Level Up- The Knockout

by Dan Sugralinov

Lexie walked across the room and pushed Hagen outside. “Let’s go talk in my office.”

  Hagen had been dreaming of talking to Lexie all these days. But he was feeling anything but happy now.

  Chapter 12+1. A Lesson in Business

  Put fear and self-concern behind you. Focus your will on your objective, accepting death as a possibility. This is the way of the Karateka.

  Karateka (1984)

  ALEXA HEPWORTH hadn’t felt this horrible in ages. She kept suspecting she had done something wrong, and thus constantly kept trying to justify her behavior. The worst thing was that she’d had to justify it to herself—no one else was judgmental in the least; on the contrary, they all offered her their support.

  Uncle’s attorneys explained it to her in detail what she could say in court and what she couldn’t. They were a bunch of arch sleazebags all right—any nefarious deed to them was part of the job as long as state and federal laws permitted it. So they drilled her in what the defendant’s lawyers might ask and how she should reply to them.

  As if Hagen could hire a legal team, the naive mug that he was.

  As the case progressed, Lexie became convinced that she and her uncle were going to throw a helpless thirty-year-old child to the wolves to save the company—and Hagen was just that, an overgrown child. He may have been able to knock someone out in the ring or at a parking lot, but he still remained trusting and naive. Pulling the wool over his eyes would be like taking candy from a baby.

  No matter how good one was at throwing punches, good lawyers decided everything in the civilized world. And Goretsky had them. Or, rather, he’d recently managed to acquire a decent legal team. First his interests were represented by some hopeless red-faced alcoholic in a worn corduroy jacket with a pin claiming him to be a member of the Hampshire County Bar Association.

  The wino from Amherst intended to engage in a long and tedious litigation with DigiMart, refusing to negotiate. Howell offered Goretsky the services of his own attorneys as well as fifty thousand dollars as compensation so the plaintiff would forget about his claims to DigiMart and sue Hagen instead.

  Lexie was present at the exchange.

  Howell said, “I have the best attorneys in town, and they guarantee that this Mike guy will get a maximum sentence. So, Mr. Goretsky, that should be enough for you to feel duly avenged.”

  “Screw you,” Goretsky replied. “I want ten million.”

  The Amherst alcoholic bent over and whispered something into his ear.

  “Or fifteen million as an out-of-court settlement,” Goretsky replied from the chair, feeling confident, with his feet upon the desk.

  Howell rose slowly, taking off his jacket. The buckles on his old-fashioned suspenders glistened in the light of fluorescent lamps. He bore some resemblance to an old detective about to go rough on an arrested culprit to make him confess. Even Goretsky got a feeling that he might have gone too far with his attitude.

  Lexie’s uncle approached Goretsky, moved away his feet, and placed himself on the desk.

  “Fifteen million dollars isn’t a realistic sum in the present economic situation. My entire business isn’t worth that much.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine,” Goretsky grinned, showing the gaps in his teeth—mementos of his encounter with Hagen.

  Alexa watched her uncle with admiration. She’d never seen him handle a situation like that before. It was firsthand evidence of the fact that his reputation as the town’s most ruthless and cunning businessman had been justly deserved.

  “OK, sonny, so you want to play it the hard way? Then we’ll countersue you and make it a case of sexual harassment. My niece is still suffering from a serious depression.”

  Alexa hastened to nod in agreement, painting a mask of misery on her face.

  Goretsky glanced around the room nervously. The Amhurst alcoholic bent over again to whisper something into his ear.

  “Me and Alexa were in a relationship of sorts...” Goretsky started to mumble. “She kept sending mixed signals that could be interpreted ambiguously...”

  “I’m tired of your bullshit, boyo,” Howell said. “I don’t know why my niece would have any dealings with someone like you—let that remain her business. However, the fact that sexual harassment did take place is indisputable.”

  “Sorry, sir, but you’d have to prove it first,” the alcoholic attorney chimed in.

