CHAPTER 1

**Wrestlorama: New World**

### Chapter One, Part One: *Forging Bonds*

The sun hung lazily over Wrestlorama City, bathing the neighborhood park in a warm, golden hue. The hum of life surrounded them—kids playing tag, couples strolling, the distant rumble of traffic—but in the small, cracked concrete arena of the park, Theo Vera and Tito Caraballo were in their own world. The park’s rusty playground equipment, old jungle gym, and worn-out benches had become a makeshift training ground, transformed by Tito’s creative vision into something extraordinary.

Tito—energetic and always brimming with ideas—had convinced Theo that training here would give them an edge. Tito saw possibilities where others saw obstacles, and to Theo, that was the mark of someone who could make a champion. The golden afternoon light caught Tito's gold-rimmed glasses as he turned to Theo, a clipboard in hand and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Alright, Theo,” Tito said, his eyes gleaming with excitement, “today, we’re taking fundamentals to a whole new level. You think you’re ready?”

Theo, with his ever-stoic demeanor, simply nodded. He was ready. He had been ready since the moment he woke up in this strange new world. But even beneath that calm facade, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Tito had a way of making everything—even the basics—feel like an adventure.

“Great,” Tito said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s start with footwork. That jungle gym? Think of it like an obstacle course, but instead of just getting across, I want you to move like you’re in a ring. Imagine dodging an opponent’s attacks, sidestepping, weaving—you know the drill.”

Theo eyed the jungle gym, its bars rusted and creaking slightly in the wind. He imagined an opponent in front of him, a hulking figure trying to grab hold. He moved in, side-stepping the invisible opponent’s lunge, his body light and quick. He pivoted, gripping a bar, using it to swing his body around as if countering a grapple. Tito watched, nodding approvingly.

“That’s it, Theo!” Tito shouted, his voice carrying across the park. “Use your instincts. Make every movement count. Remember, it’s all about efficiency. The best fighters know how to waste nothing.”

Theo moved fluidly through the course, his feet light on the cracked concrete, his body moving with purpose. Tito’s words echoed in his ears—“Efficiency, instincts, precision.” The fundamentals were what mattered most. No fancy moves, no unnecessary flash. Just clean, effective technique. And Tito, despite his playful demeanor, knew that better than anyone.

After a while, Tito led Theo over to a bench. “Alright, time for some strength work. You’re gonna lift this bench. Not just lift it—you’re gonna hold it, overhead. Stability, Theo. A wrestler has to be strong, but they’ve also got to be *stable*. You ready?”

Theo looked at the old, worn bench, its paint peeling away. He nodded again, crouching down and gripping the edges. With a steady breath, he lifted, muscles tensing, the weight shifting as he brought the bench above his head. Tito watched closely, making sure Theo’s stance was solid, that his balance was perfect.

“Hold it there! Tighten your core. Remember, in the ring, if you lose your balance for even a second, it could be over,” Tito barked, his voice filled with enthusiasm. Theo held the bench steady, sweat beading on his forehead, but there was no hesitation. Every part of him was focused—on his balance, on his strength, on Tito’s words.

After a few moments, Tito nodded, allowing Theo to set the bench down gently. “Nice work, man. You’ve got the strength—now we just gotta sharpen it.” Tito's grin widened. “Next, we’re gonna work on agility. See those swings?” He gestured towards the swing set, the chains rusted, the seats dangling. “You’re gonna dodge ‘em. I’ll set them swinging, and you’ve got to avoid ‘em. Imagine they’re your opponent’s fists, or a kick comin’ your way.”

Theo nodded once more, his lips curling into a slight smile. Tito's enthusiasm was infectious. The two of them walked over to the swings, Tito taking one and pulling it back, setting it swinging. He grabbed another and did the same, then stepped back, nodding at Theo.

Theo stepped into the path of the swings, his eyes narrowing as he focused. The swings moved towards him, and Theo ducked under one, sidestepping the other. He moved with precision, his body reacting instinctively. Tito cheered him on, clapping his hands as Theo weaved through the swinging seats, his movements controlled and deliberate.

