Level Up- The Knockout

by Dan Sugralinov

  * * *

  HE’D NEED to distribute his remaining two skill points. The previous time he had decided to leave it to chance. The approach worked this time as well: Hagen’s phone rang.

  “Hey,” Wei Ming said.

  “What’s up, bro?” Hagen was copying Gonzalo’s behavior and borrowing from his vocabulary without even being aware.

  “B-bro? Say what? Mike, it’s the third day you’re skipping work...”

  “I’m on a sick leave. An injury to the leg. Alexa Hepworth knows—she’s the one who’d told me to take sick leave in the first place.”

  “I see. Look, something really weird is going on here. Riggs told me to come to the security room and gave me a right old interrogation.”

  “Yeah, old man Riggs must sure miss his days as a cop.”

  “Sure, but he’s asked a lot of questions about you.”

  “Bro, I’ve worked at DigiMart longer than you,” Hagen, still in Gonzalo mode, told Wei Ming confidently. “Riggs has always been this way. Sometimes he gets this idea that some of the employees are spies of some sort. Then he starts interrogating everybody. He must think you work for Chinese intelligence or some such. He’d tried to find out whether I might have worked for German intelligence when I was only starting on my job, even though Björnstad is a Norwegian name, and not German.”

  “Ha! Yeah, he’d also been asking me about my origins and place of birth, and I said I was from Reading. And then he asked whether that was in the North or the South of China. I told him it was in Massachusetts, right near Boston. Ha! You must be right—an old man’s quirks. All right, see you later, then. Although... I think it would make sense for you to come over and find out why Riggs is so interested in you.”

  “I’ll do just that. Thanks, Wei Ming!”

  Before Wei Ming could hang up, Hagen hurried to add, “Hey, could you teach me how to kick like Liu Kang?”

  “Uh-h-h... Didn’t you say you’d injured your leg?”

  “It’s already healed. And we could discuss Riggs while we’re at it.”

  “That’s a strange thing to ask. If I hadn’t seen you having that junkie’s ass served to him, I’d have told you to go to hell.”

  “Do you think I might learn something there?”

  “Ha! OK, then, come over sometime this evening. We’ll talk about it.

  Hagen called up the interface and invested both points into Kick.

  Kick: Level 2

  Damage: 1000

  +2% to the probability of ignoring any block

  The fight with Steve had led him to a number of insightful conclusions. It was indeed time to make his skills more versatile. The way his opponent had kicked out the bar stool from underneath him was effective enough—he couldn’t fail to admit that. If Hagen’s appearance hadn’t fooled Steve, the trucker would have finished him off easily without so much as letting Mike get up once.

  He headed for the sporting goods store to buy a standup punch bag.

  AthleticSmart was one of the branches of Howell’s business empire. It was also the largest sporting goods store in town. Unfortunately, they’d had a manager of their own, so a chance encounter with Lexie was out of the question.

  The punch bag Mike had wanted was the same kind as Ochoa had at his gym—with springs and mounted on a wide triangular plate. The bag itself was elongated, so Hagen would be able to practice hitting both the top and the bottom part—an essential feature in his case.

  However, another important factor was that it would cost more than the regular kind.

  Hagen took stock of his financial situation and sighed. He went on examining one punch bag after another, wondering which one might be the wisest investment of his remaining funds. Hagen planned to compensate his losses in the ring, fighting at the Dark Devil club, but who knew when that might happen? Wouldn’t it be better to start saving up for moving to Vegas?

  He looked toward the nearby section with workout equipment—dumbbells, barbells, and so on. A muscled guy was walking around it, dressed in a vest and long shorts; clearly not something one would normally wear in this weather. His muscles looked chiseled and smooth at the same time. He looked unreal—one felt like poking him in his biceps just to make sure they weren’t made of plastic. Even the tattoos on his skin seemed like artwork painted on porcelain.

