Love Addict's RPG Ch. 47 (Patreon)

Tuesday, February 20th

Oliver spent the rest of the previous night planning out his new side hustle with Bradley and then predictably jacking it to the memory of Mia. The activity served him well, clearing his mind and leaving him empty-headed enough to sleep like a rock. Bradley showed up after his morning routine and came bearing good news. Sometime overnight, he'd found a buyer for the watch Oliver offloaded onto him, bringing back three hundred dollars. The date paid for itself twice over, making Oliver feel somewhat better about losing Lucky Bastard for the next six days now that he got something out of it.

Today's plan was equal parts simple and surreal. Oliver planned on becoming a street fighter to gain experience and prepare for his boxing match with Juan. That was the simple part, the surreal part being the 'how' side of the equation.

Bradley pulled the wool from Oliver's eyes last night and enlightened him to a scarcely concealed underground fighting ring spanning most major cities in the country. It operated using an app named Brawln distributed by special representatives. After tracking down one of these fine men in black, you had to convince them why you should be allowed into the network either as a spectator or a competitor.

Bradley ran into several Brawln matches during his nightly misadventures and was introduced to a representative after one such battle had been fought. For reasons beyond Oliver, Bradley convinced the man to register him as a spectator and added the app to his phone. The version of the app Bradley had access to was limited in features, but it allowed him to track down upcoming matches, watch videos of old fights, place bets, buy merchandise, and arrange payouts for his earnings.

He couldn't explain much about the fighter's version of the app, but it sounded pretty straightforward. All you had to do to get matched with someone was head to one of the many secluded areas in the city loaded up with secret cameras by the Brawln elite, set your status to active, and wait for someone of your rank to send you a challenge. Both fighters would then meet up and bet money on their match to make it official, the winner getting the full pot while the people running the show got their share from spectators betting and buying merch.

Oliver had trouble believing any of this even existed because the entire concept was utterly ridiculous. What kind of secret streetfighting ring sold officially licensed merchandise through an app? You'd think that went against the point, but things made much more sense when Bradley explained how Brawln was just one of those open secrets that the wealthy elite engaged with and that the government ignored, provided they got their share. Oliver found it sad how much easier it was for him to believe in Brawln after hearing that eccentric billionaires were involved, but what can you do?

Further evidence of how lax the secret was kept was how easily Bradley set up a meeting with a representative through the app to recommend a new fighter. Their appointment was coming up fast: noon at Evrart Park. Oliver couldn't show up, however. He sure as hell didn't look the part, small and skinny as he was, so he at least had to dress it.

The duo were on their way to visit Bulk Up Fitness to pick up some proper fighting gear. Supposing this all worked out and that he proved halfway decent at fighting, Oliver saw the upcoming purchase as an investment. You saw side hustles like this in dating sim RPGs all the time, and it'd be nice to have another way to pick up some quick cash if he ever needed it, even if he wasn't thrilled about the getting hit part of the equation.

Oliver was in a pretty decent mood as they walked through the city. Every point added to his total strength made his body feel fresher and more alive. Boxing made him relatively lighter on his feet, his eyes were sharper because of his heightened reflexes, and he had so much stamina that Oliver could've sworn he could participate in a triathlon and still have some fuel to burn. Everything seemed to be going his way.

They reached the store with time to spare and headed on inside, Bradley reiterating what they needed to grab once they got there. Oliver needed a pair of athletic shorts, some MMA gloves, a mouthguard, and a decent pair of boxing boots at the bare minimum. The bad news was that even when going for the cheapest options, the shorts were $30, the gloves and mouthguard were $20, and the boots were a whopping $100.

So much for all that watch money, Oliver sighed as the owner rang him up.

--- received Boxing junk item graphic---

Since the plan was to show up for the meeting and get straight to fighting as soon as he got the app, Oliver saved himself some effort and changed clothes in the store's bathroom before they went on their way, putting on everything aside from the mouthguard. He stopped in front of the mirror, inspecting his reflection. His body still didn't look the part, but the rest of him did. That was going to have to be enough.

"Remember what you're fighting for," Oliver told himself, striking a pose and performing a one-two jab. "You've got this."

Filled with the closest thing to confidence he could muster, Oliver left the store with Bradley and made it to the park just a little bit before their meeting with the Brawln representative.

Evrart Park was a large, walled-off public park in the city's center that had been a feature of Vista Venus since its earliest foundation and had only gotten bigger and better as the years passed. Nowadays, it had a playground for children, a fenced-in dog park, a small forest with a nature trail, and big public spaces where people could hang out and have barbecues, or whatever else people with social lives did in parks. Oliver wasn't sure about the social aspect but liked the place well enough, even as a former shut-in.

