The crowd was still buzzing from Nod’s dominant win. The energy in the arena was electric, but now all eyes shifted toward the next match.

  “Alright, big man, you’re up,” Coach Doug said, slapping Jack Jones on the back.

  Jack grinned like a man who already knew the outcome. “Man, this dude’s about to get mangled, Coach.”

  Doug didn’t smile. “Don’t get cocky. You gas out fast when you don’t pace yourself. Get a takedown, ride him out, and finish it early if you can.”

  Jack waved him off. “I ain’t worried. Look at that dude, he’s like a buck-eighty soaking wet.”

  Johnny leaned over. “Hey man, don’t sleep on him. Dude’s still ranked 170 worldwide. He didn’t get there by accident.”

  Jack laughed, towering over Johnny. “Bro, I’m ranked fifty. He’s gonna look like a ragdoll when I’m done.”

  Kent, sitting quietly, spoke up. “Jack, just win. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Jack turned, flashing that cocky grin. “I’m Sledgehammer, baby. I don’t do stupid — I do violence.”

  Doug groaned. “Jesus Christ…”

  The announcer’s voice thundered across the arena.

  “NEXT UP IN THE OPEN WEIGHT DIVISION!”

  The crowd started to buzz. Jack’s ears were ringing with adrenaline. He bounced up and down, slapping his own face, psyching himself up.

  “FIGHTING OUT OF TEAM JUICE — WITH A RECORD OF 60 WINS AND 15 LOSSES — RANKED #50 IN THE WORLD — JACK ‘THE SLEDGEHAMMER’ JONES!”

  The crowd roared. Jack soaked it in. He pointed to the crowd and then flexed both arms like a pro-wrestler.

  “Calm down, Sledgehammer,” Doug muttered under his breath.

  The announcer continued.

  “AND HIS OPPONENT — FIGHTING OUT OF TEAM BRIMSTONE — WITH A RECORD OF 28 WINS AND 25 LOSSES — RANKED #170 IN THE WORLD — LAP DONAHUE!”

  Lap walked out slowly. He was tall — but skinny. Maybe 6’4, but probably only around 220 pounds. Jack outweighed him by at least 40 pounds of pure muscle. Lap had a blank look on his face, but Johnny noticed his hands were shaking.

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  “He’s nervous,” Johnny whispered.

  “Good,” Jack muttered, bouncing on his toes.

  The ref brought them to the center.

  “Alright gentlemen. Pure grappling. No strikes. No dirty moves. You know the rules. Shake hands and let’s scrap.”

  Jack stepped up, grinning. “You sure you wanna do this, man?”

  Lap didn’t respond. He just stared straight ahead.

  “Alright then,” Jack smirked. “Your funeral.”

  The ref stepped back. “SCRAP!”

  The first round was… dull.

  Both men met in the middle and locked up. Jack immediately tried to muscle Lap to the ground, yanking his collar and pushing into him like a bulldozer. Lap, to his credit, didn’t budge.

  They hand-fought, pushing and shoving, but neither man could gain an advantage.

  “Come on, Jack!” Doug barked. “Quit playing patty-cake!”

  Jack scoffed and bulldozed Lap backwards. “Fall down, man!”

  Lap’s feet skidded back, but he didn’t break. He was bending, but not breaking. Every time Jack tried to force a takedown, Lap would shuck him off or circle away.

  “BORING!” someone in the crowd yelled.

  Jack growled. “Alright, man. You wanna do this the hard way?”

  Lap just stared blankly.

  They circled. Hand-fought. Shoved. Circled again. Two minutes felt like forever.

  The first round ended with zero points. The crowd booed.

  Jack stormed back to his corner, pissed. “Man, he’s stalling! He’s not even trying to fight me!”

  Doug wiped his face. “You’re letting him stall. Quit trying to outmuscle him and set something up.”

  Jack waved it off. “Nah, I got him. He’s gonna break.”

  Doug gritted his teeth. “You keep thinking that and you’ll gas out in the third round. Get a takedown. Now.”

  Jack just chuckled. “Watch me.”

  Round 2.

  “SCRAP!”

  Jack exploded forward, this time wrapping his massive arms around Lap and muscling him toward the edge of the mat. Lap dug his heels in, but Jack was too strong.

  “OOOOHHHHHHH!” the crowd screamed.

  Jack lifted Lap off the ground, trying to slam him down, but Lap clung to him like a leech. They both hit the ground in a tangled mess, neither securing control.

  “NO TAKEDOWN!” the ref shouted.

  “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” Jack barked.

  They reset.

  Lap was breathing heavy now. Jack could see the fatigue setting in.

  “Got you now…” Jack muttered.

  They locked up again, and this time Jack dropped low, scooped Lap’s leg, and HEAVED HIM into the air. The entire arena gasped.

  “OH MY GOD!”

  BOOM!

  Jack suplexed Lap so hard the mat shook. Lap’s head bounced off the canvas.

  “THREE POINTS — TAKEDOWN!” the ref yelled.

  “YEEEEAAAAAHHHH!!” Jack roared, flexing both arms.

  “JACK! RIDE HIM OUT!” Doug screamed. “Don’t get cocky!”

  But Jack was already posing for the crowd.

  That’s when Lap did the unthinkable. He scrambled. Before Jack could get a hook in, Lap rolled and burst to his feet. The ref immediately signaled.

  “ONE POINT — ESCAPE!”

  The crowd gasped. Lap was still alive.

  Jack turned, furious. “What the—?!”

  Lap grinned through a bloody lip. “I ain’t goin’ easy, big man.”

  “Ohhh… you messed up now,” Jack growled.

  The last thirty seconds of the round were chaos.

  Jack was furious. He kept grabbing Lap’s body, trying to suplex him again — but Lap fought like a wild animal. Every time Jack went for a throw, Lap clung to him, forcing scrambles.

  The crowd was on fire.

  “THROW HIM!”

  “GET HIM DOWN, JACK!”

  “COME ON, LAP!”

  Finally, with ten seconds left, Jack wrapped his arms around Lap’s waist. Lap locked his hands behind Jack’s thighs — they were mirror suplexing each other.

  “HE’S TRYNA LIFT JACK!” Johnny screamed.

  “No way,” Danny said. “Ain’t no way.”

  Lap heaved, trying to lift Jack’s monstrous frame. Jack laughed. “Nice try, kid.”

  Then Jack lifted him instead.

  “OH MY GOD!”

  Jack launched Lap through the air like a sack of potatoes — but the whistle blew.

  “TIME!”

  The crowd erupted.

  Jack stomped back to his corner, fuming. “Why didn’t I get points for that?! I threw him!”

  Doug was pissed. “You didn’t finish it, Jack! Stop trying to look cool and secure a finish!”

  Jack just chuckled, breathing heavy. “I’m gonna end him in the third. Just watch.”

  Doug glared. “You’re already breathing hard, man. Don’t get sloppy.”

  Jack smiled. “Nah, Coach… I’m about to put him through the floor.”

  Kent sighed. “Cocky idiot…”

  Across the mat, Lap sat hunched over, gasping for air. His coach frantically waved his hands. “Stay in it, Lap! One mistake from him and you win!”

  Lap nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

  The third round was coming.

  Jack could already taste victory.

  But Lap… wasn’t done yet.

  End of Chapter 8.