The other punks around cheered their champion on, but not too loudly. For in as much as he was their man, they also feared him. They knew that he could easily switch up on them. So, the punks kept their distance and cheered him on from a reasonable pace.
Xzavier observed the situation with amusement in his eyes. It was uncanny just how socially awkward these people were. Xzavier shifted to a favorable location from which he could both focus on the arm wrestling match, and at the same time, keep an eye out for the receptionist.
Xzavier's muscular opponent sauntered towards Xzavier with a confident stride that was impossible to miss.
"Boy! Today, I am going to teach you not to go around claiming to be what you're not!"
He turned his head back to his punks who were still cheering him on. The whole thing seemed comical to Xzavier. He felt like he was watching a bunch of kindergarteners.
It was the same vibe, the same small thinking and the same primitive thoughtlessness. He shook his head and placed his right arm on the table after he had wiped it down.
The other man's powerful hands swallowed his relatively smaller hand as the two men locked arms. They stared into each other's eyes, an old tactic that was used by men in arm wrestling. It was a move that was targeted at intimidating the other man by staring him down with his meanest possible look.
It was both psychological and physical. Someone in the background began the count down and both men gripped each other's arms tightly. The final call came, and the match began.
From the get go, Xzavier knew that his adversary excelled in strength. But knowing it was one thing, it was a whole other thing to be on the receiving end of his brute strength.
Like a bear, he bore down on Xzavier with the whole of his might. He didn't even bother to hold back. His intent to punish and humiliate Xzavier poured into his powerful right hand.
His contempt for Xzavier, coupled with his pathological need for public approval, further augmented his already brute strength and brought down Xzavier's wrist very close to the table. Clearly, he had the advantage.
The loud cheering from behind also fuelled him on.
"Yeahhh! Go get him champ!"
"That's it big guy! Crush him!"
"Break him!"
"Teach the damn liar a lesson!"
All the chants and encouragements coming from the background encouraged him on like jet fuel to a gulfstream. The bearded man was in his element.
He knew it was only a matter of time before he won the match. No one could hold out against him for long. No one, not even this cocky young boy.
The contest began to drag out for longer than the bearded fellow had expected, and for the first time, he genuinely began to worry. He had exerted all his energy within the first few minutes and yet, Xzavier was still resisting firmly. It was unheard of.
No one had ever lasted this long with the muscular man. He began to panic. The voices in the background began to slowly die down as tongues began to wag. Even they were surprised that it was taking their champion this long to put down the younger man's hand.
Xzavier was very perceptive. He noticed all the signs and knew that although his opponent had an impressive amount of physical strength left, his confidence was starting to decline. And consequently, it would end up affecting his hold on Xzavier's hand. Xzavier had already deduced this. He knew he didn't have to do much.
Right now, all he had to do was simply wait out the storm and allow it to ride out. Sooner or later, his opponent would give in to the pressure and cave in.
The muscular man saw Xzavier's steely gaze and it increased his fears. As the one holding down Xzavier's hands, he could feel his unflinching resolve in the younger man's hands. The middle aged local champion gauged his grip and knew that the boy had an impressive amount of energy still stored up.
It was almost as if he could hold on for as long as he wanted. The situation was interesting because the older man had Xzavier's hand all the way down, the short distance between Xzavier's hand and the table was somehow a problem for him.
No matter how much he tried, Xzavier's hand refused to budge. He expounded all his strength and yet, he couldn't close the deal. From the outside, he appeared to be the one winning, and yet he was sweating more than Xzavier.
Then finally, the moment that Xzavier had been waiting for finally came. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the receptionist had finally emerged after several minutes in the backroom. He didn't know what had taken her so long, but he was glad that she had finally decided to show herself.
It was good news to him because it meant that he could finally put an end to this charade. She walked over to his location and gave him the signal that the money was ready. She flashed him two silver coins, and Xzavier nodded his acknowledgement.
Xzavier then shifted his gaze fully on the bearded man sweating profusely before him. The whole sight was indeed a funny one.
With a smile on his face, Xzavier proceeded to thank the middle aged man and tried his possible best to keep his voice free from sarcasm. It wasn't easy;
"Stranger, I am thankful to you for not breaking my arm. But alas, this contest must come to an end."
His adversary wanted to laugh aloud at Xzavier's bravado, but unfortunately for him, things moved too quickly, thereby robbing him of his opportunity for a comeback.
Xzavier tapped into his reserve strength and steadily began to push back his opponent's hand in the other direction. The middle aged man watched with a look of horror as the tide began to change.
Then in one swift motion, Xzavier promptly launched his palm with an impressive amount of force that immediately overpowered the other man's hand.
The impact of the force was so terrible that the small wooden table which held their hands, was instantly crushed by the residual effect of the force from Xzavier's hands. Needless to say, the muscular man's wrist was not spared, the force from Xzavier's hand completely destroyed not just his wrist, but shattered his entire right arm.
The middle aged man let out a chilling scream that paralyzed the very atmosphere. For a while, everywhere was quiet. The punks were dumfounded.
Completely flabbergasted, their confusion rendered them mute. They were completely lost for words or actions. Their champion was rolling on the ground and wailing in agony like a school girl who had been whipped. It was a sight that they never thought they would ever see.
In fact, the whole outcome of this contest had completely gone in the opposite direction of what they had been expecting. The middle aged man's screamed louder and louder as he wailed and grasped his broken arm. No one made a move to help, heal or comfort him.
They all simply stared on as he rolled on the ground shamelessly. His cries filled the space, making everyone extremely uncomfortable.