Michael casually walked out of the bakery, holding a cup of hot black coffee and looking calm and friendly. At 172 cm tall and weighing 140 pounds, he seemed like a typical office worker. His golden-framed glasses shone in the sunlight, giving him a professional vibe. He was dressed in a plain white button-up shirt and well-fitted office pants, carrying a briefcase. But one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover—despite his humble appearance, he was actually a Class-A fighter. Underneath his clothes, his muscles were well-defined and capable of unleashing devastating power if the moment called for it.
As Michael walked down the sidewalk, his demeanor remained calm and composed. He belonged to the Humble Organization, a mysterious non-profit association led by an unseen figure who never made an appearance in public. Michael was one of the higher-ups, known as Captain Lam, leading a team of underlings. Despite his formidable strength, he was an intelligent type of fighter. He studied The Art of War and believed that “all’s fair in war.” Hence, he rarely fought fairly, favoring cunning over brute force. With his deceptive appearance, he launched surprise attacks that caught opponents off guard, giving him a strategic lead before the battle even started. His special move was called the Sock Attack; he stuffed his stinky sock into his opponent’s mouth, quickly rendering them incapacitated in a matter of seconds to end the fight efficiently.
The Encounter:
Meanwhile, Dave stepped out of the gym, admiring his newly trained muscles and feeling ready to challenge another worthy opponent to test his newfound strength. As he passed by the bakery, excitement lit up his face—he recognized the iconic look of golden-framed glasses. It was Michael, Captain Lam, a Class-A fighter. He was the perfect opponent for Dave, now a freshly promoted Class-B fighter.
“Hey, Captain Lam!” Dave called out, his eyes burning with determination as he puffed out his chest, showing off his broad, defined physique. “I challenge you—to a fight!”
Michael paused, staring at Dave with a serious look as he adjusted his glasses with composed ease. But then, his eyes were irresistibly drawn to something unexpected—the absurdly tight triangle woman’s underwear Dave was wearing. Its bright pinkish color stood out even more in the broad daylight. Michael tried hard to hide his chuckle. “Really, Dave? Bold choice… I’ve seen many creative… outfits, but I doubt any can top this one.”
“Please leave my underwear alone,” he pressed on with determination, “Let’s have some little friendly sport—right here, right now!”
“Fighters don’t engage in battle for mere sport or entertainment,” he said, his voice steady yet firm. He looked directly at Dave, intensity in his eyes. “As a humble warrior, I must respectfully decline your challenge. I train not just to fight but to stand for something greater. My battles must always have purpose and meaning.”
Dave smirked, fascinated by Michael’s intriguing demeanor. “So you’re longing for something meaningful, huh?” he exclaimed, his fist clenched and raised high as he spoke. “Very well! I shall forge one for you!” With that, he aimed his fist at the bakery’s glass wall right beside him, ready to make his point.
Michael, his heart racing with concern, reached out in desperation, shouting, “Wait! Please, don’t! This is a terrible idea—” But it was too late; Dave swung a powerful punch to the side, shattering the glass window in a violent explosion. Shards erupted like a hailstorm, crystal fragments scattering chaotically across the pavement, shimmering ominously in the sunlight. Dave’s smirk widened, “Tell me! Have I made my point crystal clear?”
“Will this misfortune ever end?” the store owner cried out, clutching his head in despair as he stared, tearfully, at the scattered debris of his bakery’s glass window for the third time. Chaos erupted; customers rushed to evacuate, stepping over one another in a frenzy.
Michael eased up a bit, feeling relieved. “Actually… I was trying to warn you that breaking glass up close could be very dangerous; you could’ve gotten seriously injured. But look at you now—totally unscathed.” He sighed, grateful to see Dave all right. However, he was completely blind to Dave’s intentions. In a sudden burst of frustration, Dave grabbed an escaping customer’s collar arbitrarily, lifting him into the air like a rag doll. “Empty your pockets!” he shouted, creating a chaotic scene of mock robbery in front of Michael. He turned to Michael with a wicked grin and asked, “So, the righteous Captain Lam, what will you do when faced with a villain like me?”
Justice? Righteousness? Michael couldn’t care less about either. Watching the mock robbery unfold right before him, he simply walked away, humming as though nothing happened. Yet again, Dave was ignored, and the neglect hurt more than any insult. Infuriated, Dave tossed the customer aside, the poor man stumbling back in horror as he wet his pants. Without missing a beat, Dave lunged in front of Michael, his body blocking the way.
“You couldn’t just walk away!” Dave snapped, clearly frustrated. “Aren’t you supposed to rescue him?”
