Level Up- The Knockout

by Dan Sugralinov

  “The false idol was taken down, coach!”

  “Amen.”

  “Vae victis!”

  Ochoa smiled. “All right, funny guy. Get ready for the battle. Your opponent’s just arrived. Locked himself up in my cabinet. Meditating, of all things. Some people will do anything to preen their feathers in public any way they can.”

  One of the muscled guys wearing shorts so revealing one could have called them incongruous approached Ochoa and asked to take a selfie with him.

  The old man sighed heavily and made a friendly grin. The guy must have been one of those who’d purchased a yearly pass.

  Hagen closed the locker room door and opened his locker.

  There was a pair of gloves and a groin protector inside. All the gear was new, with the AthleticSmart logo on the packaging.

  That was weird. Could Ochoa have decided to splurge on his behalf? That seemed unlikely. The old man wasn’t rich, so he wouldn’t have bought any unnecessary items out of his own funds. Everybody came with their own gear.

  He unwrapped the helmet and froze. The face on the packaging belonged to none other but Sylas “Ken” Kopf. There was a picture of him in the ring wearing a helmet and a pair of boxing gloves.

  So that’s who he was. The AthleticSmart poster boy! Hagen recollected having seen the muscled creep on billboards, on TV, and in a bunch of other advertisements.

  That was a strange twist of fate. Hagen would fight an ex-colleague—after all, Sylas was an employee of Mr. Howell, albeit indirectly. His old job seemed to have had a grip on him still.

  Mike changed, put on the helmet and looked at himself in the mirror. The new equipment clashed with the old Dodgers T-shirt which in turn clashed with the aloha shorts he wore when he’d first come to Ochoa’s gym.

  He unwrapped the gloves next. They were pro grade. By then, Hagen already knew a few things about gear. Sylas meant business, and the gloves testified to it. There was lacing instead of Velcro. Hagen had no experience with this type. The fist felt naked—a far cry from the soft pillow-like feeling sparring gloves gave him. On the other hand, these looked perfectly peaceful in comparison with the fingerless gloves he’d worn to fight Gonzalo. And yet...

  Someone knocked at the door right when he was contemplating using his teeth to get them laced.

  “Hey, mind if I come in?”

  It was April, wearing a short tennis skirt and a T-shirt. Her shiny hair was gathered in two bunches, which made her look like a non-malicious version of Harley Quinn, if such a character existed.

  She was absolutely gorgeous. Not the same way as Lexie who’d had something other than beauty going for her. But it was hard to take his eyes away from April.

  Hagen froze in place and just stood here with one of his laces in his teeth. He couldn’t help recollecting locker room porn scenes, and he’d seen a lot of those.

  “I knew you’d need help!”

  She approached Hagen, took his hand, then pulled the glove on and laced it properly. Mike could but marvel at her strong and confident movements. He tried to conceal his excitement, opening the stats tab and placing a permanent progress bar over Barbie.

  Reputation: Interest (8/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: high (8/10)

  As she was lacing up the second glove, Barbie said,

  “The owner of the gym told me a few things about you. You’re full of surprises, and I like that.”

  “I can see as much,” Hagen chortled.

  Barbie’s face became a mask of anger, which likened her to Harley Quinn even more.

  “Wanna get cheeky with me? I can incapacitate you in a matter of seconds.

  “I can see that as well,” Mike said, unable to keep from smiling.

  “Anyway, this is what you need to know about Sylas. He might be a jackass and overly fond of showing off, but he’s already studied two of your fights. One was from this gym; the other, from the club. I have to say, that fight impressed me a little.”

  “I could say the same...”

  Barbie pulled hard on his lacing. “Shut up and listen. He knows your style; you don’t know his.”

  Hagen decided against mentioning that the idea had already crossed his mind. He was curious about what the girl had to say.

