by Jinx, Hondo
Johnny hurried after his opponent.
When Andre zipped in the other direction, jabbing, Johnny angled sharply to the right, cutting him off again.
This time, however, he threw a looping left hook as Andre came back the other way.
Andre’s jab smacked clean into Johnny’s face, but the hook landed too, thumping off the taller man’s shoulder, and Andre retreated to the ropes.
“Off the ropes, Dre!” his trainer shouted.
Johnny surged forward, winging hooks to the body.
Andre blocked them with his arms and spun away from the ropes, but with that exchange, something fundamental had changed.
Johnny felt it. And he knew Andre felt it, too.
Andre was fast and athletic. He juked from side to side, tending a wide gap and pumping the jab, snapping it out, doubling and tripling it, his eyes big and round within the headgear, almost frightened.
Some of the jabs scored, but at this distance, it was easier to see them coming, so Johnny blocked most of them.
“That’s it!” Andre’s trainer hollered. “That’s it, Dre. Jab, jab, jab. Beat his ass with that stick.”
Johnny ticked his head from side to side, slipping the jab, then dipped under it and stepped forward with a right hook to the body.
The punch thumped off Andre’s midsection. He grunted, hunching with the blow.
Johnny followed up with a left hook to the body, but Andre caught it on his arm and slipped out in the other direction, his eyes wider than ever.
The rest of the round, Andre moved quickly, almost frantically, circling rapidly around the ring and throwing flicking jabs without setting himself.
It was annoying and frustrating. The guy was quick and cautious. His punches didn’t hurt at all, but Johnny knew if this was a real fight, he’d be losing the round.
He wished he was faster. He wished he had better timing and footwork. And, struggling to catch his breath even during this first round, he wished his endurance was better.
Andre’s trainer shouted for his fighter to settle down and stick the jab, but the taller fighter was focused on not getting hit again.
Johnny pushed his frustration from his head and stalked Andre patiently, conserving energy, jabbing from time to time but mostly concentrating on slipping the jabs and trying to cut off the ring.
At the end of the round, he finally managed to walk him down.
Again, he cut off the ring in one direction then immediately came back the other way, slipping under Andre’s jab and blocking his escape.
Their bodies slammed together. Andre pushed away, trying to create space, but Johnny drove him into the ropes and unleashed a four-punch combination.
The jab split Andre’s guard, jerking his head back. The right grazed his head. The hook smashed into his gloves. And the final punch, another right hand, blew through his gloves and hammered into Andre’s jaw.
As his fist thudded home, Johnny felt Andre buckle.
Just like that, the taller man dropped to the canvas.
Johnny backed off, and the bell rang.
Andre climbed to his feet, shaking his head.
“Not bad,” Marvella said, when Johnny went back to the corner. “You earned your respect. Control your breathing.”
Johnny sucked air.
Freddie grinned, pulled out his mouthpiece, and gave him a shot of water from the squirt bottle. “Nice work, Johnny. Nice punch.”
Johnny smiled at her. He felt great, excited and a little winded but calm.
There’s no feeling like dropping a man doing his best to beat you.
“You’re getting hit too much,” Marvella said. “Work on your speed. You’re too slow. Be first. His jab ain’t shit, but it’s messing you up. At the end, you slipped him and cut him off. That was all right. If you’re going to slip, counter, you feel me?”
Johnny nodded.
“Make him miss, make him pay.” Marvella demonstrated, dipping an invisible jab and countering with a right hand. “You feel me?”
Johnny nodded again.
Freddie tapped his headgear. “Breathe, Johnny.”
He straightened, pulled in a deep breath, and held it for a second before letting it shudder free.
“He’s gonna be looking for payback,” Marvella said. “Set him straight. Be the boss. Make him miss, make him pay. Make him afraid to punch. Take that jab from him, and you’ll take his heart, too, stick it in your back pocket and pet it whenever you like, you feel me?”
“Here,” Freddie said, sticking his mouthpiece back in.
