Roy woke up feeling totally out of it. He felt like he'd downed a bunch of cheap booze and then gone clubbing.
Basically, his head was a ss, and he felt terrible.
"Didn't expect those red eyes to be so freaky. Looks like I need to be more careful using the Nightmare ability in the future!"
Roy rubbed his temples, feeling a little better.
Just then, his phone buzzed, catching his attention.
"Hey, it's Roy."
"Roy, it's Coach Lambert! Why didn't you tell you changed your number? I had to ask Niddy to get your new one!"
Hearing Lambert's voice, Roy figured it had to be about the Olympic world qualifiers.
"Coach Lambert, you actually managed to get qualified?"
"Yep! Allen and I already took care of your qualification. All you gotta do is sign the papers!"
Roy scratched his head, feeling a bit stuck.
"But I'm in Boston right now. I can't get back to Waterfall Town."
"What are you doing in Boston? Today's the registration deadline! Alright, here's what we'll do: I'll fax you the docunts. You fill them out and fax them back to !"
"Sounds good!"
"One more thing: the world qualifiers start tomorrow! The venue's in New York. We'll et up directly in New York tomorrow!"
With that, Lambert hung up.
Seriously, this urgent?
New York isn't actually that far from Boston, only about three or four hundred kiloters. Driving would take four hours tops.
But Roy hadn't seen Emma yet, so he was a little hesitant.
However, according to Madison, Emma didn't seem to be getting bullied at the witch school. The main issues were Cardilia forcibly taking Emma and finding Lilith's daughter.
Waiting a day or two probably wouldn't make a huge difference, whereas missing the world qualifiers ant waiting another four years.
In that case, he should probably take care of the world qualifiers first.
Roy picked up his phone to call Jennifer but realized he couldn't get through. He figured she was already on the plane and had turned off her phone.
So, Roy sent a text to Jennifer explaining that he was going to New York, then left the apartnt to get his car.
He still had the keys to Madison's Ferrari 360 Modena, so he could just drive that supercar to New York.
But when Roy got to the yard, he saw sothing that made his jaw drop. His beat-up yellow Chevrolet Camaro was parked right in front of the door.
"What the heck?"
Roy rubbed his eyes, thinking he was still ssed up from his dream and hallucinating.
But after double-checking, Roy confird he wasn't mistaken. It really was his Chevrolet Camaro.
In the vast multiverse, there was only one Chevrolet Camaro that special: Bumblebee from Transforrs!
So, his ride was actually Bumblebee?
That was seriously aweso!
What kid hasn't dread of driving a Transforr?
He just wondered why Bumblebee would go all the way to Boston and reveal his identity.
Roy thought about it for a mont, but it just made his head spin more, so he stopped thinking and just got into the Chevrolet Camaro.
"Take to New York!"
Today, Roy was going to experience self-driving. As for Madison's Ferrari 360 Modena, he could just leave it parked in front of the apartnt.
The Chevrolet Camaro started automatically, and the radio began flipping through stations.
Roy rembered that in the Transforrs movie, Bumblebee's voice module was busted, so he couldn't talk and had to use the radio to express himself.
After listening to the radio for a while, Roy got a general idea of what Bumblebee was trying to say.
"You need my help? But how am I supposed to help you?"
Roy was on the magic side of things, while Bumblebee was clearly sci-fi. The two were completely unrelated.
Besides, Roy thought it was weird enough that Transforrs even existed in this Arican Horror Story world.
Bumblebee started switching radio stations again, roughly conveying that sothing terrible had happened to his ho planet, so he was sent as a vanguard to find a new ho. However, he malfunctioned upon entering Earth's atmosphere and had only recently been mostly repaired.
Then, Bumblebee tried to contact his commander (Optimus Pri) but found that the signal seed to be completely blocked by so kind of interference.
This situation seed pretty similar to the plot of the first Transforrs movie Roy had seen.
"So, what exactly do you want to help you with?"
"I received a ssage sent six months ago. The ssage indicated that because I was out of contact, my commander sent three more soldiers to Earth to investigate. But I can't reach them. Sir, I hope you can help find them!"
