Level Up- The Knockout

by Dan Sugralinov

  Mike had long forgotten about learning moves and skills. Multiple contacts with April’s body made him swoon. The girl could disarm anyone just by pressing her body against theirs.

  She bent over as if she was going to cut his throat with the mock knife.

  At that point, Hagen suddenly pulled her toward him and kissed her.

  It could have lasted a minute—or an hour.

  A chuckle rang through the gym, forcing April back to her feet. Her hair was a little disheveled and her face flushed.

  “Now that’s a really unorthodox move,” she said.

  “God, I’m sorry... Would you believe it happened just like that.”

  “Why would you apologize? Had I been against it, I’d have wrung your neck by now,” a smile cracked his face. She arranged her clothes. “OK, get going already. It’s time for me to begin the lesson. The group is gathering already.”

  “But we... me and you...” damn, where was his leveled-up Charisma? Why was he mumbling again? “I’ll be fighting at the Dark Devil club tonight. Will you be there?”

  “I’ll think about it. And now, put your shoes on and scram.”

  Even though April had told him to scram, Hagen was truly happy. And it was a different kind of happiness than he got from his pipe dreams about Lexie, when everything was a phantom and his imagination ran rampant. Things were easier now, and he felt more confident.

  * * *

  HAGEN HAD BEEN certain of his victory over Desmars from the very start. There could be no other option. He had almost won the first time, after all. He was already familiar with Desmars’ technique, so he’d used his one-minute Strength buff to attack even more aggressively than Desmars himself, throwing the bigger man off balance.

  Moreover, the First Strike quest message had appeared again at the beginning of the fight, and he’d managed to complete it, receiving a characteristic point and an ability point.

  Subsequent system messages were of the pleasant sort, too.

  Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!

  Skill name: Arm Blocking

  Current level: 2.

  Congratulations! You’ve received a new skill level!

  Skill name: Kick

  Current level: 4.

  There was just one little cloud raining on his parade, though. When Hagen was examining Desmars’ stats before the fight, he noticed that the opponent had a lot more HP than the previous time—a whopping 30,000.

  “Dem, how is this even possible? Could it be a system error?”

  “The Augmented Reality! Platform is perfectly precise in estimating someone’s stats.”

  “But he had 22 thousand the previous time! I have a good memory for numbers.”

  “Hilton ‘Clerk’ Desmars must have used some biologically active substance to enhance his physical performance.”

  Hagen couldn’t really decide whether he should despise his opponent for doping. An interface in his head might have qualified as a more serious offence.

  At any rate, halfway through the fight Desmars’ HP bar was almost halved. He no longer smiled, concentrating on desperately keeping up with his opponent. Desmars was about to throw in the towel, and Hagen couldn’t help noticing it.

  So that would be that, then? Hagen was so close to victory. He would end this bout soon.

  But how could he have become knocked down?

  Could Desmars have tricked him into overconfidence?

  All those ruminations might have seemed to take a small eternity, but in reality the thoughts flashed through his head in a split second. Just enough to rise into a crouch. He’d need to make an effort to straighten up, but his body stubbornly refused to do it.

  He felt the surface of the ring vibrate under Desmars’ footsteps.

  Ochoa had always been telling him that a fighter must keep two things in mind: the opponent’s advantages and his own shortcomings. Forgetting about either was the shortest way to smell the ring.

  It had an interesting surface... There were cracks, specks of dust, and folds... Drops of blood fell down his nose like ink from the tip of a brush.

  An ocean of voices roared all around Hagen. Everybody was urging him to rise.

  As if that wasn’t his fondest wish. But it was problematic for someone about to fall down with vertigo, and contemplating landing on the ring face down and giving up.

  The system screamed, too, albeit silently, in a flurry of messages:

  Damage received: 3,000 (Head Punch)

  Damage received: 5,200 (Face Kick)

  You’ve been knocked down!

  Warning! You have less that 40% HP left!

  He saw Uncle Peter’s face in the crowd. He was yelling something, trying to cheer up his nephew.

  “Dear old uncle,” Hagen thought. “I’ve never really appreciated your care. I’d always wanted you to just leave me alone.”

  The worst thing about it was the fact that his uncle would see his nephew defeated. How could he, after so many victories?

  Hagen rose to his knees, trying to focus.

  Honor and Duty

  You feel an enormous sense of duty.

  +2 to all characteristics until the end of the fight.

  All your skills are boosted by 50% until the end of the fight.

  You become completely insensitive to pain until the end of a fight.

  The effect will last until you prove yourself worthy of being a Hagen. Prove that you’re a winner!

  Mike felt something like a light breeze. Although he couldn’t see its source, he realized it was an oncoming kick. He managed to block it and straighten up. Hagen had already been aware that the whole world can disappear in a second while he was in the ring, and that it could take its time coming back to him.

  So he didn’t wait for his vision to clear fully, letting his interface-enhanced instincts guide him.

  It seemed to Hagen he’d managed to slip under Desmars’ arms, but he could barely see anything. The bigger man was still having problems adapting to Hagen’s height, even though it had increased by more than three inches.

