It only took a mont before I recognized Mikhail's opponent and it was the guy who kept taking down people with an open palm. Calling it a slap would've also worked but just the effects of his huge hand clobbering his victims couldn't give it justice. I was confident that I would be able to take him down in a fight but not in this particular match-up.
The rules of this match were pretty simple: Give a slap, take a slap, whoever was left standing wins the prize.
I pride myself in being able to take down opponents several weight classes above , but it was because I have ways to drop, dive, dip, and dodge.
Purposefully getting hit by half-giants such as these two was a fucking recipe for disaster. Unless I could master Artem's way of taking hits head-on, I wouldn't gamble my coins away. However, if it ca to that, the only way I see myself winning was taking them down in the smallest number of turns possible.
With that said, Mikhail won the coin toss that would decide who goes first, but it's just that Mikhail's opponent had a ho-court advantage. The crowd went wild in an instant and they kept shouting out his na.
"BOB!" "BOB!" "BOB!" "BOB!" "BOB!" "BOB!" "BOB!"
'...'
In any case, the match started without even an announcer introducing the two. The mont they exchanged glances, it started from the fucking get-go.
I could clearly see how both of them tensed their bodies where Bob braced for impact while Mikhail tucked his left arm on his body, making use of his back muscles to deliver a slap across his face.
Everyone watching cringed the mont it made impact but only half the crowd had recovered when the roles switched imdiately.
Mikhail was now on the receiving end while Bob was overwinding his attack. He retracted his huge arm all the way back to get all the montum it could get, and he just let it loose on Mikhail's face.
The sound it created was much duller but both of them were still staring each other down as if they didn't receive concussive blows.
Bob was leaning towards brute strength but Mikhail was integrating basic fighting theories to his advantage. It wasn't explicitly doubling his power output but each extra percentage it gave him was slowly piling up as the rounds went.
It was at the 30th round where Mikhail's knees showed a little bit of wobble but Bob's left ear was already bleeding from the strikes it received at the sa spot over and over.
He was already leaning on the table because he was about to fall, and the only thing keeping him standing was pure willpower. Furthermore, the crowd was still on his side because the left side of Mikhail's face was bruised and he was bleeding from his mouth.
I would've advised either of them to forfeit the match to avoid permanent damage but I was 100% sure they'd want to see it through the end.
At the 40th round, half the crowd was just watching intently– without cheering their heart out, because even if the two were about to fall over, the blows they were sending to each other were just getting more and more powerful, and not only that, they were receiving each hit without bracing for impact.
I already radioed over to Irene's place to call for Arturo, and that was when Bob swung for the final ti.
It was at the 48th round where he tried to aim for Mikhail's jaw but it just gave Mikhail a strong gust of wind before he fell down and hit his head on the table.
The whole place was quiet for a few seconds before cheers erupted, and before I even got the chance to step in and make sure that Bob was alright, a couple of what seed to be dical practitioners stepped in and carried him to the side.
On the other hand, Mikhail exhaled deeply before picking up the gold coin on the table, and he got surrounded by new fans and 'entertainers' alike.
He quickly found himself double-fisting beers before a taller lady gave him a shot of liquor with her mouth, and he just promptly accepted it. However, before it went further, it was interrupted by a guy with an 8-ball as a head tattoo when he handed Mikhail a set of keys, a stack of vouchers, a scratched-up Makarov, and a piece of paper.
'Hmm…'
Mikhail hadn't even opened the piece of paper that was given to him when his expression changed when looking at the dirty pistol in his hands. He sighed and shook his head a few tis before he pocketed all of the items given to him, but he saw looking at him when he was about to head sowhere.
He quickly made his way towards but the tall lady that kissed him earlier was also trailing from behind.
"Hey, didn't see you there."
"Nice match, I bet that shot stung. Tequila? Lost a tooth or nah?"
"I didn't. It stung but I'll live. I'm kinda light-headed though."
"I called Arturo over. He should also give you a–"
The tall lady interjected, "Hey~ I thought we're going sowhere? Who's your friend?"
Mikhail placed his arm over her shoulder, "You don't know? He's Nyebo– Ah– He's Sky."