  The muscled guy was accompanied by a girl who had looked every bit as fine a representative of the human species. Her dark yoga pants fit snugly around her buttocks and emphasized the gorgeousness of her figure. Her hair looked like it was made of nylon, fair and shiny.

  Hagen stared at them both in admiration. He’d never look like that, even if he’d managed to get to the millionth level. No amount of skills or abilities would change his genetics.

  Hagen’s short and scrawny stature didn’t make him look particularly athletic. Nor did his oddly-looking half-jacket, half coat flatter him one bit, fitting clumsily due to the weight of the PSP in its inner pocket.

  The muscled guy caught Hagen’s eye, chortled, and said something to the girl. She pursed her lips and grinned. They didn’t speak too loudly, yet Hagen managed to overhear the guy say “fucking freak.”

  Hagen squinted and read his stats.

  Sylas “Ken” Kopf

  Age: 23

  Level 9

  HP: 19,000

  Battles/victories: 156/120

  Current status: Athlete

  Reputation: Scorn (8/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: high (9/10)

  Hagen studied the new lines in the descriptions of people with interest. What was all that resistance business all about? He read the short description to find out that the lower a person’s resistance, the higher the chance of the “user” (Hagen, in this case) being able to influence said person’s behavior. However, when he tried to get a more detailed version, the system gave him a message that one should first up Insight to Level 2.

  Hagen was at a loss as to why or how he’d influence other people’s behavior.

  He was also surprised by the erratic oscillation of Ken’s Reputation stat.

  Scorn would become replaced by Indifference for a few seconds, and then return. The values were in a state of flux, too. The line looked like some sort of an indicator that couldn’t find the correct reading. The fickleness of human nature must have looked just like that as represented by the interface.

  Ken, the guy with the muscles, asked all of a sudden, “Now what are you looking at? Have you come to the wrong place? This isn’t a sex shop, you freak.”

  “Oh, so it isn’t, is it then?” Hagen retorted at once. “Then why do I see blow up dolls here?”

  Ken’s Scorn became replaced by Irritation. He didn’t get the barb, but still suspected there must have been one.

  Hagen looked at Ken’s companion. The system’s nickname made him smile once again.

  April “Barbie” Connell

  Age: 21

  Level 16

  HP: 25,000

  Battles/victories: 204/127

  Current status: Krav Maga Instructor

  Reputation: Indifference (10/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: extremely high (10/10)

  So, Barbie was tougher than Ken, then. Hagen couldn’t place the term Krav Maga. Wasn’t that some kind of yoga? Then again, yoga didn’t involve sparring, did it?

  Mike got confused again—he seemed to be doing that a lot today.

  The girl paid no interest to Hagen, although her muscled companion tried to entertain her by making fun of Mike. Barbie’s smile didn’t look sincere one bit. And the guy was clearly on edge due to some kind of an altercation with her. That must have been the reason for his open hostility to Mike who’d had the audacity to look at his girlfriend with a smile.

  It probably made no sense to irritate plastic-muscled Ken, so Hagen went on, punching the bags lightly. All of them were of a simple variety, mounted on a round base. They wouldn’t help him do much other than work on his punch count. Hagen was lookin
g for something solid and massive. The punch bag had to provide a real challenge for his strength and stamina.

  He finally stopped by a model that looked like what he’d been searching for. It was a heavy punch bag, human-sized (much taller than Hagen, in other words), mounted on a heavy triangular base and screwed to the floor with bolts. Mike thought it looked more reliable than all the sand-filled and water-filled bags he’d seen before.

  Hagen pushed against the punch bag. It leaned away heavily, then returned to the upright position.

  That looked perfect.

  “Hey, dwarf, what would you do with a bag that can punch you back? It might hit you so hard you’ll wind up dead,” Ken guffawed, looking at Barbie every now and then.

  She sighed, shrugged, and smiled in a strained way.

