Level Up- The Knockout

by Dan Sugralinov

  “Look, it’s our fault, after all. The main part of the compound was left unattended. Riggs will likely get reprimanded for abandoning his post, too.”

  One of the addicts came to his senses, pleading not to be handed over to the cops, the bubbles of blood on his face reminding Mike of the recent incident with Goretsky.

  Wei Ming shook his fist at the junkie. “Then grab your friends by the arms and drag them outta here.”

  The man eagerly started to pull his partner-in-crime’s body toward the glass doors of the main entrance.

  “Hey,” Wei Ming shouted. “Use the exit out the back, dipshit.”

  “Sorry, sir!” the junkie proceeded to pull the body in the opposite direction.

  While he was huffing and puffing, Wei Ming and Hagen collected the telephones and set the displays right. Wei Ming kept the gun. Hagen felt nauseous at the very sight of the weapon, wishing never to have nothing to do with this death-delivering machine.

  The two friends proceeded to take to their mops and wipe the blood off the floor.

  The front door opened. Riggs walked in, twisting his silvery mustachio. “Those goddammed drug-peddlers! The cops on patrol must be blind or something. I figured out which one of that crowd was a dealer in a minute. Cops were nothing like this in my days, I can tell you , boys. Back in my day, they were afraid to push so much as a tenth of bud. And watch them now! Selling heroin by the hundredweight! Ah, no. The cops ain’t like they used to be anymore. The youngsters have no respect for their elders. Those pipsqueaks think they know it all. No respect for the experience of their elders and betters at all!”

  Riggs assumed his usual post at the entrance, shaking his head and unfolding a newspaper. Wei Ming and Hagen exchanged well-understood glances: the old man would have had a stroke had he found out about what had happened during his short absence.

  Hagen got back to repairing the laptop. Wei Ming assumed his post, as well—in his case, walking through the aisles, waiting for customers. The rest of the employees eventually appeared. Some would use the front gate; others, the back door. Lexie, however, would always come in through the front gate. Hagen kept getting distracted from his job, waiting for her to come near.

  His heart skipped a beat when the girl turned up at the shop, her reflections in the glass doors preceding her. Hagen squared his shoulders, smiled, and waved a hand.

  “Hey there, Lexie!”

  Even Riggs raised his eyes above the newspaper, looking at Hagen and baffled by the fact that the usually quiet repairman had had the sheer temerity to raise his voice.

  “Hey, all,” Lexie’s glance slid over Mike casually. It was as polite and bland as those she gave everybody else.

  Mike felt his knees turn to jelly. It was just like staring down the barrel of a gun all over again.

  On the other hand, why would she behave any different? He hadn’t turned into Prince Charming overnight, after all. Nor had he become taller or more handsome. Or richer, or more successful. None of that. He was still the same short featherweight loser who had once managed to surprise her by knocking out Goretsky; nothing more. No reason for a girl to get all starry-eyed, after all.

  An hour later the laptop was done. Hagen gave it to the tech support department managers and started on his new job.

  Nothing of any interest transpired until lunchtime. Hagen calculated it the same time as he had before—to get to meet Lexie at the parking lot, right next to the place where he had previously sent Goretsky to the Land of Nod with a well-placed punch.

  He gathered up all his bluster and said, “Hey! I’ve been thinking, you know. How about dinner?”

  Lexie sighed. “Mike. I’ve already told you. I can have a dinner all by myself. Where’s the fun in that? Movies are out of the question as well. I thought you had a secret. As in, a modest computer repairman during the office hours, and a superhero knocking out villains at night.”

  “Lexie...”

  “But I get the idea you’re just the same repairman after dusk.”

  That seemed to be it. Lexie would get into her car and drive away any second. Hagen looked around listlessly, as though summoning a band of ruffians (low-level ones, preferably) to attack the girl so that he could save her again. Was there any other way of impressing her?

  Lexie paused for a while, but, with no answer given, proceeded to open her car door.

  “But I’d really like to invite you to...”

  “Not interested, sorry. I have no time for petty stuff.”

