Myca vs. Bill _ Squash Job(?) RyanCarrWeber

In the week between when the challenge was made and when the match was to take place between the lightweight Myca and his chosen heavyweight opponent, several people tried to convince him that taking on someone literally twice one's weight is a generally bad idea. Myca, however, either ignored their warnings completely or responded simply that he was doing it for Bill.

"But you don't even know him!" fellow lightweight newcomer Laz insisted as they lunched together, "why put yourself in a match you can't win to give the win to a guy you don't know?"

"Oh, but I do know Bill," Myca replied, "I know him from his eyes, and his posture, and the way he regarded the guys who made the cut." Laz looked baffled and Myca continued, "His eyes are tired, and underneath their tiredness is frustration. He bears himself stiffly _ he's tense. He needs a release of tension. I know him." Lazlo shook his head and rolled his eyes, while Myca went on observing someone in the distance.

Bill, too, was lobbied with questions about the point of the match. Peter, who was in the changing area when Myca made his entrance, questioned, "why even waste your time on the kid?" Bill wasn't sure _ but he wanted this match. Bill knew he had been tense lately, had been frustrated about not making the heavyweight mini_tournament. And something about the new kid just begged to be beaten. Bill tried to push those thoughts from his mind, but they kept returning _ he really was looking forward to squashing the kid. And it seemed like the kid was looking forward to jobbing.

On the day of the match, Bill showed up a few hours early to work out some and wrestle some for fun against Peter and by the time the day's event was beginning, he'd already worked up a good sweat. Myca entered the building no more than ten minutes before their match was scheduled to begin and walked up to Bill. The generally quiet freshman just stood in front of Bill, watching him for a moment, holding his eyes. Bill was uncomfortable at first, but then it felt totally natural just to look at the kid. Myca looked away only when he turned and went to change, and left Bill, noticeably less tense, looking after him. Bill wondered to himself, now that the time had come, whether he'd be able to hurt the kid.

David made his way to ringside to watch as the announcer began the match, "This next match is a challenge, made by our smallest wrestler to one of our heavyweights, who weighs exactly twice what the challenger does. The challenger, however, insists, that he is meant to fight this match. So, standing 5'5" and weighing in at one hundred eight and a half pounds exactly, please welcome... Myca!" The lightweight walked calmly down to the ring, looking spastically from one applauding member of the audience to the other. His reception was mild, but tempered by an obvious fascination. The kid looked slightly off_balance mentally as he climbed into the ring and sat in one corner of it, quite comfortably awaiting the match. David smiled, wondering if the kid had even noticed anyone here other than the opponent by whom he seemed so fascinated.

"And the challenged wrestler, at five feet and eleven inches, and weighing in at one hundred seventeen pounds ... Bill!" Again, the reaction was lukewarm, and the crowd wondered why the heavyweight had taken this match _ was he just sadistic? Bill noticed this, and his doubts only grew about the match... yet he still couldn't get over how calming the thoughts of pinning the lightweight had proven. He entered the ring, and the lightweight met him in the corner. The ref explained, "No lowblows, no foul play. Bill, watch the high_impact moves _ nothing off the turnbuckles." Myca looked upset at that, but the ref went on, "have a clean fight, and may the best teen win."

David's smile faded as his eyes passed over the difference in the fighters' sizes. No matter how the match went, Myca was gonna get hurt, and Bill was barely gonna feel a thing. David looked at Myca, and noticed him smiling slightly at Bill, who was oblivious, watching the ref. And then the bell rang.

The ref stepped out of the way, and Bill stood transfixed as Myca stood stock_still, staring him in the eyes. What might have appeared as a staredown to those outside the ring was strange to Bill. He wondered if Myca was somehow reading him, picking up on his doubts about the match. The faintest hint of a smile played across the edges of the lightweight's mouth, and Bill thought Myca was going to change his mind. Then the kid's fist, before Bill had ven seen him move, plunged into the heavyweight's crotch and grabbed hold. The ref began protesting as Bill doubled over, leaning on the lightweight's shoulder, and Myca squeezed harder at his handful of Bill's singlet. He let go, and Bill fell to his knees, holding his groin as he bent over.

