Damon sat in his living room, phone in hand, the sunlight creeping across the floor from the balcony doors.
He had seen Shane's video earlier that morning.
And honestly, he didn't even feel angry.
He just shook his head.
He had already beaten Shane.
It wasn't close then.
It wouldn't be close now.
No one really took Shane seriously at this point, as he was known for being out of pocket but right now they felt he was just destroying his career.
So Damon figured it was time to say something back.
His Chirper account, usually reserved for sponsor posts and announcements handled by Joey, uploaded a new video—this time recorded by Damon himself.
Just him, standing shirtless on his balcony, the ocean behind him.
"Honestly, dude—shut up and sit down."
He shook his head lightly, almost laughing under his breath.
"It's not your time. And to be real honest, it's never going to be your time."
Damon adjusted the belt slung casually over his shoulder, then looked straight into the camera.
"You don't have anything that says you deserve to be in the cage with me. I know I said I'd fight anybody, but that also meant I was asking for a challenge. You're not that."
He leaned slightly on the balcony railing, casual but sharp.
"You and me in a cage? It's no different than throwing me in there with an amateur. What are you gonna do? Tip kicks and a weak jab? Bro, I can drag you to the ground and finish you. I can stay standing and murder you there too. Pick a poison."
Damon's voice stayed even.
Not even yelling as he only spat facts.
"And this 'dumb little Irish face' you keep talking about? Yeah. It's the face of a champion. Something you're never gonna be able to say about yourself for the remainder of your career."
He gave a slight shrug, smiling without warmth.
"At least I've got people hyping me up. You've been sucking your own dick for years trying to convince people you're something you're not."
"And you have the gall to sit there and say you would beat me? Blaming drinking, partying, training camps, whatever else you dreamed up? Shut the fuck up. You lost because you weren't good enough."
He let that sit for a second.
"You're never fighting me for a championship. Ever. You don't deserve it. You won't even survive this division now. The guys in the top ten would destroy you just trying to get to me."
He pointed casually toward the camera.
"So do yourself a favor. Go home. Sit down. And stop crying for fans who don't even wanna see you fight."
The video cut out clean.
Damon's video hadn't even been live for five minutes before Chirper exploded again.
Fans flooded the platform, reposting, clipping, and reacting to every second of it.
Damon Cross didn't even raise his voice. He just ended Shane Brickland's career with a balcony speech.
"Sit down and shut up." Damon said it like he was telling a kid to stop throwing tantrums at Malwart. SAVAGE.
Damon's calm tone makes it so much worse. Like, bro wasn't mad. Bro wasn't hyped. He just knew Shane had no shot.
That wasn't trash talk. That was an execution.
Damon called Shane an amateur and told him he wouldn't survive the top ten. I felt that in my SOUL.
Damon ended Shane's comeback tour before it started. Pack it up, Brickhead.
> @MiddleweightMadness
Imagine getting KO'd twice—once in the cage, then again on Chirper.
The reactions weren't all serious, either. Some fans piled on with memes, edits, and gifs:
[GIF of a little kid swinging at air]
Shane right now trying to shadowbox Damon's ghost.
Damon Cross: "You're not even a challenge."
Shane: standing outside Damon's house with a boombox crying
Damon didn't cook Shane. He microwaved him and threw him in the trash.
The narrative was clear that Damon Cross wasn't just defending his belt.
He was defending his status, and doing it without even breaking a sweat.
Everyone was now waiting to see how Shane Brickland would respond.
Damon chuckled as he scrolled through the comments flooding his Chirper feed. Reposts, memes, clips—it was everywhere.
He wasn't someone who fed off attention, but even he couldn't help grinning at the chaos his video had caused.
His phone buzzed with a message from Joey.
> [Eyy I didn't know you could talk like that😂]
Damon laughed under his breath and typed back quickly:
> [It's Stockton, mf.]
He had just set the phone down when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind and a soft kiss press into the side of his neck.
"That was intense," a familiar voice murmured.
He turned slightly, finding Svetlana smiling up at him.
He kissed her immediately, deep and firm.
"This," he said against her lips, "is intense."
He scooped her up easily, feeling her legs wrap around his waist without hesitation.
Svetlana buried her face into the crook of his neck, laughing softly.
"Really?" she whispered.
He carried her through the hallway into the living room, kissing her again, stronger this time.
She tightened her grip on him, hands locking behind his neck as he moved toward the couch.
But before they could go any further, a sharp, familiar cry broke through the air.
For a second, neither moved. Then, at the same time, they sighed in unison, shoulders dropping, heads tilting back.
They glanced at each other and laughed quietly, the moment broken but not ruined.
Damon set Svetlana down gently onto the couch, brushing her hair back from her face.
"I'll go," he said, smiling.
He kissed her forehead, then turned and headed toward the nursery, the cries growing louder as he went.
Some things in life needed a champion too.
And today, that champion wore golden gloves... and carried a bottle.