Level Up- The Knockout

by Dan Sugralinov

  “As you can see, I am seriously expanding my operation, hehe. All the fixtures are in place and the paperwork is ready. I open in two days. This place will have a separate entrance. I’ve called it Chuck’s Bar Mark II. The plan is that the old joint will cater to quieter groups of people, with an emphasis on the cooking, and Mark II will be more focused on entertainment—this is where all the rowdy patrons are supposed to come, to shout, whistle, and so on. But I’m a little bit new to running such a huge operation. I’ve always been the owner of this small bar where I’d know every patron. So I’ve never even thought about security. I tried a few agencies, but they make you pay through the nose—I’d need to apply for another credit to afford it. This is why I decided to organize it myself. With your help, that is. So, what do you say?”

  Hagen shrugged. “I need money. So I’m in.”

  Wei Ming seemed more excited. “A bouncer in a strip joint? Well... It sure seems more fun that spending your days stacking shelves with electric juicers.”

  “So it’s a deal, then? Then, Mike, here’s your first task.”

  Chuck took the two of them arm-in-arm again and escorted them to the exit. He opened the door, and they exited the building, finding themselves on the other side of the block.

  Hagen squinted at the bright sun and looked at the group of people carrying placards and signs across the street. When they saw Chuck, they started to yell,

  “You have no shame!”

  “Blasphemer!”

  “We won’t let you corrupt our youth!”

  The slogans on the sign urged the sinners to repent and close the den of iniquity.

  “I’ve had bad luck with this lot,” Chuck said. “There’s some cult called The Church of Saint Ian Wilson. These folks are his followers—not that there are that many. They’ve been taken in by this guy exploiting the taxation loophole for charities and non-profit organizations. Wilson himself is no fool. He uses every chance to get exempted from taxes when he buys real estate across the city. He’d also wanted to buy the plot of land where I’ve built my second bar. He hadn’t made it in time, though, so he decided to set his fanatics on me.”

  “But what can we do, sir? You should call the police.”

  “Duh, son. Everything they do is perfectly legal in the eyes of the law. They have every permission they need for picketing and demonstrations. This Saint Ian goddamn Wilson isn’t only familiar with brainwashing. He knows state laws well, too. The only thing I could accomplish was to restrain them from picketing right next to my property. But those milquetoast idiots are too close, anyway. They are well poised to screw up my opening day if they just block access to the parking lot. I’m not too happy about loonies calling me a shameless blasphemer, either.”

  “But what could I do? Beat them all up?” Hagen sounded confused.

  “I have a proposal for St. Ian, but he keeps ignoring and stonewalling me. I’ve tried to talk to him a few times, but I can’t make it through his security guards. You, on the other hand, are a new face, so you could pass on my offer.”

  “What offer?”

  “Ten grand. Just tell him that and try to get a response. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ A ‘yes’ would be better. Ian is a businessman, so it should be clear to him that this sum is better than nothing,” Chuck slapped Mike on the shoulder. “You can get right to it. Around this time, Ian is always at the temple that he’s named after himself.”

  Once Chuck was gone, the two exchanged glances. Wei Ming was waiting for Hagen’s reaction.

  Hagen saw that Wei Ming’s resistance to his Charisma went up by two points. That was a sure sign he’d started to have doubts about Hagen.

  So Mike raised the collar of his uncle’s jacket and said,

  “Wait for me here.”

  He crossed the street and stopped in front of the entrance to a building with a sign bearing the legend “The Church of Saint Ian Wilson.” It may have looked like a neat house from a distance, but once he got closer, he realized it was just a barn painted white.

  Mike gathered all his courage and went in to complete his first quest. His life was beginning to resemble an RPG more and more.

  * * *

  THE BARN was empty—the entire congregation must have been out picketing the blasphemous strip joint. Chairs cluttered some of the space. There was a pulpit across the hall, as well as a large portrait of a bearded man in a lilac gown. Judging by the saintly look on his face, it was Ian himself.

