Frank vs. Chaz -- Part 1 RyanCarrWeber

Frank had just woken up from the nap he began after his surprise victory despite the Heavyweight Heels' doubleteaming. He ached all over, but most of all, an hour later, his abs still felt like they'd just been rearranged with a spoon. His chest was sore from the splash delivered by Ryan, and he did not feel up to the match he knew he was now scheduled for against his brother, Chaz. Chaz offered to let it wait, but the disappointment was evident in his voice, and Frank couldn't bring himself to postpone their match.

On his way to the ring, when he was announced as being 14 years old, 5'7" and 127 pounds, Chaz passed the heels, fuming over their win but seemingly pleased about something. Ryan sniggered and whispered, "beat him good enough for you?" Chaz smirked and mouthed, "almost." Ryan's snicker grew into a smile and he got up and went back to the changing area while Chaz made his way the rest of the way to the ring. Ryan found Frank just as he was getting up. Frank saw it coming, but didn't block the clothesline that laid him out on the matted floor. Nor did he dodge the huge splash that left him winded and aching all over again, after which Ryan, laughing, returned to his cronies.

Chaz looked oh-so-concerned when, after Frank was announced as being 17, 5'10" tall and 178 pounds, he didn't come down to the ring. Only two minutes later did Frank, one arm accross his chest, walk to the ring and climb in. Chaz offered again, "are you sure about this?" Frank, this time, whispered "no" to his brother, to which Chaz replied, "tough" and slammed a fist into Frank's aching gut just as the bell rang to start the match. Frank doubled over, finally realizing what had happened - that his brother had enticed him into the match with Kale so he'd be easier to beat now and Chaz could get the jacket.... and Frank was not about to let that happen.

Chaz whipped his brother into the ropes and Frank was met with a hard fist to the abs as he rebounded. He flipped right over the blow, and landed hard on his also-sore back. Chaz followed up with an elbow to the chest, and then hooked a leg for an early pin, from which Frank easily escaped. The lightweight pulled Frank up again and threw him at the ropes. Frank ducked an attempted clothesline and returned with one of his own, surprising Chaz. The audience was livid.... Frank should have been exhausted. He pulled his brother up and irish whipped him into a corner. Frank went for a follow-up, but took too long and slammed his upper arm into the top turnbuckle as Chaz moved.

The younger boy left Frank in the corner and draped his arms over the rope. Frank's eyes flickered panic as Chaz drew back and slammed a fist into his gut. Frank's whole body jerked around the punch, and relaxed right into the knee-lift that followed. Chaz hooked Frank's head under his arm and suplexed the muscleboy to the center of the ring. Chaz bounced off the ropes with an elbow that connected only with mat. Frank wasn't able to get up in the short time Chaz gave him, but he was ready with his own gutpunch when the softer, younger teen approached. Chaz gasped as his muscular brother's fist sank into his belly, and drew back only to get pulled by the front of his trunks into another gutpunch.

Now Frank did stand up, and tucked the lightweight's head between his muscular thighs, locking them around Chaz's head to buy some time with a standing headscissors. Chaz tried, fruitlessly, to push out of the grip of his brothers' powerful legs, digging his small fingers into the middleweight's muscular thighs. Frank leaned over, relaxedly draping his body over his brother's back, and wrapped his arms around Chaz's waist, locking the lightweight in the grip. Chaz tried to drop to his knees, but Frank managed to hold him up, suspended momentarily, and then pull him upside-down. The middleweight held his brother only a moment before sitting into a piledriver which left Chaz dazed, face-down between his equally tired brother's legs.

Frank got to his feet, and launched himself into the ropes, bouncing off with an elbow to his brother's lower back. Chaz arched up, turning to his side, and Frank, still fuming over the set-up, kicked hard into his younger brother's thin gut. Chaz snapped from being arched back to curled into the fetal position, groaning from the kick to his gut. Frank felt a flash of pity for his brother, but then remembered the beating earlier which had caused his present state of exhaustion. Discreetly rearranging the stuff in his speedo, he bent over and pulled Chaz to his feet. The younger boy was still emitting a slow, steady moan. Chaz whipped him into the corner, and found out the hard way that Chaz had been feigning the pain as he dodged out ot the way, falling to his hands and knees on the mat while Frank's back slammed into the turnbuckles.

The muscleboy turned around, and when his brother came charging, met him with a kick to the chest that sent Chaz half-way accross the ring. The lightweight was up quickly, though, and they circled the center of the ring, back to scratch. Both boys, the one a mature, well-muscled teen, and the other a scrappy, still-soft boy, were glistening from the work they'd already put into each others' defeat. Rarely did they ever get told they looked like brothers (due to Chaz's having been adopted), but the look in each teen's eyes as the two of them circled was the same, and it changed from the determination of anger to the adversarialism of opponents, to the love-hate of sibling rivalry. Each adjusted his clothes, Frank pulling his speedo back into position, and Chaz straigtening out his shorts, as if in silent confirmation of the change of attitude.

The brothers locked up, and Frank powered Chaz back into a corner, arching the shorter teen back till thier chests pressed against each other, Chaz's in defiance of Frank's dominance. The ref called for a break, which Frank gave, turning and walking to the center of the ring. He immediately regretted turning his back on his crafty younger brother, as Chaz shot out of the corner and, with a drop-toe hold, got Frank onto the mat and into a taxing armbar. Frank groaned as Chaz dug his knee into the small of his back while stretching the middleweight's arm far behind his back. After a moment, Frank managed to roll out of it.

