“Welcome to the wooden ring, fighter.”
Hagen turned around. All the desks were arranged along the chalk lines, forming something resembling an octagonal UFC ring. One of the inmates swept the dust with a broom, and another one followed him with a mop.
* * *
MIKE FELT lost. How should he react? Should he express outrage at the fact of having been made part of a competition without consent? Or should he accept the challenge, no matter how weird? They offered him to fight, after all—wasn’t that what he’d always dreamed of doing? After all, time went by, and his one-year license would soon expire. He wouldn’t be able to train just as efficiently without it.
General must have misinterpreted Hagen’s doubtful look. “You have every right to decline... If you’re afraid, that is.”
“I’m not afraid. Well, maybe just a little bit.”
General beamed warmly, which was quite at odds with his usual emotionless demeanor.
“Hey, you do realize that fights in the wooden ring could not have been organized without the top prison brass being in the know? If you fight well, you’ll get positive records in your file. In this prison you need to get in the ring and fight to get the administration’s approval. You can bust your ass working or behave like a boy scout without getting any perks at all. They only give you good marks for fighting well in the wooden ring here.”
Hagen stretched his shoulders with satisfaction and bent his neck to hear the vertebrae pop. “I get it.”
“Well done.” General showed him the clipboard. “You’re first, and your opponent is right there.”
General pointed to one of the inmates. Hagen read his stats.
Brian “Skuld” Hurst
Level 8
HP: 20,000
Battles/victories: 138/34
Weight: 191 lbs
Height: 5’ 10”
Current status: Wild Boys gang member
Reputation: Scorn (8/10)
Resistance to your Charisma: high (4/10)
Hagen was amused by the fact that Brian had pretended to be a Viking of sorts—the man’s eyes were brown, and the color of the stubble on his head testified to the fact that he wasn’t fair-haired. However, Skuld must have compensated for not looking Nordic enough by having gotten inked all over. There was Norse writing, runes, and spiky-looking ornamental patterns transforming into swastikas.
However, Mike had been familiar with Scandinavian mythology, so he didn’t buy any of Brian’s visual braggadocio. He’d gone through a phase of getting interested in his roots a few years ago. As far as he could remember, Skuld was one of the three Norns—the Scandinavian goddesses of fate—embodying death and the aspect of the future. But Brian must have been unaware of it when he had chosen his nickname.
It turned out that Skuld was the very guy he’d helped with the desk earlier on. He was OK as an opponent. Not the most fearsome one, at any rate.
Having been defeated by Lorenzo, Hagen feared he’d lose again, and again, and then again, and would never be able to win. But when he looked at Skuld, he became aware of having been stronger than his opponent. That had nothing to do with mindless self-confidence. He simply knew he was better.
Hagen must have been more of a Viking than Skuld had tried to seem.
The guards got animated, herding the inmates together and using their truncheons freely. They didn’t even spare General. Once they’d hit him on the neck with a truncheon, he lost all his gravitas and joined the crowd at once.
A group of people entered the room from the guarded gate facing the yard. Their confidence and the way they carried themselves proclaimed them as the local authorities.
An aged corpulent man in a no-nonsense suit and tie was in the center. One of his eyes was half-closed, giving the impression of someone who’d tried to blink but never managed to lift his eyelid. It would have had a comical effect if it hadn’t been for the expression on his face. It projected such confidence that General seemed a dogsbody in comparison.
Hagen read the man’s stats.
Blinky “Cloudy Eye” Palermo
Age: 57
Level: 134
HP: 53,000
Battles/victories: 9000/8911
Weight: 225 lbs
Height: 6’ 2”
Current status: Warden
Reputation: Indifference (10/10)
Resistance to your Charisma: very high (10/10)
Hagen’s jaw dropped. He’d never seen fighters with such stats before. That was a real level boss.
A thought flashed through his mind—how many level-ups would he get if he defeated Blinky Palermo in a “fair fight?” The warden was old, so Hagen would have an advantage. It would be fun if the system had a bug in it and one could knock out old boxers to level up at an incredible speed.
However, he realized there couldn’t have been any bugs. Augmented Reality! Platform clearly wasn’t outsourced to teenage programmers from a developing country.
The bosses sat down—there were plenty of chairs and armchairs in the furniture workshop to seat them all.
But there was more to come. The doors of the corridor leading to the prison block opened too, letting in Blake “Ford” Ali, Felipe “Fino” Peña and a few other big shot inmates. Fortunately, Lorenzo wasn’t among them—he’d been transferred to solitary confinement.
“Will they fight too?” Hagen whispered to General.
“No, why would they? They just came to watch.”
The gang kingpins stood next to the ring, surrounded by armed guards. They were inmates, after all, and not supposed to be allowed to sit. They also had lightweight shackles on their wrists and ankles.
This didn’t prevent them from procuring cigarettes and lighting up right away. Blinky Palermo went so far as to send them a bottle of beer each.
Hagen wasn’t that savvy about the prison rules, but he still realized that had been completely against the rules.