“You’re a natural, Theo!” Tito shouted, a proud smile on his face. “See, this is why I know we’re gonna be the best. You’ve got the instincts, the drive, and I’ve got the brains to make it happen. We’re gonna take Wrestlorama by storm, you and me.”

Theo paused for a moment, catching his breath, his eyes meeting Tito’s. There was something in Tito’s voice—a sincerity that made Theo realize just how serious Tito was about all of this. He wasn’t just talking big. He truly believed in Theo, in their potential as a team.

“You really think we can do it?” Theo asked, his voice quiet but filled with curiosity.

Tito nodded, his grin unwavering. “Absolutely. You want to be the best wrestler in the world, right? And I want to be the best manager. Together, there’s nothing we can’t do. I’ve got plans, Theo. Big plans. And you’re gonna be the guy who makes ‘em a reality.”

Theo stared at Tito for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Tito wasn’t just talking about matches or victories—he was talking about dreams, about ambition. About forging something that would go down in history.

A smile spread across Theo’s face—small, but genuine. “Alright, Tito. Let’s do it. Let’s be the best.”

Tito’s grin widened even more, and he threw an arm around Theo’s shoulders. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! You and me, Theo—we’re gonna shake Wrestlorama to its core. Just you wait.”

The two of them continued training, running through drills that were both unconventional and effective, using the playground equipment and whatever they could find. Tito’s creativity seemed boundless, and Theo found himself enjoying the challenges, the camaraderie. It wasn’t just training—it was the beginning of something more. A partnership. A friendship.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Tito and Theo finally paused, catching their breath. The park was quieter now, the sound of children laughing fading as families headed home for dinner.

“You know,” Tito said, looking out at the horizon, “we’re gonna have to work harder than anyone else. There’s gonna be people who doubt us, people who don’t think we belong. But we’re gonna prove ‘em wrong. We’re gonna rise to the top, no matter what it takes.”

Theo nodded, his eyes focused, determination burning within him. “Yeah. We will.”

Tito grinned, slapping Theo on the back. “That’s the spirit! Alright, let’s call it a day. We’ve got a lot more work ahead of us, but we’re just getting started.”

Theo smiled, a sense of purpose filling him. He had found a partner in Tito, someone who shared his dreams, his drive. They were different in many ways—Theo, stoic and reserved; Tito, loud and full of energy—but together, they were stronger. And in this new world, with a second chance at life, Theo was ready to give it everything he had.

Together, they would rise.

And Wrestlorama would never be the same.

### Chapter One, Part Two: *The First Challenge*

The familiar clang of weights, the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the mats, and the chatter of determined athletes filled the local recreation center. The building, though old, was a sacred place to the neighborhood—a community hub where dreams were forged and young talent was born. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, catching dust motes that floated lazily above the wrestling rings and training equipment. The space was alive with energy, the kind that fed the souls of the hopefuls who came to train, improve, and find a piece of glory.

Theo Vera and Tito Caraballo were in the corner of the training facility, a makeshift setup comprised of an old ring, weights, and a few punching bags that had seen better days. Tito stood on the apron, clipboard in hand, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he watched Theo working through yet another set of wrestling drills. Tito had insisted that they come here every day since their training in the park, especially now that the academy loomed on the horizon, just three days away.

Theo moved across the mat, his footsteps light, his body flowing from one maneuver to the next. Snap suplex, roll through, a quick spin up to his feet—then repeat. Over and over again, sweat dripping from his brow, muscles straining, as Tito's voice called out commands.

"Alright, Theo, remember—the academy isn't just about strength or speed. It's about precision. It's about doing the basics until they become second nature." Tito watched, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. "You have to be ready for anything. And that means making sure there's no weakness in your foundation. Fundamentals are everything."

Theo nodded, his eyes focused, his breath steady. He could feel the power in his movements, the growing sense of control as he repeated the techniques Tito had drilled into him. He trusted Tito's instincts—his friend had a keen eye for strategy, and a knack for turning even the simplest exercises into lessons that carried weight beyond just the physical.

"Three days, man," Tito said, his voice growing more serious. "Three days until Wrestlorama Academy. We have to be ready, Theo. There’s going to be competition—the kind you’ve never faced before. Guys who’ve been training their whole lives for this. You need to be the best version of yourself, every single day."

