The Juice Training Center was buzzing.
Everyone knew what day it was — ranking day.
ESPN had just released the newest global rankings following the Scrap Off event, and the team sat huddled around a large TV in the common room, waiting for the list to appear.
Johnny sat at the edge of his seat, practically vibrating. This was the moment of truth. After Kent’s massive win, there was no telling how high he’d jump. Jack and Nod had also won their matches, so they were hoping for a bump too.
“…What’s taking so long?” Danny groaned, slouching in his chair. “It’s already noon.”
“Patience, Pretty Boy,” Kent said calmly, sitting back with his arms crossed. “They always drop ‘em late.”
“Bro, I need to see this,” Jack grumbled. “I know I moved up.”
“You’re still trash,” Danny teased.
Jack gave him a dead stare. “…You’re literally ranked lower than me.”
“I’m flashier though,” Danny grinned.
“You lose half your matches.”
“Yeah, but I look good doing it.”
Johnny tried to laugh, but his nerves wouldn’t let him. His foot tapped rapidly against the floor. C’mon… c’mon…
Suddenly, the screen flickered.
“OH!” Danny yelped. “IT’S UP! IT’S UP!”
The ESPN graphic flashed:
TOP 200 SCRAPPERS IN EACH WEIGHT WORLD RANKINGS - MARCH UPDATE
Everyone leaned in. Johnny’s heart raced.
The screen started at #200 and scrolled up.
“Not us… not us…” Jack muttered, his eyes darting.
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They looked at the 155 pound weight class.
#150… #140… #130…
“WAIT!” Danny shouted. “THAT’S ME!!”
#130 — Danny “Pretty Boy” Harold
Record: 49-30
Previous Rank: 105 (-25)
The room erupted.
“AHHHHH!!” Danny screamed. “I MADE THE TOP 130, BABY!!”
“Bro, you dropped 25 spots,” Jack said, unimpressed.
“I DON’T CARE, I’M STILL RANKED!!” Danny howled.
“Yeah, and you suck,” Nod teased.
Danny flipped him off. “Haters everywhere, man.”
They looked at the 200 pound weight class.
The list continued. #120… #110… #100…
“WAIT!” Nod suddenly shouted. “THAT’S ME!”
#100 — Nod “Fancy” Jackson
Record: 57-39
Previous Rank: 111 (+11)
“LET’S GO!!” Nod jumped out of his seat. “I’M TOP 100, BABY!!”
The team exploded again, hooting and hollering. Nod turned and pointed at Danny. “Guess who’s better than you now?”
Danny just scowled. “I’m flashier though.”
The list scrolled again.
They looked at the open weight class.
#75… #60… #50…
“C’mon…” Jack muttered. “C’mon…”
#46… #45…
“OH!!”
#45 — Jack “The Sledgehammer” Jones
Record: 61-15
Previous Rank: 50 (+5)
Jack screamed. “LET’S GO!! FORTY-FIVE!!”
The team lost it. Johnny pounded Jack on the back. “Dude, that’s top 50! You’re like… elite now!”
Jack puffed his chest. “Yeah, baby! They gotta respect the Hammer now!”
“Yeah, until you gas out,” Danny smirked.
Jack shot him a death glare.
They then looked at the 185 weight class.
The list kept scrolling. #35… #30… #25…
“…C’mon,” Johnny muttered. “Where’s Kent?”
#20… #15…
“Bro…” Jack muttered. “No way…”
Suddenly, the screen flashed.
#3 — Kent “Fireman” Flame
Record: 76-9
Previous Rank: 20 (+17)
The entire team exploded.
“HOLY SHT!!*” Danny screamed.
“NUMBER THREE?!?” Nod roared.
“BROOOO!!” Jack tackled Kent in a bear hug. “YOU’RE TOP THREE!!”
Kent simply smiled. “…Yeah.”
“DUDE!!” Johnny was losing it. “YOU JUMPED SEVENTEEN SPOTS!!”
Doug, who had been silently watching, finally spoke. “…Tapping Dirhges in thirty seconds’ll do that.”
“Bro, you’re like… elite elite now,” Danny gawked. “Top three in the world. That’s like… god-level.”
Kent just chuckled. “Not done yet.”
Everyone cheered and clapped Kent on the back. It was insane. Kent was now practically a legend.
Then Johnny’s stomach twisted.
“…What about me?” he muttered.
Everyone fell quiet.
Silence.
Johnny swallowed hard. “…I’m not ranked.”
Doug stepped in. “Well, yeah. You’ve got no matches, kid.”
“…Right.”
The mood darkened a bit. Johnny slumped. Everyone else had a number now — except him.
“…That’s why I’m fixing that,” Doug said suddenly.
Johnny blinked. “Huh?”
Doug grinned. “I entered you in the Rookie Open. It’s this weekend. You’re guaranteed three matches against other rookies. Win those, and you’ll get a ranking.”
Johnny’s heart leapt. “Wait — really?”
“Yup.” Doug grinned. “Time to start your career, Blood.”
The team exploded again.
“BROOO!!” Danny grabbed Johnny. “YOUR FIRST MATCHES!!”
“YOU’RE FINALLY GONNA GET RANKED!!” Jack yelled.
“WHO WE WRESTLING, BABY?!” Nod roared.
Doug smirked. “…You’ll see.”
Later That Night
The team was buzzing. They ran extra drills for Johnny, sparring him hard, preparing him for his debut. Danny even let him hit a few free pins on him.
Jack cracked jokes. “Yo, Johnny, if you lose, I’m never letting you live it down.”
Johnny laughed nervously. “…I’m not losing.”
“Damn right you’re not,” Doug said. “Blood’s gonna paint the mat.”
Time Skip — One Day Before The Rookie Open
Johnny stood on the scale. His stomach was hollow from cutting weight, his face a bit drawn.
The official glanced. “124.8. You’re good.”
Johnny exhaled in relief. “…Thank god.”
Doug patted his back. “Told you. Easy cut.”
“Easy for you, I’m starving,” Johnny muttered.
“Yeah, well…” Doug smirked. “Eat after you win.”
Johnny swallowed hard. The nerves were real now. This was it. His first three matches. His first chance to get ranked.
Doug suddenly handed him a sheet of paper. “Here. Your first opponent.”
Johnny’s eyes scanned it.
Jean ‘Sex Machine’ Polnareff.
Record: 1-0.
Weight: 125 lbs.
Style: Catch Wrestling.
Johnny blinked. “…His nickname is Sex Machine?”
Doug snorted. “Yeah. Don’t ask.”
“…He’s 1-0 though.”
“Yeah, and you’re 0-0,” Doug said. “Don’t overthink it. Just pin him.”
Johnny swallowed hard. “…Right.”
Doug clapped his shoulder. “Welcome to the show, Blood.”
End of Chapter 11.
