The Unstoppable Force

The gymnasium reeked of sweat, adrenaline, and something harder to define—expectation. The NCAA wrestling finals always drew a crowd. But tonight was different. Every seat was taken, the aisles overflowing with latecomers on tiptoe, desperate for a glimpse of history.

The air crackled—not just with excitement, but opportunity.

Scouts and promoters sat scattered through the crowd, sharks in a sea of eager spectators. Some were from the usual collegiate wrestling pipelines, while others came from bigger arenas—pro football, combat sports, even global wrestling promotions looking for their next megastar. And at the top of the bleachers, surveying it all, sat Clayton "The Voice" Reed.

Flanked by Ethan Carter, a wiry striking coach with a reputation for molding killers, and Brent Norris, a hulking former Navy SEAL turned conditioning guru, Clayton had the easy confidence of a man watching a payday unfold.

On the mat below, Cade Mercer stood across from the reigning champion, Brian O’Connell, a decorated two-time All-American. O’Connell had walked into the match as the favorite.

But Cade Mercer was something else entirely.

Clayton leaned forward, tapping his knee. ”Size.”  

Ethan smirked. “Strength’s obvious. But look at him—he’s barely breathing.”  

Brent folded his arms. “He’s breaking that kid. Watch his feet—hesitant. He knows he’s done.”

O’Connell lunged first, going low for Cade’s legs. It was a desperate move—too predictable, too obvious—and Cade countered effortlessly. A sprawl, a shift in weight, and then Cade was under O’Connell, lifting him clean off the mat.

For a moment, time stretched. O’Connell hung there, feet dangling.

Then Cade slammed him down—hard.  

The impact thundered through the gym, the mat trembling beneath O’Connell’s limp body. Gasps filled the air before the crowd erupted in chaos.

Clayton’s grin widened. "Strength."

Ethan whistled. "Not just strength. Control. He knew exactly how long to hold that before making a statement."

Brent watched in silence as Cade went to work. He wasn’t just winning—he was dismantling his opponent, piece by piece.

Every movement was precise. He let O’Connell struggle, forcing him to burn energy, then countered with punishing efficiency. It wasn’t brute force—it was something worse.

Something colder.

The final move came quick—a seamless cradle that twisted O’Connell into a helpless knot.

The referee dropped, slapped the mat.

Match over.

Cade Mercer didn’t celebrate. No raised arms. No fist pumps. Just a cold stare before he turned and walked away.  

The crowd roared.  

Cade never looked back.

Clayton sat back in his chair, his smirk deepening. "That’s it. That’s the kid."

Ethan glanced sideways. "You sound more like a promoter than a scout right now."

Clayton chuckled, smoothing out his suit jacket. "Why can’t I be both?"

The gymnasium buzzed with post-match chatter, the energy still electric. But Clayton wasn’t watching the crowd. He was watching Cade, tracking the way he grabbed his gym bag and walked toward the locker room, his shoulders squared, his steps unhurried.

Brent crossed his arms. "Think he knows what he’s capable of?"

Clayton let out a soft chuckle, more predatory than amused. "No. And that’s what makes him perfect."

The locker room door swung shut behind Cade Mercer.

Clayton watched for a beat longer before standing, straightening his cuffs. "He’ll come around."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You that sure?"

Clayton smirked. “They always come around.”