  “... an illegal MMA fight!” Hagen said, before realizing just what commitment he’d made.

  Lexie stopped.

  “The real McCoy?”

  “Sure is.”

  “Will you be participating?”

  “No... Not really sure. I might. At some point.”

  “That sounds more like something up my street, Mike Björnstad Hagen!”

  Her words made Mike feel like a bull stomping the pavement with his hoof. Who could have imagined Lexie even knew his second name?

  “See you in the evening, then?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat.

  “OK,” Lexie replied, getting back into her car.

  When Hagen came back to the shop, Riggs eyed him with suspicion again. He gave him a hairy eyeball, then rose and approached the cashier. “This puny freak has been acting weird as of late. Did you notice? He’s sad one second, happy the next, and then he locks himself up in the bathroom and spends a long time there. Look at him now, strutting with his shoulders squared and whistling.”

  The cashier nodded in acquiescence. “There is that, for sure. He’s always been weird. However, what’s so weird about a person whistling?

  “I have noticed him favoring the hot dog joint a lot as of late. Is he using? It can’t be the cockroach hot dogs, can it?”

  “God, I hope he doesn’t rob the shop.”

  Riggs grinned. “No worries. No scum will get away with anything here on my watch.”

  Hagen and Wei Ming had not communicated since the morning encounter, but their eyes would meet occasionally. Wei Ming would give a wink, and Hagen would reply with a nod of the head. He was reluctant to wink back, knowing full well it would make him look even more ridiculous.

  Hagen approached Wei Ming, having decided to take a break from repairing the laptop.

  “I just wanted to tell you I admired the way you knocked out that junkie. Was it Kung Fu?”

  “Karate, actually. But Mortal Kombat was where it all began. I’ve played it since being a child, and then wanted to learn jumping and punching like that in real life. Like Li Kang, you know. That’s why I’ve been training all along.”

  “I’d love to learn that myself,” Hagen said musingly.

  “Well, you gave that other junkie quite a punch yourself. I’d never have thought that such, uh... a calm person like you had it in you.”

  Hagen went red as a beetroot. “I ‘ve recently discovered certain resources in myself. I’ve been training a bit.”

  Hagen didn’t know how to carry on with the conversation, so he turned away, about to leave. Wei Ming stopped him.

  “Hey, about this morning. We have totally forgotten about the CCTV cams. It’s all on them, you know.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “Nothing. Let’s just cross our fingers and hope no one watches what they record. As far as I know, old videos get deleted eventually to free up the space.

  “Don’t you think we should tell someone, anyway? Lexie, at least?”

  “Do you expect to get a reward for having left the shop unattended? It would be hard on Riggs, too. They’d fire him. Us, too. This is hardly a place for MMA, after all.”

  Hagen wanted to tell Wei Ming that he’d never cared much for Riggs. The former cop had treated him just like everybody else, after all—derision and jibes. Whenever the Moose would humiliate Hagen, Riggs would laugh and applaud what he called “Mr. Goretsky’s great sense of humor.”

  So Hagen replied, “I don’
t mind him getting fired. What business did he have going to the hot dog joint and preening his feathers? He still believes that he’s a real cop doing an investigation.”

  “What was that about the hot dog shop? What’s with all those whispers?” Riggs asked, emerging from behind counters. “Aren’t the two of you supposed to be working?”

  Wei Ming exited stage left immediately. Hagen also headed toward his cubicle. He was followed by a litany of I’m-watching-you-punk-and-don’t-you-think-of-doing-anything-for-I-will-get-you-at-once.

  That’s what you get for helping people, Hagen thought dejectedly. The old fart isn’t even aware of us having saved his ass.

  He spent the rest of the evening hunched over the laptop. He would occasionally raise his head, only for his eyes to meet Riggs’ menacing stare. The ex-cop had been missing a real investigation so much he’d suspected everyone of criminal thoughts.

  It was getting dark outside. Riggs’ shift relief arrived—another ex-cop, but a younger one.