  “I need to practice my punches,” Hagen said. “But if you don’t behave, I’ll have to make you my punch bag.”

  Hagen threw a hard punch at the bag, using up all the 11,900 damage points he’d had at his disposal.

  The bang was so loud that one of the shop assistants gave a loud yelp, startled by the sound. The punch bag leaned far away from Hagen, springing back with a screech and a whoosh. The poorly-tightened mounting bolts slid out of the sockets in the floor a little.

  The bag bounced back with such force that Hagen had to dodge it as if it was a real sparring.

  Ken got angry. “Let me show you how training is really done.”

  He started to strut in Hagen’s direction, stepping over the barbells and dumbbells that lay in the way.

  “Stop it, Sylas,” Barbie tried to be the voice of reason. “Don’t get into any fights; you already have a record. Want to do community service again? Can’t wait to get back into orange?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t touch shorty. I’ll just show him how to punch properly.”

  The muscled guy approached the punch bag, which was still swaying back and forth, and did a brief warm-up that looked rather theatrical, rubbing his plastic muscles all the time. He kept turning his head to look at Barbie, hoping to catch a look of admiration.

  As for Hagen... Hagen was throwing glances at the gorgeous girl as well. Her Reputation stat changed from Indifference to Mild Interest.

  Ken assumed a fighting stance and exhaled sharply as he punched the bag.

  There was another loud bang. The punch bag leaned far back, just like it did after Hagen’s punch, but it was impossible to say which one of them had hit it stronger.

  The shop assistant ran over this time. “Gentlemen, you’re interested in this particular item, as I understand?”

  Ken the muscleman clenched his fist in front of Hagen’s face with a grating sound. “Do you see how a proper punch is thrown now?”

  “Not quite,” Hagen chuckled. “Why don’t you come to the gym? I need to practice my kicks. I could also show you how a real punch works.”

  “You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you? I’ll be there. Just tell me the time and the place.”

  Hagen gave him the address of Ochoa’s gym. “You can find me there every evening.”

  “Expect me,” said Ken gruffly, then returned to Barbie.

  They went on down the aisle. Hagen looked at the girl as she walked away, barely managing to take his eyes off the tight yoga pants, to read the following:

  Reputation: Interest (5/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: high (9/10)

  Hagen still couldn’t understand just what purpose this resistance might serve, but he was already glad it had gone down by a point.

  The shop assistant kept on talking, crouching and pointing at the punch bag’s base.

  “Let me explain. This is an old model—hardly anyone uses mechanical mounting systems anymore. But you can easily just mount the bag on the floor without having to drill any holes or install a special mounting plate. Moreover... uh, sir... We can offer a substantial discount on this item.”

  “Done,” Hagen nodded. “Would you please write down the delivery address?”

  A discount! That was a real stroke of luck!

  He spent the rest of the day mounting the bag. Once he made sure it was firmly attached to the floor, Hagen tried to kick it a few times, but the kicks were weak and looked awkward. Mike barely managed to remain upright whenever the bag would bounce back and hit him in the heel—just like a real sparring partner. Ken the muscleman must have been right, after all.

  It would take a great deal of training before the system would inform him that his Kick skill leveled up ostensibly.

  * * *

  HAGEN ARRIVED to DigiMart by the time most of the staff had already left. Riggs’s shift had ended, too—he was replaced by Murteau, the night guard. The tall man was an ex-serviceman, so Mike wasn’t afraid of being dragged to the security room and subjected to interrogation by someone wishing to practice their old skills.

  Wei Ming would also normally leave around the same time, but Hagen saw him wandering through the aisles waiting for him. Lexie’s Toyota stood in the parking lot which meant she hadn’t left the building yet—probably busy after hours, as usual.

  She sure is hard-working, Hagen thought fondly.

  In his haste he failed to notice Howell’s car parked nearby. The boss never stayed that late—there was always Lexie to run errands for him.