Chaz was up quickly, and stomping Frank's abs as he tried to roll away. Finally, the older teen rolled right into his younger brother's legs, tripping Chaz and continuing on to the outside of the ring. Frank regrouped only a second before Chaz shot beneath the bottom rope, plowing his feet into Frank's aching gut before rolling his muscle-bound middleweight brother back into the ring. Frank was leaning back on his elbows when Chaz approached, and he doubled his younger brother over with a kick to the lower gut. Chaz fell forward onto Frank, who rolled Chaz into a lateral press. The lightweight kicked out, and Frank got up. When Chaz rose, the champ whipped him into the ropes and met his return with a knee to the gut that sent Chaz careening to the mat.

Frank, a new burst of adrenaline pushing him on through his fatigue, followed up with a hard full-weight blow to the gut that further aggravated Chaz's abdomen. "Let him feel what I'm feeling," Frank thought, and lifted his brother up off the mat, and then up further into a wicked gut-buster which smashed Chaz's thin stomach accross his big brother's knee. Frank pushed Chaz off, and hooked a leg for a pin which Chaz kicked out of at two and a half. The middleweight got up, and took one of Chaz's ankles in each hand. He had beaten his brother with his hold once before, and now he was gonna do it again - he turned Chaz over into a tight Boston Crab.Chaz wailed in pain as Frank leaned further and further back, his weight pressing the lightweight down into the mat and bending him over himself as Frank's frame inched closer to Chaz's upper back. The stillness of the hold caused both wrestlers' exertions to catch up with them, and sheer layer of sweat coated both, causing Frank's muscles and Chaz's softer, younger skin to glisten as they intertwined in the hold. Chaz took some relief in the stretching of his abs after the blows they'd taken just moments before, and thanked himself for the work he'd done since his first match against Frank six months ago. This crab would not caus his submission. Chaz, resolving to escape, scraped his way under his brother until Frank lost his balance, and fell onto Chaz's back. Frank tried to get up, but Chaz rolled over under him and maneuvered him into a small package, which Frank, in turn, kicked out of.

Frank was up first and met Chaz with an irish whip into the turnbuckles. He followed up with a shoulder-block to Chaz's chest, and another whip into the oppposite corners. This time, Chaz was ready and lifted a foot which sank deep into Frank's aching gut. The muscleboy doubled over, falling to his knees on the mat, clutching his abs. Chaz took a moment's breather, and then walked around behind his brother and kicked up between his legs into Frank's ample crotch. Frank groaned as his groin was crushed, and rolled to his side, the pain in his abs suddenly forgotten about. The ref warned Chaz that that was uncalled for, and the crowd in attendance boo'd, but Chaz knew he had it now. His brother never had been able to take lowblows, while Chaz and his friends prided themselves on being ballbusters.

Chaz pulled Frank from his fetal position and slammed him to the mat. Climbing to the top rope, Chaz leapt with an elbow that further demolished Frank's abs. Chaz tried a pin, but the muscleboy was still fighting, so the lightweight pulled his brother up to face him. "This one's mine, bro," Chaz said, smirking, as he whipped his brother into the ropes. Frank ducked the clothesline attempt and returned with one of his own, and when Chaz stood back up, he was maneuvered into Frank's torture rack. Chaz didn't know what had suddenly gone so wrong. He was stretched, and bounced on his brother's strong shoulders, his torso torqued by Frank's strength. Chaz knew he couldn't take it anymore. He reached down, not sure where he was reaching until.... he found it, and raked Frank accross the eyes.

Frank dropped Chaz to the mat, and the lightweight rolled to a corner while the champ rubbed his eyes. When Frank turned towards Chaz, the lightweight speared him to the mat, driving his shoulder into Frank's abs. Chaz pulled Frank up again, moving quickly to avoid reversal, and picked Frank up as if for a suplex. Chaz held his brother up for thirty seconds, and then fell forward, smacking Frank's front-side upon the mat. Frank rolled over, doubled again, and Chaz knew then what submission hold to finish the match with. Kneeling beside his brother, Chaz buried his fingers in Frank's gut, squeezing and stretching the muscle until he had a hold on it. Frank was too weak at this point, and Chaz found the softspot he was looking for and cinched in the abdominal claw. Frank was at his mercy.

The champion did not want to lose this way, not because of an earlier mistake, and not to his lightweight brother. Frank had been a tough guy, but now felt like the biggest poof in the league. As Chaz's fingers insinuated their way between the fibres of Frank's six-pack, the middlweight felt the panic of unbearable pain rising. He looked at his brother, at the determination on his face, at Chaz's soft features contorted into an expression of pained determination, and he knew this match was lost. Holding out a minute longer just to prove to himself that he could, Frank submitted by tapping the mat.

Chaz released the hold immediately, and got up to claim his victory. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the first cross-class middlweight champion, weighin in at only 127 pounds, CHAZ!!!" The ref raised Chaz's arms, and the crowd grudgingly applauded him for the well- and hard-fought match. Chaz helped his brother to his feet.

"Good match, Frank."

"Same to you, punk... maybe next time, you can do it without help?"

"Maybe." Chaz smiled broadly as the ref handed him the jacket, and Frank helped him put it on.

Frank smiled, glad that, if he had to lose the belt, it was to his brother. "Man, Chaz, now you're gonna have my whole weight class gunning for you."And, indeed, before Chaz had even left the building, Kevin approached him, Martin in tow. "Chaz. After our match in a few days, you're facing Martin. After his win tonight, he's next in line for that belt, got it?"

Chaz smirked. "Sure, whatever, Chaz. If Marty here wants a piece, he can get it in two weeks. I need to get used to the cotton, y'know."

Chaz looked sourly at Chaz, and then left. Chaz's veneer dropped as the two left, and he suddenly realized what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.... what IF he beat Martin? who would be next? Daryl?! Oh, Shit! He quickly began thinking about the idea of losing it back to his brother, knowing that now he'd at least have to face Martin before that became a possibility. His overall thoughts: "Yay.... oh, shit."