  Desmars may have landed a few more kicks or punches, but Hagen ignored the damage. He just kept going. He kept punching Desmars in the stomach and any other place he could reach. He would sometimes feel his attack blocked; then he’d feel that one of his body punches was a success.

  The only thing Hagen knew is that he couldn’t stop for a single second. He couldn’t let the opponent collect his wits, step back, or defend himself. He’d have to tear through all his defenses like a mean little avalanche. He wanted Desmars to feel like an unfortunate snowboarder trying to escape a deluge of snow and ice that he had caused himself.

  Hagen’s vision remained a blur of unidentifiable spots and shapes, but he could see the system messages perfectly clearly.

  Damage dealt: 18,000 points (Punch)

  After this message, the spot that had been Desmars shrunk to Hagen’s size. But he kept on punching the part that must have corresponded to his opponent’s face, or his body; then he would intuitively dodge the counterpunches he couldn’t see, but that he assumed would be there.

  Hagen only stopped when he heard Demetrious say insistently,

  “Chill, man, it’s all over!”

  Hagen’s vision returned. Desmars was sitting in the ring, supporting himself with one arm and holding the other one in front of him. But he couldn’t keep it up—he kept trying, and his arm kept falling.

  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).

  You have unlocked the Close Distance Combo. Make the attack combination more varied to level it up.

  You have completed One Dozen, a hidden quest.

  Congratulations! You have defeated 12 opponents in a row.

  XP points received: 2

  Ability points received: 2

  Hagen’s ears registered the crowd roaring approving
ly. They’d all appreciated the fight—it was nothing like the previous one. The crowd always enjoyed a show; they were grateful to both fighters.

  But they wanted more. The crowd was chanting,

  “Finish him! Finish him!”

  The referee was in no hurry to finish the fight, either. His presence was decorative for the most part, and he didn’t control much of what had been going on in the ring. Moreover, he was a showman himself, realizing perfectly well that it would look much more entertaining for one of the fighters to be carried out unconscious.

  Everybody had expected Hagen to finish off his opponent in some grand final move.

  However, Mike “Crybaby” Hagen didn’t think long. He unlaced his glove with his teeth, dropped it, and offered his hand to Desmars, helping him to get off the floor.

  The crowd yelled with mixed emotions—some were appreciative of Mike’s sportsmanship while others expressed their displeasure (most likely those who had placed a bet on a knockout victory).

  Hagen helped Desmars get out of the ring.

  The clerk thanked him with a nod. “Hey... how about coming to our creative writing class someday? I’ll make a special discount for you.”

  Hagen laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

  * * *

  MIKE WAS SITTING in the locker room. The medic he’d remembered since his fight with Gonzalo was stuffing cotton into Hagen’s nose again.

  “This is real progress. The previous time you were barely alive. And now you’d almost be fit for another fight.”

  Uncle Peter came in and placed himself in front of Hagen. “Progress? It’s a fucking revolution! Hell yeah! This sure is something! Mikey, is it really you? Hey, Martians! What did you do to the real Mikey?” his uncle looked around jestingly.

  Hagen barely managed to keep from saying, Funny you should mention Martians...

  “It’s me, uncle. Same old little Mikey. It’s just that I’ve decided to get my shit together now.”

  Uncle Peter took a swig of beer.

  “I’d always been telling my sister, ‘Helen, leave the boy alone and let him solve his own problems.’ And I kept telling her fighting games would do you good. You’d learn to fight eventually as you grew up.”

  Hagen laughed. “Oh, come on, Uncle. You’ve always been against video games.”

  “Was I? I might have been, at that. Can’t really remember.”

  “I remember how pissed off you’d get when you couldn’t defeat me playing Mortal Kombat. Even when I’d been trying to throw the game.”

  “Heh, I wouldn’t fight you now, either. Be it Mortal Kombat or real life.”

  The medic left. Hagen started to change into his regular clothes.

  There was indeed a lot of progress as compared to the previous bout. He felt the expectable pain and weariness, but they were tolerable. Most importantly, he didn’t shed a single tear. Could it have been a result of his pain circuits having been shut down temporarily?

  The locker room door opened. Hagen turned around, looking hopeful, but it was just the waiter. He handed Hagen a roll of dollar bills, just like the previous times, and thanked him for an excellent fight.

  Hagen stuffed the money in his jacket pocket without really caring.

  He was feeling the first pangs of disappointment about April not being there. He peered into the audience as hard as he could but he didn’t see her. She simply wasn’t present.

  So what was that kiss in the gym all about? He wondered if he could ever learn to understand women and their needs.

  Hagen slammed the locker door shut in irritation.

  “Hey, isn’t that my jacket?” his uncle asked. “So that’s where I left it!”

  “Would you like it back?”

  “I have two of those. I don’t follow fashion, as you know, so I just wear what I’m used to wearing. Keep it. Besides, it looks real good on you.”

  “Thanks. This jacket... Let’s say it helps me a lot.”