He would've thought that it would be in the representative's interests to choose somewhere private and out of the way, like maybe behind one of the public bathrooms or something, but perhaps that was too 'drug dealer' for him because they were supposed to meet up at the benches surrounding the central fountain. It was far from conspicuous, which Oliver was starting to sense was something of a running theme here. Especially when he got a look at the guy.

There wasn't anyone else around the benches save for a twitchy white man in his late thirties dressed in a black suit. He wore an earpiece, had short, trimmed brown hair, and jittering black eyes that looked much more comfortable if only he had a tinfoil hat to protect him from all that nefarious 5G in the air. Oliver had seen this guy's type a hundred times before on the city streets, figuring him to be overly paranoid and neurotic by the way he vibrated in place.

Hopefully that wouldn't be a problem, but at least Oliver was well-equipped to protect himself if it came down to it.

Oliver was about to tell Bradley he would handle this, but it was too late. Bradley was already approaching and raised one hand in greeting, the other showcasing his phone and the app for verification. "Greetings, [Representative of Brawln]! My NAME is Bradley, USERNAME, [BradleyFightFan001]!"

The panicked man's hand nervously darted inside his suit's breast the moment he locked eyes on Bradley. Hyper Reflexes sent a tiny tingle of danger down Oliver's spine, allowing him to intuit that the representative was packing heat. Things were already off to a great start, it seemed. He took back what he thought about being well-equipped.

"Who sent you?" The man asked. "And how hard?"

"[The Goddess of Victory], AND [To the Max]!" Bradley repeated the codewords they received upon confirmation of the meeting.

After a nod of his head, the representative relaxed somewhat, removing his hand from his hidden sidearm. "Had to be sure," he said, then glanced Oliver up and down. "This the guy?"

"I am," Oliver stepped forward. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't intimidated, but it wasn't so bad that he couldn't act professionally. The gun was probably part of the procedure, Oliver guessed. It probably weeded out anyone too scared to actually go through with this. "I wanted to get the app on my phone and register as a fighter."

Making no attempt to hide that he didn't like what he was looking at, the corner of the representative's mouth twitched into a frown. "You? Don't make me laugh, kid. I've been around fighters long enough you've never been punched a single-"

"Then punch me," Oliver balled his fists and stared the man down. "Go on, prove yourself wrong. I'm tougher than you might think."

Strange. The Brawln representative wasn't used to making mistakes in his initial assumptions. He'd written the kid off too soon before he got a good look at the fire in his eyes, and now he had to reconsider. There was no use in punching him- not when Oliver had already made his point.

Might as well see what other tricks he had up his sleeve.

"...No need, I'm not in the habit of damaging the potential merchandise," he shook his head, taking out a silver cigarette case with a stylized orange fist encased within a square emblazoned on its cover from his breast pocket inside his gun. His eyes darted back and forth before lighting up and taking a drag. "My apologies, kid. I admit I had you pegged wrong, so why don't you show me what you've got?"

Oliver smiled, secretly grateful he didn't have to get punched to prove his worth.

He walked a few steps away to give himself some distance and performed a minute-long boxing demonstration using all his strength and skill. His body moved like a dream compared to how it used to, nailing complicated dodges and imaginary counterattacks like he'd been training for this his entire life. Air whistled around his fists with every jab, Oliver unleashing a furious flurry so fast that it earnestly surprised him. His core remained perfectly balanced and as sturdy as a tree trunk the entire time, demonstrating remarkable resilience on top of immaculate form.

He finished things off with a colossal right straight, twisting his entire body to get the maximum amount of force behind it. Bradley clapped in the background while Oliver held his pose, looking into the representative's eyes as he asked, "How was that? Good enough to get me in?"

"Depends. You've got skill, but I have to ask if boxing is all you've got? It has its uses, but a martial art like that won't get you far in the ranks."

"I pick up new skills pretty quickly," Oliver shrugged. If you give me a chance, I'll probably learn all sorts of tricks from my opponents."

"Hm..." the man blew a ring of smoke while deep in thought.

Sensing a chance to go on support duty, Bradley chimed in. "You haven't EVEN told [The Man] the most IMPORTANT part, Oliver! How could you [Forget to Mention] that you ONLY picked up [Boxing] several DAYS ago?"

"Wait, you shitting me?" The representative almost dropped the cigarette from his mouth as he laughed. When he saw the serious look on Oliver's face, he knew this was anything but a joke. "Well I'll be damned. Should've told me you were a damn prodigy, kid! Hand over your phone."

Oliver shot Bradley an appreciative look and then did as instructed. He watched as the man took a USB-C cord from his sleeve and jacked into his phone, installing the Brawln app. It only took a few seconds before he extended it back towards Oliver.

