The second round was about to begin, and despite Nod Jackson having a comfortable 12-6 lead, Coach Doug looked furious.

  “Finish him, Fancy!” Doug barked. “No more games!”

  Nod didn’t respond. He just stood up, shook his arms loose, and walked back to the center of the mat like he was unfazed. Ben Dire, however, looked like he’d just been through a war. His chest was heaving, his face was red, and his mouth hung open as he sucked in air.

  The ref looked at both competitors. “Ready?”

  Ben gave a shaky nod.

  Nod smiled. “Let’s dance.”

  “SCRAP!”

  The second round opened with pure violence.

  Nod immediately reached out and snapped Ben’s head down hard — harder than he needed to. Ben’s forehead slammed into the mat as his legs sprawled back. The crowd let out a collective “Oooohhh!” at the sound of it.

  “Damn…” Johnny muttered under his breath. “That was kinda personal.”

  “Bout time,” Doug grumbled.

  Before Ben could even think about standing up, Nod was already on his neck. He slid his arm under Ben’s throat and locked his other arm around it. Johnny’s eyes widened — he’s going for a D’arce choke.

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  Ben realized it too. He panicked.

  “NO NO NO!” Ben gasped, grabbing at Nod’s arm. His legs flailed, and he tried to twist his body, but Nod was locked in.

  “HE’S GOT IT!” the announcer screamed.

  The crowd lost their minds. Nod crushed his shoulder into Ben’s throat, tightened the squeeze, and rolled them both to the side. Ben’s legs kicked wildly. His hands scratched at Nod’s arm, then his face — but Nod didn’t even flinch.

  It was tight.

  Ben’s hand hovered above the mat. He shook his head, trying to tough it out. His face turned purple. His hand hovered — and then…

  TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!

  The ref jumped in. “STOP! THAT’S IT! THAT’S IT!”

  The crowd exploded. Ben’s body went limp immediately after the tap, his head slumping against the mat as he gasped for air like a drowning man. Nod just popped up, adjusted his hair, and strolled back to his corner like it was nothing.

  “WINNER BY SUBMISSION — NOD ‘FANCY’ JACKSON!”

  The place was still roaring when Nod made it back to his corner. Doug didn’t even look at him — just clapped his hands once. “‘Bout damn time.”

  Nod grinned. “I was just having fun, Coach.”

  “You do that against a higher-ranked guy, you’ll get choked out yourself,” Doug shot back. “Stop playing around. We need wins. Not highlights.”

  Nod just shrugged, still smiling like he owned the place. “Win’s a win.”

  Kent leaned over, smirking. “D’arce choke, huh?”

  Nod grinned. “Nice, right?”

  Johnny shook his head, impressed. “Man, you play too much, but that was cold.”

  “Y’all ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Nod winked.

  Across the mat, Ben was still lying flat on his back. It took three staff members to help him sit up, his face still beat red from the choke. His coach patted his shoulder, but Ben didn’t even look him in the eye. Defeat was written all over his face.

  The camera crew zoomed in on Nod — grinning like he was on a magazine cover — while Ben looked like a ghost. It was the perfect image of dominance.

  Doug just shook his head. “You’re gonna get caught playing like that one day, Fancy.”

  “Not today though.” Nod smirked.

  Doug didn’t smile. “Not yet.”

  A few minutes later, the next match was being set up.

  “Alright,” Doug said, checking his sheet. “Next up… Jack ‘Sledgehammer’ Jones versus Lap Donahue. Open weight.”

  Jack cracked his massive knuckles, towering over everyone. “Man, this dude’s gonna get smoked.”

  Kent chuckled. “Don’t gas out, big man.”

  Jack turned to Johnny, flashing a wicked grin. “Yo, Blood — you ready to see a body?”

  Johnny laughed nervously. “Uh… yeah, sure.”

  Doug sighed. “Just finish it fast, Jack. Don’t get cocky.”

  Jack laughed. “Bro, I’m different. Don’t even worry.”

  And just like that, Jack thundered towards the mat.

  The next match was about to get violent.

  End of Chapter 7.