Franky 18: Arslan vs.
Franky As the day wound down, Arslan and his crew made their way in unison towards the underground arena.
Leading the pack, Arslan exuded a quiet confidence, with Ryder and the others forming a protective shield at his rear.
Sporting his signature casual attire, Arslan revealed a glimpse of his combat-ready preparation as he wore shorts beneath his pants, a subtle indication of his readiness for the fight.
His hands were meticulously wrapped, a telltale sign of his dedication to the upcoming fight that awaited him in the shadows of the underground arena.
“Is that the new champion who took down Voragor?” whispeared one of the onlookers nearby, his curiosity piqued by the whispers of the recent legendary bout.
Though unfamiliar with Arslan’s fighting skills, the spectator turned to his companion for confirmation, receiving a single nod that spoke volumes about the renowned reputation that preceded Arslan.
“Yes, even though he is smalled combared to the other, he’s one of the most skilled fighters in this circle,” the man whispered to his friend, emphasizing Arslan’s expertise.
Leaning in closer, he offered a word of advice, “If you’re looking to hit it big tonight, your best bet is on him.” His companion, swayed by the recommendation, flashed a knowing smile before hastening to place his wager on Arslan’s victory.
“It looks like everyone here to see you throw down,” Ryder said after he and others arrived at the seats that was detecated for them at the corner of the Arena.
“They better be here for the champ,” Sofia remarked, her voice a mix of confidence and determination as she maintained a watchful gaze over Arslan as she massaged his shoulders.
Immersed in his pre-fight focus, Arslan remained silent, his unwavering concentration fixed on the task at hand.
Sofia’s hands paused their soothing motion as Arslan signaled her attention, his sharp eyes catching sight of an approaching figure heading toward them.
Arslan rose from his seat to greet the old man who approached him with a stoic expression, hinting at their unresolved disagreement.
“You ready?” the old man’s voice cut through the tension, prompting Arslan to nod in response.
Elijah’s words carried a weight of expectation as he remarked, “You better be.
I’ve got a lot of money riding on you.” Arslan’s silent acknowledgment spoke volumes, his focus unwavering as he prepared to face the challenge ahead, his thoughts guarded as he braced himself for what lay ahead.
Elijah, though still holding a grudge against Arslan from their last run-in, knew he had to keep his cool when it came to business.
He understood that mixing personal beef with making money was a surefire way to end up broke.
“Don’t worry about the fight, old man.
I know what i can do,” Arslan reassured Elijah, who just gave a nod before starting to walk away.
But before he could leave, Arslan chimed in, “Hey, we gotta chat after the fight.
There’s something you gotta know,” hinting at some shady business happening behind the scenes.
The old man’s gaze bore into Arslan as he inquired, “Is this about our last chat?” Arslan hesitated for a moment before responding, “Yes and no.” Elijah furrowed his brow, prompting Arslan to elaborate, “Let me break it down for you.
Yes, we gotta address our previous conversation, but what I have to spill is about your rivals.” Elijah’s interest piqued at this revelation, and he nodded a few times before heading off.
“Alright then, see me after your fight then,” Elijah instructed as he strolled away, intrigued by the prospect of what Arslan had to reveal.
After their brief conversation, the stoic Arslan shifted his gaze towards the ring where a brutal brawl unfolded.
Two men, drenched in blood, clenched broken bottles, using them as makeshift weapons to inflict harm upon each other.
The wounds on their bodies and the red stains that covered their skin served as a stark testament to the savage nature of the fight they were engaged in.
“How can they keep going like that?” Nate marveled, his eyes wide with disbelief.
It was his first time witnessing such raw intensity, having recently arrived in the area and the bustling city as a whole.
“Desperation,” Arslan replied matter-of-factly, effortlessly slipping off his pants and donning his gloves with Sofia’s assistance.
“When people are pushed to the edge, starving and struggling, they’ll do whatever it takes to put food on the table for themselves and their families,” he explained to Nate, who grasped the harsh reality that drove these individuals to fight so fiercely.
Nate turned his attention to Arslan, curiosity shining in his eyes.
