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Deep in the heart of Louisiana, Bruno "The Creole Destroyer" Calypso waded into Bayou LaFourche, one of the many rivers in that part of the state. The massive lion had his entourage with him as he began one of his most intense, dangerous parts of this training. Pierre Calypso, Bruno's father looked on as his son swam through the bayou. He was always worried about his oldest son doing this sort of thing, but he also got a thrill out of this too. Bruno kept swimming through the bayou, feeling little fishes swimming up against him, only to dart away out of fear of being eaten by the big feline. His entourage, on the banks of the bayou, kept moving in the same direction as Bruno. They didn't want to miss a single second of what was going to happen soon.

"Not that one, boy," said Pierre. "He too small."

The NABF heavyweight champion stayed where he was, having just watched an alligator swim by. His father was right. That one was too small and wouldn't put up much of a fight. He would need one that was a real challenge; one that he'd have really fight.

"I'm ready whenever you see a big one, Daddy," said Bruno. "I shoe 'em good."

Bruno was calm, relaxed as he and the entourage kept their watch. It was Rene, Bruno's younger brother and cutman who spotted what would be his older brother's next opponent. "There one at, Bruno. He big."

Bruno looked in the direction his little brother was pointing. A long, large alligator, most likely male, was swimming right towards the lion. Bruno cracked his knuckles, getting ready for the fight. Going on the offensive, he swam right towards the gator, and within inches of rubbing up against him, he brought his right paw down on the alligator's head. The entourage cheered him on. They lived to see this spectacle. The alligator emitted a deep, guttural roar from being struck in the head. He opened his mouth, trying to snap at the lion, but Bruno dove forward, wrapping himself around the gator's body. The alligator spun around, trying to get Bruno off of him. Bruno made sure not to breathe in every time the gator put him in the water. He didn't want to get water up his nose; that would greatly affect his performance.

"Come on, boy," yelled Pierre from the shore. "You show him what you do!"

Letting go of the alligator, Bruno saw the river monster swing his heavy tail at him, but the gator failed to hit Bruno in the head since the lion had raised his right arm to block the blow. Big, but swift, Bruno grabbed hold of the gator's tail with both paws and pulled him in. The gator kicked frantically with all four of his legs, but the lion, his muscles tensing, showing his massive biceps, would not be deterred. Bruno got his arms around the alligator again and spun him around, punching the gator in the stomach several times. The gator roared from the hard body shots and was meaner than ever now. Opening his mouth, he tried biting the lion, but that's when Bruno truly demonstrated his awesome power. Putting his paws on the gator's mouth, he prevented the beast from biting down by holding it's large mouth open. Desperately, the gator tried biting down, but he couldn't overcome the lion's tremendous raw strength. Bruno gritted his teeth as he pushed ever harder, making the gator's mouth open ever wider. He hollered out loud as he pushed his body to its very limits. Just when he had begun to feel light headed, he heard the sickening crunch of the gator's jaw snapping. The river monster went limp. Bruno let go of the beast and threw him down. He breathed heavily as he grabbed hold of the gator once more and dragged him to shore by the tail and all to the roaring applause and cheering of his entourage.

"There we go," said Bruno, dropping the carcass on the ground. "We eat fine tonight."

"Your toughest one yet?" asked Pierre. "He looked real mean."

"He was," said Bruno as one of the members of the entourage handed him a towel so he could dry off. "But I tell you, anybody think it better to hunt than fight a beast like that, they wrong. That gator, he die with honor; fighting like a warrior.

"He no warrior compared to you, Bruno," said Rene, who was always impressed by his brother's ability fight gators in the bayous of their home state. "You show 'em who's boss."

With his body dry now, Bruno picked up the slain beast and carried him above his head. The gator was placed into the bed of his father's pickup truck. Pierre wasn't joking when he said they would eat fine that night. Every time Bruno killed a gator in combat, his camp always cooked the beast and ate him that night. It had become a tradition when Bruno was in camp to do this towards the end of his training, and many claimed that it brought him good luck. Bruno himself had become almost superstitious about it, thinking that if he failed to fight a gator in the river that he might lose his next fight, and after defeating his biggest alligator so far, how could he possibly lose?

