MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 698: The Tape

Damon sighed and hit play again.

The video jumped forward a few minutes. The scene had shifted to the backyard. There was a kiddie pool filled with ice and drinks, and someone had set up a folding table for... beer pong?

Damon, shirt half off and headband wrapped around his forehead, stood with one foot on the table, holding a mop like a microphone.

"I’m tellin’ ya now, if this were the Roman Empire, I’d be emperor by now! Joey! Where’s me goblet!"

From behind the camera, Joey’s voice yelled, "Bro, it’s plastic!" Then Joey appeared in frame, absolutely drenched from the waist down, holding what looked like a bottle of ketchup.

"THIS is the secret sauce of champions!" he announced, and squeezed a line across his bare chest. "Victory stripes!"

A woman off-screen shouted, "You look like a hotdog!"

Joey flexed. "A sexy hotdog!"

The camera shifted, showing Ash surrounded by at least three women, two of whom were clearly trying to get his attention. Damon on the video pointed a lazy finger at Ash and shouted, "Traitor to the union!"

Ash shrugged and gave a helpless grin. "What can I say, I’m charismatic."

Meanwhile, Damon was being dragged by two guys toward the beer pong table.

"No no no! I retired undefeated!" he protested, staggering backward. "Three cups, three sinks, let the legend live!"

Someone from the crowd yelled, "Rematch!"

Damon looked into the camera like it betrayed him. "This is how Julius Caesar fell, lads. Mark my words."

The video cut again. Now it showed a short clip of Victor standing quietly in the kitchen, holding a glass of water and looking around the wreckage like a disappointed teacher.

The camera zoomed in slowly as Victor said in a calm voice, "This is why I don’t drink."

Then it cut again.

Ash was dancing shirtless in the living room while someone beatboxed. A woman tried to pull him in for a kiss and he tripped over the couch instead, crashing into a pile of snacks. He popped up immediately and yelled, "You saw nothing!"

Damon was slumped in a bean bag chair now, surrounded by empty bottles and humming an Irish lullaby under his breath.

"Me bones are liquid... Joey, fetch me a chiropractor," he murmured.

Joey, now wearing sunglasses indoors and a pink feather boa, replied, "Already did. Her name’s Destiny and she’s here to realign your chakras."

"Tell her I’m married!" Damon barked, tossing a pillow in Joey’s direction.

The video ended with blurry footage of the whole group yelling a countdown, someone setting off a confetti popper indoors, and Damon raising a broom like a sword and shouting, "LONG LIVE THE CHUG MACHINE!"

The screen went dark.

Damon blinked. Then rubbed his face again and muttered, "I’m never drinking again."

"You can say that again," a voice replied.

Damon turned his head and saw Victor standing behind him, fully dressed, fresh as if he had just come from a morning jog.

His shirt was tucked in. His hair was neat. Not a single trace of the chaos from last night touched him.

Damon narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the slice of pizza still on the floor beside him, then back at Victor like he had been betrayed.

Victor gave a small grin. "Don’t look at me like that. You had fun... I mean, look at your face."

Damon rubbed his face, realizing a streak of something, maybe mustard or sauce, was still on his cheek. He wiped it off with his sleeve.

Before he could say anything, there was movement from the living room.

Joey dragged himself in, blanket over one shoulder, shirtless, his eyes barely open.

He paused when he saw Victor, gave a lazy wave, then turned his focus to Damon.

He stared at him for a few seconds longer than normal, then chuckled through a dry throat. "Hope that’s not traced." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Damon ignored the hungover nonsense and kept wiping at his eyes, still trying to push off the dull headache. Joey plopped down onto a couch cushion, groaning as he did.

Then he looked back up. "Wait... you good? No headache? How are you even sitting up straight?"

Damon blinked, pretending to think about it.

He had downed enough alcohol to drown a rugby team. But now, aside from some stiffness and dry mouth, he felt fine.

The system must have flushed out the toxins overnight, as it always did when he wasn’t actively restricting it.

He couldn’t say that out loud, of course.

"What do you think?" he said, leaning back and spreading his arms. "I’m an Irishman, lad."

Joey groaned again. "No, you’re a freak."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "That, I can agree with."

Damon just grinned and reached for the half-empty bottle of water on the table, drinking it like it was liquid gold.

A woman stepped out from one of the rooms, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She walked past them barefoot, wearing someone else’s oversized shirt. As she glanced at Damon, she paused mid-step, tilted her head, and muttered casually, "Nice cock."

Damon froze. "What?"

She didn’t stop walking. "Nice cock," she repeated.

His eyes widened. "Wait... what the fuck does that mean? How do you know what my—"

Joey and Victor were already laughing behind him. That helped. If either of them had looked guilty or panicked, Damon would’ve started flipping furniture.

But they were just amused.

Damon turned to the woman again. "Hold on, what do you mean?"

She blinked at him, then pointed lazily at his face. "The cock drawn on your cheek, dude."

Damon touched his own face, felt the faint residue of something sticky and slightly crusted. He stood and moved toward the hallway mirror.

Sure enough, a cartoonish yet detailed drawing of male anatomy was sketched across his cheek in black permanent marker.

She walked off like nothing happened.

Joey leaned over, smirking. "It looked pretty accurate, though. Like it was traced from the real thing."

He placed a hand on Damon’s shoulder.

Damon slapped it off. "I need you to find a video, anything in that guy’s gallery. I want to know who drew this and how."

He stormed off toward the bathroom.

Victor just sighed and picked up an empty bottle, shaking his head. "This is why I don’t drink anymore."

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