“But why are you involved in all this?” he questioned Arslan, who met his gaze with an impassive expression.
Nate pressed further, “You’ve got money, so why throw yourself into these matches?” Arslan tore his gaze away from the intense scene in the ring, where one combatant lay defeated while the other reveled in victory.
In response to Nate’s inquiry, he offered a simple reply, “Just for the thrill of it I guess.” Deep down, Arslan knew that his involvement in these fights went beyond settling his parents’ debts.
The rush of adrenaline, the exhilaration coursing through his veins, these were the driving forces that compelled him to step into the ring time and time again.
As Arslan prepared to make his way towards the ring, ready for his own match about to be announced, his stride halted abruptly.
A figure, elegantly attired for the gritty setting, approached him.
It was a stranger, someone unfamiliar in these rough surroundings.
“Arslan, right?” the man inquired, to which Arslan simply nodded, prompting the newcomer to introduce himself.
“I’m Rocco Moretti, the bookie working for Don Vito,” Rocco stated, gesturing towards the imposing figure of Don Vito seated near the ring, flanked by Elijah.
He was an elderly gentleman wearing a black suit with two young women perched on his lap while surrounded by men that seemed ready to die before something bad happen to him.
Curiosity piqued, Arslan inquired, “What can I do for you?” He had a hunch about the nature of Rocco’s impending request when he asked.
“I’m here to offer you a betting opportunity on this match,” Rocco proposed, producing a notepad.
“The odds stand at 10:1 in favor of Franky defeating you in under three minutes,” he revealed, causing Arslan’s eyes to widen in astonishment.
Ryder, taken aback by the revelation, hastily grabbed a wad of cash and handed it over to Rocco.
“Here’s a grand on Arslan,” he declared confidently, passing the money to the individual holding the bag beside Rocco.
After a brief exchange, Ryder received a note that conform his bet.
Turning his attention back to Arslan, Rocco posed the same question, “Care to place a bet?” Arslan’s face lit up with a grin as he responded, “Count me in for 20k.
I may not have the cash on hand, but my word’s as good as gold.” As Rocco hesitated, Arslan reassured him before Rocco reached for his phone to confirm the sizable wager.
As the confirmation came through, Rocco swiftly handed Arslan a note before bidding him good luck and making his exit.
Observing his crew standing by, Arslan’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he proposed, “wanna make some easy money?” Nate, Sofia, and Ricky exchanged puzzled glances before swiftly dashing towards Rocco to place their own bets, catching onto the opportunity presented.
The announcer’s voice boomed, calling out for the main event Arslan versus Franky.
The two contenders made their way towards the ring, each name resonating through the venue.
Accompanied by his friend Ryder, who walked with a sense of pride, Arslan and his companion entered the ring, ready to face off against Franky, who stood poised and prepared for the challenge ahead as he was called upon first.
Upon laying eyes on Franky, Arslan couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer size of the man before him.
Unlike Voragor, whom he had anticipated to be the epitome of bulk, Franky surpassed all expectations with his imposing muscle mass.
“You’re the one who took down Voragor?” Franky inquired, to which Arslan nodded once, maintaining unbroken eye contact with his formidable opponent.
A sudden smile graced Franky’s features as he extended his hand in a gesture of sportsmanship.
“May the best man emerge victorious,” Franky expressed, surprising Arslan with his unexpected display of sportsmanship.
Arslan reciprocated the handshake before both combatants retreated to their respective corners, their entourages exiting the ring, leaving the stage set for their impending clash.
As per his usual routine, Elijah stepped into the ring, signaling the closure of all bets before heralding the commencement of the eagerly anticipated bout.
With Elijah and the announcer exiting the ring, Franky wasted no time and launched himself towards Arslan as soon as the bell rang with so much ferocity.
However, Arslan had strategically utilized the unused stat points at his disposal to enhance his agility, stamina, and strength, transforming him into a formidable force far surpassing his previous encounters, even against the formidable Voragor.
Arslan’s muscles seemed as solid as steel, showcasing a newfound strength that left Franky astounded.