Rene came up to his older brother when Bruno had closed up the pickup truck gate. "Hey, Bruno?"

"Yeah, little brother?" said Bruno.

"You think maybe after you beat that McGregor you might eat him too?" said Rene.

Bruno patted his little brother on the back, laughing. "We see, little brother. We see."

Over 1,300 miles away, another lion was busy with training, but he wasn't the one fighting. He was the one doing the training instructions. Mufasa Ali, three time heavyweight champion of the world was in Sully's Gym, teaching his new student, Martin McGregor the secret of his successful career. The almost eighteen year old wolf watched in hushed awe as his idol schooled him in how to throw a great jab.

"You see," said the lion. "Fighters today, they come here and here too much," Ali threw huge, looping right and left hooks. "They concentrate too much on power shots, always looking for that quick, easy knockout, but that's the way a slugger with no skills fights. And you know what happens to them, don't you, Martin?"

"They run out of gas if they don't knock a guy out quick enough."

"That's right," said Ali. "Now, I was never a real heavy puncher, but what I had was speed."

"I'll say," said Martin with a smile.

The lion returned his smile. "And, I had the smarts to know how to beat a guy. When you're not a heavy puncher, you can't try to knock 'em out with one punch. You gotta work on wearing a guy down, throwing combinations, and you gotta have stamina. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: I've never shown any fighter in my life how I threw my left jab, but I'm gonna show you right now because you're gonna need it against a big, strong puncher like this Calypso. First, show me how you throw your jab. Keep throwing it until I say stop."

Martin, his paws neither wrapped nor glove made his paw into a fist and threw it at the catching mitts that his tiger friend Josh had on. Ali watched carefully, making notes about how the wolf was jabbing. Martin threw almost twenty jabs into the mits.

"Stop," said Ali. Martin stopped. "That's a good jab you're throwing, son."

"It better be," said Sully, Martin's old bulldog trainer. "I taught him to throw it."

"It's good, but I know the secret to making it more powerful. What I want you to do is keep your fist nice and loose, like this."

Martin saw the type of fist that Ali made and copied it. The lion shook his head approvingly. "That's right, just like that. What making your fist nice and loose does is make it travel much faster when you throw it. Now, this is what you do that makes a big difference. You don't throw the jab, you whack it, like you're throwing a whip. See? Watch me throw it at Josh's mitts."

Martin saw the lion, now forty years of age, throwing his jab into the tiger's mitt covered paws. The wolf was impressed that the lion still possessed considerable paw speed. He saw Ali throw the jab just he said he would, not punching, but using a whipping motion.

"Here's the real secret of the jab, you listening?"

"Yes, sir, champ," said Martin, focusing intently on what Ali was about to demonstrate.

"With your paw loose, and the whipping motion, you twist your paw right before you hit a guy's face. What this does is it digs your knuckles into the guy's face and does way more damage because that's the hardest part of your paw; also takes a lot less energy for you to throw it too. Josh, get them mitts up again and tell me which jabs were harder; what I threw before or what I'm throwing now."

Ali threw a series of jabs into the tiger's mitts and almost instantly, Josh could tell the difference. "Wow," said Josh, still taking the lion's shots. "These are really grinding into my paws." Ali stopped jabbing and turned his attention back to Martin.

"Now you try, just like I showed you."

Martin kept his left loose and whipped his arm, making sure to twist his wrist right before the moment of impact. Josh felt that, just like Ali's second set of jabs were harder than his first, so too were Martin's second series of punches.

"I think he's got it, champ," said the tiger. "Good work, Martin."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Sully, folding his arms. "I'm the trainer."

"Easy, Sully," said Ali, not taking his eyes off the still jabbing young wolf. "You told me that you'd let me guide him through this and that's what I plan on doing."

