Let’s get ready to RUMBLE!

BRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG

Oh shit, was that the bell already? John hadn’t really noticed the time going by. He honestly felt like he just sat down not more than a few moments ago.

But that was that. The end of the day. And possibly the end of his life if he couldn’t pull this off.

John slowly put his books away, watching as the other students all funneled out. Though John did admit, quite a few gazes were locked on him as they left. The rumor of the fight must have gotten around, and people were probably eager to see if the hapless loser really went out to meet the pop-jock’s challenge.

John pulled up his character sheet one last time.

He really wished he had been able to do something about his level. Sure, he was several hundred xp better than he was this morning, but he still felt underprepared. Frank was double his level, to say nothing of his size and strength. Sure, John had magic, but mages tended to die the second the fighter got into melee range.

No, John wasn’t a mage. He was a Brawler. He had a chance, a damn good one. Moira trained him and he knew how to dodge strikes pretty well outside of his powers. He just had to play it careful and have Frank wear himself out. It would work, it had to work.

John threw his backpack over his shoulder and walked down to his locker to drop off his excess books. Along the way, as he passed by more students, he could feel their gazes following him. No Frank or his cronies in sight, but also no Moira or Cho or-

“Sup, dork?” Alex said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Thought you had skipped out and all that shit you promised was for nothing.”

John smiled. “You kidding? I promised I would do my best in this fight.”

“Let’s hope your best is enough,” Cho said, walking up on John’s other side. “Maybe if Frank slips and falls on some mud, you might be able to get some cheap shots in. Or maybe try rolling! Works well enough in Dark Souls.”

“Except those are guys who have trained to fight. John here probably hasn’t done a basic roll, let alone be ready to do one in combat,” Alex commented.

“Except John won’t need either of those. He knows what he is doing,” chimed in a third voice. John looked up to see Moira standing there, smiling at the three of them before offering a hand. “Hi, I’m Moira Brighton. You must be John’s friends.”

Cho quickly took Moira’s hand, shaking it a bit too enthusiastically. “Cho Ling! John’s best friend. But you can call me anything you want, beautiful.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Down, boy,” she said, and Cho instantly dropped Moira’s hand. Alex didn’t take it, but did say, “Alex Luellen. John’s other best friend. He told us you taught him how to throw a punch.”

“Among other things,” Moira said, not realizing the innuendo behind that statement. “You really going to go through with this, John?”

“I have to. If I manage to win, I might even push for Frank to not bully me or my friends anymore.”

“Or you get your ass kicked,” Cho remarked.

John rolled his eyes. “Really supportive, Ling.”

Cho held up his hand in surrender. “Hey, I’m just trying to be realistic. I’ve known you since elementary, I don’t know if you’re at all ready to punch Frank in the face. Maybe one of his guys, but not him.”

John opened up his locker, throwing his bag in. He really didn’t need to bring it home as his homework was all caught up; anything he did need was in his inventory. Speaking of, John looked down at his hand. He really didn’t know how to pull something from his inventory properly yet, as he hadn’t had to grab his keys or wallet. But maybe it was all intention based. John imagined the pocket of his jeans being like a doorway into his inventory and saw in his head the fist wraps. As he did, John could feel something materialize in his hand, the soft fabric feeling good against his skin. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, and sure enough his hand now held his new wraps.

He could just go and equip them right away, but with his friends and Moira watching him, he figured he should make it look like he wasn’t as magical as he was.

“Where did you get those?” Cho asked as John shut his locker.

“Gym teacher. Told him I wanna learn boxing and he gave me these to wrap my fists.” John slowly began to wrap his right hand as he was walking, but was having some trouble as he really didn’t know what he was doing.

After the second time failing to do it properly, John felt a hand on his shoulder. Alex had turned him around and held a hand out for the wraps. “If you’re gonna do it wrong, at least have me do it.”

“How do you know how to wrap fists?”

“You don’t know what I’m into,” Alex said with a small smirk, and before John could respond she, had taken one of the wraps and was getting John’s fist ready. He was about to say something when another hand grabbed his left unoccupied hand. He looked over to find Moira taking care of that hand while Alex worked on his right.