  There was a door underneath the portrait guarded by a large guy with a shaved head, clad in a lilac gown of the same fashion.

  Hagen got closer and read the system information.

  Liam “Goliath” Anvil

  Age: 29

  Level 7

  HP: 29000

  Battles/victories: 202/181

  Current status: St. Ian’s Warrior

  Reputation: Indifference (8/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: high (8/10)

  “I’d like to see Mr. Ian Wilson,” Hagen said.

  “Saint Ian Wilson,” Goliath corrected him. “Do you wish to become one of our parishioners? In that case, you can pick up a brochure from that table. You will also have to make your initial payment.”

  “Not really. It’s a business matter.”

  Liam gave Hagen a measuring look, then turned away. “In that case, scram. The boss... I mean, St. Ian, is resting.”

  “But it’s really important, and it won’t take much time.”

  “He has given me the vested right to decide what is important and what isn’t. You aren’t.”

  Hagen stepped forward. Liam moved sideways, placing himself in front of the door. Mike took another step forward, stopping right in front of the guard.

  “I have a proposal for your, uh, leader.”

  Goliath didn’t respond. He placed his palm on Hagen’s face and pushed him away.

  “I told you, devilkin. Begone!”

  The push was so hard that Hagen started to shuffle his feet backwards. He couldn’t keep his balance though and fell crashing into the chairs.

  Damage received: 102 (a blow to the shoulder)

  Damage received: 45 (a blow to the elbow)

  A familiar red veil appeared in front of him.

  Righteous Anger

  You’ve come across an injustice and are experiencing a fit of Fury!

  +3 to all basic stats

  +100% to Stamina

  +50% to Confidence

  +75% to Willpower

  +75% to Spirit

  -50% off Self-Control

  The effect will remain active until justice is restored and while you’re convinced of the righteousness of your cause.

  Hagen jumped up and assumed a fighting stance. Apart from everything else, he saw a short system message with an actual, honest-to-god quest. The window blinked to attract his attention.

  Michael and Goliath

  Defeat Liam Anvil in a fight for new achievements.

  Time for completion: 10 minutes 59 seconds... 58 seconds...

  The countdown began.

  That was something new. Did Insight unlock the ability to receive quests?

  Hagen felt emboldened. Holding his fists in front of him, he slowly approached Goliath. The latter chortled, then tilted his shaved head left and right, his vertebrae producing a popping sound.

  Hagen felt envious for a second. I wonder how they do it? he thought.

  Goliath clenched his fists too. “Aren’t you a stupid one, devilkin?”

  Hagen could already see that his opponent had made a huge mistake by underestimating him. Everybody did it, time after time.

  Goliath didn’t even think of covering himself as he charged. He raised his palm again, obviously intending to give him another dismissive shove, but Hagen dodged it swiftly, bent a little, and punched Goliath in the side with his left fist.

  Damage dealt: 17,000 points (Punch)

  Goliath howled, doubled over, and jumped back. He crashed into the door leading to
the cult leader’s private quarters with such force that the shabby wall shook and the portrait hung askew.

  Attracted by the din, Ian himself stepped out of his quarters. He looked less majestic than on the portrait, signs of worry on his face.

  “What’s all this, now? What do you need?”

  “I have an offer for you from Mr. Chuck Morrison, the owner of the bar across the street. Ten... “

  Goliath unbent himself and charged at Hagen again. He was more careful this time. He dodged Hagen’s punch from the right and then counterattacked, blocking the punch from the left.

  Damage received: 5500 (Cheekbone Punch)

  Hagen took a step backwards. He had already discovered this Goliath’s vulnerable spot. He should concentrate on the body and not the head which his opponent could defend much better. The larger man may also have had a greater tolerance to punches to the head. Judging by how he moved though, it was obvious that the direct punch in the liver had still been causing him a considerable amount of pain. Goliath’s face grew pale, and he kept trying to double over instinctively—yet he needed to remain straight and defend himself.

