My Pick Up Artist System

Man vs. Midget…

That's what some were calling this showdown as Nick and Ben squared off against each other.

The blue mats in the room of Barbosa's MMA Gym were filled at the edges by an anxious audience. It was the last match, the finals, and every person here had been there for several hours, anticipating this bout and the emergence of the champion. The favorite Nick being there was no surprise. He was the largest and the strongest was a mainstay at this stage. Yet, his opponent…what the hell was that?

…

A white belt, in a booger gi…that looked like the guy you'd send to try to teach a family of jungle apes to dance disco.

…

Yet, this was the one who'd reached Nick's level, having defeated all comers, leaving them questioning their skills and their hairlines…

He'd already proven himself against a number of tough opponents. However, none of those opponents were Nick.

The beast towered over Ben, looking down at him with a mocking glare that couldn't hide his disdain of being in this place with this person. "I don't know how you made it here, but I'll be sure to send you home so you can rest a while." This was a euphemism for putting him in a coma, not for walking him home and tucking him into bed.

…

Ben accepted Nick's ridicule, and sneered himself. "Thanks buddy, but if it's all the same, I prefer your girlfriend send me off."

"The f*ck you say?" Nick stepped forward before the referee got in between them. He was about to shove the guy away but soon saw his teacher, Ricardo Barbosa out of the corner of his eye and stopped his movements. Ricardo was leaning against a wall, crossing his arms and paying close attention to Nick. His attitude was intense, as if he was sending a message. In reality though, he was bitter because he didn't like watching from this position; leaning on the side of the doorway was where he was born to be…where he felt at home…

Alas…

Snorting, Nick's face became gloomier as he watched Ben. He changed his mind about breaking Ben's arm. No, that wouldn't be enough. He'd send him to the hospital with a broken knee today. He envisioned Ben hanging off the top of a doorway at an old Wild West saloon, his legs working as the swinging doors that opened both ways.

…

When it came to sick and depraved things, Nick's imagination wasn't worse than anyone's, and that would soon become Ben's problem. However, Ben wasn't worried, because although a long time had passed in this tournament, one thing hadn't changed—he'd stolen a stat point from Nick.

The last time they grappled, Ben was not only a bit slower before having taken another agility potion, but his personal talent was only a 7. With this stat now rising to an 8, and Nick's personal talent falling a point, Ben believed he possessed all he needed to take Nick down. Now, it was only a matter of seeing if that belief was justified, and he was about to find out.

Seeing the two men calmed down, the referee breathed a sigh of relief. He was not looking forward to having to stand in between the two finalists. This was not only because Nick was powerful and huge enough to send him flying, but because since the referee had heard most of Ben's verbal villainy, he somehow feared that turning his back to Ben would lead to the short man two-handed finger-jabbing his ass for some reason.

…

It was better to be safe than sorry…

So, while keeping Ben within his line of sight…the referee explained the rules of the match. As the seconds until their first collision became short and shorter, the room grew hotter, the audience staring with intensity at the two men in the middle as they chatted amongst themselves. However, as intriguing as this matchup was due to the contrast, there wasn't a single person in the audience who gave Ben any chance.

Nick's ability was famous here. He'd even defeated a number of brown belts and instructors. Even if Ben beat some tough opponents, they weren't on Nick's level. He wasn't the kind of opponent that would lose to a white belt. So, although interested in seeing what antics would happen between the two of them, the people in the room muttered amongst each other, making clear their thoughts.

"The little one's about to get the dad treatment…" Nick did, in fact, look like he was Ben's dad, about to take off his belt and dish out discipline…

"That little dude's crazy, but Nick is verifiably psychotic. I saw him choke out a dog in an alley one time."

…

In Nick's defense, he believed the dog had it coming…

"Yea. Did you hear what that white belt said to him? Nick is not going to let that go. I don't know if I can stay here and witness a murder…"

"I know what you mean. That would be disturbing."

"No, I can't be at a crime scene cause I've got warrants."

…

Regardless of what they said, almost no one in the room believed in Nick, except for a couple of people. Fariq showed an earnest expression, waiting to congratulate his buddy. He didn't know if Ben could win, but he still believed he could do it, telling those nearby to not underestimate Ben.

On the other side of the room, Valentina's eyebrows were knitted. They'd been in that state for a long while, because she understood Ben better than anyone here. So she could see the differences in his technique today. Although he still did those hateful verbal assaults, when he was actually grappling, he was smoother, faster, and more refined. His movements…were approaching brown belt level!

She didn't understand how he did it, but after also noticing that Nick was having an off-day, she was no longer was so sure how this match would turn out. No, her instinct was telling her something—everyone would be in for a shock today!