  “We will. Alexa Hepworth is the only witness.”

  “There’s also Mike Björnstad Hagen.”

  “He’d be unlikely to testify against himself.”

  The attorney bent over to Goretsky’s ear. Goretsky heard him out. Then he squared his shoulders quickly. “I accept your proposition.”

  Howell made a pause. Then he rose and went back to his chair. He took his time deliberately, making Goretsky tap a nervous finger on the desk. Just as unhurriedly he poured himself a whisky (the Amherst alcoholic gulped loudly) and raised his eyes at Goretsky.

  “I must have made a mistake. I don’t have fifty grand right now. I only have forty. And it comes with the guarantee that this Mike will spend a fair amount of time behind bars.”

  Goretsky hemmed and hawed for a while but eventually agreed and signed all the papers. Then he left the office, followed by his corduroy-clad attorney.

  Once Lexie’s uncle could no longer hear their footsteps in the corridor, he laughed out loud.

  “What an idiot. He could have made half a million if he’d stuck to playing this lottery.”

  “But if we can twist Goretsky around our fingers, why would we have to sign any agreements with him?” Lexie asked.

  “You see, what Hagen has done still counts as a serious felony. As I’ve been telling you, if we fail to take Goretsky under control, he’ll leave us destitute. We’ve been lucky since he’s rather dim.”

  “Shithead,” said Lexie vengefully.

  “There is also the possibility of our reputation being compromised. Do you realize what people will think if they find out that our employees beat the crap out of our clients? And this Mike character has done a real number on him. To be frank with you, our case barely holds up. We have to take it into our hands so that it doesn’t fall apart and bury us under the debris.”

  That was an important lesson in business. Alexa’s uncle had managed to cut the damages from fifteen million to forty thousand, and that was something to reckon with.

  So now she felt utterly miserable standing face to face with a smiling Hagen. Much worse than she did when she had woken up next to the guy she’d always hated at college after the prom night. Hagen reminded her of him a little—just as awkward, and just as naively in love with her. And there he stood waiting for what his adored Lexie would deign to share with him.

  She just wanted to yell, “Run away right now. Leave this town, leave this state. Flee to where they won’t find you!”

  Instead, she took a deep breath and started to castigate him, her monologue being a verbatim copy of the text that the attorneys had made her learn. She listed the paragraphs of the employment contract, mentioning that Hagen had voluntarily engaged in a conflict with one Mr. Goretsky, an esteemed DigiMart client.

  “But I... you...” Hagen couldn’t say anything remotely coherent, baffled by either the accusations or Goretsky being referred to as an “esteemed client.” The big man had always been a pain in the ass for everyone at DigiMart.

  Lexie couldn’t look Hagen in the eye, yet she carried on relentlessly, claiming that even though the conflict had taken place on company premises, it was still a private altercation between Mike and him. She also claimed she’d be ready to confirm the above in a court of law.

  Mike missed the words about the court, saying, “But you saw it! He... he attacked you, didn’t he?!”

  “Mr. Hagen, I saw what I saw. And I will be willing to testify to it. You nearly killed this bas... this poor man.”

  It was only then that Alexa noticed Hagen’s attire which was actually pretty cool. Was it a coat or a
jacket? He looked less goofy than usual, too. Could it have been that her guilt complex urged her to view him better than he actually was?

  She tried to chase those thoughts away as she announced to Hagen the decision about the termination of his contract and referred to “actions incompatible with the code of honor of a DigiMart employee.”

  The fine for damage to reputation would be subtracted from Hagen’s salary—and it almost equaled the salary itself. Hagen would also get a bad reference: “a volatile personality presenting a danger even as a repairman. “

  “I’m really sorry, Mr. Hagen, but we have to mention the episode with your unmotivated assault on Mr. Goretsky in your personal file.”

  Lexie kept on repeating this like a robot. But her internal monologue was something completely different.