  St. Ian regained his calm and said mockingly,

  “My child, the only thing to fear is sin. Sin—and Liam Anvil, the warrior of light and compassion.”

  The “warrior of light and compassion” looked somewhat reassured by his idol’s presence and charged again, as if he had received some blessing from a priest. The man was quick; Hagen barely managed to dodge, yet Goliath’s fist still connected with his lip.

  Hagen felt an acute pain in his lower teeth and a taste of blood in his mouth.

  Damage received: 3500 (Jaw Punch)

  But Mike did not step back like his opponent had expected. He automatically kicked with his left leg as if he was training with his punch bag, driving it home and hitting the opponent right in the liver again.

  “Why, you...” Goliath hissed as he doubled over again.

  Damage dealt: 2400 (Kick)

  Hagen didn’t stop there. As Liam’s face got into his reach, Hagen gave him the final punch.

  Damage dealt: 17,000 points (Punch)

  Goliath straightened up as if he was going to make a crab posture, froze for a second, and then tumbled to the floor like a condemned building after demolition charges had gone off.

  Congratulations! You’ve defeated an opponent in a fair fight!

  XP points received: 2 (twice the experience for your first victory over an opponent of a higher level).

  Michael and Goliath: quest completed!

  XP points received: 2

  XP points received on the current level (5): 4/5

  Hagen felt a light buzz in his head. His teeth were aching. He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve as he approached a terrified St. Ian.

  “Mr. Chuck Morrison has asked me to find out whether you would agree to his offer of ten thousand dollars. Is it a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

  “Child, I do not make deals with the devil...” the saint prattled.

  Hagen tilted his head and heard a popping sound. At last! At last he could do it!

  “Still, though?”

  St. Ian Wilson paused for a moment, adjusted his lilac robe, and then the picture on the wall. He threw a sideways glance at one of Hagen’s fists and smiled, then threw up his hands.

  “Still, Mr. Morrison is no devil. He’s just a sinner; a decent man gone astray. I accept his offer. For wasn’t it said, ‘Forgive thy brother’s sins, and the Lord will forgive thine’?”

  * * *

  WEI MING kept shifting from foot to foot and looking toward the church. The day was sunny and hot, and yet he was reluctant to find shade as he waited for Hagen. Once Chuck had gone away, the fanatics from the church of St. What’s-His-Name shouted at Wei Ming for a while, calling him a sinner and a corrupter. One of them even went so far as to yell,

  “Go back to Vietnam, you gook!”

  He shut up at once, though, probably afraid that the racial slur might result in legal action.

  When the congregation realized Wei Ming wouldn’t react to them at all, they eventually piped down and plopped down onto the pavement, hiding from the sun behind their placards.

  Wei Ming started to wonder whether it would be worth it to leave his much more peaceful job at DigiMart for this—it didn’t pay well, granted, but at least it offered some stability. Also, Miss Hepworth told him recently that she would soon be looking for an assistant manager for the store chain and hinted that he might be one of the candidates.

  The bar was a weird and unusual place. Another thing to consider would be the reaction of his girlfriend to the news he’d be spending his working hours at a strip joint. She was a right prude, after all. She couldn’t even bear to leave the lights on during sex. She would probably have sided with the fanatics.

  Hagen was uncomfortable in his new position too, judging by his behavior. On the other hand, Baby Mikey was full of surprises. Who could have guessed he had so much strength and perseverance? Even Goretsky who’d visited the store recently with his head all bandaged, called Hagen “this malicious dwarf” instead of the usual “shithead” as he asked about him. He did say “shithead” eventually, but that was addressed to one of the assistants who had brushed against Goretsky with a laptop box.

  Revisiting the events of the last couple of days, Wei Ming started to suspect it might have been Hagen who had given Goretsky his just desserts. In that case... Why, that would be absolutely astonishing!