  On their way home, his uncle asked,

  “So, what’s your plan for tonight? How about I leave my backpack at your place and we go to that bar with the mustached owner? Is he still around? Those wings he had... So yummy. I can still remember the taste.”

  Hagen kept on driving, focused, watching the dark road intently. “You know, I really can’t make it tonight. I’m sorry, but I won’t be joining you.”

  “Does anything hurt?”

  “My nose, a little. But...”

  “I get it. Who is she? Just don’t tell me you’re back with that whore Jessica again. Now, that’s someone I wouldn’t mind seeing abducted by Martians.”

  Hagen cringed. “No, it definitely isn’t Jessica. I realize now you’d been right about her all along.”

  “Of course I had. If I’d been in the habit of making mistakes, I’d have left my dead body on one of Fallujah streets as a decoration.”

  Once they’d arrived, Peter noticed immediately that his nephew’s apartment had looked completely different as compared to its previous state. He punched the bag in the corner a few times, then went back to the sofa and picked up the book Hagen had been reading from the coffee table.

  “From House to House by Staff Sergeant David Bellavia. It’s about the Iraq War, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been getting interested in that a little.”

  “The Martians have clearly replaced you with someone else!”

  His uncle started to leaf through the book. Hagen went to take a shower.

  He heard the doorbell ring through the sound of water running, then some voices. Who could it be? Gonzalo? Mike had left without saying goodbye to him.

  The voices stopped. Then his uncle knocked on the bathroom door.

  “OK, Mikey. If you’re busy, I’ll hit that bar, and then head off to the nearest hotel. Let’s have our family reunion tomorrow.”

  “A hotel? Hold on!” Hagen turned off the shower hastily, dabbed himself dry the best way he could, and tied his towel around his waist.

  But when he finally left the bathroom and entered the living room, his uncle was no longer there. There was someone else, though—namely, April.

  “Is it really you?”

  “I’m sorry, that club had just gotten to me. I could barely last five minutes. You know how I hate places crowded with drunks. So that was your uncle, huh? You look a little bit like him.”

  “April,” Hagen said as he approached her. “There was something I’d been meaning to say...”

  “Uh, Mikey boy, can you remind me where we were during our training session?”

  “Right here,” Hagen embraced the girl.

  * * *

  THE RISING SUN shone through the crooked blinds, leaving streaks of yellow light on the punch bag. Hagen was lying next to April, his head propped in his hand, looking at the sleeping girl.

  He watched her thinking of how he possibly could have had such amazing luck. April wasn’t just good-looking. She was amazing... magic... Hagen instantly ran out of epithets.

  He’d definitely need to work on his Intellect and expand his vocabulary. It seemed to him as though he had gotten April illicitly, and that someone would come for her to take her away and punish Mike for having abducted her.

  On the other hand, why would he feel like this? He didn’t get here effortlessly. He’d invested all of his blood, sweat, and tears into where he was now.

  His life would only lead him forward and upward now. New achievements. New victories. He would level up his Charisma to become more attractive, and read every book on the list suggested by Demetrious, even though he still wondered why all of them had been about warfare.

  He’d work even harder. He’d leave this dump, move to Vegas, and win the UFC championship as well as every other one.

  He’d become worthy of April.

  Hagen had spent a long time the previous day thinking about their relationship. As they lay exhausted in the middle of the bed, he asked her bluntly,

  “Why are you attracted to me? I’m no
t like Sylas. I’m hardly a handsome guy.”

  “What makes you interesting is that you’re not him.”

  “Hey, if it’s about my appearance, I’m working on it and making some progress...”

  “Sylas is like a mock fighter. He reminds me of the plastic knife we’d used to train. His head is filled with pseudo-philosophical garbage gleaned from movies like Kung Fu Panda and Karate Kid. All that saccharine. You don’t have any of that. You remind me of a weapon. A serious weapon that isn’t aware of its own power yet. Nor do the people around you know just how lethal you are. You sometimes look pathetic, Mikey boy, but it makes that thing that grows inside you all the more dangerous. And I find that danger attractive.”

  “I’ve nearly crippled someone for life. I’d felt really horrible about it at first, but then I thought, why should I even bother? I wasn’t the one to have attacked him in the first place, after all.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

  They continued with their “training.” April taught Hagen so many new “moves” that he had to admit, somewhat grudgingly, that it was the first time he’d ever had actual sex in his life. As for what he’d experienced with Jessica, jeez. It would be like comparing a kitschy postcard to a Van Gogh painting.

  Mike was observing this beautiful creature as she slept, wondering if life could really be so beautiful without him even being aware. Could it be...

  He heard someone knocking on the door. Then the doorbell rang.

  April mumbled something and covered her head with a pillow. Hagen pulled his jeans on, struggling to squeeze his legs in. It was a good job he hadn’t invested more points into his height earlier that night, otherwise his clothes wouldn’t have fitted, or he would have looked like he’d barely managed to squeeze himself into a pair of super-skinny jeans.

  Someone knocked on the door again, more insistently this time. Judging by the caller’s confidence, it must have been his landlord wanting the rent. Hagen pulled out the roll of money he’d received at the club the previous day and went to answer the door.