Theo paused for a moment, catching his breath. "I know, Tito. I’ll be ready." He wiped sweat from his forehead and gave Tito a reassuring nod.

Tito grinned, his eyes full of determination. "I know you will be. Because we’re not just going to make it, Theo—we’re going to take over. We’re going to make them remember our names."

Suddenly, the familiar clatter of the training facility was interrupted by a loud, arrogant laugh. Tito's head snapped towards the source of the commotion, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. Theo followed his gaze to one of the other wrestling rings in the center of the room.

A small crowd had gathered there, and at the center of it all was an unmistakable figure—Brick Brawler. Even without Tito pointing it out, Theo could tell who he was. Brick had a presence that was hard to ignore—tall, broad, and built like a bulldozer. His sneer could be seen from across the room as he pushed around some of the younger kids, shoving them into the ropes and laughing as they stumbled.

"That guy…" Tito muttered, his voice filled with disdain. "Brick Brawler. He’s the school bully—and the neighborhood one, too. Sophomore at the academy. Thinks he’s untouchable just because he’s bigger than everyone else."

Theo watched Brick closely, his eyes narrowing as the bully laughed again, pulling a smaller kid into a rough headlock and then tossing him aside like a ragdoll. There was nothing strategic or skillful about it—just brute force and intimidation. The sight of it made Theo's blood boil. It wasn't just that Brick was bullying the younger kids—it was the way he treated the ring, the way he treated wrestling itself, as if it were just a means to throw his weight around and prove he was stronger.

"It’s not right," Theo said, his voice quiet but filled with conviction.

Tito nodded, his jaw tight. "No, it’s not. And that’s exactly the kind of guy you’re gonna have to face at the academy. The ones who use their size to push others around. The ones who think they’re better just because they can hit harder."

Theo's eyes stayed fixed on Brick. This was the kind of opponent he knew he would face—someone who relied on brute strength without respecting the art of wrestling. It wasn’t just about being strong. It was about being smart, being efficient, using every bit of skill you had to overcome whatever stood in your way.

Tito must have seen the look in Theo's eyes, because he grinned, a spark of mischief lighting up his face. He nudged Theo with his elbow. "You know, this might be the perfect chance. You wanna prove yourself? You wanna show me that you’re ready for the academy? Stand up to him. Let’s show Brick Brawler what real wrestling is about."

Theo glanced at Tito, then back at Brick. A challenge. It was a chance to put everything Tito had taught him into practice—a chance to show not only Brick, but himself, what he was capable of.

"Think about it," Tito said, leaning in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We’ve been talking about fundamentals, right? Well, there’s nothing more fundamental than standing up to a bully. You want to be the best? You have to show people like him that they can’t push others around."

Theo felt his pulse quicken. This was it—an opportunity to prove himself, to take the first step towards becoming the wrestler he wanted to be. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. Tito was right. If he wanted to be the best, he couldn’t let someone like Brick go unchecked.

Tito's grin widened. "Alright, then. Let’s do this. Here’s the plan—keep it simple. Brick’s big, but he’s slow. He’s gonna try to use his strength to overpower you, but that’s where you’ve got the advantage. You’re faster, and you’ve got better technique. Stay light on your feet, keep moving, and don’t let him grab hold of you."

Theo nodded, listening intently as Tito spoke. The plan was clear—use Brick’s size against him, keep moving, and wait for an opening. It was exactly what Tito had been drilling into him during their training sessions: precision, efficiency, control.

Tito slapped Theo on the back, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Let’s give him a taste of what’s coming at the academy. Show him what real wrestling looks like."

With Tito’s words echoing in his mind, Theo took a deep breath and stepped forward, his eyes locked on Brick. The crowd around the ring parted slightly as Theo approached, their eyes widening as they realized what was happening. Brick, still shoving one of the younger kids, glanced up, his sneer widening when he saw Theo.

"Well, well," Brick said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "What’s this? You wanna take a shot, new kid? You think you’re tough enough to step in the ring with me?"

Theo didn’t flinch. He climbed up onto the apron, his eyes never leaving Brick's. "I’m not here to take shots. I’m here to wrestle. You think you’re tough? Let’s find out."

