Fuck. No.

Merging into the stream of students entering the school, John made his way over to his locker to get ready for first period. He’d hardly opened the metal door before it was slammed shut again by the Academy’s King Meathead, Frank.

“‘Sup, bitch boy,” Frank jeered, flexing his beefy arms as he leant against John’s locker.

Beside the bully stood Vanessa Hawthorne. Vanessa showed absolutely no interest in what her boyfriend was doing; whatever was on her phone was far more interesting. She didn’t even spare John a passing glance.

Years of bad experiences caused John to reflexively flinch at their arrival, but he quickly pushed his reservation aside and straightened himself up against the bully. Frank’s appearance actually saved John a little time; as it was John’s intent to go looking for the bully anyway.

“How’s it going, Frank?” John began casually.

“I’m good… I’m good…” Frank replied, brow raised. John had never addressed him directly before.

The bully seemed to click into the fact that John’s demeanour was different today and stopped leaning against the locker to size up against him. “You weren’t at school yesterday, were you, buddy?”

John did a little sizing up of his own.

Nothing about Frank’s stats particularly surprised John; the guy’s head was all meat and bone with no brain. What amused John was that they were now equal in level.

“Nope,” John agreed with Frank’s question, forcing himself to sound cheerful as he spoke.

Frank frowned momentarily, before replacing it with his best attempt at a menacing smile. “Do you know what that means?”

“Nope,” John said again, just as cheerfully.

“Alright, cut the bullshit!” Frank snarled, slamming his fist against the locker. John didn’t miss the fist sized indent that had left when the bully removed his hand.

The traffic of students flowing through the hall seemed to speed up, their eyes locked forward and doing their best to be ignorant of John’s plight.

“You owe me two days worth of lunch money,” Frank continued. “Pay. Up,” he said, smacking his lips together.

“Fuck. No,” a slight smile played on John’s lips as he placed just as much emphasis on his words as Frank had.

There was something incredibly satisfying about saying that to the man who’d bullied John all his life. John’s response seemed to confuse the bullheaded bully; John had never been an issue before. But there was one thing that Frank was confident in, and that was his own strength.

“You’re gonna eat it, shitface,” Frank growled, swinging a heavy punch John’s way.

John barely ducked before Frank’s meaty fist once again buried itself in his locker, and the hallway rang with the sound of hollow metal. One would think that it’d hurt to punch anything made of metal, but Frank showed only the slightest reaction. However, John seized the opportunity Frank’s swing presented him, putting as much **** as he could muster behind a counter-punch.

John couldn’t help but smirk as his fist flew through the air. The John three days ago would have been floored by Frank. That John would cave and immediately hand over the money, but John was a different person now. He was stronger. Physically, mentally, and even magically for fuck’s sake. Frank Dickinson Junior could not compare. He would not rule John’s life any longer. With the aid of both Dodge and Counter, this fight was John’s. It would be Frank sprawled out on the floor and at his mercy.

John’s fist connected on Frank’s beefy upper chest, and the bully let out a pained grunt. John let out a small laugh of satisfaction as he heard the chime signalling a critical hit. That feeling, however, was fleeting as John saw the damage he’d done to Frank’s Health Bar.

Frank Dickinson Jr.
147/175 HP

John was sure he’d pulled off a successful counter-attack, so why had it done so little damage? He didn’t have much time to ponder on it, because Frank already seemed to have recovered.

“Hurry it up, Frank,” Vanessa called from the sidelines, her voice dripping with disinterest.

An impromptu ring had formed in the hallway, made up of students looking for a little early morning entertainment. John recognised that more than a few faces in the crowd were his fellows, equally oppressed by Frank and Vanessa’s regime. Their eyes bore down on John, and he could almost feel their prayers for his victory.

“Yeah, yeah,” the blonde bully growled in reply to his girlfriend.

In one smooth motion, Frank withdrew his fist from the locker and brought his elbow down on John’s skull.

- 48 HP

Something started drumming in John’s ears as he struggled to stay upright under the sheer weight of the blow. He staggered away, barely dodging Frank’s follow up attack.

‘Fucking hell,’ John cursed as he regained his balance. He was more than a little rattled by the way this fight had turned. It wasn’t panning out the way he’d envisioned in his head at all.

‘Calm down, calm down, calm down,’ he told himself on repeat. ‘You still have something that Frank doesn’t: magic assisted skills. Just dodge, dodge, dodge. Wait until an opening. Counter-strike. Dodge, dodge…’

It sounded so simple in his head. But as Frank’s hulking figure lumbered towards him, seemingly growing bigger with each step, John began to feel like there wasn’t nearly enough space in the hallway for the both of them. A hastily thrown punch by Frank fell safely short of John, and the bully swore loudly.

“Get over here, you little faggot!” Frank spat as he missed a second and then a third swing.

Clearly frustrated by John’s cat and mouse antics, Frank lunged forward in an attempt to rapidly close the gap between them. It was exactly the kind of stupid move that John hoped Frank would make. To be expected of a guy with 5 intellect, really.

John ducked past Frank and put a boot to the bully’s ass. The extra momentum accumulated with the kick sent Frank face first into the lockers, and another metallic shudder echoed through the hall. Evidently, that attack had been more effective than John’s previous one, chipping a further 33 HP off of Frank’s Health Bar.

114/175 HP

“You’re fucking dead, hear me, Newman?! Fucking. Dead!” Frank roared, recovering from the heavy blow alarmingly fast.

At that moment John couldn’t help but liken Frank to a bull. A stupid, stubborn, extremely pissed off bull. Springing to his feet, Frank spun around to face John and immediately charged, arms spread out either side.

‘Is he stupid?!’ John thought with glee, preparing to duck under the hulking boy again. ‘Why am I asking? Of course he is!’

But there was one very important detail John had forgotten. Frank was the Academy’s best Quarterback, and you needed a sharp eye and reflexes to play the position well. Almost as soon as John began to sidestep, Frank’s feet turned on a near perfect pivot, and John abruptly found himself caught in a meaty embrace as he was tackled to the floor.

The sheer weight of Frank’s body knocked the wind from John’s lungs. Before John could even make a recovery, Frank’s left hand closed around his throat, pinning him to the floor, and his right fist became acquainted with John’s nose. The spurting of blood accompanied the sound of a light crack, and tears began to well up in John’s eyes, clouding his vision.

<Warning: Nose broken. HP reduction insufficient to protect from physical damage. Health Bar must be full before recovery process can begin>

John failed to read the message in time before Frank’s follow up blow came crashing through, and John’s consciousness flicked off like a light switch.