Crazy Fans?

"Don't you dare move. Shouldn't you be more restrained?" Logan thought to himself, a mix of anxiety and bravado swirling in his chest. Standing face-to-face with a boxing legend like Mike Tyson made him feel increasingly out of his depth. The weight of the moment was heavy; he knew he was in over his head.

It's not every day a fighter finds himself pitted against a champion who had made history in the ring. Logan couldn't help but think that it would be catastrophic not to stand his ground during this press conference, not with cameras rolling and reporters hanging on every word. As he ruminated, the promise he made to himself echoed back: today he was sharper than ever, ready to engage and not just survive.

With all the intensity he could muster, he declared, "Mike Tyson, recklessness has its consequences. You've managed to turn a gentleman into a warrior!" Each word dripped with weight, and he hoped it would be enough to shake Tyson.

Tyson raised an eyebrow, unfazed by Logan's bravado. "This is real sportsmanship, this is the heat of boxing," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly as he spread his arms. "You just stole my line, didn't you?"

The crowd erupted into boos, and Logan felt the tension mounting. Every boo echoed in his heart, and he sensed that he was teetering on the edge. The audience was alive, and their energy surged through the room like wildfire.

He stood tall, slamming his hands against the table in front of him and shouted, "Mike Tyson, I'm giving you a warning. Don't push me to test the limits of what a fighter can endure; you're going to regret it!" His voice rang out, but deep down, a flicker of fear danced in his gut.

"That's rich coming from you," Tyson shot back, his tone laced with sarcasm. "You've just derailed my talk show!" His eyes sparkled with mischief as he dramatically reached toward his waist, as if drawing an imaginary weapon.

Logan jolted, nearly falling back into his chair. "Seriously? This is a press conference!" he exclaimed, scanning the room filled with reporters, cameras, and fans, all feeling the weight of the moment. It was electric.

Tyson, however, remained undeterred. He pointed an accusing finger at Logan and made a playful shooting sound, "Biu, biu!" The crowd erupted in laughter, their spirits seemingly lifted by the absurdity of it all.

Logan shook his head in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?" he thought. The atmosphere had transformed into something even more surreal.

Frustrated, Logan stood again, flipping over the table between them like it was a scene out of a blockbuster movie. "What is this nonsense?" he shouted, now fully engaging in what felt like a chaotic script. The moment had spiraled into something theatrical and unpredictable.

In an unexpected twist, Tyson pulled a Cuban cigar from Austin's pocket and offered it to Logan, a grin plastered across his face.

"What are you doing?" Logan exclaimed incredulously, "You've just flipped my table! And you think I want a cigar?" His mind raced, envisioning the headlines that would follow this debacle.

Tyson, with persistent good humor, handed the cigar to a nearby fan who lit it and took a puff, sharing it around like it was some kind of prize. The camaraderie among the audience ignited; laughter and cheers erupted as those gathered fed off the chaos.

"Okay, enough of the games," Tyson said, shifting his demeanor to something far more serious as he stepped closer, his expression hardening into that of a predator.

Logan felt a chill run down his spine as Tyson's face morphed into something fierce and primal. This wasn't a show; it was the calm before a storm of violence.

With a low growl, Tyson leaned in, voice dripping with contempt. "Logan, you pretentious coward hiding behind the mask of a gentleman, I'm going to shatter that facade with my fists and expose the truth to the world!"

Logan felt an adrenaline-induced frenzy wash over him. He was ready to explode. "I'm going to take you down!" he yelled, raising his fists, though knowing deep down that he was playing with fire.

Just then, security surged in, swiftly restraining him before he could make a move. The crowd gasped collectively, the shock hanging in the air like the scent of cheap cologne.

Tyson, with a cocky confidence, spoke directly to the reporters, the audience, and Logan all at once. "Saturday night, 8 o'clock in the ring. Your chance is waiting!"

In Tyson's mind, he had already envisioned victory. He would stand tall, the champion, while Logan lay breathless and defeated at his feet, saying, "I gave you a chance; look where that got you!" The taste of triumph was intoxicating.

Logan fixed a fierce glare on Tyson. "I'll show you the limits of your strength. You're just a fraud living the dream!" he exclaimed, even as doubt crept into his voice.

With each word Logan said, reporters scurried to scribble down notes, capturing every dramatic moment. Meanwhile, the audience erupted in cheers, waving flags and chanting Tyson's name, the atmosphere alive with energy that could fuel a city.

And just like that, it was done. Logan and his team stormed out in frustration, leaving behind an environment thick with anticipation and excitement.

Once backstage, Tyson encountered his coach, Kus, who wore a surprisingly pleased expression for the first time in five years.

"Mike, that was incredible! You played him like a violin," Kus said, nodding with genuine admiration. "You've led him straight into your trap. His anger is building, and your power is at an all-time high. Keep it up; you're becoming the ultimate champion in my eyes!"

Tyson reveled in Kus's praise, knowing the old man always spoke the truth. It felt good to have validation from someone who had seen it all.

"Brother, you've got a knack for theatrics! If you ever decided to act, you'd win an Oscar no doubt," chimed in Jimmy, clapping Tyson on the back with a wide grin.

Tyson chuckled and replied, "Thanks, man; I'm just doing what I do." He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride.

Austin burst into the room, excitement radiating from him like fireworks. "Mike, this press conference is going viral; it's the most talked-about event I've ever been a part of! I can already see the tickets selling out in no time."

The financial stakes were high. According to the contract negotiated by Jimmy and Austin, if their sales hit 70%, the remaining tickets would provide a substantial dividend for Tyson's team. The potential earnings could soar upwards of $300,000, with Tyson's cut around $90,000, all before factoring in sponsorships and appearance fees.

That would be monumental for his career.

After a brief discussion, Tyson decided it was time to leave, eager to soak in the moment and prepare for the battle ahead. But as he stepped outside, he was greeted by a throng of enthusiastic fans, all clamoring for Mike. The air buzzed with excitement, and Tyson felt an unexpected warmth creeping into his chest.

"Mike! Mike! Mike!" they shouted, an avalanche of voices shouting his name in unison. The energy was electric, and Tyson had to smile at the sight.

"Who knew I had fans?" he thought, a mix of disbelief and pride coursing through him. The enthusiasm was overwhelming, a tidal wave of appreciation that reminded him of how sports could unite people from all walks of life.

"Hey, guys! Let's keep it orderly!" Teddy, Bill, and Jimmy quickly moved to create a barrier between Tyson and the throng of eager fans, their protective instincts kicking in.

As he stood there, surrounded by people who adored him, Tyson couldn't shake the feeling that there was something bigger at play. In that moment, the roar of the fans, the thrill of the upcoming match, the pressure of expectations—it all coalesced into a singular focus. Tomorrow, he'd show the world what he was truly made of, and nothing would stand in his way.