You had seen many fights before, but this was unlike any other. There you were, watching intently, practically biting your nails as the arena filled with screams and the sounds of excitement, waiting for the two fighters to enter the octagon.

A new fighter was entering, making his first TV debut. He had gotten a lot of buzz, recently—the internet watching his every move and every fight that lead him here. He was lethal, clad in a skull mask with punches so powerful that everyone wondered where the fuck he even came from.

He was like his damn name he went by: Ghost. He was quiet; a man of no words, just appearing out of thin air and dominating the fighting scene.

Like a damn ghost. A spirit.

If he won this fight, it would seal his spot for sure. He would skyrocket in fame. Bathe in riches, in women. He would be a force to be reckoned with, make it to the championships, fight the greats.

You watched intently as they introduced him and he began to walk out; clad in black shorts and his hands taped up in black; a black skull mask over his face. You could see his was tall, and muscular, with tattoos scattered across his arms. He rolled his shoulders as he walked in, his eyes cold and focused.