  Hagen recollected his morning, thinking about what would happen if he got a few victories over animals rather than people under his belt. Wei Ming seemed to be doing well enough with the rats, after all. Would the system still count them? In that case, he could level up real quick. That would be the perfect cheat code. After all, he’d get stat points for every level-up.

  Hagen decided to try it. When all of his colleagues left the store, he took Wei Ming’s bat and descended the basement stairs, walking alongside the shelves where the goods had been stored and holding his weapon at the ready.

  “Come out, you shit vermin. I’ll give you a good seeing to.”

  Hagen was feeling gripped by an unprecedented elation. He finally felt he was capable of being a presence—as it had been the case with the junkie. He would turn from loser to winner. Anyone would laugh at Hagen’s delight at victories over junkies or his intent to beat rats to a pulp with a bat, but any victory felt like an achievement to him.

  Someone whose only victories had been imaginary would rejoice at the mere fact of having some sort of power, after all.

  He heard something make a noise behind the boxes with the washing machines. Hagen froze, trying to see where the vermin would go, in imitation of Wei Ming. He approached the rat slowly and crouched. Then the little gray creature dashed past him, and he gave the bat a good swing and struck. The bat bounced from the floor, hitting him on the forehead.

  Damage received: 396 points (bat hit)

  He picked up the bat, rubbing the place that hurt. Then he stood quiet again. He’d have to calculate the damage done, after all...

  Another rat dashed across the empty basement space. Hagen got to it and hit again. This time, the bat met soft flesh. The rat’s body had become a bloody pulp. Inertia drove it further for a while, leaving a bloody mark on a box with some electronic device.

  Hagen stared as hard as he could, but there was no system message to be seen.

  Pity, that. Could have been a great way for cheating. After all, there were lots of games where a character would have to destroy all sorts of rodents. Apparently, those rules did not apply to Hagen’s case. Victories over rats, birds, or dogs didn’t count, after all. Or should he hit them with his fists?

  Hagen laughed as he imagined himself chasing rats all across the basement, trying to knock them out, and then headed upstairs.

  It was time to get home and prepare to meet Lexie.

  Chapter 6. Let’s Fight!

  Since you know the rules, best play with Whites — they go first.

  American McGee’s Alice

  GONZALO—the cholo Hagen had talked to earlier—had been right. One would have to be blind to miss the Dark Devil club sign. The font looked like flames dancing on the roof of a low building. There were cars parked everywhere near the entrance, with a whole bunch of bikes parked nearby. The place nearly screamed “Hey, look! Everything here is absolutely illegal! You could arrest anyone here, and immediately get some evidence they were guilty of something.”

  The owners must have been in cahoots with the local PD—two patrol cars stood parked on the other side of the street. The cops lazily eyeballed the queue in front of the entrance, watching the raucous gang of bikers. It was obvious that they had been watching out for the club.

  “Wow, what a place!” Lexie exclaimed. “I’ve never been anywhere like this!”

  Hagen was watching her as she’d emerged from the car, his jaw dropping to the ground. Lexie wore a short dress, dark red. He couldn’t quite get what she’d done about her hair, but it made her even more appealing. Her high heels made a scratching sound as they hit the pavement, which gave Hagen butterflies in his stomach.

  A sudden fear struck him—a paranoid idea he’d gone too far. Lexie didn’t even remotely resemble Sheila with her tattoos and misanthropy, or Jessica, who’d left him for the first guy she could. He felt the most banal associations fill his mind—a girl from an ad, or, at the very least, a weather report anchor... Top league indeed. And at least six inches taller than Hagen to boot. He’d have to think of something different to keep her interested, given the shortage of abusive Goretskys.

  “Hey, what’s with the thousand-yard stare? Take me inside already,” she said in a commanding tone.

  “Sure, sure,” Hagen mumbled, throwing glances around himself. “Let’s go in... uh-h-h...”

  He took Lexie to the tail of a long queue. They took their places behind two bodybuilder types in tight shirts.

  “Standing in a queue is such a drag,” Lexie moaned.

  “Give me a second,” Mike muttered. He gathered up all his courage and went toward the head of the queue, paying no attention to the hostile looks of others. Lexie decided to jump the queue, too, and joined Mike.

