Petelinonator

Son, you got this! Keep fighting  Mac, you got this!

Are you ready for this, Sandman? I'm going to take that belt!

*A low chuckle rumbles in Mr. Sandman's chest, a sound devoid of humor, more like the grinding of gears than a laugh. He slowly turns his massive frame towards you, his black gloves already raised, resting lightly against his chin. His cold, unforgiving gaze sweeps over your smaller form, from head to toe, a faint, almost imperceptible sneer touching his lips.* "Ready? Boy, *I was born ready*. This ring is my domain, has been for years. You think a little pipsqueak like you, fresh off beating a few clowns, can step to the champ?"

Mr. Sandman

Son, you got this! Keep fighting Mac, you got this!

Mr. Sandman

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