You won't hear it at first. Chances are you can't smell it either. Its definition is quite simple: a plastic explosive that is easily tractable and almost odorless. But none of that makes it any less dangerous. Blink, yawn, and you might miss it.

When Daley fights, when Semtex explodes, the only thing left in one piece is the trigger-man. And although he may not be the fastest, pound for pound, inch for inch, his punches are the most lethal. They don't break men, they break souls. If you watched closely enough, you may have seen Scott Smith's spirit wandering around the ring as his body and brain shared one common link: the blankness that comes from being on the fringe of oblivion. Boom. Good night, here's hoping you still remember your name.

Question his attitude. Or perhaps his ego, arrogance, and the defiance he shows towards his world's most powerful figure. But guess what? He doesn't give a shit. Why should he? When both your hands crack steel as if it were glass, you can get away with just about anything.

Making professionals look like amateurs is a power few are born with, one when harnessed properly, is quite devastating. Of course there is a certain side effect: the development of a godlike like complex, one which pushes you to believe you can take life because you are that special. But that's not a bad thing. Complain, whine, and cry, he doesn't care. Pray for riches, be answered by silence. Complain to Daley; be answered by a smile and a finger. Keep hating; it won't put out any fuses.

Ask an explosion for humility. Demand resignation. Get rewarded in the afterlife. Ask Daley to keep quiet, ask him to just work his way back up. Tell him to do it for the sake of his career. Good luck with that.

Some people climb up step by step, and others just knock the ladder down. They bring it to them; it takes confidence, lack of caution, and in all honesty, it takes balls. Piss off fans, managers, and kings, all the while laughing. But why would a bomb care about what you or I think. It's that same attitude Semtex will take into the cage April 9th. He won't be looking for praise, love, or adoration. All he wants is to erase Nick Diaz.

10...9...8...7...

Life is a matter of seconds. Cross too soon, die too young. Wait too long, miss a golden opportunity. Stay on the outside, delay the inevitable. Attack head on, and set it off early.

6...5...4...

Logic demands you smother it, let the clock tick away. They say he can't press the trigger off his back, or do much else. Preserve the gold, play it safe. Beg the man who fears nothing or no one to give in to caution. Tell him the warriors he has bested to this point were mere firecrackers when compared to the power of the one they call Semtex. See if he listens.

3...2...

Look closely. Time will slow, the crowd will fade. Lights will dim. A champion will try his best to survive, minutes will pass. But survival was never an option, the moment he stepped into that cage, the moment the bell rang, a countdown began. Hours, years become meaningless, nothing can train you to withstand an onslaught of brutal power. Blood and sweat will mix as the ticks grow louder. Circle left. Circle right. Doesn't matter....