Level Up- The Knockout

by Dan Sugralinov

  Gil Neumann

  Age: 32

  Level 7

  HP: 32,000

  Battles/victories: 121/119

  Current status: St. Ian’s Warrior

  Reputation: Scorn (10/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: medium (4/10)

  The second one was a little shorter.

  Billy “Boxer” Blanks

  Age: 27

  Level: 9

  HP: 28,000

  Battles/victories: 210/174

  Current status: St. Ian’s Warrior

  Reputation: Hatred (8/10)

  Resistance to your Charisma: medium (4/10)

  Mike decided that while the remaining two shouldn’t be disregarded, they hardly presented any serious danger. One was level three, and the other had never been in anything like a serious fight. His resistance to Mike’s Charisma was zero. It was pretty obvious that he’d run away from the fight the instance Hagen would raise a fist.

  “If you don’t need anything from me, why don’t I just leave?” April asked.

  “Leave, you harlot,” said Billy “the Boxer”, but then checked himself. “Hey, no way. You ain’t going anywhere. You’ll call the cops for sure.”

  “Who’s going to stop me? You?”

  “Hell yeah,” Billy nodded as he pulled his fist out of his jacket pocket. A knuckle duster gleamed, reflecting the streetlights.

  The other fanatics all produced their weapons at once. Gil took a black baseball bat out of his backpack—you could barely see it in darkness. The third attacker produced a knife. The blade clicked and flashed dully. The fourth one hiccupped loudly and took a step back.

  Mike had already fought enough to understand that no amount of talking would help. It would be pointless to offer a peaceful solution in this situation—surrounded by people whose only wish was to beat you up.

  However, when he saw the weapons, he became as scared as he had been before his fight against Gonzalo.

  “Look,” he said in a small voice. “What do you really want? We have resolved matters with Ian Wilson. He received his money.”

  “St. Ian doesn’t know anything,” Gil interrupted him. “We have planned this without him knowing, and we shall definitely be punished for it. But you’ll receive your comeuppance first.”

  “My comeuppance for what?” said a baffled Hagen.

  “For our brother Liam, whom you have crippled so nefariously.”

  “He’s in a hospital now! In a coma! Because of you!” Billy whimpered, wiping tears from his cheek with the knuckle duster. “We don’t even know whether our brother will survive!”

  “What?” Hagen was truly shocked.

  He’d nearly killed someone. Or did he actually kill him? He didn’t know.

  He wondered what his mom would say if she were alive. It was easy enough to guess. He heard her voice ring loud and clear in his mind, “Son, what have you become? A killer? I can’t believe it. I’m sorry, but I cannot help you anymore now that I’m dead.”

  His lips started to quiver. Tears filled his eyes. Hagen had almost been ready to beg forgiveness from the fanatics on his knees, but April’s voice made him snap out of it.

  “If Mikey’s managed to snuff one of you morons, I’m sure it was well deserved.”

  “Shut up, you whore!” Gill swung his bat around.

  He meant to scare her rather than hit her. But April did something quite unexpected. She used the jumper she’d been carrying around all evening to cover the head of the twitchy guy with a knife. She grabbed his wrist in a barely noticeable manner, pulled him near and kicked him in the balls. The guy doubled over and instantly got another kick in his jumper-covered face. April hurried to run back to her initial position.

  The guy poked the air weakly with his knife, but the girl was already gone. He dropped his weapon, cupped his injury with both hands and crouched, then fell on his side, lying in a fetal position as if he’d wanted to crawl into his own skin and groaning so loudly that even the patrons of the noisy strip club must have heard him.

  Gil and Billy took stock of the situation at once. The fourth man hiccupped once again, then ran off.

  Once he got to a safe distance, he started whining. “Didn’t you say we would just give them a scare, brothers? I don’t want to fight. Violence doesn’t lead anywhere!”

  All of it happened over the course of some three or four seconds. Hagen assumed his fighting stance again. It was too late for apologies. Violence was the only option now, no matter what Ian’s zealot had said.

  Anyway, wasn’t it odd that the saint surrounded himself with thugs?

  Gil took a swing but Hagen gave him a straight jab in the jaw. However, his fear of the bat must have affected the strength of his punch. The fanatic dodged it and hit Hagen’s back.

  The pattern was familiar: one eventually got what one would fear the most. He might as well have gotten used to it. Gil was aiming for the head, of course, but Hagen instinctively managed to dodge the blow.

  He was terrified at the thought of what might have happened if his opponent had landed the blow with full force. Would his head split open just like that piñata earlier on?

  Damage received: 4,200 points (bat hit)

  The blow made something crack in his back. He felt a sharp pain running up his spine, all the way to the back of his head. Hagen’s eyes started to water uncontrollably.

  Hagen turned around, covering himself from another blow, and managed to catch a glimpse of Billy approaching April menacingly. His heavy fist with a knuckleduster whooshed through the air, as if someone invisible was making sound effects in the vein of old Hong Kong action movies. April kept on dodging and stepping backwards. All the while she kept rummaging through her pockets trying to find something. She must have been trying to find her phone and call 911. Once she got to the garbage cans, he pushed one toward Billy, but he only grinned and kicked it aside.

