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Aside from training with his team, Alex spent his time with his American women, tending to their emotional and physical needs as he fought and fucked away his days while waiting for the big day to arrive.

And finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the day for Alex’s and Vitor’s rematch arrived. Because Alex had been so inactive during this time, he was the underdog on the betting odds. Regardless of this, he knew he was going to smoke his opponent.

And thus, Alex walked out to the cage while an old song nu-metal song played in the background. The lyrics depicted a nihilistic depiction of life, quite literally saying “nothing really matters” in its chorus.

Alex was by no means the first person to walk out to this song. In fact, one of his favorite walkouts of all time was a heavyweight Brazilian fighter walking out to it in a Japanese-based promotion roughly twenty years prior.

That guy, of course, had a better announcer say his name, but Alex couldn’t complain. It was not like the Ultimate Fighting Challenge prided itself on showmanship. In fact, they seemed to do the exact opposite, heavily restricting its fighters from displaying their creativity and personality during their walkouts.

Something that Alex also liked more about that old and now defunct Japanese promotion. But beggars can’t be chooser, and those days were long gone, thus he just listened to the music, getting himself in the mood to smash his opponent as he entered the cage with a wicked smirk on his face.

Alex was the second to walk out, and smirked at his opponent, while making a gesture towards his throat with his thumb, letting him know that Alex fully intended to take his head off. Vitor was not visibly intimidated, though Alex had broken him during their last fight. It had been some time since then, and he had gone on to brutally finish all of his opponents since then.

Meanwhile, Alex hadn’t fought in eight months. Even the announcers were talking about Alex’s potential ring of rust as the two fighters touched gloves and began the fight. As always, Alex did not bother feeling out his opponent. He liked to go full throttle from the start, and Vitor was the same way.

Both of them threw a few punches at one another, a jab here, a cross there, and then Alex did something unexpected. With his lead leg, Alex kicked just above the knee of his opponent’s lead leg with an outside leg kick. He then used the momentum of the leg kick to line up a solid overhand left, which landed flushed on Vitor’s chin, knocking him to the ground, absolutely flatlining the man in a meme worthy moment.

As if following the example set by the man who Alex had copied the move from, Alex fell upon the already unconscious Vitor with all the power in his fist, hitting the man a second time flat on the chin. Only to follow up with two more elbows, as if Alex was literally trying to take the man’s life.

The crowd was going absolutely insane as the referee finally managed to get to Alex and pull him off of the man he had just brutally KOd. The fight lasted no more than ten seconds, causing Alex to beat his chest with his fist, and do the same gesture he had done to Vitor prior to starching him.

It was not the fastest KO in the sports history, but it was up there. And nobody had expected Vitor to go down so early into the fight. The crowd continued to cheer as if Alex’s own violent gestures towards his chest and face were fueling their own aggressive nature.

Finally, Alex’s hand was raised as the man he had KOd was dragged off to the hospital for a CAT scan. After which Jack Logan stepped forward and asked Alex how he was feeling right now.

“Alex, that was another spectacular performance. I have to admit, I was thoroughly shocked with how quickly you knocked out your opponent this time. You have to be feeling good right now, so what are your thoughts about your most recent victory?”

Alex, never one to waste an opportunity on the mic, was quick to express exactly how he felt. Pulling his signature fanged mouth guard from his mouth so that he could speak clearly, there was almost a visible look of pain on his face as he said the words that would once more be memed into history.

“Ten seconds? Are you fucking kidding me, Jack?, I’m fucking starving, I haven’t eaten in eight whole months, so feed me! Feed me anybody! Ten measly seconds are not enough to satisfy me. I want another fight, right fucking now! I don’t give a shit if he is a goddamn heavy weight. Send me somebody else to decapitate! Fuck!”

The comment elicited a laugh out of Jack Logan, who was struggled to pull the microphone out of Alex’s hands, all while the crowd cheered in the background.

“Alex Smith everybody!”

Alex was soon ushered out of the cage where he was genuinely dissatisfied with how quickly he had KO’d his opponent. While the crowd went crazy about this victory, Alex would later be asked questions about it at the press conference, where he once more revealed his desire for bloodshed.

“Alex, you have made short work out of Vitor Borges for the second time in your career, and this is after he came off of a four fight win streak. So tell me, is there anybody out there who you would like to fight next?”

With a hungry look on his face, Alex spoke, still full of adrenaline, which he had not had a proper release to get rid of yet, as he demanded a top ten opponent.

“Listen, it’s abundantly clear to everyone after tonight that these unranked opponents are not on my level. I don’t want another guy who I’m going to knock out in 30 seconds or fewer. Or even the first round.

I want a war. I want to make my opponent bleed before I send him to the shadow realm. So give me somebody in the top ten who can give me that! If you can’t give me somebody in the top ten, then the top five will do!”

The next reporter to speak to Alex was a young woman, it was not the same woman he had invited out to dinner a few weeks prior when he first landed in the USA, but rather a sports journalist who wanted Alex’s comments on something that nobody had asked him yet.

“So Alex, this was your fourth fight in the big leagues, and it is also the fourth fight of the night bonus you have received. Are there any plans for this money?”

Alex scoffed and rolled his eyes as he commented on this idea, as if it were something laughable.

“Listen sweetheart, I have more money than I can ever spend in my life. A mere 60k is basically a penny to me at this point. I know it’s Dan’s way of showing me some favor, but at this point it’s necessary to keep awarding me these bonuses. Give it to someone else. Unlike most of these guys, I’m not fighting for money. I’m fighting because I love it.

As for my plans for this bonus, I’m probably just going to give it to some other fighter on the card tonight. I haven’t watched anyone else fights yet, but if somebody impresses me, they’ll get the money. Lord knows some of these guys could really use it.”

Finally, there was one last question spoken, a question that until now everyone had been politely avoiding. But whether this reporter was an activist, or simply just didn’t get the memo, he was quick to ask Alex about something everyone really wanted to know.

“Alex, you went dark on social media a few months back, and only sent one message in the last eight months. That message was a picture of you in Mexico dressed in a skull balaclava and tactical gear. You stated you needed to finish some stuff south of the border before you could answer Vitor’s callout.

Rumor has it you were involved in the Mexican Drug War and were fighting on behalf of Los Zetas. Do you want to make any remark about what you were doing in Mexico, and clarify whether or not you are really the Sicario known only by the nickname “El Cucuy?”

Alex’s next words broke the internet. There was a smirk on his face as he scoffed and rolled his eyes before finally answering the man’s question with a brutally honest answer.

“This fucking guy… Alright fine, you’re all dying to know, right? Normally I wouldn’t comment on this, but I recently received a pardon from the United States government for all the shit I did down there, including the shit they don’t know about. So let me make this abundantly clear. I am El Cucy and I’m not just a mere Sicario. I fucking run Los Zetas! Any more stupid questions?”

There was complete and utter silence as the reporters suddenly realized the man they were talking to was a vicious murderer and ruthless drug lord. Suddenly, his comments on having more money than he knew what to do with had a whole new meaning.