The tall lady shrugged her shoulders as she touched Mikhail's body all over, "Okay, I'm Gina, by the way. I'm not too familiar with people without coins. Sorry~"
'That's a relief, at least soone doesn't know …'
I just chuckled before I turned to Mikhail, "Take sothing for your head if it gets worse– but who's that guy earlier? The 8-ball guy?"
Mikhail's expression turned solemn once more, "Yeah… Apparently, he's Bob's handler or sothing–"
Gina cut him off, "That's Dave."
"Dave?"
"Yeah~ he's a prick when he's really~ high but he pays a lot just to get his dick sucked. He doesn't want it any other way and–"
"C-Can we move on to other info? What else do you know about him?"
"Well~ I also know that he's–"
Mikhail cut her off, "They got Kuzma's Humvee. Well, I got it now because I won it but the gun belongs to him too. They wanted to give so info on it but I told them I'd look for Artem or soone else first. I think he's still alive but he's in trouble."
'Fuck.'
Gina tried to cut in, "Who's Kuz–"
Mikhail squeezed her shoulder, "He's a friend. Why don't you leave us alone for a minute and I'll look for you later?"
"But–"
"I'll give you twenty of these vouchers–"
I cut Mikhail off before I turned to Gina, "You work at the Pink House, right?"
Gina almost rolled her eyes in irritation, "Isn't it obvious?"
I scoffed before I pulled out two gold coins from my pocket, "You know how these coins work, right? I'll use a charge from one of them so you leave us alone."
Gina never looked so much like an idiot from discovering I actually have two coins, "Wha- Y-You can't use it like that! You–"
"With one coin, I get three passes to avail the services from the Pink House each day. I could use it to get a girl three tis or use it in one go and get three girls at the sa ti, or even cut it up, depending on what I prefer."
"You– You can't do that! You'd have to fuck to–"
"I know how to skirt around the rules. What if I order you to touch yourself in the Pink House while waiting for ? You'd have to take one of the charges away and I don't even need to co after you're done. Am I making sense?"
"T-They… they would n-need proof I–"
"Then record yourself. You still have a phone or sothing lying around, right? You can even record telling you to do what I asked you to so you won't get in trouble."
"..."
"What?"
"F-Fine…"
Gina was in a sour mood when she left us but Mikhail caught up to her and still gave her the vouchers he promised her earlier. I was shaking my head when Mikhail did that but he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled at when he ca back.
"You could've just used the coin, right?"
"I could– now that you told how it works, but I kinda like her."
I stopped in my tracks, "You're not gonna stay here too, right?"
"Wha– Hah! No! Look at ! Where can I find girls as tall as her? It's already weird going to our own Pink House to relieve myself with Micah's girls, it's–"
"Why is it weird?"
"Dude, they're half my size. I'm basically towering over them! The only ones that are tall back ho are Katya, Tatiana, and Jared's girl– Alex, was it? Micah's kinda there too but you get what I an?"
"Oh! Hahaha! I get what you an now. But yeah, where are we heading now?"
"I'd like to get Kuzma's Humvee first. I think it's parked by that enclosure. We'll see if that could give us so clues."
"We should do that even if it's kinda a long shot. Don't forget we still got to talk to that guy. What's in the paper though?"
"I haven't checked. Here," Mikhail said as he handed the piece of paper.
"This is…"
"Hmm?"
"Just a bunch of numbers. I don't know what to make of it unless–"
"What do the numbers an?"
"Heh. THE NUMBERS MASON! WHAT DO THEY AN?!"
"What?"
"What? You don't know that?"
"No…"
"Fucking normie…"
"Fucking weeb…"
"..."
"..."
"HAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Mikhail and I just shared a good laugh before we made our way to the parking area where Kuzma's Humvee was supposed to be located. We got a few stares from the people around us because we were definitely out of place because everyone else was wearing so sort of 'color' to represent their exclusivity, and it was a tattoo of a billiard ball with sets of numbers.
I thought Dave's 8-ball tattoo was sothing insignificant but the numbers on the heads of the people we passed by have reached triple digits.
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