“Your boy okay?” Marvella yelled across the ring. Her raised voice was a harsh rasp. She almost never hollered.
“He’s good,” the other trainer said, clapping Andre on the shoulder.
The bell rang.
Andre rolled his shoulders, thumped his gloves together, and came forward with a determined look in his eyes.
Stupid.
Nothing wrong with wanting payback. That was natural. Necessary, even, if you were a real fighter.
Looking for payback by banging with a heavy-handed opponent, however, was dumb as hell.
Sometimes, though, guys get so afraid, they’ll do crazy stuff to convince people—including themselves—that they aren’t scared.
Andre came forward and started winging hooks and crosses, looking to prove whatever he had to prove.
Mentally, Johnny shrugged. Andre wanted to throw away his advantages and bang, so be it. He squared his shoulders and traded with the guy.
For a few exciting seconds, they went toe to toe. Johnny loved to mix it up, loved to brawl.
Andre’s punches smacked into his headgear. They were nothing. This man could not hurt him.
Then Johnny’s hook walloped Andre in the temple, and the taller man crumpled to the canvas.
“That’s it for tonight,” Andre’s trainer said, coming through the ropes.
Johnny gave Andre a hand, and the taller man got woozily to his feet.
“Good punch, man,” Andre said, shaking his head. “You got real power. Real power.”
Andre’s trainer clapped Johnny on the shoulder. “Thanks for the work. You were too strong for him tonight. His stupid ass should never have squared up with you. What were you thinking, Dre?”
Johnny left them to it and went back to his corner.
Grinning, Freddie held her hand up for a high five.
Johnny slapped it with his glove.
Marvella allowed half a smile. “Sloppy. But you were the boss, anyway.”
Freddie took Johnny’s mouthpiece and held the ropes for him, and they all went down to the main floor, where several fighters and trainers pounded fists with Johnny.
Marvella unbuckled his chin strap and tugged the headgear off his head. “I’ll get you some good sparring. You keep progressing, I’ll get you on a card sometime in a couple of months.”
Freddie hip bumped Johnny, beaming at him.
“Sounds good,” Johnny said.
“Normally, I like to take it slow, but we got the city championship this December. This year will be your only crack at the novice division. By next year, you’ll have way too many fights. That gives us a few months to get you four fights. That’s not a problem. Guys can rack them up faster than girls. In the general population, females outnumber males three-to-one, but boxing flips the ratio.”
“Shit, Johnny could have four fights in a week or two.”
“We’ll see how he does,” Marvella said. “We got time.”
“Gonna send him to smokers, too?” Freddie asked.
“Oh yeah,” Marvella said, nodding and tearing the tape from his laces. “Gotta fight in the smokers. You keep sparring like that, kid, I’ll take you to the Dogville Dungeon before you know it. But things are heating up, people gearing up, getting ready to make a run at the city championship. Other gyms will be bringing their new meat here soon enough. Then we’ll see how Johnny stands up to the competition.”
Chapter 34
; As soon as Johnny fell asleep that night, he found himself sitting on the prospectors’ table again.
Paul and Annabelle smiled at him.
“There he is!” Paul chimed.
“Pow!” a grinning Annabelle exclaimed, throwing the most awkward punch Johnny had ever seen. “Knockout!”
“Hey,” Johnny said. “Did I level up again?”
“Yes!” they chorused.
“Cool. Is that a new shirt, Paul?”
“Indeed it is,” Paul said, smiling with evident pride. The shimmering button-up looked like something out of the disco era. Paul lifted his arms and gave a twirl, looking like a watermelon wrapped in aluminum foil. “Do you like it?”
Johnny shook his head. “It hurts my eyes.”
Paul frowned. “I suppose I can’t fault you for your primitive tastes.”
“Especially not when you’re doing so well, Johnny,” Annabelle said.
“Good to hear,” Johnny said. “How well?”
