The spotlight on the left side of the arena beams brightly, burning down on the body that is Shawn Michaels. Unlike Alexander, he wears no robe, and that leaves every inch of his sculpted muscles on display for the women who drool over him in the crowd.

Black shorts are the only thing covering his body, stretching down his long, toned legs, but his feet are bare. Dark strapping tape wraps tightly around his large hands that clench forcefully as he walks forward, each step emitting powerful confidence throughout the entire arena. I've hunched back in my seat without realising.

Colourless tattoos highlight every inch of his wrists, make their way up his arms and noticeable biceps and wrap around his broad shoulders and down his torso. He's made of pure muscle which must come from hours of training. He's built more like a warrior than a man. Scars are visible on different parts of his body.

"He's so hot!" Georgie squeals against my ear and I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her.

Shawn's face is stone cold, his strong jawline clenched tightly as he walks through the crowd. His eyes are so dark they're almost a shade of black. They don't examine the people cheering his name; instead, they stay locked on his opponent who looks even more terrified than he did before.

I don't blame him.

Shawn looks like he was bred to fight, and I now understand why Clarke is so sure he'll win.

The two men following behind him seem as equally confident and stern. One looks to be in his late forties and has dark skin, and he's almost as tall and buff as Shawn is. I can't say the same for the pale older man who walks beside him though. He must be in his early seventies. That doesn't make his burning glare any less scary though.

"This guy is a beast," Clarke calls over the aggressive rap music. I find myself unable to look away from the towering fighter as he walks inside the cage barrier. A man dressed in black and white stripes stands in the centre; he must be the referee or whatever it's called in this insane sport.

"Shawn will get close to a hundred thousand dollars when he wins this." My eyes widen at Clarke's words. A hundred thousand dollars? Most people don't make that much money after years of work and he'll make it in one night.

The two fighters step forward, tapping each other's knuckles in some kind of mutual respect tradition I've seen on TV before. Alexander looks like a little boy under the harsh glare of Shawn; he's nowhere near Shawn's size in height or body structure. I have no idea how he must feel being stared down by such a man.

A bell chimes and a woman in nothing but what looks like red lingerie holds up a square sign with the number one on it, flaunting her slim body happily for the loud-mouthed men in the audience.

Only moments later, Alexander takes a step forward towards Shawn, throwing a punch that is easily dodged and receiving a firm fist to the side of his jaw in return. It sends him back a few steps and the crowd hollers.

Clarke, Isaac, and even Georgie to my amazement seem so interested in the brutal fighting that they don't mind seeing the blood seeping from Alexander. I feel like I'm about to be sick as I watch Shawn effortlessly pull the smaller male to the ground, attacking him without remorse over and over again.

"You're going to owe me that burger, I told you he'd be gone before the second round," Clarke calls to Isaac as Shawn blocks yet another weak punch from Alexander.

"You bet on this?"

"Everyone bets on this," Clarke answers casually.

Shawn's dark hair falls slightly forward on his forehead as he stares down at his weakened competition. He barely looks tired. In fact, he looks more alive than he did when he was walking to the ring. It's clear that this man has spent years moulding into who he is today. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of his powerful blows.

Each punch thrown by Shawn makes the flexing muscles in his strong body tense. Surely he's taking steroids to be built the way he is.

"He's gone," Isaac confirms as Alexander's head falls lifelessly to the ground. I can only watch in horror as the referee forces Shawn back to the other side of the ring. He's barely able to keep the champion away from the body he's already beaten.

"It's okay, Ava, he's just knocked out." Clarke must see the worry on my face as I stare at Alexander. The team around him immediately tries to help him.

"Our champion, ladies and gentlemen!" The small man in the suit is back in the ring again. He grips Shawn's wrist with his much smaller hand and lifts it high in the air for the cheering people in the arena. "Shawn Michaels!"

For the first time since he walked in here, his dark gaze meets the crowd who scream out their undoubtable support to the lethal fighter. Our seats give us a direct view of him as he examines everyone in their seats. I can't bring myself to stand up and clap like the others around me. I can't applaud a man who will get paid so much money for nearly killing another person.

The smirk-like smile that makes its way across his red lips makes my stomach churn. No wonder he has such a reputation.

"We should go before we get stuck in traffic." Clarke turns to Isaac, who nods in agreement.

I stand to follow them, dragging Georgie's drooling stare away from the terrifying male who's being praised by different people in the ring.

"Shawn is so hot," one girl comments as we walk towards the exit, pulling her already tiny skirt even higher up her legs. "Did you see his six-pack? He could totally be a model if he wanted to."

Her vague voice sounds so fake I can't get away fast enough. I follow Clarke closely back to the car to escape the victorious crowd who look like they'll be partying long into the night.

"Thanks for bringing us, it was actually more fun than I expected it to be," Georgie says as we drive back to our apartment, Clarke and I both in the back seat again.

I wish I could agree.

"You still owe me my burger, man." Clarke grins boyishly as Isaac rolls his eyes. "I told you he wasn't gonna see through to the second round. Nobody does when they fight Shawn."

"How's he so good?" Georgie questions. I can't help but wonder the same thing. "He was miles better than the other guy."

"He's done it since he was a kid." Clarke leans back in his seat. "He'd train all the time, but he's just a natural-born fighter. I don't think anyone will ever be able to beat him.

"Apparently, he had a rough start in life, turned up at a boxing club alone when he was a kid or something."

"I heard his dad used to beat him up." I frown at Clarke's words; that's horrible. "Still, it worked to his advantage cause now he has more millions of dollars than any of us will ever have put together."

I doubt money could ever make up for a childhood like that.

"That's true." Georgie hums in agreement. "I can't believe he just has to knock someone out and then gets paid a ridiculous amount of money."

"It's pretty unfair, alright." Isaac nods, pulling down the street that I still have to get accustomed to living down.

I'm definitely never going to another one of those fights ever again. The image of Shawn nearly killing that poor man will be locked in my head for a long time after tonight.