  “He will wait for your punch. He knows all about it and he’s ready for it. He’ll most probably try a clinch to contain you. That means you have to get ready to move aside. If he grabs you...” Barbie gave Hagen a pointed look. She was a little taller than him (like pretty much everybody). “If he grabs you and knocks you down, you’re done for. He’ll go all out on his favorite strangulation and submission holds. Once his bulk pins you down, you won’t be able to get up again. Got it?”

  Mike nodded.

  The door opened. Gonzalo peeked in.

  “Hey, bro about those twenty bucks...” he looked at Barbie and winked. “Oops, bro, don’t mind me. Laters. You could have put a sock on the handle, couldn’t you?”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Hagen asked as the door closed behind Gonzalo.

  “I want you to win.”

  “But why? Aren’t the two of you...”

  “Yes, we’re a couple. But he’s still a narcissistic asshole. He needs a lesson. So I’d like you to punish him—that’s the only way to deal with his self-righteous arrogance. He’s so pompous when he talks—or struts—I can’t bear it. Even his breathing patterns are a show-off.”

  Hagen’s face broke in a crooked grin. “Sure. And the worst punishment for a pretty boy like him would be to lose to a freak like me.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  Somehow Barbie’s contemptuous tone didn’t agree with the fact that her Interest in him had risen 1 pt. Had Hagen not known about it, he might have gotten really upset. But the progress bar reading had changed everything. The girl was trying to conceal her interest in him.

  “So, you get it, don’t you?” the girl repeated.

  “I get it all right, but what do I really get?”

  “What do you get?” Barbie looked right through him as she ran her finger over his chin and suddenly scratched his upper lip with her fingernail. “I won’t cause you too much pain for your insolence.”

  Her touch felt electric. Hagen’s old patterns kicked in. He started to feel embarrassed and looked at the ground.

  “OK. Yeah...” he finally mumbled. He’d run out of words by that point, so he expressed his acquiescence by punching the air.

  “That’s my boy! One more thing: save your best punch until a convenient moment. Feint as much as you can at the expense of dynamics. You’ll have to confuse Sylas. The punch must come when he least expects it. But he’ll be expecting it all the time, so you’ll have to conceal it well.”

  Hagen was amazed. How could a yoga instructor have known so much?

  “Sylas also worries a lot about his nose,” Barbie continued. “You have no idea how much he spent on plastic surgery. All your feints must look like you’re trying to hit him in the face. No hooks, no uppercuts; a direct punch. That will intimidate him no matter what.”

  The door opened again. It was Ochoa.

  “It’s time.”

  Hagen was about to go but Barbie stopped him, grabbing him by the hand. She brought her face close to his and whispered, her breath burning him like fire,

  “Just do it.”

  Hagen nodded, put in his mouthguard, adjusted his helmet and headed for the ring. He felt hyped. It was as though Barbie had inspired him to win.

  The system confirmed as much by giving him a new buff.

  Encouragement (valid until the end of the battle)

  +1 to all characteristics

  +3 to any ability’s level

  +50% to ability learning speed

  Attention! Buff cooldown: -1 from all characteristics (for 12 hours)

  Accept?

  “Hell yeah!” Hagen yelled as he raised his arms and bumped his boxing gloves together.

  * * *

  ENTE
RING THE RING in Ochoa’s gym was a far cry from doing the same at the Dark Devil club. There was no hostile crowd or darkness. Hagen felt a great deal more confident, too. The encouragement made it easier to deal with the fear of pain and defeat.

  Hagen entered the ring at the same time as Sylas, who was wearing a wrestler’s outfit with AthleticSmart logos all over. The system reacted to his entrance with a familiar blinking message—the second one that day.

  The Tail Wagging the Dog

  Defeat Sylas in a fight at April’s behest for new achievements

  Ochoa’s transformation also came as some surprise—he entered the ring clad in a faded light blue shirt with a bow tie. A real old school referee, no less.

  “Fighters, meet in the center of the ring,” he announced

  Hagen left his corner and walked toward the center in his usual manner. Sylas—or Ken—crossed the ring pressing his gloves to his chest and bowing to the audience all the way. He was obviously trying to convey an impression of some oriental philosopher.