  Jesus Christ, this is absolute bullshit... We are making Mike look like a maniac and he’s one of the most harmless people in the world. We are throwing him to the sharks. Now Goretsky has something way stronger than muscle and cockiness on his side—namely, the county court.

  Suddenly, Lexie yelped and backed away. She’d been so lost in thought she didn’t even notice Hagen’s hand on her shoulder.

  “I get it, Alexa, that’s enough.”

  Oddly, puny Hagen was staring at something above her head, as if reading from a script right behind her. “Sorry for getting you into so much trouble.”

  That made Lexie feel even more miserable. Fancy him apologizing after all that she’d told him!

  Hagen grabbed the sheaf of papers from the desk. “Is that all?”

  “Y-yeah... You’ll have to come back tomorrow to sign a few papers and hand in...”

  Hagen opened the door. “All right. I’ll pick up my stuff while I’m at it, too.”

  “Mike!”

  He turned around.

  “I... I’m sorry. Please understand...”

  “I get it, Lexie. Or, rather, I don’t, but I accept it.”

  Hagen had long been gone, yet Lexie still sat there with her elbows on her knees. What would have happened if she’d warned Mike that him getting fired wouldn’t be the biggest of his worries?

  She finally recollected some words from one of Easy Sammy’s songs, able to make out the lyrics at last. According to the unrecognized rapper, if everybody stopped doing what others made them do, there’d be no more injustice.

  Then Lexie got up quickly, arranged her hair, and went back to her uncle’s office, with a victorious smile on her face. She had always been good at wearing masks.

  * * *

  AFTER THE CONVERSATION with Lexie, Hagen felt as though something that had been giving his life meaning and substance had evaporated in a fraction of a second.

  Oddly enough, the sense of loss came mixed with a feeling of relief. Trust in others was another shackle on one’s feet, after all. And one could move much easier without it.

  Was that why villains always had it easier? There was nothing in their souls to make them care about their fellow humans.

  “What’s taken you so long? Been missing work?” Wei Ming asked. “Or did they make you take care of another porn site virus infestation on Goretsky’s laptop?”

  “Did you say Goretsky?” Hagen asked.

  “Yeah. He came over a few times while you were away. I don’t know, really. They had issues of some sort to settle with Lexie.”

  Hagen opened the door of his car and gestured Wei Ming to get in. “None of that matters now. I am officially no longer a DigiMart employee.”

  “Well, I’ll be... Why, though?”

  “Compromising the company’s reputation. Breaking the code of honor of a DigiMart employee, and who the fuck knows what else.”

  Wei Ming widened his eyes in mock fear. “Code of honor, you say? I haven’t even read it. Are they entitled to fire me for that, too, I wonder? But, really, Mike, why did they do it?”

  Hagen looked at Wei Ming, reading his stats.

  Wei Ming “The Cat” Xuan

  Age: 29

  Level 22

  HP: 25,000

  Battles/victories: 350/236

  Weight: 170 lbs

  Reputation: Excellent (10/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: medium (5/10)

  Apart from having built up some muscle, Wei Ming appeared to have participated in quite a few fights since their last encounter. His Reputation and resistance to charisma values looked nice, too. Did that mean being on good terms with someone allowed one to influence them? Was that why he’d so easily managed to talk Wei Ming into spending his time on teaching him a few kicks?

  “Trained a lot, have you?” Hagen changed the topic.

  “I sure have. How did you guess? This work at the store had been making me skip lessons with my Shifu. So I wasn’t in my best shape. When those junkies broke in, I vowed to myself I would train harder.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to teach me.”

  “You are welcome. Shifu used to say that if you fail to reach proficiency in some area, try teaching someone else how it’s done, and your own mistakes will be made clear to you.”

  As soon as they entered Hagen’s apartment, Wei Ming appreciated the ambiance. “Nice, clean, and minimalistic.”

  “I want to use all the space for training.”

  “The punch bag is cool, too,” Wei Ming said as he jumped, turned around in the air and kicked it.