The crowd around the ring erupted in murmurs, a mix of excitement and disbelief. Brick's sneer faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of surprise. Then he laughed, a loud, mocking sound that echoed through the training facility.

"You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that," Brick said, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward. "But guts aren’t gonna save you when I slam you through this mat."

Theo stepped into the ring, his eyes focused, his body relaxed but ready. Tito stood on the outside, his clipboard in hand, his eyes locked on Theo, a confident smile on his face.

"You’ve got this, Theo," Tito called out, his voice steady. "Just remember the basics. Stay light, stay focused. He’s gonna try to intimidate you, but you’re better than that. You’re better than him."

Brick flexed his muscles, his smirk widening as he looked Theo up and down. "I’m gonna enjoy this," he said, his voice low and threatening.

Theo didn’t respond. He took a deep breath, centering himself, his eyes never leaving Brick's. This was it—his first real test. A chance to prove himself, to show Tito, Brick, and everyone else watching what he was capable of. He wasn’t just some kid stepping into the ring. He was Theo Vera—a wrestler with a purpose, a fighter with something to prove.

The referee—a local trainer who had stepped up to oversee the match—raised his hand, signaling for both wrestlers to get ready. The crowd around the ring grew quiet, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

Theo settled into his stance, his eyes locked on Brick, his heart steady. This was his moment.

And he wasn’t going to back down.

—---

The bell rang, and the match began.

**Chapter One, Part Three: *The Sparring Match Begins***

The energy in the rec center seemed to shift as Brick Brawler stepped into the ring, his heavy boots thudding against the mat. Across from him, Theo Vera stood, his stance steady, focused. Tito Caraballo, standing by the ropes, had his clipboard in hand, his eyes locked on Theo. Around the ring, younger kids gathered, an excited buzz filling the air as they watched the unexpected match unfold. Two of the neighborhood kids, their faces flushed with excitement, were standing on a couple of benches, ready to become the match's impromptu commentators.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” one of the boys shouted, his voice cracking slightly but full of enthusiasm, “we got ourselves an unexpected match today! In one corner, we have Brick Brawler, the big, bad bully of Wrestlorama City!”

“And in the other corner,” his friend picked up, pointing at Theo, “we got Theo Vera, the newcomer! Let’s see if he can stand up to the bully or if he’s gonna get smashed!”

The makeshift referee, an older teenager who worked at the rec center, stepped forward, raising his arms to silence the crowd. “Alright, guys, this is a basic singles match. Standard rules. No low blows, no biting, and no dirty tricks. Keep it clean, and may the best wrestler win.” He looked between Brick and Theo, his expression serious. “You both ready?”

Brick cracked his knuckles, a smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, I’m more than ready. Let’s see if the new kid’s got anything worth my time.”

Theo simply nodded, his eyes focused, his breathing calm. He could hear Tito’s voice from the side, steady and confident.

“Play defense, Theo. Learn his moves, find his rhythm. Don’t rush it. Let him make the mistakes.”

The referee stepped back, glancing at both wrestlers before raising his arm. “Alright then… Let’s do this!” He brought his hand down, signaling the start of the match.

The bell rang, and the sound echoed through the rec center, the crowd of kids cheering as the action began. Brick wasted no time, charging at Theo with his usual brute force, his shoulders hunched and his eyes locked on his target. Theo remained steady, his stance loose but ready, just like Tito had instructed. He sidestepped at the last second, narrowly avoiding Brick’s attempt to grab him, the bigger boy stumbling forward slightly, his momentum unchecked.

“First dodge by Theo!” one of the impromptu commentators shouted, his voice filled with excitement. “Looks like Brick’s gonna have to work harder than that!”

Brick turned quickly, his face flushed with annoyance. He lunged again, throwing a wild punch, but Theo ducked under it, moving gracefully around him, his eyes carefully watching Brick’s movements. Tito shouted instructions from the side, his voice clear despite the noise of the crowd.

“Stay light, Theo! Watch his feet! He’s all power, no finesse!”

Brick growled, swinging his arm in a wide lariat, aiming to take Theo down in one powerful strike. But Theo ducked again, his movements fluid, his eyes focused on every twitch of Brick’s muscles. He could see the way Brick telegraphed his moves, the way his body tensed before every attack. He was powerful, yes, but predictable. And that was something Theo could use.

