MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 609: Trespassers

When Damon returned to the hotel, Svetlana was already up and dressed in casual clothes, brushing her long hair in front of the mirror.

Ava sat nearby on the bed, quietly focused on one of her soft toys, babbling softly but not loud—just her usual morning calm.

She was always like that when she first woke, curious but never fussy.

"Smells good," Svetlana said, smiling as Damon entered with the bag of food.

He leaned in to kiss her cheek and set the coffee and takeout down on the small table near the window.

"Got everything," he said, placing her drink in front of her. "Eggs, bacon, toast. And that yogurt thing you like."

Svetlana took the cup, sipping gratefully. "Perfect."

They sat together, eating in comfortable silence for a while.

Damon took a few bites, then set aside a smaller container and grabbed the spoon from the bag.

He opened a pouch of blended vegetables they'd brought from home and began feeding Ava.

She blinked up at him, her mouth opening instinctively every time he offered the spoon.

Damon smiled faintly as he fed her, glancing at her tiny hands resting on the edge of the high chair.

"She's too quiet," he said, almost joking. "You think she's plotting something?"

Svetlana chuckled, leaning over with a forkful of toast. "Always. But she's probably just waiting to scream at us in the car."

Damon glanced at Ava and nodded. "Yeah… that sounds right."

The morning was peaceful, light peeking in through the hotel curtains.

Outside, Stockton stirred quietly. Inside, their small family shared breakfast like any other day. But for Damon, the day ahead held more weight.

He would take them through pieces of his past today. Places he hadn't seen in years. Places that made him.

After finishing breakfast and getting Ava into her seat in the back, Damon took the wheel again.

They didn't talk much at first. Svetlana leaned her head back and watched out the window while Damon drove through familiar streets.

He kept his hand loose on the wheel, glancing at the corners, the intersections, the cracked sidewalks he used to walk every day.

As they passed a particular intersection, Damon slowed down just a little and pointed with a tilt of his chin.

"That alley," he said. "That's where I used to sleep sometimes. With my mom."

Svetlana looked. It was a narrow, dark strip between two run-down buildings. Garbage bins lined the wall.

A broken shopping cart leaned against a tagged brick wall. Nothing remarkable. Nothing dramatic. Just forgotten.

"There's nothing to see," Damon added. "It's just where we were."

He didn't stop.

He pressed on, turning left and coasting down into the neighborhood that once held Joey's house. It was quieter now. No loud music.

No cars idling in the driveway. No people gathered behind the fence. The energy that once buzzed around this block was long gone.

They pulled up to the old house.

It hadn't changed much. Same paint and same chain-link gate.

"This is it," Damon said, parking across the street. "Joey's old place."

Svetlana leaned forward in her seat. "Looks… normal."

He snorted. "It wasn't."

He got out first, walking toward the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. Svetlana followed behind him with Ava snug against her chest in the baby carrier.

As Damon stepped toward the side gate, the sounds grew clearer, excited yelling, the thud of fists hitting flesh, the kind of raw energy that only came from a crowd watching something they probably weren't supposed to.

"Come on, hit him!"

"Yeah, yeah! Finish him!"

He frowned slightly and moved quicker, stepping around the back of the house. The moment he turned the corner, he stopped.

The old makeshift cage was still there.

Weather-worn chain links, duct-taped padding, and rusted steel posts. But it was still standing, and more importantly, still in use.

A crowd of maybe thirty people stood around it, yelling and cheering as two young guys threw wild punches in the middle of the ring.

It wasn't organized. There were no gloves, no ref, just chaos.

Damon stared in disbelief.

No one noticed him. They were too focused on the brawl. Just like the old days.

He smirked and pulled out his phone, snapping a quick photo of the scene. Then he opened his messages and typed fast:

[Bruh… look what I found.]

He attached the picture and hit send.

The text was for Joey. And Damon already knew when the reply came, it would be all curses, disbelief, and maybe a little nostalgia too.

Svetlana stepped up beside Damon, eyes narrowed with confusion as the crowd kept roaring behind the house. "I thought Joey shut this down years ago," she said, glancing from the cage to Damon's grin.

"He did," Damon replied, eyes still on his phone. "That's the funny part."

Just then, his phone vibrated again. Joey had replied.

[Tf is that, reminds me when I hosted those]

Damon chuckled to himself.

"Who are you texting?" Svetlana asked, leaning in. "Wasn't this supposed to be empty?"

Damon tilted his phone so she could see the screen, then began typing a response.

[Well... this is your house... don't ask me to chase them out. There's like 30 of them. I don't think I can take that much. 😂]

Svetlana raised an eyebrow. "Are you actually thinking about it?"

Before he could answer, another reply popped up.

[Nah… don't do it. Leave them be. Pretty cool tbh. Who knows—might see another Damon Cross rise up in there.]

Damon laughed under his breath, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the car. "Let's go before someone recognizes me and starts asking for a match."

Svetlana followed, still shaking her head. "This is the you started fighting on, huh?"

Damon glanced back one last time at the cage. "Yeah… it really is."

They got back to the car, settling Ava in first before Damon climbed into the driver's seat.

As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced at the side mirror, he couldn't see that from the front.

He didn't say anything for a while. Just kept driving through the streets that once felt like survival maps.

Svetlana glanced over, sensing his thoughts.

"I take it you didn't really want to stop them," she said.

Damon nodded. "Nah."

He exhaled slowly. "People fight for different reasons. Some for pride. Some just to feel something. For me, back then, it was the only way to bring something home. I don't know what those people are chasing… but it's probably more real or justified than half the things people chase legally."