Roy thought for a mont. He figured Bumblebee's companions had most likely run into so trouble – either malfunctioning like Bumblebee or being captured by so organization for research.
"Alright, I can help you out. But what's in it for ?"
"I apologize, I don't have anything to offer as paynt. However, I can be your mode of transportation until the end of your life!"
Roy raised an eyebrow. Bumblebee probably thought he was like a regular human who would only live for a hundred years or so at most.
The short lifespan of carbon-based life forms, a re few decades or a century, was indeed far inferior to the near-infinite lifespan of silicon-based life forms. The problem was, Roy was a Nephilim!
Putting aside everything else, Adam lived to be 930 years old. It wouldn't be unreasonable for Roy to live for a thousand years, right?
"Okay, deal! I'll help you find your companions, but I've got so things I need to take care of first, so it'll have to wait a bit!"
"No problem!"
Silicon-based life forms probably had a different concept of ti than humans, so Bumblebee didn't object.
"Do you have any detailed information about those three companions?"
There were so many Autobots. If he didn't have specific targets, it would be way too much trouble to find them.
"I can transmit the information wirelessly to your electronic devices."
So, he'd need a laptop then?
Roy didn't have a laptop with him at the mont, so he couldn't receive the information.
Oh well, it wasn't urgent anyway. He could deal with it after returning to Waterfall Town.
Self-driving was aweso. He arrived in New York easily and without any hassle.
Once in New York, Roy first found a FedEx station to pick up Lambert's fax.
FedEx stations offered 24-hour internet, printing, and fax services, which were very convenient for ergencies.
After filling out the faxed docunts and sending them back, Lambert called to confirm that the registration was complete and Roy could compete normally the next day.
Lambert also ntioned that he and Allen had already booked their flights and were preparing to co to New York.
Roy had just hung up with Lambert when Jennifer's phone rang.
"Roy, you went to New York?"
"Yeah, the world qualifiers are tomorrow, and the venue's in New York."
"But I'm already in Boston!"
"Let Lilith co to the phone and talk to ."
There was a mont of silence on the other end, and then a mature and charming voice replaced Jennifer's.
"Roy, it's Lilith."
"Lilith, I rented an apartnt outside the witch school. You can wait for there and observe what's going on inside."
Even though Roy had the apartnt key right now, a small door shouldn't be a problem for a witch.
"Okay, when will you be able to co back?"
"That depends on how many matches I have in the world qualifiers. To be honest, I don't even know the competition rules yet."
"Alright, then I'll wait for you in the apartnt. I'll contact you imdiately if anything happens."
After dealing with everything, Roy found a hotel in New York and settled in, waiting for the competition the next day.
"Roy, are you ready?"
Lambert and Allen looked at Roy with concern. Roy's performance was crucial for their potential rise to fa, so their concern was understandable.
Roy did look a bit worn out. He hadn't slept well the previous night due to the ntal attack from the crimson eyeball in his dream.
However, Roy's ntal state had actually recovered quite a bit. He felt much better than the day before, no longer having that just-went-bungee-jumping feeling.
"I'm fine, I just didn't sleep well last night."
Allen didn't think much of it, assuming Roy was just a little nervous. After all, the world qualifiers determined whether Roy could go to the Olympics.
"Alright, let tell you about the rules of the world qualifiers. The boxing association selected a total of sixteen amateur boxers for this event. You're the only one who's not a college athlete."
Since professional boxers couldn't participate in the Olympics, only college athletes were eligible.
"Sixteen fighters, so that ans I'll have to fight four matches to qualify?"
"That's right, and only the first place winner gets to go to the Olympics. Everyone else is just there for show. This shouldn't be a problem for you!"
Roy nodded.
After all, the really good boxers had already secured their Olympic spots through intercontinental competitions. The current world qualifiers were mostly for those who hadn't made it yet, and most were just hoping for a chance to show their face at the Olympics.