  Hagen focused on Gil. He’d have to finish him off as soon as he could. He rushed his opponent, paying no attention to the bat. He ducked and punched Gil in the side, but his fist only became entangled in the other man’s jacket.

  Mike could already feel the heavy weapon approach his skull, even if he didn’t see it. It was a race between the bat and his left fist aimed at his adversary’s chin.

  Someone was already shouting from the general direction of the bar. The patrons must have noticed the fight at last.

  Hagen’s fist smashed into Gil’s face.

  Damage dealt: 12,600 points (Punch)

  Once again Mike heard a cracking sound as if he’d burst a packet of chips. Although the bat did connect with Mike’s head, Gil had already been knocked out, so he was no longer holding it. It just bumped into his skull. It was painful, but not lethal.

  Damage received: 1,220 points (bat hit)

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

  XP points received: 1

  Blocking a Blunt Weapon: the skill has been unlocked.

  You have to use the skill more often to level it up.

  Disregarding the numerous system messages, Hagen rushed to help April, but Billie “the Boxer” had already been rolling around on the ground and screaming for some reason, covering his face with his hands. April stood above him, breathing heavily, showing him the mace can in her hand.

  She waved it around.

  “This is actually the best thing you can use against street thugs,” she said. Seeing the tears on Hagen’s face, she hurried to put her weapon away. “Hey, sorry! Did the mace reach you, too?”

  “Yeah, it did. Just a bit,” Hagen wiped his eyes with his uncle’s jacket.

  If April only knew that tear gas had had nothing to do with the wetness underneath his eyes.

  Chapter 17. Growing Pains

  You can’t break a man the way you do a dog or a horse. The harder you beat a man, the taller he stands.

  Far Cry 2

  HAGEN RARELY MADE any direct decisions, and he’d usually regret e
ach and every one of them instantly. However, after the skirmish with “St.” Ian’s zealots he’d gotten his priorities straight and didn’t intend to regret anything. As soon as he’d recuperated from the baseball bat blows, he came to Chuck Morrison’s office and told him firmly,

  “I am very sorry, sir, but I won’t be able to work here anymore.”

  “Why?” Chuck looked surprised as he stroked his mustache. “You’ve been doing a great job. I couldn’t have wished for better security. Or are you afraid? Let me assure you, though...”

  “I am afraid,” Hagen acquiesced. “Afraid of getting stuck here for a long time. I have this dream, you see, and working at your establishment won’t get me any closer to realizing it. I’ve already spent half my life doing something different from what I’d always wanted.”

  Chuck sighed. “I get you. What about Wei Ming?”

  “He’ll stay. He likes it here. Just please don’t make him help the chef. That’s not what he does gladly. And give him all the cucumbers he can munch; he’s really fond of them.”

  “Well, if that’s your choice, son, I respect it. But I can’t help regretting it. Having religious nuts for neighbors has turned out to be dangerous. You never know what they might think of next.”

  “Sir, I promise to find Wei Ming some help. I’m a regular at a gym, and there are lots of people there who would be interested in your offer.”

  “Agreed, then.”

  Chuck’s office was just a tiny bit larger than a fridge box, so Hagen didn’t have to walk to the door—he just pushed it open.

  “Goodbye, sir.”

  “Hold on,” Chuck barely managed to climb out from behind his desk—a single school desk, in fact. “I can’t give you much, but this is yours, at any rate.”

  Chuck placed a few bills in Hagen’s hand. Hagen tried to give them back, but Chuck stopped him.

  “Son, don’t give me any of that. Just take the money and put it in your empty pocket. I am old enough to recognize someone with a hole in his budget at once. This isn’t a handout. I’m paying you for your work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  They shook hands and Hagen departed, somewhat confused. He was about to regret giving up a steady job, but then he remembered what April had told him.

  Indeed, that was no place for him. He needed to fight other athletes in the ring rather than drunk losers, religious nutjobs, or the jealous husbands of wannabe strippers.

  He stocked up on food the very same day—he’d been eating whatever he could get lately, since he didn’t have enough money for special supplements.

  Hagen called up the interface before going to bed, made sure that his health bar was full, and started to think of how to distribute the XP and ability points.

  “Duh, like it’s even a choice!” Mike exclaimed, dumping four points at once into Strength. However, it only grew by a single point.

  Warning!

  Artificial characteristic boosting of more that 1 pt. at a time is strictly forbidden! Severe danger of fatality!

  “Damn! I’d forgotten all about that.”

  The limitation made his decision easier. Mike added a point to every stat. He decided to leave one in reserve to boost Strength or Stamina later on.

  There were more of those familiar messages referring to the unnatural boosting of Hagen’s stats, but he was really excited to see the following:

  Warning! We’ve detected an abnormal increase of your Charisma characteristic: +1 pt.

  Your body will be restructured in keeping with the new reading.

  Changes required: the user’s height is to increase by 1,2 inches...

  “Height! Height!” Hagen couldn’t help shouting, having seen just what he’d always wanted to see. He didn’t even finish reading the list of the changes the system was about to inflict on his appearance.

