Following the arrests of the Eagles, gang activity began to die down. Although the Dragons, White Snakes, and Immortals hadn't officially 'disbanded', they might as well have. A large portion of gang activity had been in response to the Eagles's excessive violence, and forming rival gangs gave a sense of protection. After all, it'd be safer in a pack, right?
Although Joan hadn't technically completed her mission, PK decided to be lenient. After disbanding the Eagles, it had given her the promised reward of 2500 dollars.
The fall semester came to a close. The trees became nakedly bare, and their remnants could be found scattered over the ground in an abstract painting of yellows and oranges.
Winter break closed off schools for half a month, and Joan was left feeling remarkably empty. It was a foreign feeling, something she might've experienced 45 years ago.
Navier, being the bookworm he was, disappeared for hours at a time to, Joan presumed, a library of some sort.
Meanwhile, Joan found herself doing nothing more than grinding Mortal Strike day and night. She spent her days lounging about Boom Arcade and feasting on the unhealthiest of frozen foods.
After yet another long day of climbing the ranks, Joan strolled out of the arcade building when a poster caught her eye.
As she strode closer, she read aloud the words. "Mortal Strike tournament."
Her eyes flickered over the page, but froze when they landed upon a particular word. A grin broke out on her face as greed stirred in her stomach. "1000 for first? Not bad, not bad."
PK looked at her monstrous grin and shook its head, already knowing what her plan was. "Who knew you'd be so money hungry?"
Joan rolled her eyes as she tore the flyer off the wall, much to the Boom Arcade's employees' displeasure. She excitedly read the details of the tournament as she walked out of Boom Arcade. And in her excitement, she'd gripped the doorknob with a slightly stronger strength than she'd intended.
The metal creaked under her impressive strength, but Joan didn't notice. She was too caught up in eyeing the spectacular prize pool.
And as the door slammed shut behind her, the young boy manning the front desk saw what horrific deeds had been done to the unassuming door. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the finger marks, molding the knob to a rather curious shape.
"B-B-Boss!" the boy stuttered as he stumbled back. "Did you-Did you see that?" His trembling forefinger pointed toward the misshapen doorhandles.
***
Flames seared through Navier's body as he inhaled, exhaled, and inhaled. He desperately gasped for air, attempting to provide as much oxygen to his lactic-acid filled body as possible.
"Frick!" he gasped. To no surprise, despite his friends' constant and persistent of use of profanities, Navier fervently abstained from them. The words felt impure to him, and he couldn't help but shiver whenever one accidentally slipped from his mouth.
For the past few weeks, Navier had been running, hard at that. He was desperate to catch up to Rem's strength, desperate to show himself as a man to her. However, despite how long he'd been training, you'd be hard-pressed to find any massively noticeable changes.
Sure, his arms had become a little more swole, his legs a little more defined, but all of his gains were masked by his modest school uniform.
Navier wiped the sweat off his forehead as he headed back to the hostel. On his way, a flyer on the wall of a street vendor's cart caught his eye.
"Mortal Strike?" Navier mumbled. His sweaty hands tore the poster off.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" the lady manning the store scolded him. "Put that back!" She placed her hands on her hips and looked at him demeaningly.
"O-Oh, sorry, miss," Navier apologized. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he attempted to pin the flyer back to its original place.
However, when the store owner saw the sweaty fingerprints Navier had left on the flyer, she reeled in disgust. "Oh my God. Kids have no manners these days!" she spat. "Hell! Take it with you, take it with you!" She shooed Navier away from her store with a bamboo fan.
Navier stumbled away in embarrassment while repeatedly mumbling his apologies.
He scuttled away from the terrifying woman as fast as possible as he took a second look at the flyer.
"Mortal Strike tournament! No way," he whispered to himself. His fingers trembled with excitement as he giddily skipped back to the hostel.
This was his chance. His chance to win and impress Rem!