“Not bad, Alex,” Moira commented. “You fight?”

“Nope. Just random hobbies,” Alex said. John looked over to Alex, and noticed that in the pocket of her hoodie she… also had some fist wraps? Was she a fighter? She never mentioned fighting before this. So why would she have those?

“There, all ready,” Alex said, patting John’s hand. “Go give him what for.”

“Remember, John, stay light on your feet and focus on dodging. If you can wear him out, you can beat him,” Moira added.

“If need be, duck and roll under him when he charges and overhead attack,” Cho finished.

Everyone looked at Cho with an unamused gaze.

“What?” Cho asked. “I didn’t have anything good to add, but I wanted to join in with encouragement.”

---

“Well, well, well. You actually showed up, Newman.”

John stepped forward into the dead grass of the soccer field. A ring of students had formed, with several popular students closer to Frank including Frank’s fellow football stars. Though based on their relaxed postures or how some of them were almost draped over their girlfriends, they had no plans of getting involved and just came for the entertainment of watching Frank beat up a hapless nerd.

“Well, Frank, after all those things I said, how could I not? I have so many more insults to use, I just had to come to this to say them.” John spread his arms wide, stepping into the circle like a seasoned contender. He saw Alex, Cho, and Moira all on the sides, watching him and Frank like hawks. “Insults like, ‘Is it true that whenever someone whispers in your ear, there’s an echo?’ Or maybe, ‘The zoo is missing a gorilla. Maybe tell your dad to go back since they miss him so much.’ Or my personal favorite, ‘Is it true that your mom wishes she swallowed you? Or maybe your grandpa was busy with the top end so her brother couldn’t pull out in time and we got you?’”

You could hear a pin drop as every student was as silent as a grave, all attention switching from John to Frank.

Fightin’ Words activated: 10%

Fightin’ Words activated: 5%

Fightin’ Words activated: CRITICAL! 35%

Oh shit, John really hit a nerve.

John could see Frank’s face getting redder, hear Frank’s teeth grinding and watched his veins pop as rage took over Frank’s every cell. There was a part of John that wondered if Frank would explode, sending chunks of gore and viscera all over through sheer anger. “OH, YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD, NEWMAN!” Frank yelled. John clenched his fists before taking a deep breath and steadying himself. He could feel his body slide into a proper stance all on its own. He could hear each heartbeat echo in his ears as his body prepared for the fight, smell the sweat of those around him intermingling with the grass of late summer, taste the air of early autumn as he put his fists up in front of his face.

Counterpuncher activated!

Lock the Fuck In activated!

John smiled. “Bring it.”

Frank charged like a crazed bull, fists held high and ready to strike. However, just as his fist was about to collide with John’s head, John stepped to the side, causing Frank’s fist to find no purchase and forcing him to stumble forward.

John quickly capitalized, throwing out his own punch into Frank’s unguarded side before jumping back.

Hit! 4 Dmg!

Oh, that was… pitifully low.

And it got Frank’s attention! Wonderful!

“What the fuck was that?!” Frank laughed. “You call that a fucking punch, Newman?!”

John held his fists up, and smiled. “At least mine hit.”

Fightin’ Words activated: 5%

A collective, “Oooh,” went across the crowd, and John could hear the ding of a notification. Though thankfully it stayed minimized. Oh, it was his third one. Guess he was achievement farming now too.

Frank glared at him, putting up his fists before giving him a smile. “Oh, look at me, I’m Newman. I think that playing Mortal Kombat makes me actually cool! My girlfriend is my right hand. I'll die a virgin!”

John snorted. “So you’re bad at school, bad at fighting, and bad at insults too? Man I hope what I said wasn’t true or you’ll really need to find a hobby to be good at something. Maybe kn-”

John quickly jumped back, Frank throwing a punch towards his face. And another. And another and another and another and another and all John could do was focus on dodging.