Myca walked calmly around behind his opponent, waited a moment, and kicked, hard, into Bill's left kidney, displaying both a strength and a martial arts skill not previously seen in the boy. Bill, who had fallen to the mat, was in pain, with fire radiating from his lower gut as his back also began to sting. He never guessed the kid would know how to brawl. Myca watched for a moment, smiling down at Bill, and then straddled the heavyweight's side. Bill held his crotch a moment longer, as the pain finally subsided, and he rolled onto his back, causing Myca to settle into a school_boy pin on his stomach. Myca, moving quickly, as seemed to be his sole fashion, grabbed Bill's wrists and held them to the mat above his head, leaning forward over his opponent's torso for a pin. The ref, incredulous, dropped and began the count.

By two, Bill had managed an amateur technique for avoiding pins _ he bridged out of it. Myca seemed to enjoy this greatly, a smile growing in his eyes, as he slid along Bill when the heavyweight bridged. Myca didn't seem inclined to move, either, so Bill pushed him off to the side and began to get up. As Bill got up, however, Myca also shot up and was, within seconds, on Bill's back, his legs wrapped around the heavyweight's midsection as he pulled Bill into a sleeper which was more of a choke, in reality. Bill had no trouble supporting Myca's weight as he stood up from his kneeling position. Myca was breathing heavily behind him, and holding on as tightly as he could. Bill thought for only a moment before he remembered how countless heavyweights had broken such sleepers. The urgency of being choked aided his speed as he slammed his back _ throught Myca _ into the nearest set of turnbuckles.

Myca let out a gasp of breath as Bill's weight smashed his lower back into the top turnbuckle. The hold didn't weaken, though, so again Bill hurled himself backwards into the corner. The boy's thin arms began to soften their grasp and a third smash of the boy into the turnbuckles weakened him further. A fourth and final blow caused Myca to fall to his feet behind Bill, totally lost in the corner behind the heavyweight's bulk. Myca, seeming out of breath, was breathing heavily to recover from the blows when Bill turned, now mad as hell about the low blow and quite sure he could bring himself to fight this match. He was not about to get shown up by the smallest kid in the entire league _ he lifted a thigh into Myca's midsection, doubling the kid between the ropes. David noted, with interest, that Myca's smile had not faded; to the contrary, it had broadened.

Bill grabbed a handful of Myca's hair, using it despite the ref's objection to lead the freshman to the center of the ring. Holding the kid's head in a front_face lock, Bill thrust his knee again into Myca's slight abs, causing the boy to grunt, though he stayed on his feet and continued to struggle. Another knee to Myca's abs made him lose his footing and a third ensured that he was on his knees holding his gut when Bill released the front_face lock. Bill pulled Myca back up and threw him at the ropes. Myca bounced off, and ducked the clothesline attempted by Bill, returning with a cross_body block that took the heavyweight by surprise and landed Bill on his back with Myca in a lateral press.

The ref counted one and a quarter before Myca went flying off of Bill, who got up again only to be kicked in the gut by the feisty freshman. Myca tried to DDT Bill, but the heavyweight simply didn't fall, so Myca simply held the face lock. Bill wrapped his arms around the lightweight's waist and lifted him into the air. Myca continued to hold onto his front_face lock until Bill rammed his lower back again into the top turnbuckle. Myca fell to his feet in the corner and Bill, holding the top rope for leverage, pulled himself full_body into his lightweight opponent. Myca was all but lost under Bill, and when Bill moved, the dazed boy was left leaning on the turnbuckles for support.