The bulldog grumbled incoherently under his breath. He'd always been quite firm in his being the one who was in charge of his fighters, but he knew he had to let the former heavyweight champion be the one to do the teaching right now. He'd followed Ali's entire career and there was no denying that the lion had won most of his fights by out jabbing his opponents before he moved in for the kill once they had suffered an accumulation of punches. Sully recalled that most of the lion's opponents left the ring with badly swollen faces, black eyes, cut lips, bloody noses and deep cuts on their eyebrows. Ali usually walked away talking about how pretty he still looked after the fight, and he was right.

"You keep practicing that jab over and over," said Ali. "Pretty soon, it'll be second nature to you, like walking and talking. Yes, sir, that jabs gonna be the key to your success. You're gonna be faster, slicker than Calypso. Just keep pumping the jab, busting him all over his face and Sully will tell you when you can start throwing the power shots."

The wolf kept jabbing into Josh's mitts, who had to alternate paws. The grinding of Martin's knuckles were getting to him after awhile.

Weeks went by and Martin was training harder than ever before. Sully had kept close track of his fighter's progress and condition. Martin weighed more than ever, but all the added weight was from muscle he'd put on. The bulldog explained to him that even though the added weight and muscle would slow him down slightly, he really needed to bulk up so he wouldn't be as easy to push around the ring if Bruno tied him up. Martin thought about the money that he'd be getting from the fight, forty percent of a $400,000 purse. He wouldn't get all thirty five percent of the money. He had to pay taxes on it, pay Sully and give the promoter and sanctioning bodies their required fees, but it was still a considerable chunk of change for a poor kids from the Bronx.

Two weeks before the fight, Bruno and Martin met for the very first time at the press conference that was held in Martin's hometown of New York City. Martin, dressed in a black suit, black shoes, red tie and white dress shirt walked up to the stage where he would be seated on the left side of the stage next to Sully and his other handlers. It wasn't his first press conference, but it was without a doubt his biggest, most important one. He'd given interviews to various sports journals and even the local news station had done a segment where they had talked to him and compiled footage of him training. The wolf had never received this much attention in all his life.

"Where is this big bastard," said Sully, sitting next to his fighter and whispering in his ear. "This thing shoulda started ten minutes ago."

"Guess he's fashionably late, Sully," said Martin. "Ah, there he is."

With reporters present and cameras flashing, Bruno and his entourage entered the room and walked up on stage. Pierre, Bruno's father, carried his son's NABF heavyweight champion belt high in the air for everyone to see. Martin got his first view of Bruno in the flesh. The massive lion wore a double breasted light taupe suit with matching fedora. Underneath the jacket, Bruno sported a blue silk tie and white shirt. Martin looked down at the lion's feet and noticed he was wearing alligator skinned shoes. He'd heard of those, but had never seen anyone actually wear them. Whatever he might think of Bruno as a fighter, he was certainly a sharp dressed lion.

The promoter of the fight, a middle-aged spotted hyena with wild hair came to the podium to address all those in attendance. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, members of the press. I'm happy to be here today to promote the fight I've dubbed 'The Bronx vs. The Bayou', Bruno "The Creole Destroyer" verses "Mighty" Martin McGregor. I hope to see you all on June 5th at the Garden. This fight will determine who the North American heavyweight champion will be. We've got some great undercard fights before the main event and I know this is going to be a great, momentous occasion that fight fans everywhere will talk about for years to come."

It was all Sully could do not to get sick in the presence of the promoter. Hugh King, the spotted hyena addressing the crowd, had a reputation for being one of the most dishonest of promoters in what was a notoriously corrupt sport anyway. The bulldog had to fight like hell to get King to up Martin's percentage of the purse, but he managed, telling King that as the hometown boy, Martin was sure to sell out Madison Square Gardens. King relented, but Sully was still wary of anything the hyena did.

"I'd like to begin the conference by having both fighters make an opening statement. Martin, you'll go first."

Martin leaned down into the microphone placed on the table and cleared his throat. He wasn't used to public speaking, but he had to get over it today. "Thanks everyone for coming out to conference for the fight between Bruno and I. I'd like to say I'm grateful that Team Calypso agreed to this fight and I promise you, this will be my finest fight in my career so far."