  Ochoa warned them that he would judge them without any favors to anyone, outlined the rules briefly, and checked the fighters’ gloves. Then he sent the opponents to their corners. There was a pbrief pause disturbed by a few shouts of support from the audience. Killa and his friends who’d placed their bets on Hagen were whistling while Sylas’s friends applauded.

  Having found himself alone in the corner, Hagen whispered,

  “Assistant, what would be the best way to invest the temporary skill point? Should I unlock a new skill or build up on what I already have?

  “Both options have pros and cons,” the assistant replied. “Given the situation, it would be more prudent to enhance the Kick skill.”

  That was it! According to Barbie, that would be the very attack that Sylas would not expect. If she were to be trusted in the first place, that is.

  Hagen’s eyes found April. She was standing right next to the ring, closer to his corner. She caught his eye, winked, and even blew him a kiss.

  Even the socially inept Hagen realized that Barbie was simply using him to piss off her boyfriend. However, the progress bar above the girl’s head betrayed her actual feelings. She could hardly fool the Augmented Reality! Platform, could she?

  Sylas observed her and blew up at once. His geniality and meditative state seemed to have vanished into thin air.

  “I’ll destroy you, dwarf,” Sylas said, punching the air. Ochoa even had to yell at him to tell him to get back to his corner.

  “You’re not the first one to make that promise,” Hagen replied.

  Encouragement was nice, but the man looked intimidating—a human mountain of impeccable muscle. Hagen called his own stats to calm down a little.

  Strength: 8

  Agility: 6

  Stamina: 11

  Intellect: 7

  Perception: 6

  Luck: 4

  Charisma: 2

  Punch: Level 17

  Damage: 13,600

  Kick: Level 6

  Damage: 3,600

  Not bad in general, but the HP difference looked fearsome. Hagen only had a little over ten thousand—he hadn’t managed to recuperate fully after his fight with Goliath. And Sylas clocked at 20 K. That was more than he’d had before. Could meditation have made all the difference?

  Ochoa stretched out his hands.

  “Fight!”

  Hagen had been waiting for it but the word still caught him by surprise. The opponents approached each other and bumped their fists.

  Sylas instantly assumed a defensive stance and started to circle around Hagen.

  Mike didn’t raise his hands high, thinking his feints through. Barbie had been right—he’d have to save the special attacks that could lead him to victory for later. And his opponent didn’t expect the surprise attack to be a kick.

  However, Sylas had a few tricks up his sleeve, too. He dashed forward and feinted with his hand. Hagen dodged it, only to receive a kick in the thigh.

  Damage received: 3000

  Damn! Another low kick! Did Ken decide to adopt Gonzalo’s technique?

  Hagen took a step backwards, limping. However, his opponent did not follow through with the attack, assuming a defensive stance instead. Even the frame of the helmet and the visibly protruding mouthguard did nothing to make his face any less handsome. Hagen started to suspect that Sylas had feared him to an unreasonable extent.

  So he did everything Sylas had expected him to do by throwing a few powerful punches. Ducking, hook, uppercut, a step back, and a straight jab. He followed Ochoa’s textbook to the letter.

  Sylas blocked the hook. As for the uppercut, he bobbed and weaved as though they’d been sparring under the watchful eye of a coach. However, the jab—which wasn’t all that strong, since Mike had already used up his initial strength—managed to tear through Sylas’s defensive stance. Hagen had wanted to punch him on the nose, but it was the chin instead.

  Damage dealt: 10,000 points (Punch)

  Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!

  Skill name: Punch

  Current level: 18

  Unfortunately, the helmet deflected some of the damage from the punch. Sylas threw his head back as if he’d seen something of interest on the ceiling. He must have been really upset by the fact that he missed the very attack he’d been preparing for.

  Sylas didn’t let Hagen finish him off though. He evaded the second attack and rushed forward. Hagen shifted back but met the ropes. Sylas leaned on him, pressing him in even harder. His bulk obscured the lamps.

