thefictionvixens Page 164
Page 164
"Gentlemen, that's absolutely impossible!"
Charles Wellington, a senior WBA member known for his conservative approach, slammed his fist on the table, his face ashen. "What is Victor Lee's status now? A suspect who killed five people and was just released on bail! To put someone like that in the ring for tomorrow night's highly anticipated world-renowned title defense?"
What about our image? What about the dignity of this sport? How will the public view us? Will they see us as encouraging violence?
His voice was sharp and filled with a sense of moral superiority.
“Charles, calm down.”
Robert Carter, a WBO representative and an American more focused on business interests, interjected, “Suspect, watch your word, just suspect! Legally he is presumed innocent.”
And do you know how popular tomorrow's fight is? Pay-per-view bookings have already broken this year's boxing record! Why?
Because everyone wanted to see what this 'boxer who killed five people' was like, and to see how he would fight Valuev!
This isn't a scandal, this is massive public attention! Who will bear our financial losses if the match is canceled? Who will pay the breach of contract penalties for the broadcasters and sponsors?
Carter looked around for supporters.
"Robert, you can't just look at the money!"
Another official countered, "Where is the spirit of sports? We can't just ignore everything for the sake of ticket sales! That would make our organization look like it's all about profit!"
"Sportsmanship? This will only make boxing more popular! Just think about Viktor Lee's experience!"
Some people supporting Viktor also stood up, saying, "He acted in self-defense! Those five men were armed thugs! He protected himself!"
He needs this platform now, he needs to prove he's more than just a figure in the news! And don't forget, his match agreement with Valuev was signed a long time ago. From a contractual and legal standpoint, we have no legitimate reason to prevent him from competing, unless a court orders him to leave the country or participate in public activities, which is not currently the case!
The debate quickly escalated to a fever pitch.
One side raises the banner of morality and reputation, while the other wields the weapon of economic contracts and legal basis.
The voices grew louder, the gestures more agitated, and the smoke thicker.
Nearly half of the respondents insisted that the competition should proceed as scheduled, driven by fear of huge financial losses and consideration of the potential long-term benefits of the immense attention it would receive.
The other half firmly believed that being too closely associated with a suspect responsible for five deaths would deal a devastating blow to the organization's reputation.
"Think of the headlines! 'Murderous boxer challenges world champion'! We can't afford that kind of stigma!"
Wellington was practically roaring.
"But canceling the fight? 'WBA/WBO disqualifies boxers on unproven charges'! We can't afford the legal disputes and compensation!"
Carter refused to back down.
The meeting reached a stalemate, with both sides evenly matched and neither able to convince the other.
Anxiety, greed, fear, and the fierce clash of principles filled the air.
·······
Viktor paced back and forth in his apartment, unable to find peace due to the pain in his finger bones and the anxiety in his heart.
The messages on the pager gnawed at his nerves like venomous snakes.
He couldn't wait any longer.
He picked up the phone and, almost trembling, dialed the private number of his criminal defense lawyer, Sir Simon Leicester.
"Sir, this is Victor Lee. I'm sorry to bother you so late..."
Viktor tried to keep his voice steady, but his speaking speed betrayed his urgency and anger.
He briefly recounted the contents of the pager and the current predicament.
On the other end of the phone, Sir Simon Lester's voice was as calm as ice: "Victor, I understand. Don't panic, it's just procedural noise."
You must come to my office immediately and authorize me to transfer another £2 from your account as emergency funds. We need to give the event organizers a legal 'reminder' right now.
Sir Simon Leicester, a legendary figure in London's legal circles, was renowned for his exceptional advocacy skills, commanding presence, and 100% criminal success rate (a fact he never hesitated to remind his opponents of).
He charges exorbitant fees, but they are certainly worth it, especially at a time when a tough approach and precise legal action are needed.
Twenty minutes later, Victor sat in the jazz's office, which was filled with oak paneling and the smell of old books and cigars.
The jazz quickly drafted a letter, its tone firm and precise.
“Listen, Victor,”
As the gentleman stamped the document, he said, “The key points are: First, you have not been convicted, you are legally innocent, and you enjoy all the rights of an international friend, including fulfilling legally signed contracts.”
Second, preventing you from participating is a breach of contract and constitutes discrimination based on unfounded accusations;
Third, even if—I mean even if—the worst-case scenario occurs in the future (which I believe will never happen), the result of the match can be declared invalid afterward, but once the opportunity to cancel the match is lost, it will never come back, resulting in a huge and irreversible loss.
Finally, I need to remind them who's standing behind them.
He specifically added at the end of the letter: '...Given Sir Simon Leicester's indisputable professional reputation and 100% success rate in criminal defense, I strongly advise the Committee to avoid any action that could have serious legal consequences and is based on unsubstantiated allegations.'
This is not just a letter; it is an ultimatum, a psychological deterrent disguised as legal provisions.
It reminded the recipient that the challenge was not just against a boxer, but against a legal giant who had never lost a case.
The letter arrived quickly in the conference room, where the heated argument was still taking place, via fax and personal delivery.
The debate in the meeting room was temporarily interrupted by the arrival of this letter. The staff read its contents aloud.
After the letter was read, a brief silence fell over the room.
Sir Simon Leicester's name weighed heavily on the hearts of every attendee.
