Steven Davis was already boiling with anger because he couldn't hit me. Seeing me gesture provocatively, as if summoning a puppy, further ignited the explosive anger inside him. With a deep roar, he charged forward with a punch, no longer holding back, but I swiftly slapped his wrist away, deflecting the punch, and then turned my other hand into a fist and struck Steven in the abs.
The blow was so painful that the liquid in Steven's stomach roiled and almost came up his throat, making him nearly vomit.
Steven stepped back, rubbed his stomach, and in his rage and humiliation, lifted his leg to sweep at me viciously. I raised my knee to block the kick, then put my foot down, stepped forward, and punched Steven in the same spot in the abdomen.
Poof!
Steven spewed out all the liquid from his throat.
Steven wiped his mouth clean and went wild, turning around to swing two punches at me. I parried them with two rapid slaps, then, with quick movements and high speed, stepped forward again to punch him in the stomach!
Poof!
Steven vomited again, the pain twisting his face, and he staggered back a few steps. I seized the opportunity to bend down and deliver two fast and furious punches to his abdomen, just like Donnie's fist technique in the movie "IP Apex," aiming solely at Steven's stomach with four punches per second, pursuing him relentlessly for 5 seconds!
Finally, Steven collapsed on his back and the platform emitted a dull thud. Everyone rushed up to the platform, seeing Steven lying there with foam at his mouth. Looking at me with a defeated spirit, Steven asked, "Is that all you're good at, just punching people in the stomach?"
"Didn't I tell you? That's my only trick," I replied, a remark that made Steven feel very humiliated.
Brittany Scott, seeing Steven lying on the ground foaming at the mouth and occasionally rolling his eyes in spasms, asked with concern, "Are you okay?"
Two colleagues helped Steven up, bending over as he crawled on the ground to vomit.
Seeing this, I knew there was no need to continue, so I turned around and left the gym.
One colleague patted Steven on the back to help him breathe, saying, "See, you tried to act cool and ended up getting beaten up."
Another colleague sympathetically patted Steven on the shoulder and sighed, "You successfully brought to life a scene where the villain gets a slap in the face."
"Alright, stop mocking him. Can't you see Steven is miserable? Hurry up and take him to the hospital; a grown man crying like this."
Steven sobbed and trembled, "Do you think I'm crying because I lost to him? I'm crying because I couldn't even touch him, not a single hair! Why? Why won't he let me touch him? It feels... It's like a dog has humiliated me, I've never been so frustrated in my life, I want to go crazy!"
His two colleagues gave Brittany a strange look and asked, "Brittany, are you sure this guy's police badge isn't fake?"
Brittany was also stunned and didn't know how to answer at that moment.
She said softly, "This man must have a story. With his ability to shoot with a single hand and his accuracy, he must have considerable experience with firearms."
At night.
I went to the precinct for my shift, and as I was in the locker room changing into my patrol uniform, my veteran colleague, opening his locker, said, "You shouldn't have taken the night shift as soon as you arrived."
I knew there must be a lot of secrets, so I curiously asked the veteran colleague, "What exactly happened to that guy's face this morning?"
"Minding someone else's business," the colleague replied. "In Summit City, especially in our district, the city center's most bustling area, all sorts of characters come out at night. Most of them are either very wealthy or important. During the day you might not see those luxury sports cars on the crowded streets, but at night they gather. These are usually people we area police try to avoid. That guy played hero and got beaten up badly. Here, it's better not to get involved. Tonight, I'll show you around the area."
I nodded, put on my police cap, checked myself in the mirror with the gun issued to me today, then followed the veteran colleague out on a patrol motorcycle.
The veteran colleague who was guiding Tobby tonight was named Kyle Miller, an older man. People called him a veteran because he'd been around for six or seven years and was well-informed about the forces in the area and who not to mess with. Even though it wasn't because of his competence in maintaining public order, he was trusted to handle the night shift because he knew how to avoid trouble for the precinct.
Kyle Miller and I rode our motorcycles together to a campus nearby, managing the security around students leaving late-night classes. I handed him a cigarette, and he said, "Remember, in Summit City, there are three kinds of people we can't mess with."
"People with tattoos on their chests; those driving sports cars; and beautiful women."
I frowned, "Why?"
Kyle took a drag on his cigarette and said, "The first kind of people, though there might be no organized crime, wherever there is kindness, there will be wickedness. As long as The Syndicate exists, even under our country's absolute power, black and white are clearly divided. Those who belong to the dark must always stay in the shadows. If they come to light, they must fall. Those who used to belong underground now have respectable appearances. They try to clean up, but it doesn't mean they become good people. Those with chest tattoos, it's better not to provoke them completely. Summit City's former local bullies still exist. Of course, as police, we aren't afraid of the dark, but who can guarantee they won't harass your family? These people can be quite troublesome. As for those driving sports cars, why not mess with them? Let's say it plainly; what kind of city is Summit City? As the nation's economic center, it relies on large businesses and wealthy individuals to keep it going. They enjoy national policies, and we are more about serving them, so sometimes, we have to see their mood."
I was curious, "Then why can't we mess with beautiful women?"
Kyle laughed, "Being the nation's most prosperous city, which woman doesn't come here for wealth? Stewart and pretty ones flock to this city every year. Summit City is now known as the city with the most beautiful women, but why are they here? Naturally, they trade their youth for a lavish lifestyle. The prettier the woman, the more likely she has a powerful benefactor or connections, so they're also off-limits for us."
I understood and nodded.