General kept on talking. “Palermo’s mad about martial arts. He’s an old pervert as well—he really enjoys watching people fight to the death.”
“That’s real fucking weird,” Skuld butted in. “Any fight in the block is stopped immediately. And sometimes you really want to throw a few punches at a white guy who hangs out with the spics.”
“A race war ain’t the same as fighting in the wooden ring,” General replied. “Palermo fears losing his position and joining our ranks.”
“And that still doesn’t stop him from organizing MMA fights?” Hagen asked in bewilderment.
General gave him a long look. “Are you from Mars, son? The fact that a gangster like Blinky Palermo isn’t locked up and works as a warden in a prison filled with gangsters of a lower caliber only goes to show how rotten this whole fucked-up system is.”
Hagen didn’t ask any further questions upon hearing about the “fucked-up system.” He’d known from experience that the conversation would invariably become political, and he’d never understood anything about politics.
Palermo made a commanding gesture with his hand. General hustled to leave the crowd of inmates and ran up to the ring, his clipboard at the ready.
“The first fighters! Mike Hagen and a racist bitch known as Skuld!”
Skuld pushed Mike forward.
“Let’s have a go at it. I’ll kick your ass; our boss will be pleased.”
* * *
MIKE CLIMBED over the desks and entered the ring. He glanced at Cloudy Eye Palermo but instantly looked away—the warden had been a pro at projecting an aura of intimidation.
Skuld took off his T-shirt and started to warm up. Palermo bent down to one of the guards, telling him something. The latter approached the ring and pushed Skuld with his truncheon,
“Get started!”
Hagen had also removed his top, then froze for a moment, thinking whether he should remove his boots as well. However, Skuld kept his on, so Mike followed suit.
They met at the center of the wooden ring. Hagen offered his gloves f
or a fist bump, and barely managed to block the incoming punch. Skuld didn’t seem inclined to observe the niceties. He was clearly wishing to win in as easy and underhanded way as possible.
Forget the rules, Mikey boy, Hagen said to himself. How did April put it? She’d told me I resembled a serious weapon that wasn’t aware of its own power yet. I’ll make that racist bitch feel my power right now.
A quest window popped up.
Invincible Fighter
Defeat your opponent losing less than 4,000 HP.
Skuld’s nefarious move made the crowd shout in support while Blinky Palermo shifted forward in his chair with his eyes fixed on Hagen.
The fighters circled each other, refraining from attacks so far. Hagen kept looking at his opponent, trying to spot his weaknesses.
There were plenty of those. Skuld held his arms up the wrong way and didn’t bend his knees at all. It was the first time Hagen realized he wasn’t a newbie in boxing.
Suddenly, Skuld addressed him,
“Why are you so ugly? Did your mom fuck a lawnmower?”
Hagen twitched in discomfort. His heart ached when he heard his opponent mention his mother. He hadn’t been insulted in a long time. He’d upped his Charisma, after all. His first reaction at the insult was surprise. Why would anyone say that? He didn’t even know this goddamn racist asshole.
The system message corroborated it,
Critical verbal damage received!
−1 from all characteristics for 1 minute
“You have some shit on your face, too. Oops, sorry, that is your face.”
Hagen realized he wasn’t the only one capable of doing verbal damage. Although, why would it surprise him? Goretsky could have flattened him by sheer invective back in the day, too. He might have tried it again if he wasn’t afraid of Mike’s fists. Old Goretsky could sling his vernacular like a gun for sure.
Skuld kept on going,
“You’re the most handsome member of your family, aren’t you? Right after your dad, the lawnmower.”
“Did you freeze, shitface?” Hagen replied with a smile. “I guess a slowpoke like you needs a good punch to reboot.”
Oddly enough, this primitive provocation turned out to be effective—the opponent threw the first punch. However, Hagen was no longer there.
The very next moment Skuld got an uppercut right in his lower jaw.
Damage dealt: 17,100 points (Punch)
Brian “Skuld” Hurst took a few steps back, looking at the ceiling and covering his eyes with his hand as if to block out the sunshine. His legs could no longer support him. He slumped to the floor.
Hagen touched the immobile body with the tip of his boot, shrugged and turned to the audience.
Blinky Palermo reclined against the back of his seat. A vicious smile cracked his stern face. Even the half-shut eye looked more animated. He took a cigar out of his inner pocket. One of the guards offered him a light.
General nodded approvingly, happy for the “racist bitch” to have lost so fast. Felipe “Fino” stayed nonchalant, leaning on one of the desks that had formed the ring and sipping his beer. Blake “Ford” didn’t watch the fight at all, smoking his cig and talking to other inmates.
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).
Invincible Fighter: quest completed!
XP points received: 1
Ability points received: 1
You have completed What Was That, a hidden quest.
A knockout victory during the first ten seconds of the fight.
XP points received: 1
Ability points received: 1
XP points received on the current level (7): 7/7
You’ve received a new level!
Current level: 8
Characteristic points available: 1.
