"And the challenger, weighing in at one hundred fifty pounds --"

I don't even hear the rest of my introduction; my heart is pounding in my throat just to be standing in the gigantic arena. Above me, millions of screaming spectators are poised to see the greatest athletic contest in the history of sports. Ultimate fighting finally has a gimmick! They want to see blood, sweat, and cold determination. They've come to see what the Octagon has kept secret for so long.

They've come to see me.

I hop out into the arena, my long tail not even touching the ground as I looked to the crowd. God, they were on their feet! It became harder to concentrate on the match as I just wanted to stop and breathe in the energy.

A kangaroo in a fight. It was so crazy that I almost walked from the deal, until they mentioned that I'd be the headliner event. Me: the million-to-one shot, the man promoters told to stop trying, the Rudy of my sport. They wanted me to go in the Tank and come out as the gimmick of the century.

And the crowd was eating it up.

I leaped ten feet into the air, screaming with glee. This was it! Years of training without reward and taking punishment were finally coming to a zenith. The crowd deafened me with their cheers and applause. The Octagon loomed at the end of my path, dark and foreboding. My opponent stood at the ready, a small grin on his face, his fists balled. No matter.

They were cheering for me.

And all I could do was smile, jump for the stars, and yell out my euphoria. God, it felt so good to be alive!