“Brick’s getting frustrated!” the second commentator shouted, laughing. “He can’t get a hold of Theo!”

Brick’s face twisted in anger, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Theo. “Quit running, you coward!” he shouted, his voice filled with frustration. He charged again, this time trying to corner Theo against the ropes. Theo backed up, his eyes darting to the side, calculating his next move. At the last moment, he grabbed the top rope and used it to vault himself over Brick, landing lightly behind him as Brick crashed chest-first into the corner.

The crowd of kids erupted in cheers, their excitement palpable. Tito grinned, nodding approvingly. “That’s it, Theo! Keep him guessing. Make him come to you.”

Brick turned, his chest heaving, his face red with fury. He rushed at Theo again, this time feinting a punch before attempting to grab Theo around the waist. But Theo was ready. He twisted his body, slipping out of Brick’s grasp and countering with a quick forearm to Brick’s back, the impact sending a shock through Brick’s body.

“First hit by Theo!” one of the commentators shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. “Looks like the new kid’s not just running anymore!”

Brick stumbled forward, more out of surprise than pain, and turned, his eyes blazing. He charged again, throwing a series of heavy punches, each one aimed at taking Theo’s head off. Theo dodged and weaved, his movements precise, his eyes never leaving Brick’s. He could feel the energy in the room, the way the crowd was hanging on every movement, every dodge, every strike.

Brick managed to clip Theo with a glancing blow to the shoulder, the impact making Theo stumble slightly. Brick grinned, seeing an opening, and lunged forward, grabbing Theo around the waist and lifting him off the ground. The crowd gasped as Brick slammed Theo down onto the mat, the force of the impact echoing through the room.

“Ooh, that’s gotta hurt!” one of the commentators shouted, wincing. “Brick finally got a hold of him!”

Theo grimaced, the pain radiating through his back, but he didn’t let it slow him down. He rolled quickly, slipping out of Brick’s grasp before the bigger boy could capitalize on the slam. He got to his feet, his stance steady, his eyes locked on Brick, who was already coming at him again.

Brick swung wildly, his frustration evident in every move. Theo ducked under a punch, driving his shoulder into Brick’s midsection, using his opponent’s momentum against him to push him back. Brick staggered, his eyes wide with surprise, and Theo followed up with a quick snap suplex, using every bit of strength he had to lift the larger boy off his feet and slam him down onto the mat.

The crowd erupted in cheers, the kids jumping up and down with excitement. Tito clapped his hands, his grin wide. “That’s it, Theo! Show him what you’re made of!”

Brick groaned, pushing himself up, his face a mask of fury. He got to his feet, his eyes locked on Theo, and for a moment, the two stood there, facing each other, the tension in the room palpable. Theo could feel his heart pounding, his muscles aching from the effort, but he wasn’t backing down. Not now. Not ever.

Brick charged again, this time more controlled, his eyes focused, his movements more calculated. He wasn’t just relying on brute force anymore—he was learning, adapting. Theo could see it in the way Brick moved, the way he watched Theo, waiting for an opening. This wasn’t just a brawl anymore. It was a test of skill, of strategy, of who could outthink the other.

Theo moved carefully, his eyes never leaving Brick’s. He could hear Tito’s voice, steady and calm, guiding him. “Watch him, Theo. He’s changing it up. Stay focused. Look for your moment.”

Brick threw a feint, then followed up with a powerful lariat, his arm swinging towards Theo with enough force to knock him off his feet. Theo ducked, the wind from Brick’s swing brushing past his hair, and countered with a low sweep kick, taking Brick’s legs out from under him. Brick crashed to the mat, the impact shaking the ring, and Theo was on him in an instant, locking in a headlock, trying to wear him down.

Brick struggled, his muscles straining as he tried to break free. He managed to get a hand under Theo’s arm, pushing him off, and both wrestlers rolled to their feet, their eyes locked, their breaths coming in heavy gasps. The crowd was on edge, the air thick with anticipation.

“This is intense, folks!” one of the commentators shouted, his voice filled with awe. “Neither of these guys is backing down!”