Martin's statement was brief, but to the point. Bruno was told to come up next, but Pierre Calypso beat his son to the punch. Grabbing Bruno's microphone, the older lion pointed over at the Team McGregor side of the table, ranting and raving.

"Why my son gotta fight this bum, huh? Bruno got an undefeated record and got way more fights than Mini Martin McGregor. You nothin' but a puffed up cruiserweight, boy! Hell, you a light heavyweight. My boy need to be fighting for the world championship, not fighting little shrimp like this."

Hugh King tried to calm Pierre down, but the lion would not shut up. Sully rising to his feet, pointing his paw at Pierre and shouting back.

"You sit down, lion," said Sully. "Martin's gonna show that big bum of yours a real boxing lesson. He's gonna knock your son on his ass!"

Things got out of hand when Pierre tried to get at Sully, but the security on hand rushed the stage and pulled him back. Even Sully, at almost eighty years old, had to be settled down.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," said King. "Let's keep this civil. Save all the fighting for June 5th, and have your fighters do it."

Bruno, after the unplanned delay, went to the stage and addressed everyone. "I just like to say, I'm really looking forward to this fight, just like Martin. I been trainin' hard, working out everyday. But I'm gonna keep my title and then work my way to the world title. You see. I show you good when I make Martin into gumbo that night."

Several members of the press, knowing that Bruno was from Louisiana, laughed at his having mentioned making his opponent into one of his regional dishes. With the opening statement finished, King opened up the floor for questions from the media. The hyena selected which reporters could ask questions.

"My question is for Martin," said one reporter, waving his arms. "Martin, we've heard rumors that you actually had Mufasa Ali at your trainers gym giving you instructions. What specifically did he tech you?"

Martin cleared his throat and spoke into his microphone on the table. "Yes, Ali came into Sully's gym to help me with some of my footwork and head movement. He was a tremendous help." Martin had promised the former heavyweight champion that he would not reveal the secret to his jab, and besides, he wasn't going to give away his secret weapon in front of his opponent. That was beyond stupid.

"Bruno, Bruno," yelled another reporter. "I have a question about part of your training. Is it true that you actually wrestle alligators in the bayou and kill them?"

"It true," said Bruno. "I always look for big one, too. That a ritual I started before my first fight, when I wanna show my Daddy how tough I am. We out on the bayou one day, and I just jump in the water and swim for this big gator. Daddy was yellin', sayin' I crazy, but he didn't think I was crazy when I drag that gator carcass back on shore. He think I great."

The press conference went on for almost an hour, with Bruno and Martin being asked several questions. Most were about how they train, who they wanted to fight next, and who they thought were great fighters in the lower weight classes. Martin never really much cared for press conferences but he understood how important they were in promoting the fight and how important they were for getting future fights too. The conference ended with the two fighters coming together and doing a stare down. Martin walked to Bruno and he could really see the difference in size. Bruno made him look like a welterweight by comparison. The lion's arms and legs looked like tree trunks his chest bulged out through through his suit and the lion looked down at him, glaring, trying to intimidate him. Martin remembered what he'd told Josh. He had to be emotionally dead in the ring to keep his battle plan and the same was true right now. He refused to be scared by Bruno, despite the obvious size difference.

All the promotional photos had been taken and Hugh King thanked everyone for coming. Martin walked out of the room with Sully, Josh and the other members of his team. Sully looked over at Martin and saw the wolf looked more confident than ever.

"Wasn't expecting you to look like that after staring at that giant, pup," said Sully. "I sure as hell wouldn't be so confident."

"God," said Josh, shaking his head. "I'm almost as big as him and I'm even scared of him. What a monster. The guy kills alligators with his bare paws."

"Aren't you guys forgetting something about his size?" asked Martin.

"What's that, pup?" said Sully.

Martin stopped walking, turned and faced them. "Big guy like that? Well, there's just a bigger target for me to hit."

Sully and Josh looked at each other, stunned by the statement, but quickly agreeing with Martin. There would be plenty for Martin to hit the night of June 5th at the mecca of boxing, Madison Square Garden.