You're to engage in "friendly" sparring... Again...

Thoughts of avoiding pain through humiliation and other means immediately popped into your head...

This guy Ren and his partner Dale were the two who captured you after your reckless and presumptuous escape from the bunker.

Ren and Dale immediately took advantage of your weakness and helplessness: they thoroughly enjoyed fucking your holes.

It was after meeting these two bastards that your anal hole lost its virginity...

Your manhood was simply trampled into the dirt...

And since then, your humiliation has only continued over and over...

Can we really say that these two scums are to blame for the ruin of your life and the failure of your search for your father?

Memories of this "pleasant encounter" create in your psyche a desire for some kind of ****. And this desire momentarily eclipses the fear of pain...

A passionate desire for **** combines with certain new features of your mental state.

You've repeatedly committed cruel acts, things you would never have thought of during your quiet life in Ortley's Bunker.

There was already blood on your hands...

It seems your personality has recently begun to change significantly, and you are no longer able to contain your emotional outburst...

As a result, instead of a verbal response to the offer of sparring, you rush headlong at your hated opponent...

He seems caught off guard by your decisiveness – your body slams into him, and he flies away, his back hitting the door, which swings open.

You both find yourself outside, next to the house.

Ren lies on the ground, cursing foully: "Agrrgh... Fuck! You stinking little cocksucker!"

You climbed on top, trying to pin your opponent to the ground with your body weight.

Then you began clumsily striking him with your fists.

"I'll smash your ugly face, motherfucker!" - you screamed in rage.

Alas, your punches were weak due to your underdeveloped muscles...

Ren easily blocked them, holding his arms out in front of his face, elbows clasped.

A few seconds later, he delivered a swift strike with his right elbow, aiming for your temple.

Luckily, this strike only painfully grazed your neck and cheekbone - otherwise, you would have simply knocked yourself out.

However, the **** of the blow sent you reeling back, climbing off your prone opponent.

And Ren took advantage of this: he quickly jumped to his feet and delivered a backhand slap to your face with his left hand. The **** of the blow sends you staggering back a couple of steps and nearly trips over the boards of an old, half-rotted, and almost completely broken fence.

Your cheek swells from the bruise...

A painful burning sensation...

Tears begin to flow intensely from your eyes...

"I'll beat the crap out of you, little shiteater! And then I'll fuck you in the ass again so you never forget your true place!" - clearly, your opponent wants not only to win the sparring match, but also to humiliate you as much as possible.

When Ren lunges at you again, you manage to dodge a couple of blows.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why the fuck is he physically stronger than me?!" - your thoughts race through your head.

Your opponent's muscles and hand-to-hand combat skills are clearly superior to yours. And this is not surprising: he likely spent his entire life in the dangerous expanses of the Wastelands, while your life (until recently) was spent in the much more comfortable surroundings of an underground bunker, where you didn't have to risk your life daily or practice physical survival skills.

While such sad thoughts linger in the back of your mind, you unsuccessfully try to not close the distance so Ren doesn't get close enough to beat you up.

Alas, he continues to pursue you relentlessly, showing no signs of fatigue...

A couple of times, you tried to use the remains of a wooden fence that lay on the ground against him.

You threw a piece of broken, half-rotten board at his face, and he easily dodged it.

You tried to use the second board as an improvised weapon - the equivalent of a truncheon.

The very first strike with this "truncheon" caused your opponent to grab your weapon and yank it hard, tearing it from your hands and throwing it away.

Even more alarming was the fact that you were starting to tire...

And Ren was able to close in on you, within punching range...

For the next ten seconds, you had to block a barrage of blows, each one sending pulses of pain through your body.

It seemed that most of your body was already covered in bruises...

With all your strength, you attempted a kind of "act of desperation": you tried to kick your opponent in the testicles while he was still attacking you. Unfortunately, even this was clumsy – your kick only grazed his thigh.

Ren cried out in pain and… with redoubled fury and speed, he lunged at you!

He knocked you to the ground…

Your body fell in a muddy puddle…

A flurry of punches…

You feel like you're about to lose consciousness…

In a fit of anger and a thirst for ****, you copy your enemy's successful move: you strike him in the face with your elbow.

Blood begins to flow from Ren's forehead…

His eyes widen in surprise…

You rush to attack…

Two entwined bodies lie in the puddle, splashing mud…

Suddenly, you remember something…

Your hand quickly snatches up the item that had been in your pants pocket all this time.

A bloody knife. An item you took from the corpse of a man you'd killed.

Your first trophy.

Your fingers convulsively grip the handle and you make a swift attacking motion.

The knife's tip was stopped just a few centimeters from your opponent's throat – Ren's reflexes allowed him to grab your wrist before your knife could tear additional hole in his flesh.

"Grrrghhh... Are you going to kill me, you fucking bastard?!" - a complex mixture of emotions can be seen in Ren's eyes (contempt and anger are joined by... fear).

A blow...

Your vision darkens slightly...

He hits you with his forehead...

"Heh... Good sparring, boys... I see Jerome has learned the cardinal rule: 'All means are fair to win'... Now calm down and get out of this pile of shit, unless you want me to shoot you both..." - a sudden, raspy voice comes from above.

The voice belongs to Nicholas, the leader of the Vultures gang.

You feel your strength draining and stop attacking...

Your opponent also stops trying to harm you.

Grunting in pain, you both slowly rise from the muddy puddle...

You look at Nicholas...

To your surprise, standing next to him is a group of people you didn't expect to see...