  The fanatics started to holler again as they saw Chuck emerge from the bar carrying a tray with a huge glass of iced tea, the cubes making a clinking sound as he moved.

  “Have some refreshment,” Chuck said to Wei Ming while trying to locate Hagen. He looked toward the entrance to the church. “How’s our kid doing?”

  “He’s still in there.”

  “This old fraud has a former boxer working as a security guard. The guy had even got into professional fighting but then received a strong concussion so he decided to call it quits and became a zealous follower of St. Ian. It really makes me wonder how many ways there are for someone to go nuts.”

  Wei Ming looked concerned. “I was wondering whether I should follow him.”

  “Don’t worry, the kid will handle it.” Chuck stroked his mustache. “Or, at least, I sure hope so.”

  The fanatics fell silent all of a sudden. The church door opened, and a bearded man in a lilac robe came out. He summoned them all with an imperious gesture. The zealots turned around and walked away. Ian disappeared inside the church, at which point Hagen came out of the door.

  He kept stumbling and was breathing heavily. There was blood on his lip and an abrasion on the side of his face.

  “Jesus Christ!” Chuck exclaimed. “Our kid really copped it! It’s a pity he couldn’t convince that old fraud, of course...”

  As Hagen approached Wei Ming, he took the glass of iced tea and downed it in a single gulp noisily. Then he fished out the ice from the bottom of the glass and applied it to his lip.

  “Are you OK?” Wei Ming asked with genuine concern.

  “I’ve had worse skirmishes,” Hagen said, spitting out blood.

  “Don’t you worry, son,” Chuck said. “I’ll deal with this false prophet myself. I’ll take it to a federal court if I have to!”

  Hagen placed his hand in one of his jacket’s pockets and produced a church brochure. It was as if he would say something along the lines of “how do you know you’ve been forgiven?” However, he uttered something quite different as he handed it over to Chuck.

  “The last page contains all the banking details. Saint Ian instructs you to transfer ten thousand to this account. He also says he forgives you, although he added he was sure you would burn in hell.”

  Chuck opened his mouth and crossed himself. Wei Ming, who’d been watching him was about to do the same, then stopped his hand halfway.

  “Well, I’’ll be...” were the only words the bar owner could utt
er.

  Chapter 15. The Tail Wagging the Dog

  I love you, man! Like a son, or a dog...

  GTA Vice City Stories

  HAGEN HAD WASHED his face and wiped away the blood a long time ago. He was sitting at a table at Chuck’s, applying an ice pack to his injuries. Wei Ming had already left for DigiMart. The progress bar hovering over him read:

  Reputation: Friendship (8/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: very low (1/10)

  Hagen still had to work out what the assistant meant by “combat situation,” but he knew he could rely on Wei Ming to stay true and stay put. As Wei Ming had been leaving, he’d promised that he would hand in his resignation the very same day and start with his new job the day after tomorrow.

  He also kept asking excitedly,

  “Hey, Mike, what should I wear? A tracksuit? Or something completely different, perhaps? Jacket and pants, and a pair of sunglasses? Or maybe something else? What do bouncers wear, anyway?”

  Hagen wanted to tell him he had no idea, but checked himself. A lack of confidence on his part would definitely be detrimental to his Charisma. So he tried to put his friend at ease.

  “Whatever you’re comfortable in. I guess it can be anything up to a pair of shorts.”

  “No shorts, guys,” Chuck told them, having overheard the conversation. “Bouncers in shorts look ridiculous. This is a southern-styled bar, so wear jeans. But, in the name of St. Ian, no cowboy hats, please!”

  “A Chinese bouncer in a strip bar? That would be going overboard even for me,” Wei Ming grinned as he was leaving.

  “Don’t forget you’re a kung fu fighter, too!” Hagen yelled in his direction.

  The waiter sent by Chuck placed a bucket of wings and a menu in front of him. “This one’s on the house.”