His 100% win rate serves as a reminder to everyone that suing him is not only time-consuming and expensive, but also highly likely to result in failure.
His proposed solution of "declaring it invalid afterward" cleverly provided a way out for those who were worried about their reputation—it preserved their immediate economic interests while seemingly leaving room for remedial action (or, in other words, for severing ties) afterward.
Robert Carter broke the silence first: "Gentlemen, Sir Lester has made a very clear and reasonable point. Legally, we have no grounds for protest."
Canceling the match would subject us to a massive breach of contract lawsuit, one we would almost certainly lose. Continuing, while carrying some public backlash, at least offers financial security, and Leicester has given us room for maneuver in the future. I think the answer is quite clear.”
Charles Wellington's face darkened further, but he opened his mouth and ultimately refrained from uttering any further strong objections.
He knew full well that the organization's finances couldn't withstand the strain of an expensive lawsuit, and he was even more afraid of becoming just another backdrop to Sir Simon Lester's seemingly perfect winning streak.
The cold logic of the law and the real pressures of the economy have temporarily overwhelmed the calls for morality.
The WBA president looked around and, seeing that the opposition's momentum had been weakened by legal risks and economic considerations, finally spoke up, "Let's take a vote. Those who agree that Victor Lee should retain his eligibility to compete and that tomorrow's match will proceed as scheduled, please raise your hands."
After a moment's hesitation, one hand, two hands... more and more hands were raised, though some of them seemed somewhat reluctant.
Ultimately, more than two-thirds.
"Approved. Notify all parties that the match will proceed as scheduled."
The chairman's voice carried a hint of weariness, "But we must prepare public relations plans to deal with possible negative public opinion."
The news quickly reached Victor's apartment and Simon Lester's office.
Victor let out a long sigh of relief, his body almost completely exhausted, his anger raging like a volcano.
The obstacles were temporarily cleared, but a tremendous pressure followed – he now had to take the stage, after killing five people, under the watchful eyes of the world, with an injured hand and a heavy psychological burden.
"If I had known... I shouldn't have gone drinking... How could Max possibly be in England!"
Chapter 139 Ascending to the Throne
On November 21, 1986, London was getting chilly, but the O2 Arena was sweltering with heat.
The air was filled with the scents of expensive cologne, beer, and the buttery aroma of popcorn, as well as a more primal and restless atmosphere—an anticipation of violence and a thirst for dramatic scenes.
The spotlights, like a frenzied swarm of fireflies, flashed throughout the enormous venue, capturing every excited or contorted face.
The stands were packed, filled with everyone from well-dressed socialites to enthusiastic boxing fans in supporter T-shirts, all enveloped in a strange yet passionate atmosphere.
The whispers and murmurs blended into a low hum, focusing not only on the upcoming WBA heavyweight championship fight itself, but also on the controversial figure about to step into the ring and be at the center of the storm—Victor Lee.
"Have you heard? The court hasn't reached a final conclusion yet..."
"Unbelievable, they actually allowed him to compete?"
"Let's see if he gets beaten down tonight, or if he beats that Russian to the ground?"
"A murderer? Or a boxing prodigy? God, this is so exciting!"
These fragments of words floated in the air, weaving together a huge, invisible net that enveloped the entire venue.
The backstage lounge was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle outside, filled with a stifling silence.
Victor Lee sat on a simple stool, head down, intently wrapping the bandages in his hands.
His movements were slow and precise, as if he were performing some kind of ritual.
A faint pain still lingered between my knuckles, a mark left from the assault two days ago, but now, a deeper, more intense rage and humiliation welled up inside me.
This anger is not directed at any specific person, but at the absurd situation, at those who make judgments without knowing the truth, and at the sudden and heavy blow from fate.
His promoter, Frankie, was trying to sound relaxed: "...Just play like usual, Viktor. Don't overthink it. Valuev is big, but slow; your speed is your advantage..."
But his eyes darted around, glancing frequently toward the door, revealing his deep unease.
Standing beside him was Coach Jack, silently examining Viktor's boxing gloves. His hands, which had once suffered heavy blows but were now incredibly steady, trembled slightly.
He didn't say much, but he squeezed Viktor's shoulder hard. "Remember the rhythm, control your breathing, and you will become the champion!"
Another member of the team, strength and conditioning coach Ethan, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, trying to appear calm, but his tightly pursed lips and the constant tapping of his toes on the ground betrayed him.
They all knew that the path to the boxing ring was exceptionally long and difficult tonight.
At the other end of the passage, the locker room for defending champion Nikolai Valuev presents a completely different scene.
The atmosphere was even more austere, even carrying a hint of arrogant confidence.
Valuev, this giant from Siberia, was 213 cm tall and weighed 330 pounds, like a snow-covered mountain.
He remained expressionless, allowing the coaching team to give him a final relaxation treatment.
He had little sympathy for Victor Lee’s ordeal—the trouble that had dominated tabloid headlines for days—nor did he feel any aversion to it.
Professional boxing is a business, but also a war; an opponent's private life is none of his business.
His only concern is defending his WBA gold belt and consolidating his dominance in the heavyweight division.
However, even Valuev could sense that tonight was unusual.
The media frenzy and the unusual enthusiasm of the audience all foreshadowed the special nature of this match.