Days passed, and Team Whittier zeroed in on Felipe's training camp.
Every session was more intense than the last, with all eyes focused on the upcoming match against Brian.
The strategy, as Whittier laid it out, was straightforward, keep the fight standing as much as possible.
Felipe's striking was sharp, and that would be his best weapon.
But Whittier wasn't naive. He knew Brian's wrestling could be a serious problem if the fight went to the ground.
That's where Felipe's Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu came into play.
If Brian managed to drag the fight down, Felipe needed to be ready to outmaneuver him with technique, rather than brute force.
The key would be to stay calm, control the positions, and find openings to either escape or lock in a submission.
Whittier stood with his arms crossed, watching Felipe work through drills. "Stay light on your feet, keep those hands up."
Felipe nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration as he moved around the cage, shadowboxing while one of the assistant coaches called out instructions.
The rest of the team watched closely, offering their own bits of encouragement between rounds.
Miles leaned over to Damon, "You think he's ready? Brian's not going to let this stay on the feet for long."
Damon shrugged, his eyes locked on Felipe as he practiced his footwork. "Felipe's got the skill. It's all about whether he can stick to the plan."
The sessions continued, each one designed to simulate the different scenarios Felipe might face.
They drilled defensive wrestling relentlessly, forcing Felipe to sprawl, scramble, and fight his way back to his feet over and over again.
As the days ticked by.
Felipe remained focused, determined to follow the game plan.
.....
The room was filled with fighters as the weigh-ins had just wrapped up, and the fighters were now in the final moments before stepping into the cage.
Both teams sat in their respective corners, the mood tense but electric.
The music changed, and the door opened once again.
Felipe walked out, his demeanor calmer than Brian's, though there was a hint of tension in the way he clenched his fists.
He made his way to the official, who checked his gear with the same routine.
As the Vaseline was smeared across his cheekbones, Felipe took a deep breath, turning briefly to look back at his teammates.
He flashed them a quick smile, a momentary gesture of confidence, but his eyes quickly returned to the task ahead.
He stepped into the octagon, his movements fluid, his eyes immediately meeting Brian's.
The two fighters stood across from each other, the intensity building as they awaited the referee's final instructions.
Brian's gaze didn't waver, his jaw clenched, ready for whatever Felipe was about to bring.
Felipe, on the other hand, kept his expression neutral, focused but calm, his body loose and prepared.
The cage door clanged shut once more, locking the two fighters in. There were no words exchanged.
Referee Hank Binn, a towering figure in the cage, took a step forward, his hands gesturing for both fighters to step in closer.
His voice was calm but firm, just like it always was when he demanded attention in the octagon.
"Alright, gentlemen," Hank began, his eyes moving between Brian and Felipe. "You both know the rules. I want a clean fight. Protect yourselves at all times, follow my instructions at all times."
He paused for a second, ensuring both fighters were listening.
Brian's nostrils flared as he kept his eyes locked on Felipe, who stood focused, breathing steadily.
"If you want to touch gloves, do it now," Hank added, his tone suggesting he didn't expect either of them to.
Neither fighter moved, both keeping their hands at their sides. Hank nodded, unfazed by the intensity.
"Alright, back to your corners and let's keep it clean. You ready?" Hank looked at Felipe, who gave a slight nod, his fists raised.
"You ready?" Hank turned to Brian, who answered with a sharp nod and raised fists, his gaze never leaving Felipe.
"Let's do this," Hank called, stepping back as the tension in the octagon finally reached its peak.