Mike Tyson Gets Exoskeleton : “Jake Paul Will Die”

“Winning is my best look, never forget I’m a killer. The rematch will end in death,” said a 9 foot tall mecha Mike Tyson in a dimly lit, run-down hotel room. The look in Iron Mike’s eyes was different: there was a glimmer of extraneous lights insight them. The metal plates all over the pro boxer’s body looked incredibly durable, the mechanical joints making rotation-and-retraction sounds as he moved.

Tyson’s voice also had a deep digital sound that was almost haunting. “The implant have sharpened my reflexes, check this out,” said Mike. His large metal arm enclosures zipped out and yanked the chair out from under our sound technician, who toppled to the ground as a donut flew out of his shirt pocket.

I was startled and yelled, “The chair was in the air before Yohan could even fall to the ground. How the hell…” As Yohan tried to stand up, his shoe lace was somehow caught in a splintered floorboard, causing him to jerk sideways, which began a long, staggering fall, hitting both elbows on various pieces of furniture – then slamming his head not once, but twice on the wooden couch arm.

Iron Mike yelled with an increasingly deep digital garble beneath his voice, “How’s that donut boy? Hey, yo shoes are untied.”

“How much of this machine is… really you?” I yelled at Mike, increasingly terrified.

“50% of my body is now mecha. You never go full mech. They’ll take over your brain if you let them.” mumbled Mike.

“So…” I stumbled for words, “Ummm… about this rematch with Jake Paul?”

“When I see him, that’s when the fight’s gonna happen. It’s almost party time.”

“Not in a boxing ring?” I humbly asked.

“Nope. That’s why I have the camera guy following me around. The whole world is gonna see this no matter how it happens.”

“Mr. Tyson, I’m not sure how Jake is going to fight a 9 foot tall mech.”

“That’s not the point. The point is…”

Just then Mike’s phone rang, and it seemed his digitized brain could auto-receive the call. “Yeah I know you’re in town. I’m in the room next door,” said Mike as he motioned to the camera man whispering “It’s Jake on the phone.”

We heard Jake’s voice yell through the wall with jolly aggression, “Oh good, I was thinking about kicking your ass again next time I saw you!”

“Too late,” said Mike – his huge mechanical legs moved him directly to the wall, and he began beating the bricks out of the wall, five or six at a time.

Jake, Yohan, and even myself were yelling this and that, super confused as we watched Iron Mike clawing his way through the wall toward a confused Jake Paul, who in mere seconds was being held in the air by his skull.

“What’s that about kicking my ass?” yelled Mike, with a huge digital boom to his voice. “No knock-out in the first three rounds, huh? Bad idea. Well, there’s no rounds here.”

Mike began rag-dolling Jake around by his head. The scene was so utterly horrifying. I felt my chest pounding to the deepest heartbeat I ever had. Me and Yohan ran out of the building on the edge of very real heart attacks, scrambling to understand what we just saw.

As our breath calmed, I uttered, “Why are they both staying in that nearly condemned building?”

Yohan began to eat his pink icing donut, which he must have picked up from the floor. I let him do so quietly, refusing to acknowledge the dead cockroach stuck to its side. I continued in silence as I watched him take the bite with the cockroach knowingly, as he continued chewing that vile thing with a simple sigh.