Seeing Roy's sowhat too relaxed attitude, Allen reminded him,
"Don't let your guard down! There are still so good fighters in these world qualifiers. I have so information here for you to look at. Also, this world qualifier is pretty packed. You only get one day of rest after each match, and it'll all be over in a week, so you need to conserve your energy. Don't go pulling any fancy, unnecessary stunts."
Roy took the information Lambert handed him and glanced at it casually.
Just then, a staff mber ca over to remind them that the pre-match weigh-in ceremony was about to begin.
Since it was the world qualifiers, the rules were stricter, and a weigh-in was required before the official matches.
Roy left the休息室 (restroom/lounge) and went to the weigh-in area.
It was indeed the Olympic world qualifiers. There were actually a few dia outlets taking photos and a TV station broadcasting live, although there weren't many spectators.
Perhaps it was because the world qualifiers weren't heavily promoted, so most people didn't know about the event. The people who were there to watch were mostly boxing fans.
Roy's appearance imdiately drew the attention of all the dia and spectators.
It couldn't be helped. Heavyweight boxers were usually intimidating and rough-looking, so soone as handso and dashing as Roy was a rare sight.
A boxer who was being interviewed suddenly noticed the reporters leaving him and rushing over to Roy.
As a result, Roy attracted the animosity of all the boxers present. Each one gritted their teeth, wanting to teach Roy a lesson.
Busy with interviews, Roy didn't notice a woman in the audience who froze in place when she saw him, tears streaming down her face.
"Is it you?"
After the weigh-in ceremony, it was ti for the draw.
Roy drew number six, which ant he would be competing in the third match.
Roy wasn't particularly happy with this draw. He would have preferred to draw number one or two. Since he didn't care who he fought, he figured he might as well get it over with sooner.
On the other hand, the boxer who drew number five was very happy. He really wanted to teach Roy a lesson.
After watching several dozen minutes of boring matches, Roy was almost falling asleep when it was finally his turn to go on.
"Roy's up! Take him down!"
"Finish him in three seconds!"
Roy stepped into the ring. His opponent was a Black man.
Most boxers in Arica were Black, and over half of the boxers present were Black.
And this was just the amateur boxing scene; there were even more Black boxers in the professional circuit.
Roy and the Black man faced each other. The opponent flashed a nacing smile that could make kids cry.
"Pretty boy, I'm gonna flatten your face with one punch and make you regret ever signing up for these world qualifiers!"
While the referee was explaining the rules and prohibitions, the Black man suddenly started taunting him.
Roy, seeing him as just another naless extra, yawned.
"Shut up, you n-word!"
This made the Black man's face turn green with anger. He imdiately pointed at Roy and roared at the referee.
"Ref, he called the n-word!"
The referee looked at the Black man with a speechless expression. He was a referee sent by the International Boxing Association and wasn't Arican himself, so he naturally didn't care about Arican political correctness.
Touching his face where the Black man had spat, he said,
"The rules don't say you can't use the word 'n-word'! However, if you spit on my face again, I'm going to give you a foul!"
The Black man was so angry he felt like his lungs were about to explode, but he could only swallow his anger.
After all, getting a foul just for spitting would be a huge loss.
Fortunately, the referee quickly announced the start of the match. The Black man felt confident he could beat the annoying pretty boy in front of him.
Then, the Black man suddenly saw a flash before his eyes, and a fist kept getting bigger in his vision. He instinctively tried to block the punch with his arm, and he succeeded.
But another punch ca from the side, bypassing the Black man's arm and hitting him squarely on the cheek.
Boom!
The Black man's face, even with the protective headgear, visibly deford upon impact, and his body was instantly lifted off the ground by Roy's punch.
The next second, the Black man fell heavily to the ground, and the entire arena went silent.
Even the referee was stunned by this scene and completely forgot his job.
"Aren't you going to count?"
Roy looked at the referee with dissatisfaction. How could this referee be so unprofessional?
Reminded by Roy, the referee finally snapped out of it and began the count.
After ten seconds, the referee announced Roy as the winner by knockout.
Bumblebee
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