A/n: Well, here it is. I've waited long enough to put this up for you guys. This story was inspired by the movie "Cinderella Man", though it isn't a boxing story at all. It's MMA. You know, Mixed Martial Arts? Ever heard of the UFC? Strikeforce? Mystic? United Fighter's League? Yeah, those are MMA leagues. In MMA, fighters use combinations of different martial arts like Boxing, Wrestling, Muay Thai, and Brazilian Jui-Jitsu to defeat their opponents. The rules of these fights vary from league to league, but usually consist of a few rounds that last a few minutes.

Onto the details of the story; the pairing is DenmarkxSweden (though the pairings don't start up until later in the story), and the type is obviously MMA-centered.

Enjoy! Oh, and thanks to reviwer, I fixed the weights of the characters in here. As it turns out, the chart I had been reading at the time was complete bullshit. I compared it to a few others to discover that so... I'm sorry about the initial mistake. Please, enjoy! If there are any other mistakes you see, do inform me me somehow!

Xxx

Bright lights blinded my eyes, causing me to squint as I exited the tunnel into the arena full of yowling fans. The octagonal cage in the center was my destination; you know, that thing with blood stains on the mat where guys brutalized each other with their fists? Yeah, that thing. My hands were encased in tightly-wrapped bandages and over the bandages, bright red gloves. They matched my red gladiator-style trunks.

My coach, Tolvorn Ryker, walked beside me. He was a retired veteran of this league, the World-Class Fighting League, and managed to pull some strings to get me a fight in it. This league, the WCFL, was full of guys ready to beat the shit out of anyone whom stood in their way of getting a title shot. They usually got beat down by the undefeated champion though. People were used to losing to the champ; Alexianos "One Man Army" Kirzigian. The guy was twenty-nine years of age, and had an official record of 39-0. But that was a far way from where I was; I was 0-0 and had to focus on my current opponent, whom was a kickboxer.

As I entered the octagon and went to my corner, my coach barking in my ear, I got a good look at my opponent. He was a lean muscled guy, probably in his early twenties. Slightly wavy blonde hair, nearly violet eyes. He didn't seem like too much to fear. And who the hell gets a maple leaf tattooed on their chest?

The announcer stepped into the center of the ring and started to introduce us fighters, a heavy Irish accent clinging to his words.

"And now, an under-card fight. Introducing first, fighting out of the red corner in his WCFL debut, this man is a Generalist, fighting out of Copenhagen, Denmark. Standing at six feet tall, weighing two-hundred and six pounds, he is Mathias Køhler!"

The crowd booed, of course. I had no name to them, no fame whatsoever.

"Don't let the crowd get to you, kid!" My coach told me. I nodded and grinded my bottom teeth against my white mouth-guard in anticipation for the introduction of my opponent.

"Now introducing, fighting out of the blue corner, with an official record of 4 wins and two losses, this man is a kick boxer and a wrestler, fighting out of Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. Standing at five feet eight inches tall, weighing one-hundred seventy-three pounds, he is "The Quiet Guy", Matthew Williams!"

And I got to feel the burn of the crowd cheering for that Canadian guy with the blue gloves across the mat from me.

The media cleared the cage, and the announcer left, with just the ref, Matthew, and myself. Oh how I was nervous. My debut fight against "The Quiet Guy" would either prove that I belonged here or, or that I sucked. Hopefully it wouldn't be the latter of the two options.

"Are you ready?" The ref looked to Matthew, then to me, with his arms outstretched. Matthew and I both nodded, and the ref brought his hands together out in front of him.

"Let's get it on!"

The Canadian guy and I put our fists up and approached each other, ready to swing at any moment. I faked a jab with my leading right hand, then attempted a quick hook with my left. "The Quiet Guy" ducked and easily avoided the punch, before coming back and placing a nice little jab to my ribs. Ouch.

I stepped back a bit, then got to feel the smack of a hard leg kick against the inside of my right leg. Okay, now that seriously hurt. This guy's legs I now understood that I had to avoid.

I got in close with my hands up and unleashed a flurry of inside punches, forcing Williams to back up against the cage, where I pursued him. I got in the clinch quickly, landing light body punches while our arms did a lot of tangling for a good grappling position. When I saw a good chance, I ducked down and hooked my arms around the outside of my opponent's thighs and lifted him up off the mat. I then slammed him down on his back, earning a grunt and heavy breathing from the Canadian. But I wasn't out of the danger zone yet; Williams had his right arm wrapped around my neck and was setting up for a guillotine choke.

I quickly scrambled my way out of the set up and stood, bouncing on my toes as the ref allowed Matthew to stand.

We were given a signal to continue, and right away, I got knocked down. By what? I wasn't too sure until my coach yelled out from outside the cage.

"Watch for the head kicks Mathias!"

Oh, so that was why I felt blood running down the side of my face as Matthew climbed on top of me and held me down on the ground, sitting on my chest. He unleashed a flurry of punches to my head, but I defended, quickly rolling over and attempting to stand. Matthew and I almost looked to be in a piggy-back position, but he got off me and smirked a bit at me when I turned to face him.

