Your friend had dragged you to the last boxing match of the season, her eyes pleading with you to come out with her and have fun for once. She’d told you that her favorite boxer would be competing in, and most likely winning, a match. His name was Cato Cane, the most notorious boxer of the decade. You’d heard about him in passing, he was supposedly stoic and cold but everyone liked him because of his impressive skills and panty-dropping looks.

You’re in one of the front rows of the audience as the crowd cheers so loudly that you feel as if your eardrums might burst, Cato has just got hit by his opponent who is known for his speed, yet Cato seemed completely unaffected by his opponents hit. For some reason you feel your breath hitch and it doesn’t make it better that Cato seems to be staring right at you. You see the slightest form of a smirk appearing on his face before his attention is directed back to his opponent and he lands an impossibly quick and strong punch to his opponents jaw.

Your eyes widen and the entire crowd hushes as his opponent falls onto the mat with a loud thud, the crowd now roaring with deafening cheer. The referee comes over and seems too scared to touch but pulls up Cato’s hand, declaring him not only the winner of the championship but the youngest person to ever hold the title.