Agdar's whisper was barely audible but it was loud enough for Jack to hear, he slightly tilted his head towards his coach's direction and curiously waited for him to say something.

"My younger daughter, Anna, her birthday is in three weeks. We're celebrating it in Arendelle Beach and uh, I'd like you to be there." He announced awkwardly.

His eyes slightly widened in surprise, "Coach, I-I don't think.." he began but was cut off by the older man.

"Please, Jack, just be there. The truth is, I'd like you to meet my older one, her name's Elsa." With that, a stern smile and a pat to the shoulder, the head coach of Royalty MMA strode off.

Leaving the white haired man to comprehend his last words.

I'd like you to meet my older one, her name's Elsa.

Is his coach trying to set him up for his daughter? That sounded like a sick joke.

And the last thing Jack needed after the passing of a dear friend was someone playing the terrible matchmaker. He wanted to reject the offer, to protest, to call bullshit on it being that effortless to push the loss of his, no their friend aside. But years of training and the respect he had for the man who took him under his wing eradicated that thought almost before it fabricated. Hell, Jack pretty much owed Agdar his entire career as a fighter.

So he had no goddamn choice.

Well, shit.

AN: So here I am, dabbling into a multi-chapter fic. Never though I'd do it. I might continue this, I might not. I don't know, I think I'm just gonna fade into Bolivian (oblivion).

Thanks for reading.

Also, rest in peace, Cassius Marcellus Clay, Jr. aka Muhammad Ali. The nights you stepped into the ring will never be forgotten. My country is more than proud, humbled, honored and privileged to have hosted one of the biggest events in boxing history starring you and Smokin' Joe Frazier (RIP), "The Thrilla in Manila". Thanks for the memories.

RIP "The Greatest".