The second round was about to start.
Danny was bouncing in his corner, his signature smirk glued to his face. “He’s cooked,” Danny muttered, glancing at Johnny. “You see that? I’m killin’ this dude.”
“Don’t get cocky, Danny,” Johnny warned. “Coach told you —”
“Man, please,” Danny scoffed. “I’m up fifteen to four. He ain’t doin’ nothin’ to me.”
Coach Doug grabbed Danny by the shoulder, his voice low but sharp. “Finish the match. Don’t play around.”
“I got it, Coach. Relax,” Danny said, shrugging him off. “I’m havin’ fun out there.”
Doug’s eyes narrowed. “That’s when you lose.”
The ref brought them back to the center of the mat.
“Round two! Scrap!”
Danny didn’t waste time.
He hit a quick hand fight — snap-down, fake shot — then bam he hit a perfect slide-by, effortlessly slipping around Larry’s side and locking his waist from behind. The crowd gasped at how smooth it was.
“Takedown! Three points, blue!”
The scoreboard now read:
Danny Harold: 15
Larry Balls: 4
“Woo!” Danny laughed, riding Larry’s back. “Man, this too easy!”
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“Stay sharp, Danny!” Doug yelled from the corner, his voice tense. “Don’t mess around!”
Danny didn’t listen.
Instead, he hooked Larry’s leg and rolled him into a cradle. Larry grunted as Danny locked his hands behind his knee and neck, folding him up like a lawn chair. The ref dropped, beginning the near pin count.
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
“Four!”
“Four near pin points, blue!”
The crowd exploded. Danny popped up, smirking like he already won.
The scoreboard now read:
Danny Harold: 19
Larry Balls: 4
“Sheeeeesh!” Danny laughed, wagging his finger at the crowd. “He’s DONE! Somebody get me my check!”
“Danny, FOCUS!” Doug shouted, his face turning red. “Put him away!”
“I’m puttin’ on a show, Coach!” Danny grinned. “This is what they came to see!”
Doug clenched his jaw. “You’re gonna blow it…”
Danny could’ve kept him down. He should’ve kept him down.
But instead, Danny stood up and waved his hand. “Get up, boy. I’m feelin’ generous.”*
The crowd gasped. Johnny’s jaw dropped. “What the hell is he doing?”
“Escape! One point, red!”*
The scoreboard now read:
Danny Harold: 19
Larry Balls: 5
Larry stumbled to his feet, his face still red from the near choke earlier. His breathing was heavy. But his eyes… his eyes looked different now.
Danny laughed, waving his arms. “C’mon, Superman. Show me somethin’.”*
“He’s gonna blow it,” Johnny muttered. “He’s gonna freakin’ blow it.”
Danny dropped into a low stance, playing around. He did a little shuffle with his feet, grinning. “C’mon, man. Take a shot or somethin’.”*
Larry didn’t bite.
Danny rolled his neck, then suddenly dropped for a low single. He grabbed Larry’s ankle and tried to run through it — but Larry sprawled again. They scrambled hard, rolling and twisting, neither of them gaining control.
“Keep scrambling!” Doug roared. “Don’t get lazy!”
Danny laughed as they scrambled. “He’s done, Coach! Chill out!”*
Larry posted his hand and hit a whizzer, almost throwing Danny off balance. Danny managed to hook his leg and pull him back down — but no points were scored. The scramble continued, bodies twisting like snakes.
“Fifteen seconds left!” the announcer said.
Danny tried to suck the leg in again — but Larry slipped out. They returned to their feet, circling.
“Seven seconds left!”
Danny shot one more time, but Larry stuffed it again. They locked up and time expired.
BZZZZZZZZZT!
Round two was over.
The crowd clapped, but the energy was weird. Even though Danny was dominating, it was like everyone felt the momentum shift.
Danny strutted back to his corner like he already won the match. “Dude’s dead in the water,” Danny grinned. “I’m just playin’ with my food now.”*
Doug looked livid. “You let him up on purpose?”
“Yeah, bro, I’m puttin’ on a show,” Danny laughed. “It’s ESPN, Coach! I can’t just pin him quick. This is my highlight reel.”*
“You idiot…” Doug muttered. “You just gave him hope.”*
“Hope?” Danny scoffed. “I’m up 19 to 5! What’s he gonna do, pin me?”
“Yes,” Doug said coldly. “He is.”*
Danny froze for a second. “Nah…”
Doug’s face was stone cold. “You forgot what I told you? Overconfidence kills.”*
Danny brushed him off. “I’m good, Coach. Chill.”*
Doug didn’t say anything. He just stared across the mat… at Larry.
And something about Larry’s face made Johnny’s stomach turn.
Because Larry didn’t look defeated anymore. He didn’t look tired.
He looked… hungry.
“Third round’s comin’ up,” Doug said coldly. “And Danny? If you blow this lead — I’m gonna make you regret it.”*
End of Chapter 4.