"There. As soon as you pick a username and set up a payment method, you'll be good to go. Do you need a quick rundown on how things work?"

Oliver looked down at his phone, seeing the same orange fist logo as the one on the man's cigarette case. "Yeah, why not? I might as well make sure I got the gist of it."

The representative at last introduced himself using an obvious pseudonym, going by 'Mr. Gottlieb'. Gottlieb then covered most of what Oliver already knew before filling in all the blanks that Bradley couldn't. First off is the basic stuff. He explained how to use the app from a fighter's perspective, and after that, he drilled in how secretive all this was, how his matches would be recorded and shared on the platform, and then hammered in the fact that Oliver was on his own as far as medical treatment went.

Once that was over and done with, he told Oliver about how the ranking system worked.

It wasn't anything dramatic. Oliver would start at rank F like almost everyone else, and depending on his performance, he would be promoted onwards and upwards. It was up to the shadowy cabal that ran the joint whether or not he was given an opportunity for advancement. Truthfully, Oliver didn't care much about ascending the ranks. This was a side hustle, not his new full-time job, and his interest in fighting extended only as far as gaining experience for his battle with Juan and getting some cash.

Gottlieb was reasonably enthusiastic about the entire thing, however. It turns out that whenever a representative signs someone, they essentially become their agent. Supposing Oliver did well in his fights, Gottlieb would see some kickbacks. There wasn't any pressure, though. The whole thing seemed weirdly chill and laid-back for a secretive underground fighting ring, aside from the initiation and veiled gun threat.

Before the explanation was wrapped up, the last thing Gottlieb had to tell Oliver about was that Brawln now held merchandising rights to his likeness. Not a big deal when he was still F rank, but still something to keep in mind. The fact didn't really register when Oliver was told about it. He was starting to disassociate at this point in the lecture, wondering, What the hell even is my life anymore? We were in full rom-com mode a day ago, and now it feels like there's been a sudden genre shift...

He hoped things would go back to how they were before as soon as possible, which was why he was here in the first place. He didn't get these powers to become an all-powerful streetfighting champion. He got them so he could get closer to cute girls. This was just a means to an end, and Oliver was happy when Gottlieb finally ran out of things to say and went on his way, claiming to have another meeting with someone else in another part of the city.

Oliver wasted no time firing up Brawln, finishing his registration, putting in his direct deposit details, and picking the username 'Fighting4Love' because he was incredibly bad at naming things. Zero spark will do that to a man. He also didn't care much about his name to begin with and was eager to roll this thing along. Bradley helped him take some necessary photos for his profile, and after filling in some basic details about himself, he was ready to go.

They immediately checked if there were any prospective matches Oliver could apply for. There were- over thirty of them, in fact- and those were just the ones he had access to. Hundreds of battles were being fought across Venus Vista at that very moment, represented by little icons on a big city map. It really showed how huge of a presence this app actually had.

He and Bradley sat at a bench and looked through the potential candidates. Oliver assumed this must be what it felt like to sort through user profiles on a dating site. They were turning people left and right for inconsequential reasons. This guy was too strong, that one was too weak, and so on. It took some whittling down to find anyone who looked like an appropriate matchup for him.

"He doesn't seem TOO bad, does he?" Bradley cupped his chin and leaned in to comment on the profile Oliver was currently looking at. The user in question was a twenty-nine-year-old Japanese man named RamenFist. He specialized in karate, had a win/loss rate of thirteen to thirty, and his profile pictures featured a heavyset man wearing a patched-up white gi with a black belt that struggled to contain his midsection along with a tattered red headband fluttering in the wind behind him.

"No, he doesn't," Oliver agreed. RamenFist's record implied he was just strong enough to have some wins under his belt but not so strong that he might make for an overwhelming first fight- precisely what they were looking for. It was a nice bonus that he was only a few blocks away from the park, too. "Might as well send a challenge and see if he's down for taking on a newbie."

Steeling his resolve, Oliver alerted RamenFist of his desire to battle. Only a few seconds passed before his request was accepted. It came a lot faster than he expected, which Oliver was grateful for. Neither of them wanted to keep the man waiting, so they rose from their seats and took off.

Bradley suggested they jog all the way there since it was so close by, and Oliver agreed. He figured it would be a good test of his current stamina and that every bit of exercise would get him even closer to his next strength level up. The afternoon traffic made it take a little under ten minutes to get there, the two jogging in place while waiting for the crossing signal to turn.