“You’ve quadrupled your subscribers,” Annabelle said, smiling brightly. “People like you. And they like Freddie. But that knockout. That really won them over. Your relives are through the roof, and a bunch of people have bookmarked you.”
“Which means you’re generating buzz,” Paul said. “We’re starting to earn affiliate money, too. Now, we’ll be able to afford better advertising.”
“That sparring match, stopping Andre, that’s advertising gold.” Annabelle glanced at her tablet, tapped the screen, and smiled. “It just happened, but it’s already your second-most-relived clip.”
“Your most frequently relived clip, of course,” a suddenly unsmiling Paul interjected, “is the blowjob. Which brings me to my real question. Dude, why the fuck didn’t you let Sylvia suck you off again?”
“You heard me, didn’t you? I told Sylvia why.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “Look, Freddie’s great, but it’s not like you’re married. She won’t even let you kiss her yet.”
Johnny shrugged. Barely. He wasn’t going to justify himself to this guy in his loud shirt. If subscribers were too impatient to watch a real relationship build, they should stick to porn.
“I actually agree with Johnny on this one,” Annabelle said. “I’ve been lurking on the web-mind. Sure, you have assholes one-starring you, calling you a pussy, a beta male, calling you wishy washy. But they’re the vocal minority, a small faction of whiny, entitled snowflakes who demand that everything in life go their way. Most people, however, are loving the romance and flirting between you two. The haters just want to get their rocks off. But most people are really enjoying the relationship you’re building with Freddie. I know I am. It makes me wonder what it would have been like, living back in the past, when you could take your time and get to know people.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Paul said, sounding irritated, “but nothing trumps a blowjob. And unless I’m mistaken, anal was on the table, too. Why in the world would you deny that beautiful girl?”
Johnny just looked at him. Paul already knew why he’d said no. He just didn’t like Johnny’s reason.
“Shut up, Paul,” Annabelle said. “It’s not like Johnny was cruel. He let her down gently enough.”
“Why let her down at all?” Paul said. He shimmied around, pumping his narrow hips and making his shirt twinkle. “I would’ve tagged that ass!”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Johnny said. “Have you ever even liked a girl? A real girl, I mean, one who liked you back?”
“That is none of your business,” Paul snapped. “And it’s irrelevant. Now, if you—”
“As soon as you rejected Sylvia,” Annabelle said, glancing at her tablet again, “you lost seven percent of your subscribers.”
“Exactly,” Paul said. “I almost had a heart attack.”
“But the next day,” Annabelle said, poking the screen, “your subscribers started climbing again. And the demographics shifted. Prior to the rejection, only 11% of your subscribers were female. That’s normal for a fighting game. But after the rejection and prior to the knockout, 46% of your new signups were female. That is a crazy high percentage of female signups.”
“Yeah,” Paul said, “but they didn’t make up for all of the subscribers we lost. If it weren’t for the knockout—”
“Bullshit,” Annabelle said. “Johnny has opened a whole new subscriber funnel. Females are talking on the web-mind. They love you, Johnny. They love the way you treat Freddie. They love the relationship you’re building.” She smiled at him and surprised him by blushing a little. “I misjudged you. That whole kick ass, get laid, repeat mantra really sold you short. In all fairness, we did rescue you from an ill-fated, long-distance booty call, but there’s more to you than just kicking butts and busting nuts.”
“Thanks, I guess?” Johnny said.
“We can’t count on females to get us where we want to go,” Paul said. “This recent spike is probably a complete anomaly. I’m guessing the demographics will stabilize at or close to normal fight game gender breakdowns soon. Whatever the case, you have to please your male subscribers. They’re your base, dude.”
“So guys in the future don’t want relationships?” Johnny asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Paul said. “But they live their lives on Vicarus, so they’re used to getting their rocks off most days. The novelty of courting your chaste sweetheart will wear off sooner rather than later. Feed them before they get too hungry and go looking someplace else.”
