Welcome to Gaia! ::

The announcement of a number one contender's match for the National Championship had the fans' attention drawn to the top of the ramp, waiting for a familiar theme song to reveal the first competitor. But it was a rhythm they had never heard before: the sound of a man moving to the beat of his own drum. As the music began, four men in suits came out -- three pompous, physically unfit men in their mid-to-late 30s in navy blue suits had followed their father, an intimidating 70-year-old dressed in a far more expensive, tan suit of his own. The three younger men stopped at the top of the ramp and moved aside. Clearly they weren't competing with anyone in this kind of environment. Their father continued down to the middle of the ramp and stopped, giving a few audience members some nasty looks while he awaited his other son.

Out came Jake Roman, looking like a whole new breed of human compared to these yuppies. Six feet, nine inches. Two hundred ninety-six pounds, and not a single one looked like body fat. He had clearly been put through a five-year pressure test during his professional wrestling hiatus, but it damn sure look like it paid off.



He looked over at his siblings (or as they liked to call themselves, investors), but didn't change his facial expression. Although they had clapped when they saw him, they began to mutter amongst themselves, seemingly about their little brother. Jake slowly walked down the ramp and put his arm around his dad's shoulder as he approached him. Nobody could pick up what was being said, as the camera stayed at the bottom of the ramp. But the Prize Fighter had heard it loud and clear.

"Don't you embarrass her, kid."



Jake continued down the ramp, seemingly unphased. Again, the look of determination had remained stuck to his face -- but deep down, he felt more focused than ever. Marcus Damone had to be prepared, too. He had to prepare to be choked by the hands of defeat. The Prize Figher turned toward the side of the ring facing the hard camera and climbed on the apron. He looked at the crowd to his left and snarled at them. He was not here to make any friends, and whoever was, well... they were gonna learn today.



Jake took one more long look at his family before climbing over the top rope. He began pacing back and forth, rolling his wrists, as he waited for Marcus Damone. No matter how big the family name was, it would not be bigger than the chance Jake Roman had -- to win the biggest fight he had ever been in, both professionally and within his own family. Time for Jake to put his family's money where his mouth was.

Finally, a hoss fight. Marcus Damone and Jake Roman combined for nearly 600 lbs, and both had been used to ragdolling smaller wrestlers. There would be no advantage for either man, just a showing of brute force. The Prize Fighter was fixated on becoming number one contender tonight, but his eyes had been focused on his adversary in the opposite corner. He was aiming for Damone's helmet, not his shirt.




Jake began to circle around the ring, trying to be as nimble on his feet as he could. He would eventually try to go for an elbow-and-collar tie up on his more experienced opponent.

Nobody said Jake was the brightest. Of course the more experienced wrestler got the advantage in an elbow-and-collar tie up. Jake tried to reposition himself towards the ropes and push Marcus Damone that direction. If he could get him to rebound off the ropes, he would go for a shoulder block. Not only to put Marcus down, but Jake was always insecure and needed to achieve one-upmanship any chance he got.

Jake looked down at Marcus after taking him down with the shoulder block. The Kid wasn't as impressed with his own feat of strength as the audience was, but he was happy he didn't get embarrassed and leave Marcus on his feet. Roman slapped his recently-used shoulder with his opposite arm before flexing both of his biceps. The crowd booed at Jake trying to show off after one measly shoulder block. The audacity! Roman would then go for a stomp to his opponent's chest after showboating for a couple seconds.

Jake missed the stomp, and like an idiot, turned to rebound off the ropes and go for another shoulder block, but he was stopped dead in his tracks by the hard right hand to the mouth. The Prize Fightr held his mouth, taking a couple steps back into the middle of the ropes.

Jake was hunched over from the knee to the gut, but he didn't have more than a couple seconds to catch his breath. He was whipped across the ring and came back towards a bent over Marcus Damone. Reacting instinctively, the Kid went for a kick to the chest of Marcus to stand him back up.

Jake was tied of bouncing off the damn ropes behind him. Too much running would gas him early. Threfore, instead of running to the ropes behind him, Roman went for a spinning back fist to throw off Marcus!