Code Zulu Alpha: Nerd in the Apocalypse!

As soon as I did, the look of shock couldn't be hidden from the pack I was starting to leave behind but the two were still going at it even if they were receiving strong electric shocks. However, they could only take so much at a time so they would stop when the light was red but would race as to who would strike first when the light was green.

From watching the two, Number 68 had a familiar moveset from a character I used to play in a fighting game where all I'd need to do to win was mash two buttons over and over while Mr. Castillo's right hand was mostly using a mix of moves— though he would almost always opt for illegal strikes if they were in an official match.

Eye-gouging, hits to the back of the head, and even shots to the groin were his primary moveset and it was making his opponent pissed off more and more.

At the right fucking moment, Mr. Castillo's right hand motioned for another kick to Number 68's groin area, and as soon as Number 68 tried to block by placing both of his hands near his crotch to receive the blow, the kick suddenly came for his chin.

The change in trajectory was performed by folding his knee, barely missing as he came near his opponent's groin, and extending it once again in one quick motion.

It would lose a bit of power and would strain the user but in the right conditions, it could deliver a clean blow.

Almost immediately, Number 68's head blew back from the impact but before he could even try to stabilize himself, his face was met with a vicious heel that came in the form of an axe kick, and it definitely broke his nose.

Blood spluttered for a short bit before the light turned red and Number 68 received a shock of electricity along with his teammates while Mr. Castillo's right hand kept still as his leg was still suspended in the air.

After a short bit, cheers suddenly erupted all throughout the viewing platforms but the rest of Number 68's teammates were already gunning for Mr. Castillo's right hand. However, their target also had teammates of his own so a brawl between the two parties started.

But once again, I didn't need to get involved so I continued with my slow back-jog.

"YOU DUMBFUCKS! HE'S ABOUT TO WIN!"

"THE FUCK ARE YOU ALL FIGHTING FOR?!"

"JUST DASH FORWARD AND TRY TO HOLD HIM DOWN!"

"THROW SOMETHING, DAMMIT!"

"STOP HOLDING EACH OTHER BACK, AIM FOR THE TOP SPOT YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!"

"I'LL BET A PACK OF CIGARS THE CASTILLO FAMILY WILL BEAT UP THE LOT OF THE DE LEON FAMILY OVER THERE?!"

"WHAT?!"

"I'LL TAKE YOU ON!"

"I'LL BET A CASE OF ALCOHOL THEN!"

"AREN'T YOU GUYS CONCERNED ABOUT THE RACE?!"

"FUCK IT, WHY CAN'T WE DO BOTH?!"

"I'LL BET A BJ FROM MY GIRL THAT HE'LL CATCH UP TO THE NEW KID!"

"HE'S THE NEW HEAD, YOU DUMBFUCK! D'YOU WANT TO GET DA'D?!"

"HAH! HE'LL SLICE YOU IN TWO IF YOU EVER PISS HIM OFF!"

"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! I'M SORRY MR. HEAD! HIT ME UP IF YOU WANT TO GET YOUR DICK SUCKED!"

"THAT SOUNDED SO WRONG DUDE!"

"AH— MY GIRL IS— YOU KNOW THE DEAL! I'M SORRY AGAIN~!"

The people shouting from the viewing platforms were just pure chaos but while everyone thought that Mr. Castillo's right hand would eventually gun for me, he didn't. The trace amounts of bloodlust I felt from him earlier suddenly doubled before it turned to complete killing intent.

His eyes suddenly turned as red as they could and everyone just watched him stomp on Number 68's right shin, breaking his bones and making him scream out in pain. All the guy could do was wriggle in place but our aggressor kept putting his weight on the injured area, making it discolor and making the injury even more severe.

The whole place had never been so quiet but right when he was about to break his other leg, a shoe just clocked him in the noggin.

Well, that was my shoe.

Yep, I threw it.

If the already quiet place could be any quieter, everyone was experiencing it right now.

Mr. Castillo's right hand stopped dead in his tracks and turned to my shoe which was only a few feet away from him, and it only took him a moment to realize he drew blood and it was now covering part of his face and trickling down on the ground.

Still, Number 68's condition was much worse, and even if we had no affiliation whatsoever, I couldn't just ignore the guy. If I let things as they should, he probably would've ended up as an invalid.

Sure, Mr. Castillo's right hand didn't do anything wrong as per this place's rules but there's nothing wrong with what I did either. There was no rule of saving someone's hide and if they wanted to sue me for it, I could easily say that I just wanted to hit him in the end but he was a little too far.

With that said, Mr. Castillo's right hand was now deathly staring at me but I guess he couldn't see properly with his left side because my other shoe clocked him once again.

I had to throw it for everything to be balanced because I'd rather walk barefoot than walk funny.

And again, if the place could be quieter, it was fucking happening right now.

However, Jericho's voice resounded from the speakers.

[HAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU DUMBFUCK! YOU DIDN'T FUCKING SEE THAT?! HAHAHAHAHA! YOU'RE ALREADY PRETTY FUCKING STUPID FOR GETTING HIT WITH A SHOE AND YOU GOT HIT AGAIN?! HOW DUMB CAN YOU BE?! MAN, IT'S ALREADY DIFFICULT TO GET HIT WITH LIGHTNING TWICE BUT YOU'D PROBABLY BE A LIGHTNING ROD FOR SHOES! GOOD THING HE'S ONLY WEARING A PAIR OR ELSE HE'D CLOCK YOU FOR THE THIRD TIME! HAHAHAHAHA!!!]

Jericho was the only one dying-laughing at the moment but Mr. Castillo's right hand already rushed for me even if his whole face was covered in blood.

I only caught a short glimpse of Number 68 looking at me thankfully—but still with a pained expression—because I now had to take care of the problem right in front of me. I could've run a bit more to increase our distance from each other but I'm not gonna turn my back on this psycho that likes to play with his food.

'If he's their best fighter, I'll have— everyone will have an easier time later on.'

Right as we were in striking distance, his hand suddenly lunged out to aim for my eyes but I sidestepped before I got even closer, delivering a knee straight to his abdomen. However, his head suddenly jerked down and collided with my own before he stumbled back a few steps.

'This motherfucker!'

I could barely open my right eye due to the pain but I already had to guard against his rush of attacks that were aimed at my body.

He sent knees, punches, kicks, and elbows all over the place but I only guarded the areas that were critical. However, I started to notice that he was concentrating blows on the lower part of my body and was totally avoiding hitting my head. Sure, getting clean hits to my body would make me slower to a degree but if he was what I think he was, he'd just go in for the kill.

Judging by his actions, I already knew what he was up to and I just had to figure out the time he'd do it… or just make him do it on my bidding.

It was done by simply leaving an opening that wasn't too good to pass up because if he fucking noticed that I was baiting him, he'd never go for it. With that said, after I blocked a kick from my left leg, I 'grimaced' in pain, partially closing my eyes and slightly bending to the side. Furthermore, my arms were down because I was 'late' in blocking his attack and it was almost like the same situation with Number 68 earlier.

'3… 2—'

Like fucking clockwork, his hand sliced through the air to gouge my eye out and I only had a fraction of a second to react.

From my peripheral vision, his arm moved in a wide arc—almost like performing a hook—so I figured the best way to deal with it was to perform a more compact version of his attack. What I did was copy his movements like I was a mirror and drive my arm at a much shorter arc— to divert his attack trajectory and make him taste his own fucking medicine.

After a split second, both of us drew blood and the side of my cheek was bleeding but he just lost the chance to see 3D movies.

Mr. Castillo's right hand was now a bloody mess and was writhing in pain as his left eye was now dangling from its socket.