The crowd was still buzzing from Danny’s shocking loss, but now the focus was shifting. It was time for Team Juice’s next match — Nod “Fancy” Jackson versus Ben “Ult Boy” Dire.
Nod sat relaxed in his chair, headphones in, bobbing his head slightly to the music. His expression never changed, casual and loose like he was about to play a game of pick-up basketball instead of entering a high-stakes match on ESPN. Across from him, Ben Dire paced back and forth, all nervous energy and tension.
“Yo, Fancy,” Coach Doug called out. Nod slid his headphones off. “You ready?”
“Always.” Nod smirked.
“Don’t get lazy,” Coach warned, his tone serious. “This kid’s ranked 200, but he’s got heart. Don’t let him stick around.”
Nod just laughed, standing up and bouncing on his toes. “Man, I’m about to put on a show.”
Johnny leaned over to Kent. “Nod’s got this easy, right?”
Kent didn’t answer immediately. He watched Nod closely. “Yeah… but he gets too cocky sometimes. If he messes around too much…”
“He won’t,” Johnny said, more hoping than knowing.
The announcer’s voice echoed across the arena.
“In the 200-pound weight class! Representing Team Juice… NOD ‘FANCY’ JACKSON!”
The crowd roared as Nod strutted out, nodding his head to the music that was no longer playing. He didn’t acknowledge the crowd, didn’t even look at Ben — just walked to the mat like he was stepping onto a runway.
Moments later, Ben came out. He was shorter, stockier, and looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ranked 200 was practically a death sentence against someone like Nod, but Ben’s face showed nothing but determination.
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The two stepped onto the mat, bumped fists, and the ref called: “SCRAP!”
Ben shot immediately.
A lightning-fast double leg. Most people would’ve been caught off guard — not Nod. In one fluid motion, Nod jumped over Ben’s diving body and landed behind him. The crowd gasped as Nod immediately wrapped his arms around Ben’s waist and slammed him to the mat.
“TAKEDOWN! THREE POINTS JACKSON!”
3-0.
The crowd was already losing it.
Johnny’s jaw dropped. “Did he just… jump over him?”
Kent smirked. “That’s why they call him Fancy.”
Nod didn’t even look fazed. He transitioned straight to back control and was fishing for a choke, but Ben squirmed like his life depended on it. Ben’s hand shot to Nod’s wrist, peeled it off his neck, and spun around — nearly escaping.
But Nod was too slick. He re-hooked his legs, yanked Ben back, and sunk in a deeper rear-naked choke.
The crowd started screaming, smelling a finish. Ben’s face turned red, his eyes wide. His hand was raised slightly — but he didn’t tap.
Seconds dragged. Ben finally peeled Nod’s arm off his neck again and spun into his guard. The ref signaled:
“NEAR SUBMISSION! THREE POINTS JACKSON!”
6-0.
Ben gasped for air, but Nod just grinned. “Close, huh?” he whispered.
Ben’s face twisted in frustration. He lunged forward, trying to pressure Nod. Nod let him — spinning under and taking his back again. This time, he didn’t even go for the choke — he just dragged Ben face-down, flattened him out, and smiled for the cameras.
Johnny shook his head in disbelief. “He’s clowning him.”
“Too much,” Kent muttered. “Doug’s not gonna like this.”
Ben exploded — again — managing to slip Nod’s hooks and spin around to face him. But just as quickly as he escaped, Nod rolled backwards, floated behind him, and slammed him down again.
“TAKEDOWN! THREE POINTS JACKSON!”
9-0.
The crowd was eating it up, but Coach Doug looked stone-faced. “Finish him, Nod,” he muttered under his breath.
Ben was visibly frustrated now. His face was red, his breathing heavy. Nod, meanwhile, was grinning like he was on vacation.
Ben snapped. He exploded to his feet, twisting his hips and finally reversed Nod’s position — gaining control on top. The crowd roared for Ben.
“REVERSAL! TWO POINTS DIRE!”
12-2.
Nod didn’t look worried. In fact, he barely moved. “Okay,” he chuckled. “You got a little something.”
Ben didn’t respond — he was too focused. He sprawled heavy on Nod, grabbed his head and arm, and cranked a three-quarter nelson. Nod’s body tilted, his back almost touching the mat.
The crowd exploded.
“NEAR PIN! FOUR POINTS DIRE!”
12-6.
Nod’s face was still relaxed — but Kent and Doug weren’t.
“Get the hell outta there, Fancy!” Doug roared.
Johnny’s heart started pounding. Don’t blow this, man.
Nod finally bridged, spun out of the nelson, and got to his feet just as the round ended. The ref blew the whistle.
“END OF ROUND ONE!”
Nod casually walked back to his corner like nothing happened. Ben, meanwhile, stumbled to his feet, drenched in sweat and gasping for air — but the crowd was starting to believe he had a chance.
Doug grabbed Nod by the shoulders the second he sat down. “Stop playing with him! You’re letting him back in the match!”
Nod just laughed, still unbothered. “He can’t finish me.”
“Fancy, I swear to God,” Doug warned, his voice deadly serious. “You’re up 12-6. But if you keep clowning around, you will get caught.”
Nod didn’t answer — he just smiled.
Johnny, watching from the corner, felt his stomach twist. Don’t mess this up, Nod.
The second round was about to start.
And it was starting to feel like trouble.
End of Chapter 6.