  Mike went in past the night guard, showing him his employee’s card. He’d long gotten used to being the least conspicuous staff member. Few of his colleagues even remembered his face.

  Once Wei Ming saw Hagen, he took him aside in a conspiratorial manner. “I think Riggs must have found the video where we kick those junkies’ asses.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, he spent a long time in the server room and then went to Miss Hepworth’s office. They came back together and stayed there for quite a while, the two of them.”

  “Why do you think they were watching videos?”

  “What else can you do in a room where there’s nothing but a computer with CCTV camera recordings?”

  Hagen nodded. “Even if they did find it, why would it matter? What we did was no crime, was it? Riggs should be thankful to us.”

  “He didn’t sound friendly when he was grilling me to find out stuff about you. He kept asking whether I’d ever noticed violent behavior on your part, or whether you were in the habit of attacking people. And I’m, like, Hagen attacking people? He’s afraid of people like fucking Bambie... No offense, Mike.”

  “None taken.”

  “So I go, Mr. Riggs, you should know by now that baby Mikey would be more likely to burst into tears than to hit someone... really, no offense.”

  Hagen grunted.

  “I was trying to save your ass as much as I could. You know, I have no idea of what sort of a man you are, Mike. You talk to this Goretsky guy, you tremble. Then you just knock a junkie out cold in a single punch. And now you want to learn how to kick...” he paused. “OK, are you ready? Where will we train? I go to an oriental martial arts center, but you’d have to register in advance. Also... They wouldn’t let you in, anyway. No offense.”

  Hagen didn’t respond at once, busy pondering what Wei Ming had told him about Riggs and Lexie’s strange behavior. Indeed, why wouldn’t she call back? Why didn’t she ask Mike to get back to work? He knew the rush service department would always be full of broken devices. And, anyway, a leg injury wouldn’t be that much of a problem for a repairman.

  “So, what do you say?” Wei Ming asked.

  “Could you wait for me in the car? I need to see Lexie... Ms. Hepworth, that is,” Hagen replied.

  “This is hardly the best time for that,” Wei Ming yelled as Mike headed off. “They have some kind of a meeting there.”

  Hagen ran up the stairs to the office floor. It was dark in the corridor but he could see there was someone inside Howell’s office—some light escaped through the door which was slightly ajar.

  Hagen’s heart pounded as if he’d already fought two rounds in the ring. Why
did he feel so anxious?

  He opened the door and came in. “Good evening.”

  Mr. Howell was sitting at the desk, with two men in suits and ties standing on either side of him showing him papers of some sort. Alexa stood next to the third lawyer with a glass of juice in her hand, listening to him go on about claims, courts of law, subpoenas and so on. Legalese may have sounded like human speech, but someone not in the legal profession would most likely find it utterly incomprehensible.

  “Alexa?” Howell asked in a menacing tone, paying no attention to Hagen. “What’s this one doing here? And why is he still here, in the first place?”

  The lawyers also looked at the girl with reproach.

  As for Hagen, he called up Lexie’s profile.

  Mike wasn’t interested in her age or her abilities, although he did notice she was Level Two and had fought a few battles—she must have gone to some martial arts school as a kid.

  Reputation was the only stat he cared for. He’d expected to see anything: Irritation, Aversion, or Mild Interest.

  But he saw something completely different instead.

  Current Reputation: Hostility (10/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: extremely high (10/10)

  Hostility? How the fuck could it be “Hostility?” After everything he’d done, and her being a witness to everything? He’d protected her from Goretsky’s advances, then fought in the ring and won the fight... How could she have turned all hostile on him now?

  He was completely baffled. He’d hoped it would be Interest, at least. Even Indifference would have been better than this humiliating Hostility.

  “Mr. Howell... Uncle, I’ll explain everything to him,” Lexie said in a small voice.

  “Get to it, then,” said Howell in a commanding tone and turned back to the attorneys, ignoring Mike.