Despite exerting his full might in a gut-punch, Franky found his hand numbed by the sheer force of Arslan’s resilience.
“What the fuck?!” Franky exclaimed in disbelief, attempting to retaliate with a right hook.
However, Arslan’s agility proved unmatched as his swift counterpunch connected with precision, leaving Franky reeling, as if his head might detach from his body.
Mocking the earlier prediction, Arslan whispered, “Three minutes, was it?” With a burst of speed, Arslan surged towards Franky, who raised his arms in defense.
Evading the feeble attempt, Arslan’s roundhouse kick struck Franky’s midsection, causing the burly man to slide slightly to the side, letting out a groan.
“Agh, How’s he this strong ?” Franky questioned, frustration evident in his voice as he attempted another attack, only to find Arslan’s speed proving insurmountable.
The miss was swiftly followed by a punch to his face, causing his leg to wobble and eliciting a thunderous eruption of cheers from the crowd.
As the intense battle unfolded in the ring, Don Vito, visibly taken aback by Arslan’s unexpected prowess, turned to Elijah in disbelief.
“Who is this kid?” he demanded, seeking an explanation from the astute announcer.
Elijah, wearing a knowing smile, simply shrugged in response, signaling to Don Vito that his anticipated gains for the night might be slipping through his fingers.
In the heart of the ring, Arslan skillfully evaded and deflected Franky’s most potent strikes, gradually pushing the formidable opponent into a corner.
Seizing the opportunity, Arslan unleashed a relentless onslaught of punches, shattering Franky’s left arm as he attempted to shield himself from the overwhelming force.
Amidst the chaos, a desperate question echoed in Franky’s mind, “What should I do?” His eyes then caught sight of a small steel bar hurtling from the audience towards the ring, sparking a glimmer of hope in his dire situation.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Franky pushed Arslan away, snatching the bar from the air with a determined resolve, contemplating its potential use in turning the tide against his formidable adversary.
Franky, in a moment of desperation, found himself resorting to a tool in combat for the first time, leaving his usual principles of engaging in a one-on-one fight.
However, faced with the formidable might of Arslan, he acknowledged that victory would not come without this thing he held.
Bearing the marks of Arslan’s punishing blows, Franky charged towards his opponent brandishing the steel bar, luring Arslan into anticipating an attack.
In a surprising twist, Franky threw the bar with all his strength, catching Arslan off guard.
Despite his attempt to raise his hand for defense, Arslan’s reaction was too sluggish, resulting in the steel bar striking the left side of his head, drawing blood instantaneously.
“Tsk,” Arslan clicked his tongue in annoyance as blood trickled down, obscuring his vision with a crimson veil.
Despite the hindrance, Franky’s attempt to capitalize on the situation was futile as Arslan’s speed proved unmatched.
Swiftly dodging Franky’s advances, Arslan countered with a powerful uppercut, causing the burly opponent to tumble onto the canvas.
Without relenting, Arslan continued his assault, sprinting towards Franky before launching into a high-flying dropkick, connecting with the big man’s face.
The impact was so forceful that it caused a few teeth to dislodge from Franky’s mouth, leaving him sprawled out flat on the ring floor.
Looking at the motionless man beneath him, Arslan believed victory was assured.
Yet, upon detecting faint signs of life from Franky, Arslan’s relentless assault resumed, unleashing a barrage of blows while sitting on top the fallen opponent.
As the onslaught persisted, a sudden intervention disrupted the brutal scene.
A man, overcome with emotion, implored Arslan to cease his onslaught, pleading, “Please stop, don’t kill my brother.” The heartfelt plea resonated with Arslan, prompting his tense body to relax.
With a sense of relief, he rose from atop the unconscious Franky, who lay motionless as the crowd erupted into chants of Arslan’s name.
[Reputation + 10] [A Boss from the Five Families have intrest in you!] Two messages from the system appeared before Arslan, piquing his curiosity, especially the second one.
Glancing towards Don Vito as the announcement declared him the victor, Arslan noticed the Don’s gaze fixed upon him, a smile playing on his lips.