  His fantasy of old was beginning to come true. Even as an adult Hagen dreamed that scientists might find a way of making one taller, the way they did in comic books. Just pop a pill, and you’ll be taller. Or enter a special chamber for increasing height, and come out as tall as a basketball player.

  He had believed his height to be the cause of all his problems all his life. Eventually Hagen came to the realization that there was a lot more to his problems than just the length of his body. However, he still dreamed of becoming taller.

  The unallocated ability point got him thinking, too. One might have thought it made no sense to unblock skills you couldn’t use properly. The Head Butt, for example. Hagen imagined head-butting someone and cringed. He thought he’d rather keep his head safe.

  However, the Downward Jump Punch looked very enticing. Even if observed from a distance, it looked like a cool move. What made it most attractive, though, is that damage equaled the sum of damage done by Punch and one tenth of the damage done by Kick. Every new skill level would give him an extra 10%.

  So he decided to opt for Downward Jump Punch.

  Done!

  It was time to make sense of all these love/hate gradations, as well as people’s resistance to his Charisma. If they were displayed as default stats, they must have been important.

  He called up the virtual assistant, but asked a completely different question from what he’d originally intended to ask.

  “Can I give you a different name?”

  “Mike,” the assistant’s voice was emotionless, but Hagen’s suspicious nature felt as though there was a hint of a patronizing tone. “I have no name, so, technically, I cannot be renamed.”

  “OK. Can I give you a name so as not to address you as ‘Hey, virtual assistant’?”

  “Of course, Mike.”

  “In that case, I’ll call you Demetrious. Would you mind?”

  “No.”

  “Can you sound a little bit more human?”

  “Sir, but I am not a human being.”

  “You can fake it, at least. Siri sounds like a living person on my iPhone, and you’re supposed to be from the future, so what’s with the retrofuturistic robot voice?”

  Instead of a response, Mike saw a blinking icon accompanied by the legend “Reloading.” A second later, an upbeat voice in his head asked,

  “Is it better like this, Mike?”

  “Much better.”

  “Wazzup, bro.”

  “Wazzup, Demetrious. Hey, isn’t your voice...”

  “The manner of speech, voice pitch, and intonation-related parameters have been synthesized from the voice samples of Demetrious Johnson, the UFC champion.”

  “Cool! And now, Demetrious, could you tell me how to understand this Reputation scale? I don’t quite get how it reflects what people really feel about me.”

  “What’s so complicated about it?” Demetrious sounded puzzled. “There are two sets of Reputation modes—one is for members of your own sex, and the other, for members of the opposite. Would you like to see a table? Sorted from worst to best.”

  “Hit me.”

  Reputation scale for members of the same sex:

  Murderous Hatred

  Strong Hatred

  Hatred

  Scorn

  Hostility

  Indifference

  Good

  Excellent

  Amicability

  Friendliness

  Close Friend

  Reputation scale for members of the opposite sex:

  Murderous Hatred

  Strong Hatred

  Hatred

  Scorn

  Hostility

  Indifference

  Mild interest

  Interest

  Strong Interest

  Crush

  Love

  Hagen asked, “So each mode has points from one to ten, right? And once you get to ten, you switch into a higher mode?”

  “Spot on, Mikey.”

  Hagen’s breathing seized up for a second. “So, April’s Reputation is Strong Interest, and it’s followed by...”

  “These things are really vague, Mikey boy. Hold
your horses for the time being. Human emotions are extremely volatile. It may take seconds for your actions to make someone shift from Scorn to Murderous Hatred—or from Interest to Crush. If you behave like an Asshole, Love can turn into Hatred in no time at all.”

  “I get it, Demetrious. Good night.”

  Instead of a reply, the assistant warned him in his standard tone of voice, “Attention! Mild symptoms of an anxiety disorder onset detected.”

  “Jesus, Demetrious, didn’t I tell you to explain things in human terms?”

  “Well, see for yourself. You’ve given a name to a virtual assistant who isn’t even a person, and then wished me goodnight. Your loneliness is giving you some serious anxiety.”

  “Any recommendations?”

  “Do you want it scientific or dumbed down?”

  “Dem!

  “OK, all right. Chill.” Demetrious sounded as if he was smiling. “There are lots of recommendations. First and foremost, find a girlfriend. Then start to implement your plan for moving to Vegas. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start working. By the way, you’ve never sent that message to Uncle Peter. He might be the only relative of your mother’s whose influence might be beneficial to you.”

  “A girlfriend,” Hagen said gruffly. “Where would I even begin to look for one? April is just out of my league...”

  “You can look for one anywhere you want, but porn sites are definitely a poor choice.”

  “You mean...”

  “Yup, Mikey. I know more about you than Google, Amazon, and Facebook put together. But don’t let that bring you down—I’m just the voice part of a system interface.”

  “So you’re cracking jokes now, eh?”

  “Hey, dude, you asked for me to sound more human, didn’t you?”

  Hagen reached for the phone and opened the chat window with the unsent message to Uncle Peter. He added, “It would be really nice to see you.” He sent it and finally managed to fall asleep.