“There is a simple solution,” Annabelle said. “I understand you not wanting to mess with Sylvia while you’re wrapped up in Freddie. But honestly, you’ve already spent a long time building a relationship with this girl. Now, you just earned a boatload of credits. Why not spend a few, even just one, on hurrying things up with Freddie?”
Paul grinned nastily from above his ridiculous shirt. “Yeah, Johnny. Make her blow you. That’s what I’d do!”
“Fuck off, Paul,” Johnny said.
“Hold on,” Annabelle said, and she shot her partner a withering glance. “I’m not suggesting you force anything on Freddie. Not really. But when you get to the rewards store, look at the options. These things tend to be pretty intuitive. Maybe there will be a ‘first kiss’ selection. If so, what’s the harm in that?”
“I promised to give Freddie whatever time she needed,” Johnny said. “I won’t rush her to ramp up ratings.”
Paul groaned. “You’re a boxer, Johnny, not a knight in shining armor. So get off your high horse and stick it in the catgirl’s mouth.”
Johnny’s hands tightened into fists. “Again, Paul… fuck off.”
“Everybody take it easy,” Annabelle said. “Look, Johnny. You’re missing the point here. This is a simulation. If you opt to arrange a first kiss with Freddie, you won’t be forcing her to do anything, okay? Even if you took Paul’s admittedly crude advice and chose to arrange sex with Freddie, you wouldn’t be forcing her. The simulation would change. You wouldn’t be pushing a Rape Mouth button. She would want it as much as you. Maybe even more.”
“Freddie has her reasons for waiting.”
“Everything would be okay,” Paul said.
“Do promises mean anything to you people? Or is life just about getting what you want and screw the other guy?”
“Oh, get out of here with that highhanded idealism,” Paul said. “Now you sound like you’re from all the way back in the 20th century!”
“Look,” Johnny said. “Promises might not matter to you, but they matter to me. And I’m not going to burn my promise to Freddie and force her to burn her promise to Marvella.”
“Aren’t you hearing me, Johnny?” Annabelle said. “She wouldn’t even know it. The simulation would change. Marvella wouldn’t even remember demanding the promise, because reality would reconfigure.”
“But I would remember the promises, and my subscribers would remember.”
“They wouldn’t care.”
“You don’t know that. People want m
ore out of life than blowjobs, Paul. Maybe they don’t realize that in the 22nd century, but down deep, they do want more. Because people will always want promises to mean something. They’ll want to make promises and keep them and have promises kept. That’s the foundation of life. You build a life worth living by making commitments to yourself and others, by sticking to those commitments, and by living in trusting relationships where both people help each other.”
“You’re a bricklayer and a boxer, Johnny, not a philosopher,” Paul said.
“Thanks for reminding me, buddy. Since we’re spelling things out so clearly, you’re not a philosopher, either. You’re an asshole.”
“Very funny, Johnny. Look, I’m just trying to help you out here.”
“No, you’re trying to make more money.”
“Which is the same thing, in case you missed that glaringly obvious fact.”
“Not if I have to compromise my life and my character to get ahead.”
“Oh, please. What happened to the relatively cool guy who got blown away in the rest stop? Now all of the sudden you’re Mr. Perfect?”
“Hardly.”
“Don’t lose sight of the goal, Johnny,” Annabelle said. “Ratings and subscribers. Help us with those things, and you’ll be able to build a nice little world. Remember, we aren’t talking about real life here.”
“To me, we are. And Freddie’s more real to me than you two and all my subscribers put together.”
“Be that as it may,” Paul said, “the data shows—”
“We’ll see, Paul. Now, can you hit a button or something and send me to the store? I’m done here.”
Chapter 35
Welcome to the Vicarus Rewards Store, Current Balance 750 Vicarus Credits.
Johnny stared at the credit total with amazement.
First, select your rewards category, the lovely female voice narrated. To begin, touch the interactive menu.
When the list of options appeared in midair, strobing pink, Johnny noticed a new category.
Gear
Juice