I’m outside of the arena now. Things are getting strange here at the event that I can only explain as one of the damned. UFC 177 was never meant to be, somehow, maybe the work of a necromancer, I’m not sure, this event is going on right now. Originally I thought it was just a ghola, brought back through a pact Dana White had with the Tleilaxu, but this is much worse than we thought.
I’m linked in right now to a vast array of resources, things that you wouldn’t believe. Those in attendance don’t see it, none of them do, there is some sort of charm, some black magic in play. The aura of this arena right now is asleep — literally asleep! Oh if only they saw the signs, if only they saw the patterns! Sleep Train Arena? SLEEP? Wake up, sheeple, this is all dark energy, it’s surrounding the arena. Look at the darkness, behold it.
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I’ve been told that there are other, demonic powers at work here. Reports have indicated that not only are things happening in the ring, acts of aggression, violence, brutality, but that unexplained phenomena is everywhere. Trucks catch fire, urinals flushing themselves. Ole’ Jensen has seen a lot of hauntings in his day, hell, I see Esther every night before I close my eyes and drift off, her shadowy visage haunting my every waking moment. She calls to me, she tells me to let go, to let her pass to the next realm, but I can’t do it.
I’m not sure how to do it.
<blockquote class=”twitter-tweet” lang=”en”><p>Dana White tells <a href=”https://twitter.com/arielhelwani”>@ArielHelwani</a> that a production truck caught fire but has been salvaged for use. That's ridiculous.</p>— Mike Bohn (@MikeBohnMMA) <a href=”https://twitter.com/MikeBohnMMA/statuses/505874861924048897″>August 31, 2014</a></blockquote>
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I’ve been told that Chris Wade has choked out one Cain Carrizosa (translate those runes, figure out the hidden meaning, oh lord) in just one round. Anthony Hamilton punched Chris Potts in the face in the second round, that was it. How could a man continue on while inhabiting an ungodly creation? A Derek Brunson ground out some sort of decisive victory over a Lorenzo Larkin, although right now I’m chasing down a lead on a report I have of the endlessly flushing urinal by section 120.
I can smell it, the darkness. It’s near.
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