Oliver's improved stamina was such that the constant movement didn't get to him in the slightest. He wasn't sweating, wasn't short of breath, and didn't have a face red with exhaustion. Everything went smooth as silk, and Oliver smiled again at how nice it felt to feel this good about his body. Despite only one point of his strength resulting from his hard work and dedication to self-improvement, the results made him wish he'd started years ago. God only knows how much good a decent workout would've done for him back when his brain was in the gutter.

The alley was wedged between a thrift store and a coffee shop, with an unmanned food cart parked at its entrance. It wasn't as shady as the alley you had to go down to get to 12oz House, but it definitely had boss battle vibes and a door made of fog wouldn't have been out of place here. Oliver sensed a slightly foreboding presence waiting for him at the end, and with Bradley by his side serving as a constant morale boost, he pushed onwards.

The alley led into an overlooked lot that would've been big enough for a couple of sheds and not much else. It was empty here save for scraps of trash, empty bottles, and the tattered ruins of a homeless person's tent. He couldn't see any of the cameras that would record this fight, but Oliver guessed that was the point. In the center of the lot was a man sitting on a mat he'd laid on the concrete floor, his legs crisscrossing strangely. Oliver would've recognized this as the lotus position had he known anything about yoga beyond how hot it made girls look.

There was little room for doubt that this man was indeed RamenFist. He looked identical to his profile pictures and even wore the same karate gi with patches in all the same spots. As Oliver and Bradley stepped into the empty lot, the opponent ceased his meditation, and his almond eyes opened wide, zeroing in on the young boxer.

"Fighting4Love, I presume?" He asked, his firm voice displaying a respectful Japanese accent.

"God, it sounds so much stupider when you say it out loud..." Oliver muttered, suddenly embarrassed over how thoughtlessly he'd chosen his username. "Yeah, that's me. I'd prefer if you just called me Oliver, though."

"Mn," the enemy nodded respectfully, stood, folded his mat up, and tossed it to the side. "Akira. And you?"

"Pay me NO mind. I'm JUST a [Humble Spectator]," Bradley showcased his version of the app like it was a police badge. "Though I AM the [Competition's Best Friend]!"

"Very well," Akira said, not paying much regard to Bradley and quickly focusing his attention back on Oliver. "First fight, huh?" His expression was severe, but his voice sounded friendly enough. "Any special reason you decided to get in on the game? Money? Power? Or is it that you really are just fighting for love?"

"It's mostly love, but the money's a little nice bonus," Oliver spared an awkward laugh. "Long story short, I've got to beat up one of my girlfriend's brothers if we want to stay together, and I'm looking to get some fighting experience before I get in the ring with him." He punched his gloves together, the pleasant sound of leather on leather bursting outwards from the impact.

"You're already better than me," Akira gave up a soft smile. "I just fight for fun. Are you ready to throw down? I'll put down fifty bucks if you can match it." He took out his phone and formalized the bet on his side, waiting for Oliver's agreement before he hit send.

"Fifty sounds fine to me, sure. Would you give me a second to talk strategy with my friend here?"

Akira respectfully agreed, taking the time to stretch himself out while Oliver and Bradley huddled together off to the side. Oliver asked for Bradley's overall impression of his opponent, and he shared the same opinion that Akira shouldn't be taken lightly despite his record and atypical physique. He was a big dude, and just by looking at him, you could tell not all of it was fat.

"Keep your distance and [Play it Cool] at the beginning of your BATTLE! Chances are [High] you've got the [Advantage] when it comes to [Speed and Agility], so wait it OUT as you adjust to combat, my FRIEND!"

"Spoken like a true corner man," Oliver patted Bradley on the back and separated from their huddle. "I'll keep that in mind and see how things go. I don't want to make Akira feel like I'm toying with him, but I need to draw things out and get a feel for all this before I start going on the offensive." He took in a deep breath while performing some footwork. His lower body wasn't quite in sync with his upper, leaving Oliver feeling like his legs couldn't follow along with all his new knowledge as well as his arms could. It was his biggest concern aside from his punching strength.

"Are you [Nervous]?"

"Mildly," Oliver admitted. "But that's what I'm here to work on, right?"

Bradley gave him a reassuring thumbs-up and a wink, saying, "That's the [Spirit]! Keep THIS up and you'll be [Fifty Dollaryidoos Richer] in NO time! Also, do your BEST to try AND not get [Knocked Down]. Concrete HURTS!"

"That might've been your best advice to date," Oliver joked.

With nothing else to say, the two of them pumped fists. The fighter approached his opponent while putting in his mouthguard as his corner man leaned against the nearest building to keep well out of the way. Oliver and Akira both had their phones out, finalizing the match. The app soon alerted them that their bet had been registered and that the hidden cameras were officially rolling. A bell ringing thrice played from both men's speakers, signifying it was time to have at each other.

Oliver took up his fists, ready for the first fight of his life.

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