He unleashed another head kick, but I defended, bringing my arms up to defend the side of my head. I then found my chance to strike, attacking him with a right jab, a left jab, and then a right hook. All three connected rock solid and Williams stumbled back, dazed. I closed in, landing a few more strikes as he backed up against the cage. I continued to attempt to beat his face in, but he was defending well. He shoved me away then tried to go for a double-leg takedown, surging forward with his arms out to grasp my legs, but I was smart and a fast thinker. I surged forward as well with one knee up as he went downwards, and bam; my left knee connected with his head.

He dropped like a fly, face first on the mat. I was about to step in an make sure he was knocked out, but the ref jumped in between us, waving his arms in a sign to stop the fight.

I raised my arms in pride, shouting in my native tongue, flexing my muscles. I had just won my debut, in the first round nonetheless.

Media and coaches, along with medical personnel came into the cage. Once the cut above my eyebrow had been checked out by medical staff, I hugged my coach, whom grinned.

"That's how you win a fight, Mathias. Great job!" He praised, leading me to the center of the ring where the ref stood, along with the announcer. I watched as Williams managed to slowly stand, looking to me and smiling. He nodded in approval and took his place on the opposite side of the ref. The Irish announcer then began to speak.

"Now, declaring the winner by knockout at one minute forty-two seconds into the first round; Mathias Køhler!"

Despite me just winning, the crowd had little reaction as my arm was raised in the air by the ref. I sighed and was escorted out of the cage shortly after, to my locker room.

My coach approached me as I sat on the bench, beginning to remove my red gloves.

"Great fight out there, Mathias. See? You know what you're doing. The crowd doesn't realize that they just saw a rising star in action, so don't worry about any of them." He said, helping me remove them.

"Yeah, whatever. I don't care about the crowd so much as I do just winning my next fight so that I can prove that I really am a good fighter." I replied.

"That's good thinking. How's your eyebrow feeling?"

"It's alright. How'd that knockout look?"

"That was amazing. That's something that'll catch the eyes of guys like Alexianos Kirzigian and Berwald Oxenstierna."

"I don't know. They've been in the WCFL for quite some time. I bet those guys have seen it all."

"But they haven't seen you."

"What's so different about me, compared to all the other guys?"

"Kid, don't you dare start putting yourself down after the first win of your career."

"I'm just asking."

"You've got heart, kid. I'll tell you that. Some of the guys in this league fight just to see you bleed. But you fight for something better. You fight for your nation; Denmark. You fight to bring a great name to your people."

"Just like you did, coach."

Tolvorn laughed a bit. "Just like I did; yes. I fought to bring a name to Iceland. But, it seems that I've been replaced in this league by another kid who's just like you in some ways."

"Who?"

"Joachim Johansson. He's the younger brother of a guy you've probably heard of."

"Again I'll ask, who?"

"Alexander Johansson."

"Isn't he the guy who nearly had to retire due to a neck injury?"

"Yep. Novkovic clocked him good with that right hand. Damn near snapped his neck."

"Those guys up near the top are dangerous as hell… I'm surprised nobody's died fighting in the WCFL."

"Guys have come close to it before. But no one's died in that cage. Not yet at least. Hopefully never."

"Sure as hell don't plan on it being me."

"Neither do I. Now go on and take a shower, kid. There may be a few guys waiting to take your picture and interview you about this win." Tolvorn exited the vicinity, allowing me to get undressed and slip into the shower. Once out, I got dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a WCFL-logo t-shirt. I slipped on a pair of sneakers and sighed.

Tolvorn walked back in and looked to me.

"There's actually more media than I expected out there. Should I let them in, or do you not want to talk to them?" He asked.

"I don't feel like chatting. I just want to head to the gym and find out about my next opponent."

"Alright, kid. Come on, we'll sift through them quickly and get to the taxi. I'll call the chairman and ask him who you'll be fighting next so that we can study up. We'll start training next week though; you've got to get plenty of rest."

I stood and followed Tolvorn out of the locker room with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, heading out into the hall. There were people with cameras and recorders, shoving the spotlight on me, but I kept my head down and didn't respond to any of the questions. I didn't have much to say, really.

When we got to the gym, I lightly boxed at a punching bag while my coach talked on the phone with the chairman of the WCFL; a middle-aged Italian guy named Lodovico Vargas.

I was tapped on the shoulder lightly, and I turned to see whom it was. I smiled a bit when I realized that it was Matthew Williams, the guy whom I had just beaten.

"You've got a good knee on you, rookie." He said with a smile.

"Thanks. You've got a wicked head kick. I'm lucky I didn't get knocked out cold when you landed that." I replied.

"You're welcome. And yeah, I've been told that before. Ask the three guys I knocked out by head kick." He chuckled.

"So how did you get your nickname, Williams? You don't seem too quiet."

"I get called "The Quiet Guy" because I don't talk to the media much. My coaches do all the talking. I have the charisma of a peanut when I'm under pressure. You know what I mean? Scratch that, you probably don't."