  Once they’d changed and done a few warm-up exercises, Wei Ming took Hagen to the punch bag. “Show me what you can first.”

  Hagen kicked the bag a few times, trying to keep his aim high.

  “I see,” Wei Ming said. “Next to nothing. Your stance is OK in general, but the problem with your kicking is very common: you aren’t very steady on your feet. Even the punch bag can knock you back and make you fall.”

  Wei Ming grabbed a chair and pulled it over. “You can start with leaning on it so that you get used to the balance. And don’t try to make your kicks too strong or too high. Sure, you want to kick someone in the head right away. But in the meantime you need to learn to feel your balance and keep from falling down. Oh, and another thing: don’t wait too long after the kick. Pull your leg back at once.”

  Hagen was surprised. He’d been under the impression that although his kicks may have lacked power, they were fast enough. “You mean I wait too long?”

  Wei Ming placed himself opposite him. “Try to kick now.”

  Hagen eased into the motion and kicked.

  Immediately he flew up, saw the ceiling, and landed on his back. Wei Ming didn’t just catch his leg but also gave him a foot sweep; all of it happened in a fraction of a second.

  As Hagen landed on the floor, he smiled, looking upward. His friend’s technique turned out to be even better than he had expected. That was great—just what the doctor ordered, in fact: a new approach to fighting. Boxing was fine and good, but apart from fists, a fighter also had legs—and a head, too. Head Butt was another skill that Mike hadn’t unlocked yet.

  Hagen spent about an hour punching the bag, holding on to the chair all along. Wei Ming kept correcting him, showing him the right moves and giving him useful tips.

  Finally, he nodded. “It’s pretty horrible. You move your legs like a rubber man. There’s no progress yet, of course, but you’ll get there before too long. I’ve noticed you ‘re a persistent kind of guy... Although you weren’t like that before, were you?”

  Hagen shrugged. “I have no idea, really. It’s just that... I’m a fast learner. Especially with a coach like you.”

  “Duh, I’m no coach.” Wei Ming smiled. “All right, it’s time for me to go. My girlfriend’s waiting.”

  While Wei Ming was combing his hair in front of the mirror, Hagen checked his stats.

  Reputation: Amicability (4/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: low (3/10)

  Everything appeared to have changed. He’d have to take a better look at the description and sort out all these relationship gradations, but that could wait.
<
br />   Another thing he noticed was a tiny triangle next to the stat lines, almost obscured by the text. He touched it mentally. A rectangle singling out a specific line appeared over the top stat line.

  He had intuitively gathered that this option allowed one to pin a specific line to the owner of the stat. Now, wherever Wei Ming would go, Hagen would see a pinned message with a progress bar.

  Reputation: Amicability (3/10)

  The progress bar was moving to the right slowly.

  “Thanks a lot, Wei Ming. This training session was really important.”

  “Oh, come on, man. You’re being too kind.”

  Wei Ming may have been modest but Hagen saw the progress bar move up a notch. He’d felt like saying another nice thing to his new friend, but he prudently stayed silent—one shouldn’t turn expressions of gratitude into outright flattery.

  Wei Ming packed up and left while Hagen carried on with the training.

  He didn’t even notice how he’d entered a certain flow. The only things that existed were himself, the punch bag, and his kicks. He felt as though he was floating in the air toward the bag like some anime character. Every kick represented his hope, his hatred, his pain and his disappointment—everything Lexie had made him feel earlier on; things Hagen still couldn’t process calmly. He kicked with his right leg, then his left, then his right again. He tried not to hold on to the chair all the time, looking for balance as per Wei Ming’s instructions.

  He could have spent an indefinite amount of time in this state if a virtual blue flame hadn’t engulfed his leg once he’d kicked the punch bag for the umpteenth time.

  Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!

  Skill name: Kick

  Current level: 3

  Damage: 1500

  You have to use the skill more often to level it up.

  That was when Hagen came to his senses. He’d completely forgotten about his janitorial duties at Ochoa’s gym!