Part 1.3

Part 1.3

I was employed by Marky boy and his faithful butler.

As I said before, I wanted to get rid of Smythe, and I was already thinking of a plan.

Because I am a gentleman, I won’t spoil anything until I get to the good parts.

Back to the rich kid.

He was an A-grade premium bastard.

Every night, he would go out and ‘get into fights’.

By that, it was him being a nuisance, and I would have to bail him out.

Normally, I could get away with a quick conversation and a few bucks from daddy’s wallet.

I wasn’t that lucky every time.

Before I get into the intricacies of combat, I have to explain how I have to fight.

It is kind of technical, but I will try to be brief.

As I explained before, I am really strong.

With the Cable System, I am about three times stronger than a trained man without upgrades.

Physics is a bitch, but you can dance with her.

And if you dance well enough, she is a great kisser.

Where a normal fighter can do moves on both the x and y-axes, I am more limited.

You know that law of equals and opposites, right?

By that I mean if I kick, I overspin, and if I punch, I overspin.

My system focuses on the negative x-axis and the positive y-axis.

By that, I mean I punch and kick upwards and pull people toward me.

Now that that is out of the way, I had to beat the piss out of a bunch of bar patrons.

Constant fights became boring after a few nights, but Marko loved it.

It became a problem when he took me to a very exclusive club for the über-rich.

The place was called The Hole in the Wall.

If my eyes could roll as far as I wanted, I would have seen my black soul.

The problem was that the security was too tight for me to hack in remotely.

I did a mental shrug and followed him into the venue.

This place was so swanky that you had to undress, and they made a fitted white suit.

I could tell right away this was a facade to get rid of any bugs, camouflaged as luxury.

The guy in charge was smarter than his naming ability.

Before we entered the club, Marko stopped and turned to the left.

Marky walked up to a beautiful woman with a bodyguard who kept staring at her ass.

Internally, I was sighing.

Marko then said something that almost made me kill him prematurely.

“I bet my guy can fuck up your guy.”

The rich girl looked me up and down; my hands were shaking behind my back.

“What makes your man so impressive? He seems very ordinary.”

My jaw was clenching so hard, I almost cracked a tooth.

“My guy did two tours in Madagascar. Yours is some ninja bitch.”

To my surprise, the ninja bitch actually took a step forward.

I did a quick scan and realised this clown had almost no security.

I almost face-palmed as the rich kids bickered and I focused on the info.

This guy was called Miyamoto, which meant nothing to me.

What I wanted to know is what upgrades he had.

He had quite a few.

He had a lot of artificial muscle in his legs and back.

His feet had hooks, and he had a detachable hand with a sword hidden in his forearm.

From that information, I can tell that he dives forward and slashes.

This guy really was just a joker.

A bodyguard should defend, not dive forward, leaving their charge in the dust.

I snapped back to reality at Mark’s words.

“I bet one hundred thousand that my guy beats your guy.”

This caused the woman to laugh, and she took a step forward and put her finger under my chin.

“I don’t want money. If Miyamoto wins, I want your man. He is quite aesthetic.”

The kid’s face became red, and he yelled.

“Fine! I know your ninja has a sword, so no weapons.”

She rolled her eyes, while I was smiling internally.

The dumbass gave me the fight in a handbag.

“We have an accord.”

She held out her hand daintily, and Marky slapped it aside.

He motioned for me to follow.

He led me to a side door that led into the club properly.

There were a ton of topless dancers with all kinds of upgrades.

The rich kids were more focused on each other and their useless conversations.

Marko led me through them, and he didn’t look around once or talk to anyone.

It seemed like his rivalry with the woman was serious.

Or as serious as a literal child can be.

As we walked, I scanned as many people as I could.

I wanted to find a single person with animosity against Marky.

To my non-existent surprise, almost everyone hated him.

There were so many that I had to sort them into different categories.

First were the openly hostile ones.

Second were the secretly hostile ones.

I then sorted them into a third category.

The ones that had any ties to Smythe.

That is a secret I will keep for later.

After what felt like forever, we finally got to the ring.

There was a lot of blood on the floor.

I am sure these rich misfits have never seen their own.

Like a good boy, I waited next to Marky-Mark.

As I looked around, I saw other kids sitting behind thick glass.

They had the look of rabid animals ready for more blood.

I was slightly startled when I heard the announcer's voice booming.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. We have a special event tonight. It is Marcus Aurelius St. Patrick vs Jeanne d’Arc Kennedy.”

I could hear a very faint sound coming from the spectators, but they were going crazy.

Maybe these two had a lot of pull here?

The announcer continued after he gave them a moment to compose themselves.

“On the St Patrick side, we have Milton Adams. He fought in the 901st Airborne, the Scottish Nightmares. He is the real deal!”

The crowd didn’t move, and if I could, I would cheer for myself.

After a small cough was heard through the speakers, the voice continued.

“On the Kennedy side. We have Miyamoto. The undefeated swordsman from New Edo, who has fought and won nine death matches!”

I heard the same faint roar; it was pissing me off.

This clown from Japan only fought to the death nine times?

Amateur hour.

After all the pleasantries were out of the way, we both took off our jackets and shirts.

He did have scars on his torso, but nothing like mine.

I had been shot at and ran through a ton of explosions.

My body looks like a roadmap through hell.

Everyone falls back into habits when it comes to combat, myself included.

This was why the fight ended the way it did.

He leapt forward, ready to cleave me in twain.

The only problem was that the sword was safely tucked away.

All I had to do was lean forward and let his face hit my elbow.

I felt a crunch and saw some teeth hit the floor.

Without a word, I picked up my jacket and took my place behind the asshole.

A little sigh escaped when I saw him dancing in front of Kennedy while flipping her off.

I knew I would enjoy killing him.