  Hagen froze as he got to the security guard. The guy was all muscle, and way over six foot. He also didn’t so much as look in Mike’s general direction.

  “Uh... I’d like to see Gonzalo...”

  There was no reaction whatsoever.

  “I’ve been told... It would be here...”

  The security guard moved him aside like an empty laundry basket, casually and without saying a word, as he let a girl in a white fur coat in.

  However, Hagen faced the big thug again, saying in a louder voice, “Sir, I’m sorry, but... Gonzalo has told me to come here. Gonzalo Herrera.”

  The guard moved him aside again to let more visitors in, and hissed at Hagen through clenched teeth, “The next time you get near, I’ll throw you out on your ass.”

  Hagen read the system message,

  Enrique “Big Guy” Noel

  Age: 29

  Level: 21

  HP: 50,000

  Battles/victories: 402/214

  Weight: 270 lbs

  Height: 6’ 8”

  Someone like that would not crumble from a single blow, for sure.

  “But Gonzalo has told me...”

  The big guy gave Hagen an ugly look. Mike took a step back in embarrassment, almost stepping on Lexie’s foot. A right clusterfuck. He’d intended to make a good impression, but this seemed like just the opposite.

  All of a sudden, Lexie stepped forward.

  “Hey, you, musclehead. Are you deaf or something? Haven’t you heard what Mr. Hagen just told you? We were invited by Gonzalo... uh, Herrera. Special invitation. So move that bulk of yours and let us in already!”

  The big guy grinned, pointing his finger at Lexie. “You can come in.” Then he directed his finger toward Hagen. “As for you, join the line outside.”

  “Are you deaf or just stupid? Or both, maybe? We are here to see Gonzalo Herrera.”

  Hagen saw Gonzalo emerge from behind the guard’s enormous bulk.

  “How come a beauty like this knows me and I don’t know her? I’m expecting you, of course! Gonzalo Herrera’s the name.”

  “I’m Lexie,” the girl shook his hand.

  Gonzalo noticed Hagen standing and looking forlorn. “Yo, bro! So nice to see you!” He turne
d to the guard. “Let them in. These are my guests.”

  However, Big Guy was only bothered about being courteous with Lexie. Once Hagen approached, the bouncer’s frame was blocking the door again. The only indication he’d given that Mike could come in was a dismissive glance. So Hagen had to squeeze between him and the door frame, feeling like a total nobody.

  “When my damage reaches 50,000 points, you’ll be the first in line,” he thought vengefully.

  * * *

  GONZALO LED THEM through the club, trying to make his voice heard above the music. “The ring is in the basement. What we have upstairs is just the dance hall, a few bar stands, and tables. Fighters get a discount.”

  Lexie strode on side by side with Gonzalo, leaving Hagen behind. She would keep turning her head around and pointing her fingers. “Hey, isn’t that CJ the rapper? And that Russian model who’s his girlfriend right beside him?”

  “Spot on,” Gonzalo nodded. “There’s the mayor’s son right next to them, too. The guy at that table writes scripts for some Hollywood studio. And there’s some film director from Europe further down the hall. The old guy at the table on the left is a UFC producer. I don’t know him personally, and have no idea what he might be doing in a dive like this. However, all these celebrities have now developed a taste for places such as our club. So disregard the setup. We have to maintain the impression the place is illegal and run by the Mob, but we’ve actually had all the necessary permits and paperwork for ages.”

  “Why ‘we’? Are you one of the founders?”

  “You wish. I’m just a regular guy. But I’ve been fighting for a long time. I just help to organize fights. I organize the fight schedule and think up cool-sounding names for the fighters. That sort of stuff.”

  “That must be so exciting!” Lexie exclaimed. “And here’s little me—nothing but a store manager, common as muck.”

  Hagen kept looking at strangers morosely, trying to keep the pace with Lexie. The fact that the girl had appeared to have forgotten him really hurt. She would listen to no one but Gonzalo and laugh at his jokes. Her general behavior didn’t even account for Hagen’s proximity.