Bill slammed himself again into Myca's small body, and the lightweight was now breathing hard. Bill knew he probably could have pinned Myca right then, but his groin was still radiating a dull ache from Myca's crotch abuse earlier and he wanted revenge. Bill grabbed a handful of the young teen's hair and led him, panting, to the center of the ring. Bill wrapped a hand under Myca's crotch and lifted him for a slam, but held him for a moment, squeezing his arm into Myca's crotch as forcefully as he could until a gasp from the lightweight told him he'd gotten his revenge. Bill slammed Myca down accross his knee and held him briefly in a painful backbreaker before pushing the kid to the mat.

Myca rolled over and got up far more quickly than Bill expected him to, but Bill was ready nonetheless with a clothesline which took the kid right back down. Myca showed the signs of wear, but he rose again, this time to have his head put between Bill's thighs, where the heavyweight held him as he slowly increased the pressure on the boy's head. Myca's hands grasped at Bill's thighs and ass as his head was squeezed between Bill's powerful legs. Bill eventually wrapped his arms around the lightweight's gut and pulled him up for a piledriver. Myca lay sprawled on the mat, and Bill went for a pin, placing a hand on Myca's chest and the other hand on his stomach as he pressed down with less than his full weight. The ref got to two before Myca rolled out of the weak pin and started to get up.

Bill was amused by the kid's resillience and suddenly didn't feel so bad about the match _ if the kid was this resillient and/or stupid, why not let him have it? So, when Myca got to his feet and approached Bill, the heavyweight shot a heavy fist to the kid's gut, followed by a DDT. Myca's back hit the mat with a smack and Bill didn't give the kid a break. Myca was pulled to his feet and thrown into the ropes. Bill met him on the way back with a knee to his gut which made him flip to the mat. Myca held his gut, but continued to rise. Bill threw the younger teen into a corner and followed with a full_body block which further winded an already dazed Myca.Bill was amazed when he moved and Myca, the fight still in him, fired a weak fist into the older teen's gut. Bill smiled and pulled himself by the ropes into Myca once again. Still, Myca showed signs of resistance in an attempted crotch grab and by trying to push Bill away. The heavyweight saw this as a challenge _ how can I beat the fight out of this kid? Bill irish whipped Myca into the opposite corner, and the teen hit chest_first, bouncing off and to his back near the middle of the ring. Bill could tell that Myca was winded and Bill himself was feeling a bit groggy and was not quite as dry as he was when he entered. He approached Myca with an attempted elbowdrop that the kid, somehow, found the focus and will to roll away from.

Bill's elbow and side were smarting from the failed hit, though he was still more into the action than Myca, who had just gotten to sitting back on his ankles by the time Bill got to his feet. Myca looked tiredly up at Bill, a weak smile playing across the sides of his mouth and evident in his eyes. Bill grabbed the boy by the back of his neck and pulled him to his feet. Bill easily lifted the smaller teen and slammed him hard to the mat, following with an elbow drop which connected hard with Myca's gut, doubling him up. The heavyweight hooked a leg and bent Myca into a tight pin. The ref began the count. Myca was unable to kick out, but shook his head violently and when Bill looked down, the enigmatic lightweight mouthed, 'more.'

Bill was shocked, but pulled Myca's shoulders from the mat just before the ref's hand hit the canvas a third time. The ref warned Bill about going to far, and Bill tried to explain that the kid wanted more, but the ref just said to get on with it. Myca was smiling, weakly, as Bill pulled him to his feet and lifted him up onto his shoulders for a rack, with Myca's back bent harshly by Bill's muscle. The lightweight grunted a little, but made no other sound, including a submission, even as the ref begged him to give in. Bill remembered how he'd looked forward to this match... and it had, in fact, been cathartic... he really was feeling good about dominating.... maybe he'd go after that damn hw title sooner than later.