Brick and Theo circled each other, the makeshift crowd cheering, the energy in the room electric. Brick wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Theo. Theo could see the determination in Brick’s eyes, the refusal to back down, and he felt a surge of respect for his opponent. Brick might have been a bully, but he was a fighter. And Theo knew that this was exactly what he needed—a real challenge, a test of everything he’d been training for.

Brick lunged again, and Theo met him head-on, their bodies colliding, the force of the impact echoing through the room. They grappled, each one trying to gain the upper hand, their muscles straining, their breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Brick pushed, his strength undeniable, but Theo shifted his weight, using Brick’s momentum against him, throwing him off balance.

Brick stumbled, and Theo moved in, his arms wrapping around Brick’s waist as he lifted, his muscles screaming in protest. With a roar, Theo executed a picture-perfect German suplex, slamming Brick into the mat, the impact reverberating through the ring. The crowd erupted, the kids cheering, their voices echoing off the walls.

“What a move!” one of the commentators shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the cheers. “Theo’s not backing down!”

Brick groaned, rolling onto his side, his face twisted in pain. Theo got to his feet, his body aching, but he stood tall, his eyes locked on Brick. He could feel the energy of the crowd, the excitement, the tension. This was what he’d been waiting for—a real fight, a real test. And he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

As Brick pushed himself up, his eyes blazing with determination, Theo took a deep breath, his focus narrowing. The action was intensifying, the stakes rising with every move, every counter. This was it—the moment that would define the match. And Theo was ready.

The two wrestlers squared off once more, the crowd around them cheering, the air thick with anticipation. The bell had rung, the match had begun, and neither of them was backing down. It was a battle of strength, of skill, of willpower—and it was far from over.

**Chapter One, Part Four: The Final Showdown**

The air inside the neighborhood rec center was electric. Kids gathered around the ring, eyes wide, leaning in as if they couldn’t get close enough to the action. They gasped at every close call, every move exchanged between Theo Vera and Brick Brawler. It was a real match, one you might see in an arena, and the tension kept growing with each passing second.

Two kids at ringside had taken it upon themselves to provide the commentary, shouting into pretend microphones—one a broken broom handle, the other a toy baseball bat. “Theo’s on the ropes, but he’s not giving in!” one yelled, while the other responded, “Brick’s coming in hard! This is intense!”

Inside the ring, Theo and Brick circled each other, their bodies gleaming with sweat. Brick lunged forward, swinging his massive arm in an attempt to knock Theo down with a lariat. Theo ducked at the last second, slipping under Brick’s arm and pivoting smoothly on his feet. Tito stood at ringside, watching carefully, his hands cupped around his mouth as he yelled out instructions.

“Play defense, Theo! Watch his shoulders!” Tito called, his eyes locked on Brick’s movements.

Brick snarled, spinning back around, eyes blazing. He charged again, aiming a powerful kick at Theo’s midsection. Theo dodged to the side, grabbing Brick’s outstretched leg and using the bully’s momentum against him to throw him off balance. Brick stumbled, his arms flailing, and Theo quickly took advantage, delivering a low sweep kick that sent Brick down to one knee.

The makeshift commentators roared. “Theo’s countering everything! Brick doesn’t know what hit him!”

Brick’s expression twisted in anger as he pushed himself back up. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his gaze fixed on Theo, and let out a roar. “You think you’re tough, huh?!” he spat, his voice filled with venom. He lunged again, his fists swinging wildly.

Theo blocked one punch, dodged another, his eyes focused, his movements smooth and calculated. He could feel Tito’s words guiding him—*stay defensive, look for openings*. He ducked under another wild swing, driving an elbow into Brick’s side in retaliation. Brick winced, staggering back a step, but he still came at Theo, determined to overpower him.

Suddenly, Brick managed to grab Theo by the arm, yanking him towards him. Brick brought his knee up hard, slamming it into Theo’s ribs. Theo grunted, pain shooting through his side, but he grit his teeth, refusing to let it slow him down. He twisted his body, breaking free from Brick’s grip and immediately retaliating with a forearm strike to Brick’s jaw.

The crowd of kids cheered, the makeshift commentators shouting in excitement. “Theo’s not backing down! He’s fighting back!”