  Hagen felt like he was inside a sleeping bag zipped up and held by someone. That was how other boys bullied him on his only summer camp trip.

  Ochoa’s face flashed before his eyes—the coach had been watching the battle keenly—as well as a few strangers. Then a familiar face drifted into his field of vision—Gonzalo was opening his mouth without making any audible sound and clenching his fist, urging Hagen to fight on.

  Sylas didn’t just push Mike into the ropes. He kept on pummeling on him, too. Their respective positions did not permit a strong punch but the bigger man kept on dishing them out. Hagen managed to block a few, but he’d been dealt enough damage. The knee attacks were the most painful.

  Damage received: 910

  Damage received: 680

  Damage received: 355

  Damage received: 320

  An arm in a light blue shirt placed itself in front of Mike. Ochoa the referee told the fighters to break up.

  Hagen didn’t know why. Nor did he care. He was looking at the opponent’s HP bar and comparing it to his own.

  Sylas “Ken” Kopf: 10,000

  Mike “Crybaby” Hagen: 4,835

  Things didn’t turn out as planned, as usual. And that went both ways.

  “Are you ready?” Ochoa asked Sylas. Then he turned toward Hagen. “How about you?”

  Both nodded and approached each other again.

  They were slower this time. Both were breathing heavily. Sylas had a red blotch on his chin. Apart from the lip, Hagen felt pain in other parts of his body injured by his adversary.

  Judging by Sylas’ movements, he was about to switch to grappling again. He was a lot more cautious now, evading every faint and trying to find the moment when Hagen would stop punching the air to bridge the short distance between them.

  Mike got the distinct feeling that Sylas was about to use his signature moves before he could fight back. He started to feel cornered.

  A duck, a punch. Then another duck, and another punch. Nothing helped. Sylas moved fast, and counter-attacked whenever Hagen would lose his positions.

  He caught Hagen by surprise during one of these counter-attacks. Mike felt the darkness of the sleeping bag engulf him once again. This time, though, he didn’t have his back against the ropes; he was down on the floor.

  Hagen tried to rise but Ken kept pushing, pinning him to the ground. He tried to grab Mike in a submission hold, blocking his arms. Hagen wo
uld tense his muscles and try to slip away, but Sylas would grab him again. The incongruous Dodgers T-shirt kept on getting wrinkled, confining him.

  Damage received: 1000 (submission hold)

  Warning! You have less that 40% HP left!

  You’re advised to end the fight at once and seek medical help!

  An observer might have gotten the impression that Sylas was going through the motions alone in the corner of the ring—he was large enough to make Hagen near-invisible. There would be an occasional sight of a gloved fist, or a foot, or a part of Mike’s redden face in a slightly skewed helmet.

  Damage received: 1000 (submission hold)

  “Hey, get up already! Don’t disappoint me!” said someone’s voice right nearby.

  Mike saw April in the corner of his eye before Sylas blocked his vision again.

  Oddly enough, the girl’s support helped. Sylas diverted his attention toward her, and Mike managed to tense and slip away. The fighters were on their feet again.

  Hagen’s vision was blurred. The audience was just a large spot, and Ochoa resembled a blue cloud.

  “Are you OK?” the cloud asked.

  Hagen bobbed his head, trying to focus. “I am, coach.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah... I am sure.”

  Ochoa shook his head but signaled for the fight to continue, declaring Sylas to be in the lead points-wise.

  However, Mike’s opponent was far from triumphant. He was just as cautious as he’d been from the word go.

  Sylas tried to kick again. Hagen didn’t react at all. It wasn’t calmness; he’d been gripped by a feeling of indifference. The fight was nearly lost. He wondered if it might have been easier to forfeit now than to give Sylas a chance to strike again.

  Another feint—his opponent pretended to land a kick this time. There was a grin on the near-perfect face of Sylas: he must have made an assessment of Mike’s condition.

  The third punch caught his side. Hagen yelped and doubled over.