Skill points available: 1
The long-awaited pillar of light engulfed Hagen. It felt so good to be able to get rewarded for achievements in such a tangible way.
Having bathed in the beams of glory that only he could see, Hagen began to climb over the desks to clear the ring for the next fighters, only to be stopped by General.
“Where do you think you’re going? The fight isn’t over yet.”
Hagen watched two inmates drag Skuld by the feet and drop him outside the ring.
“As for me, it looks over.”
“Nope, fighter. This is no gym. You’ll fight as long as you can. But even if you can’t, you’ll still fight.”
Blinky Palermo took a puff on his cigar and addressed the gang kingpins without turning his head in their direction,
“Hey, Fino and Ford. Five grand on Blueeyes. Show me your fighter.”
“One of my boys has already given Blueeyes a good pounding. That’s why he’s in solitary confinement now. Let him go and we’ll see.”
“No way. I’m not breaking the law.”
Everyone laughed out loud as Palermo uttered those words, as if he’d regaled them with the funniest joke in the world.
Ford put out his cigarette and called one of the inmates, a tall and well-built black man. He whispered something into his ear and slapped him on the shoulder. The guy took off his prisoner’s attire and his T-shirt, and jumped into the ring over the desks.
“Five thousand on my fighter,” Ford said.
“Five thousand on... Fino looked at Hagen, then at Ford’s fighter, then at Hagen again. “On Blueeyes.”
That was him. Hagen wished he wouldn’t let him down.
Hagen read his new opponent’s stats.
Jacob “Scissors” Collins
Age: 25
Level: 11
HP: 33,000
Battles/victories: 184/65
Weight: 227 lbs
Height: 6’ 2”
Current status: Pirus Brothers gang member
Reputation: Indifference (9/10)
Resistance to your Charisma: very high (9/10)
Scissors was a tall guy with long arms and legs. He reminded him of Clerk, but if the former had been taller and lankier, this one was muscled, with prominent pectorals. The way he moved his feet spoke volumes of the power of his ranged attacks.
A quest window popped up:
Gone in 60 Seconds
Defeat the opponent in 1 minute or less.
Countdown begins once the first attack lands.
Jacob, aka Scissors, didn’t bother with greetings, either. On the other hand, he didn’t start with insults. He moved toward Mike at once, jumping up, turning around, then kicking with his heel.
Hagen’s block protected him a little, but the kick still landed.
Damage received: 2,200
The opponent kept attacking. Standing on one leg, he kept on kicking Hagen with the other, validating his nickname since the movements of his legs resembled the blades of enormous scissors.
Damage received: 3,000
Suddenly Scissors approached Hagen, swung around with force, and elbowed him in the chest.
Hagen’s breathing seized up. The uninvited memory of narrowly escaping suffocation at the summer camp came to his mind. Hagen backed off with his arms spread.
Damage received: 2,300
Warning! You have less that 40% HP left!
Once again the world started to get blurry before his eyes.
How many times had it already happened to Hagen? Once again he was in a state of confusion where he couldn’t even see his opponent. His only hope was some kind of an invisible force—maybe the kind Luke Skywalker had used when he trained with his light saber blindfolded.
Hagen felt worse than blindfolded, though. He could barely breathe. Every object he saw appeared triple and quadruple. There was sweat in his eyes, turning his field of vision into a turbid chaos. There were also other figures gathered around the ring, making it harder to see his adversary. All of that distracted him from focusing on the fight.
&
nbsp; Then he received a new system message:
Tactical Pause: the ability has been unlocked.
The ability evens out the chances for a short time if the user is losing a fight in an unfamiliar and hostile environment.
+25 to Perception (2 seconds)
+25 to Intellect (2 seconds)
+25 to Agility (2 seconds)
+1000% Metabolism (2 seconds)
The blurred world instantly came into focus. All the inmates, guards, and administration members froze. Hagen felt surrounded by wax figures from some museum.
He saw Blinky “Cloudy Eye” Palermo freeze standing up from his chair with his fists in the air. The cigar fell out of his twisted mouth. The smoke also looked frozen, as if it was a photograph. One of the guards became immobile while picking his nose and watching the boss’s cigar fall. He seemed to wonder whether he should try to pick it up while plumbing the depths of his nostrils.
Felipe “Fino” Peña was standing right next to the wooden ring, grabbing onto it with both his hands. He was stretching and flexing his tattooed neck, looking directly at Hagen. His mouth was open in a silent shout. Drops of saliva froze right next to his lips.
All the sounds disappeared. There was an incredible silence for two whole seconds. The only sound Hagen could hear was that of his rasping breath. He also felt like it had gotten brighter: he could see everything clearly even in the darkest corners of the workshop.
Two seconds. Breathing in. Breathing out.
Those two seconds gave Hagen so much information about the outside world that it seemed to him he could have knocked out everyone within his attack range. They were but immobile wax figures, after all. Hagen could even see the movement of the second hand on Blinky Palermo’s watch from right across the ring.
Level Up- The Knockout Page 33