Brick stumbled back, his eyes widening in shock. He had underestimated Theo. This wasn’t just some kid he could push around. Theo had strength, skill, and most importantly, he had heart. And it was starting to show.

Theo, fueled by the energy around him and Tito’s constant encouragement, took control of the momentum. He moved in on Brick, ducking under another desperate swing and delivering a powerful snap suplex that sent Brick crashing to the mat. The crowd roared as the ring rattled from the impact, Brick groaning as he tried to regain his bearings.

Tito’s voice rang out above the noise. “Now, Theo! Press the advantage!”

Theo didn’t hesitate. He picked Brick up, ignoring the burning in his muscles, and delivered a thunderous spinebuster that left Brick sprawled in the middle of the ring. The bully’s face twisted in frustration and pain as he tried to push himself up, but Theo wasn’t done.

A fire had ignited in Theo—a primal instinct that surged through him, guiding his every movement. He pulled Brick up once more, his eyes locked on his opponent, his focus unwavering. He could feel it—this was his moment.

Theo grabbed Brick by the wrist, pulling him towards him and popping him up into the air. Time seemed to slow for just a second as Theo took aim, his instincts taking over. His leg shot up, his foot connecting with Brick’s jaw in a perfect pop-up superkick. The impact echoed through the rec center, and Brick’s body crumpled, his eyes glazed over as he dropped to his knees.

The kids around the ring erupted, their cheers deafening. “Ohhh! Theo just hit him with a superkick!” one of the makeshift commentators shouted, his voice cracking with excitement.

Brick was stunned, swaying on his knees, his eyes unfocused. Theo knew he couldn’t let this chance slip away. He turned, sprinting towards the ropes behind Brick, bouncing off to pick up speed. As he rushed back towards his opponent, everything around him seemed to blur, his focus narrowing to a single point—Brick’s vulnerable form.

Theo leaped onto the middle rope, using it to springboard himself into the air, his knee leading the way as he aimed for Brick’s head. “This is it!” Tito shouted from ringside, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Ace Impact!” Theo roared, the name coming to him in a moment of pure instinct, his voice echoing through the rec center.

His knee connected with Brick’s head, the impact reverberating through the ring. Brick’s body jerked back before crumpling to the mat, completely still. Theo landed smoothly, his chest heaving as he looked down at his fallen opponent.

The makeshift crowd exploded, the kids cheering wildly as they jumped up and down. The commentators were practically screaming. “Theo did it! He did it! That’s the Ace Impact!”

Theo dropped to his knees, hooking Brick’s leg for the pin, his heart pounding in his chest. The makeshift referee, a kid who had been watching with wide eyes, slid into position, slapping his hand against the mat.

“One!” the referee shouted, the kids echoing the count.

“Two!”

“Three!”

The rec center erupted in cheers as the referee slapped the mat for the third time, raising his hand to signal the end of the match. “Theo wins!” one of the commentators shouted, his voice filled with awe.

Theo pushed himself to his feet, his body aching but his spirit soaring. He looked over at Tito, who had his arms raised in triumph, a wide grin on his face. Tito rushed into the ring, throwing his arms around Theo in a tight hug.

“You did it, Theo! I knew you could do it!” Tito shouted, his voice filled with pride.

Theo smiled, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “We did it,” he corrected, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked out at the kids gathered around the ring, their faces filled with excitement and admiration. This was just the beginning. He could feel it.

As the crowd began to disperse, the makeshift commentators still talking excitedly about the match, Tito turned to Theo, his eyes gleaming. “Three more days, Theo. Three more days until we step into Wrestlorama Academy. And after what you just did, I know we’re gonna make one heck of an impression.”

Theo nodded, a determined smile on his face. He could feel the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, the thrill of the fight still fresh in his mind. Wrestlorama Academy was just around the corner, and he was ready. He had Tito by his side, and together, they were going to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

“We’re just getting started,” Theo said, his voice filled with determination.

Tito grinned, slapping Theo on the back. “You’re right about that, partner. Wrestlorama doesn’t know what’s coming.”

The two friends stood in the ring, the rec center slowly emptying around them, the echoes of their victory still hanging in the air. They had taken the first step towards their dream, and there was no turning back now. The future was waiting, and Theo was ready to meet it head-on.