Bill dropped Myca from the torture rack, and the lightweight fell to his side, seemingly exhausted. Now Bill was beginning to feel guilty for enjoying such a squash job. He used a foot to roll Myca onto his back, and splashed down onto the lightweight. The ref wanted to count, but Bill got up and pulled the boy again to his feet. Myca, surprising Bill, shot out a hand and grabbed the heavyweight's crotch, squeezing again. Bill grunted, 'fucker!' and doubled over, releasing Myca. Myca fell to the mat from exhaustion, but before Bill had recovered from the lowblow managed to get back up and, wrapping Bill's arm around his own neck, snap the heavyweight back, causing his head to hit the canvas, hard.

Bill's elbow and side were smarting from the failed hit, though he was still more into the action than Myca, who had just gotten to sitting back on his ankles by the time Bill got to his feet. Myca looked tiredly up at Bill, a weak smile playing across the sides of his mouth and evident in his eyes. Bill grabbed the boy by the back of his neck and pulled him to his feet. Bill easily lifted the smaller teen and slammed him hard to the mat, following with an elbow drop which connected hard with Myca's gut, doubling him up. The heavyweight hooked a leg and bent Myca into a tight pin. The ref began the count. Myca was unable to kick out, but shook his head violently and when Bill looked down, the enigmatic lightweight mouthed, 'more.'

Bill was shocked, but pulled Myca's shoulders from the mat just before the ref's hand hit the canvas a third time. The ref warned Bill about going to far, and Bill tried to explain that the kid wanted more, but the ref just said to get on with it. Myca was smiling, weakly, as Bill pulled him to his feet and lifted him up onto his shoulders for a rack, with Myca's back bent harshly by Bill's muscle. The lightweight grunted a little, but made no other sound, including a submission, even as the ref begged him to give in. Bill remembered how he'd looked forward to this match... and it had, in fact, been cathartic... he really was feeling good about dominating.... maybe he'd go after that damn hw title sooner than later.

Bill dropped Myca from the torture rack, and the lightweight fell to his side, seemingly exhausted. Now Bill was beginning to feel guilty for enjoying such a squash job. He used a foot to roll Myca onto his back, and splashed down onto the lightweight. The ref wanted to count, but Bill got up and pulled the boy again to his feet. Myca, surprising Bill, shot out a hand and grabbed the heavyweight's crotch, squeezing again. Bill grunted, 'fucker!' and doubled over, releasing Myca. Myca fell to the mat from exhaustion, but before Bill had recovered from the lowblow managed to get back up and, wrapping Bill's arm around his own neck, snap the heavyweight back, causing his head to hit the canvas, hard.

Bill was so dazed by the lightweight's sudden return to action and the impact of the mat on the back of his head that he failed to avert Myca's ultimate goal: an upset pin. The crowd was incredulous as Myca sat on Bill's stomach, smiling through his fatigue and the ref raised his hand. When Bill realized what had happened, he was at first furious. He pushed Myca off him and the lightweight did not resist as Bill powerslammed him and then vertical splashed into a sitting position on the small teen's chest. Myca was obviously having trouble breathing, but yet he smiled, and Bill could only laugh at the boy beneath him. Bill soon got up, and pulled Myca to his feet.

Myca, supported more by Bill than by his own legs, returned victorious to the lockerroom. David followed. Glancing only briefly at Bill, David addressed Myca, who was sitting on a bench, "man, kid, you're tough. What's your story?" In a tired, small and almost alien voice, Myca responded: "You've been watching me for some time now, David. Fight me next week and an eyeful will be yours." David wasn't sure what he was doing, what he had expected from approaching Myca. "Sure," he replied, "if I can also see you during the week."

David felt dumb asking such a cryptic request with Bill still there, and was relieved when Bill left. Something about Myca, though, just drew David's attention _ was getting everyone's attention. He had just jobbed but won. Everything about the boy was strange and fascinating and David wanted to be a part of the Enigma. Myca agreed. They would hang out the next day, on Sunday. And the next week, they would fight.