Faced with Dave’s relentless persistence, Michael reevaluated the situation and concluded that a confrontation was inevitable. He cupped his hand around his ear and leaned slightly forward. “Pardon me, but I must have missed your words,” he said, pretending he hadn’t heard what Dave said. Then, he turned his palm upward and curled his fingers inward, signaling Dave to step closer.
Surprise Attack:
As Dave stepped closer, ready to speak again, Michael reacted with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, he spilled his hot coffee on Dave as a distraction while simultaneously delivering a swift, decisive kick to Dave’s crotch, a sharp cracking sound echoing through the air. Pain shot through Dave, and he collapsed to the floor, howling in agony, his face twisted in sheer horror. The bystanders gasped, feeling the weight of his suffering as if it were their own. This completely caught everyone off guard—flawless strategic execution by Michael.
Michael’s objective was clear: ending the fight before it even began. He believed his plan had succeeded, but Dave soon struggled to get back on his feet, his thighs pinched tightly together and his legs shaking uncontrollably. “What trickery was that?” he shouted in rage.
Out of nowhere, a teenager on a skateboard came flying toward Dave, leaving no time to react. Instinctively, Dave twisted his body, barely dodging as the kid zipped past him in a blur. But before Dave could regain his balance, Michael seized the split-second opening, delivering a savage straight kick to Dave’s gut with bone-crushing power. The impact felt like it was tearing through flesh, and the sheer force launched Dave into the air at a sharp 45-degree angle. His body slammed against the concrete wall with a sickening smash before plummeting like dead weight, crashing hard onto the pavement below.
“I never imagined you’d sink this low,” Dave spat out blood, fighting to stay upright, one hand held onto the wall for support. “All you do is fight dirty—too much of a coward to face me head-on, huh?” His voice faded into a bitter murmur, soaked in disdain. “You’re no warrior… you’re a disgrace… a pitiful fraud, hiding behind cheap tricks… a circus clown in a fighter’s mask…”
This taunting speech had little to no effect on Michael, a level-headed strategic fighter. He remained unnaturally calm, his eyes cold and calculating as he assessed the situation. Dave’s energy had dwindled to a mere 20%, and a single head-on clash would all but guarantee Michael a 200% win rate. Yet, to ensure this pathetic fighter never dared to cross his path again, he decided to obliterate Dave completely, dragging his confidence down to the darkest depths of despair.
The Head-On Battle:
With a composed smile, he stated, “I rarely engage in head-on battles, but today, I’ll make an exception. Just one clash.” Clenching his fist firmly, he stepped forward with calm determination. “Come, let’s trade a single straight punch. When it’s over, you’ll finally understand just how outclassed you truly are.”
The long-awaited moment arrived. A fierce determination lit up in Dave’s eyes as he stood tall, clenching his fist tightly. A gust of wind swept up the fallen leaves, and they unleashed their punches simultaneously, sparking a head-on clash that sent shockwaves through the air. Michael stood firm and steady, while Dave’s fist shattered upon impact, twisting his forearm into a strange shape. Stumbling backward, Dave’s last remnant of composure slipped away, shattering like fragile glass against the harsh reality of defeat.
“Had enough yet?” Michael asked calmly, wiping the bloodstains from his fist casually. “Let’s bring this futile fight to an end, shall we?”
But Dave, still defiant, rose from the ground with his hands clutching his head, his eyes clouded with insanity. “Not yet! I still have fight left in me!” he roared in desperation, throwing a flurry of punches and kicks at the empty air like a cornered beast. Channeling every ounce of energy into his left arm, he prepared to unleash his special technique: the Mega Legacy Punch.
Recognizing that Dave had gone berserk, Michael decided to put an end to this madness once and for all. In a fluid motion, he yanked off his leather shoe and pulled off the sock beneath it. “This ends now,” he proclaimed, his voice steady and firm, as he prepared to unleash his signature maneuver: the Sock Attack.
The Sock Attack:
As Dave yelled aloud, “I will show you what true power looks like—” his mouth opened wide. In that instant, Michael lunged forward, closing the distance with an impressive burst of energy. In a single, fluid motion, he shoved the stinky sock into Dave’s mouth, the foul odor overwhelming his senses like a mixture of rotten eggs and moldy feces—suffocating and inescapable.
Dave’s eyes widened in disgust and nausea as he struggled against the suffocating fabric, but his efforts were in vain. “No!” he tried to protest, but Michael’s firm grip covered Dave’s mouth, silencing him completely.
One… two… and before he could even count to three, Dave’s consciousness faded away, his hands falling limply from his mouth, which had been wrestling fiercely against Michael’s just moments ago.
The battle had dragged on much longer than Michael had anticipated, all due to the miscalculation of Dave’s unwavering determination. He wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his golden-framed glasses, leaving Dave’s unconscious body behind as he continued on his way home.
Micheal is quite a cunning fighter