Armored Car had heard Vito's six-round prediction. He was the type who ignited easily at the best of tis. Hearing his opponent dismiss him like that, he fired up imdiately.
"Kid! I'm sending you to hell!"
Vito's mouth curved just slightly. Angering the opponent, getting them to open up — that was part of the plan.
"Stop talking. Once I put you down, I've got a girl to ask to dinner."
Vito kept going.
"You little brat! You asked for this!"
The bell rang. Armored Car ca out imdiately with a fierce attack. Vito used his footwork to keep the distance exactly where he wanted it. Armored Car's attacks kept landing on air, which made him more and more agitated.
"Let's go, Armored Car! Take him apart!"
6th Street was shouting from the stands. One of Night City's major gangs: veterans, forr police, forr corpo operatives, and rednecks who'd gone through fast-track combat training. They had a deep fondness for the New United States governnt, loved smuggling military cyberware onto themselves, and were willing to use any ans necessary to get what they wanted.
Hearing 6th Street sound off, the Valentinos weren't going to back down. They had serious money riding on Vito.
"Hell! Vito, tear that la cripple apart piece by piece!"
There's a way to hurt soone that goes past the body.
Armored Car had lost a leg in the Unification War. He was proud of it. He brought it up constantly with the gang.
The truth was that his leg had been crushed to pulp by an overturned armored transport vehicle. But that didn't stop him from telling people he'd fought three combat drones to save his comrades, that in the end his leg and the drones went out together.
Now the Valentinos were calling him a la cripple in front of everyone. The rage this lit in Armored Car could have ignited the Yellowstone supervolcano.
He started going for more aggressive moves. Leaping to close the distance, then throwing heavy punches aid directly at Vito's throat and facial triangle.
Vito didn't block. He kept using slipping and footwork. And his mouth opened.
"That leg's not bad. But why no synthetic skin on it? Can't afford it? Or do you want to make sure people know you're a cripple?"
Armored Car's movents got bigger.
"What's your na again? Armored Car? Can you tell your real na? Honestly, I haven't heard of anyone like you. Not on the outstanding contributors list from the Unification War, at least. You didn't saw your own leg off to claim disability benefits, did you? The United States cancelled those about a hundred years ago. Maybe you're not online and nobody told you?"
Vito's trash talk hit Armored Car deeper than any strike to his good leg could have.
Armored Car had made a serious mistake. He was focused on the fight instead of shutting out the talking. He threw himself at Vito and still couldn't land a punch.
Ding.
Bell. Round one over.
Both fighters went to their corners.
Vik and Fred ca to Vito.
Fred:
"Vito, that guy can't even brush your sleeve. Beating him is easier than drinking a soda."
Vik:
"Your tactics are working. Footwork is excellent. But next round, I'm certain this one is going to do sothing aggressive. Be careful."
Vito nodded.
On the other side, Armored Car's coaching crew were gang mbers whose reputation was mostly that they were handy with their fists.
A mber who went by Tank was advising:
"That bastard just keeps dodging. Next round drive him into the corner and stick him until his head is paste."
Armored Car bit down and nodded. The fury in his eyes was almost pouring out.
Three more rounds passed. Armored Car kept pressing, trying to corner Vito. Vito precisely controlled the distance and didn't let him close it. He had read Armored Car's plan. He was getting ready to use it against him.
The crowd had started booing because Vito hadn't thrown a single punch and kept moving. The Valentinos, worried about the noise affecting Vito, shouted back:
"Hell, what are you lot booing about? Shut your mouths!"
"Puta! Keep it up and I'll take out every one of you scraps!"
So of the Animals in the crowd who understood boxing had figured out what Vito was doing. But in their view, if Vito had the ability to go punch-for-punch with Armored Car, that was what he should be doing, not hopping around like a rabbit.
The bell for round five rang.
This ti Vito showed a deliberate opening and moved back into the corner. Armored Car, who had been building and building, was delighted. He threw an all-out rear-hand power punch at Vito.
His thinking: take this punch and stay in the corner while I work on you.
Vito dipped and the punch went past. His right arm ca up and clamped Armored Car's arm between his bicep and forearm. He turned, and the montum threw Armored Car into the octagon corner. In one motion, the offense and defense had swapped.
Armored Car's fury had put too much force behind the punch. He had no ti to adjust.
Ten punches in three seconds. Armored Car was seeing stars. He got his arms up to protect his head. After another dozen heavy hits landed, the rage in Armored Car broke apart.
Then Vito stopped.
Armored Car's ears were ringing.
"Is the round over?"
His body relaxed slightly. In a high-pressure situation, the mont soone lets that happen, things tend to go wrong.
Armored Car dropped his guard instinctively. Then he saw a fist getting larger and larger in his vision.
Thud.
Vito's fully loaded punch landed clean on Armored Car's head. Back against the cage, no room to absorb it.
"Sucker punch, kid."
Vito blew on his fist.
The venue erupted. The Valentinos had nearly finished their voices.
Liying threw her arms around her friend and scread:
"He actually won! Oh my god! Four thousand! Four whole thousand eddies!"
The force of the punch had damaged Armored Car's cyberware. The steel spurs hidden under his knuckles shot out uncontrollably.
Vik, seeing those more than ten centiters of steel, felt a cold shock. The 6th Street crew hadn't co here to compete. They'd co to hurt soone.
The 6th Street gang had clearly put serious money on Armored Car. Several of the losing mbers angrily pulled out guns.
The Animals on crowd control imdiately drew their own weapons and pointed them at the 6th Street mbers, signaling them not to move.
The Valentinos saw 6th Street going for it and joined in, guns out.
"Puta! Can't take a loss? Who here doesn't have a gun?"
The venue fell into brief chaos. But the Animals had enough weight to matter. The situation settled quickly.
After all, the Animals were physically imposing and skilled. They were first choice for security at Night City's major venues, and everyone knew it. Even 6th Street had to weigh whether it was worth starting a war with that particular crowd in their own venue.
Our protagonist Vito, anwhile, was contentedly counting his money. The fight had ended before round six, exactly where Vito had placed his bet. He'd co out ahead by a solid amount.
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