Thankfully John’s insults had done their work, and combined with his other skills, he was able to keep Frank’s attacks from landing. Sure, it wasn’t the most heroic look, but each hit got Frank sweatier and sweatier as he tried to hit what just wasn’t there.

A swing

A miss.

A jab.

A miss.

A hook.

A miss.

John didn’t even bother trying to hit Frank, he just needed to keep on dodging. Frank would tire out and then John could… Could…

What was his end goal?

John ducked under another hit, scurrying off to the side as Frank recovered. He couldn’t do enough damage to Frank, but he couldn't really be hit by Frank. So how would he-

Then John felt it. Someone’s leg going right over his own. He looked down just in time to see one of the football players jut a leg out just enough for John to trip over. Then John saw nothing but dirt and grass, with the echo of laughter ringing in his ears.

John turned over, spitting a bit of grass out only to see Frank standing proudly above him. “Guess your luck ran out, Newman.” He then gave John a swift kick to the stomach, and unfortunately John couldn’t dodge whatsoever. While Gamer’s Body meant he wouldn’t take physical wounds, the hit still knocked the wind from his lungs, causing him to cough and sputter like his lunch was about to come up.

-10 HP

But before he could recover, Frank got down onto one knee and grabbed John by the shirt collar, pulling his fist back, and slamming it right into John’s nose

-15 HP

And then he did it again

-15 HP

And again

-15 HP

And again

-15 HP

Gamer’s Body Overclocked!

John could feel his head getting woozy from the beating, and his nose actually began to bleed a bit. Guess he could take damage.

Frank laughed, throwing John back to the ground as the other football players all hooted and hollered like crazed chimps. John sat up just a bit, and through teary eyes looked at the rest of the crowd. Funny enough, no one else seemed to be cheering. They all looked disappointed or on the edge of their seats with anticipation.

John saw Cho, looking at him and silently cheering him on.

John saw Alex, her eyes looking… wet? Was John seeing that right?

But Moira? She was nowhere to be found.

John shook his head, slowly standing up. His stomach was still sore, and he could feel his nose screaming in pain. But he got up anyway, putting his fists up in front of him.

Frank just smirked, crossing his arms. “You really do have a **** wish, Newman.”

John sniffled, blood leaking from his right nostril. “And you… still can’t take down a nerd. Even with help.”

Frank’s smile vanished, and while no popup appeared about the insult, John could feel the icy determination from Frank’s gaze. Frank rolled his eyes, pulled back his fist, and let it rip.

Lock the Fuck in Activated!

Only to have John dodge at the last second and avoid the hit entirely. But Frank? Frank didn’t notice John’s own fist moving, aiming right for Frank’s nose

CRITICAL HIT! 12 Dmg!

Frank yelled out, swearing like a sailor as he backed up. “By Dose! You fuggin ashhole! I fink you broke by dose!”

John pulled his fist back, smiling through blood soaked teeth. “I can keep going all-”

At that moment John felt hands grab his arms, pinning him in place.

‘Oh, right. The other football players.’

John looked up to see Frank, tall dumb blonde Frank with blood gushing out his nose and looking ready to ****. Frank, with the strength of a star quarterback, grabbed John’s neck and lifted him up into the air. He pulled his right hand back, ready to probably kill John with this punch.

“Any lasht worbs, Newman?”

John looked out to the crowd and smiled before looking back down at Frank.

“Yeah. Just two.” John weakly lifted his arm and waved. “Hi, Coach.”

Frank looked confused, his brain seeming to slowly put together what Newman had said. Then his eyes widened, and he turned to follow where John was looking. There, standing at the top of the hill but quickly making her way down was Moira. And right behind her was Coach Silvernail, one of the few coaches who hated Frank and had been looking for a good reason to expel the jock.

And whose catching of Frank would be very hard for Frank’s family to defend.

“SHIT! RUN!” Frank yelled, dropping John like a sack of potatoes and running off like a speeding bullet. Several of the other players ran off like scared cats, eager to not be found with a broken John.

And as John closed his eyes, he felt soft hands grabbing at him trying to help him to his feet.