The ref’s hand dropped. “Scrap!”

  Danny exploded forward like a cannon.

  “There he goes,” Johnny muttered under his breath, watching from the corner with his team.

  Danny shot in with a lightning-fast single leg, his hands wrapping around Larry’s calf, driving his shoulder into Larry’s thigh. It was textbook, and for a moment, it looked like Danny was about to put Super Boy on his back in the first five seconds of the match.

  But Larry wasn’t a scrub.

  “Sprawl! Sprawl!” Larry’s corner screamed.

  Larry immediately sprawled his hips back, smashing his weight down on Danny’s head and stuffing the shot. Danny grunted, still holding the leg, but his position was collapsing.

  “Get behind him!”

  Larry did exactly that — he slid his arm around Danny’s waist, popped his hips, and spun around to Danny’s back. The ref’s hand shot up.

  “Takedown! Three points, red!”

  The crowd popped.

  “Damn it!” Johnny hissed. “Come on, Danny!”

  “What did I tell you?” Doug grumbled, crossing his arms. “He’s too cocky. Thought he’d run through him like a chump.”

  Larry now had Danny’s back, his chest pressed on Danny’s spine, trying to sink a hook in. Danny growled, fighting the hands off his wrist.

  “Move, Danny!” Doug barked. “Don’t sit there!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Danny gritted his teeth. “I got it!”

  And then — he exploded.

  Danny hit a hard switch, popping his hips and turning into Larry. In one smooth motion, he rolled Larry over his shoulder and reversed the position. The crowd gasped as the ref signaled it.

  “Reversal! Two points, blue!”

  “Let’s go!” Johnny shouted, pumping his fist.

  Danny now had top control, sitting in side control. His face still burned with anger, but he was back in the fight. The scoreboard now read:

  Larry Balls: 3

  Danny Harold: 2

  ?

  Danny didn’t waste time.

  He transitioned to north-south, then quickly spun around to Larry’s back again. Larry tried to post up, but Danny snatched his neck and slipped in a rear naked choke like lightning.

  “Choke! Choke! Choke!” the crowd screamed, realizing Danny might finish it.

  “Squeeze that thing, Danny!” Doug roared. “Put him to sleep!”

  Danny cranked the choke. Larry’s face turned red. His arms flailed. His legs kicked. The ref hovered over them, ready to stop the match if Larry tapped.

  “Oh my god,” Johnny gasped. “He’s got it.”

  But Larry wasn’t done.

  He twisted his hips and exploded backward, forcing his shoulders to the mat and rolling out of the choke. Danny almost caught him again but lost his grip. Larry scrambled to his feet and backed away. The ref threw his hand up.

  “Escape! One point, red!”*

  “Damn!” Johnny groaned. “That was so close.”

  “And Danny gets a near submission,” the announcer said. “That’ll be three points for Team Juice and one point for Larry Balls for the escape. That brings our score to: Danny Harold — 5. Larry Balls — 4.”

  Danny jumped to his feet, shaking his head in frustration. “He was done,” he muttered. “I had him.”

  “Focus!” Doug screamed. “It’s a long match, dumbass!”

  ?

  The ref reset them in neutral position.

  Danny’s face was burning with embarrassment now. Getting reversed. Losing the choke. This wasn’t how he imagined it. I’m gonna smoke this dude. I’m gonna smoke him right now.

  The ref clapped. “Scrap!”

  Danny blasted forward.

  This time, it wasn’t a single leg. It was a blast double. Danny threw his head into Larry’s chest, wrapped both legs, and ran through him like a freight train. The crowd erupted as Larry slammed to his back.

  “Takedown! Three points, blue!”*

  “YEAH!” Danny roared, slamming his fist into the mat.

  But he didn’t stop there.

  Danny hooked an underhook and drove Larry’s shoulders to the mat. The ref’s hand shot up again, beginning the pin count.

  “One!”

  “Two!”

  “Three!”

  “Four!”

  Larry just managed to bridge out, avoiding the pin, but it didn’t matter. Danny had held him for four full seconds — the max for a near pin.

  “Four near pin points, blue!”

  The scoreboard now read:

  Danny Harold: 12

  Larry Balls: 4

  “LET’S GOOO!” Danny shouted, chest pounding, throwing his hands in the air.

  The round ended. The buzzer sounded.

  The crowd roared.

  Danny jogged back to his corner, his swagger now fully returned. “He’s done,” he grinned. “I’m smokin’ this dude.”

  Doug didn’t look impressed. “You’re up by eight. You should’ve finished him.”

  “I will.” Danny laughed. “Second round, he’s toast.”

  “Don’t get cute,” Doug warned. “If you choke again, you’ll make me look like an idiot on ESPN.”

  Danny just smirked. “I got this, Coach.”

  In the corner, Johnny watched it all.

  Danny was ahead by a mile… but something didn’t sit right with Johnny.

  Because he’d seen Danny lose matches just like this before.

  And something in Larry’s eyes…

  He wasn’t done.

  Not even close.

  ?

  End of Chapter 3.