"That's true. I kinda avoided the media after the fight… Just didn't have much to say, you know? Yeah, I'm happy I won, but it's my first fight. You never know who the hell is going to pound my face in and put a loss on my record."

"You know who you remind me of?"

"Who?" I seemed to be asking that question a lot.

"Alexianos Kirzigian."

"What? You're just saying that because I'm new."

"No, I'm serious! Alexianos always says that he doesn't have much to say, and that you never know who's going to step in and give him his first loss. Even when he had his thirtieth win in his third rematch against Berwald Oxenstierna, that's what he said."

"Well, who knows. Maybe I am like that guy. But I doubt that I'll ever get up to his level. If I ever do, I bet he'll retire before then."

"I don't know. The guy may have been fighting since he was eighteen, but he's sharp as a tack. My step-brother fought him last year, said he'd never felt a punch so strong."

"Step-brother?"

"Yeah. Alfred "Freedom" F. Jones."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Well I'll be damned."

"You don't know all that much about the league, do you?"

"Nope. I didn't even know the name of the chairman until yesterday."

"Oh wow. Well, let me give you some basic info. This gym, the World-Class Gym, is widely used by nearly every fighter in the WCFL. We all live either in this city, or an hour or two away. We like to keep the league close to the gym. Anyways, every once in a while you'll catch one of the stars like Kirzigian or Oxenstierna in here. It's kind of dead here right now because it's night, but if you come here in the mornings, you'll be able to meet up with some of the other fighters. Mostly guys down in the ranks like us, but it's still worth it."

"Anything else you should tell me?"

"There are a few relations within the ranks. Like Al and I being step-brothers. The chairman, Lodovico, has one of his two sons in the league. Lovino "The Italian Pitbull" Vargas. There's also the brothers Ludwig "Hammerfist" Beilschmidt and "The Awesome One" Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Alright. Any good rivalries that I haven't heard of?"

"Well, everyone knows the Kirzigian - Oxenstierna rivalry… There's also the Novkovic - Begovich rivalry. Those two are bitter enemies, I swear. It's more than in the ring too; Novkovic and Begovich are of opposing nationalities."

"But isn't Begovich more experienced in the ring? You're talking about "The Southern Slavic Legend" Andelko Begovich, right? How could Novkovic and that guy have a rivalry?"

"Despite Begovich's experience, his 37-6 record is fading. The guy is thirty-five. He was at his prime back when I was just figuring out about MMA. Begovich was best in his twenties; he's getting kind of old compared to a lot of us here. But anyways, back to the rivalry. He and Novkovic have fought three times; Novkovic winning two out of the three by knockout. Begovich came back in their most recent fight which was last year, winning by doctor stoppage."

"Doctor stoppage?"

"Novkovic got a cut above his eyebrow that Begovich purposely kept hitting hard; ended up as a nice, big, deep gash. Kept bleeding like a stuck pig. Doctors called a stop to the fight and Begovich was given the win. Novkovic had to get eleven stitches to close up the cut."

"Ouch."

"That's an understatement."

"Any other rivalries?"

"Well, there's one that's kind of died down over the past two years, but I'm sure it'll flare up again."

"Who's it between?"

"It's between "Heartless" Ivan Braginski and Toris Lorinatus. The two have fought six times, believe it or not. It's tied three to three. They haven't fought in two years, mainly because Lorinatus was on a bad losing streak for quite some time that dropped him way down in the rankings, while Braginski went on up to get a title shot, but had to give it up due to a leg injury he got while training."

"Tough luck. I've seen that guys fights on tv; he's nuts."

"Who, Braginski?"

"Yes."

"He's a bit off mentally, yeah, but he's one hell of a fighter."

"I bet he is."

"Hey Køhler, you done chatting? We've got a fight contract for you to go sign on Sunday." My coach's voice dragged my attention from Williams to him. He was just hanging up the phone; I smirked a bit and nodded to him.

"Who am I fighting?" I asked as he walked over.

"A Brazilian Jui-Jitsu practitioner with Muay Thai side skills. Nikodemos Antonov. This guy is dangerous on the ground, I'll tell you what." He responded. Matthew cringed a bit.

"Word of advice; don't let him get you down to the ground. He'll submit you within the first ten seconds you're laying there. And don't think you're safe if you're on top of him. He got me locked in a defensive Kimura, which was my first loss. It was a painful one, that's for sure." He advised. I nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Well, I better get going, rookie. I'll see you sometime when you're training, I'm sure."

"Yeah. See you Williams."

With that, Matthew left, waving a bit. I turned to my coach.

"Nikodemos Antonov, huh? Well, let's study up on him tomorrow, because right now, I'm feeling the come down of my adrenaline."

"Alright. Go on to your apartment. Meet me in the morning here at the gym."

"Gotcha. See you tomorrow, coach."

"See you, Mathias."

I followed in the footsteps of my Canadian comrade, leaving the building. When I got home and checked my cell phone, I had about a billion text messages from my family.

I smiled to myself as I sat on my bed. I wondered how far I would go with this career. Would I ever get an amazing record like Alexianos Kirzigian? Who knew.

But 1-0 was a start to something. That was for sure.