The men coordinated their attack, some trying to flank Lucas while others aimed to strike from the front. Their teamwork was impressive, moving in sync as they closed in on him. But Lucas was unfazed, his eyes sharp and focused.
As the first wave approached, Lucas grabbed a chair, using it to block a punch from one attacker while simultaneously kicking another in the chest, sending him sprawling into a table. The table flipped, sending chess pieces flying like glittering confetti.
Two more men tried to corner him, one aiming low and the other high. Lucas leaped onto a table, dodging their attacks with agility. He used the height to his advantage, jumping off and delivering a spinning kick that knocked both men to the ground, their heads clanging together comically.
The last few attackers attempted a pincer move, hoping to catch Lucas off guard. But Lucas, ever the strategist, anticipated their plan. He ducked under a swinging arm, grabbed a chessboard, and used it as a shield to deflect a punch. With a swift motion, he spun around, using the board to knock one man into another, sending them both crashing into a pile of chairs.
In a final flourish, Lucas grabbed a fallen chess piece-a golden knight-and tossed it with precision. It struck the last standing attacker on the forehead, causing him to stagger back and trip over his own feet, landing with a thud.
Lucas stood up, brushing off his hands, and looked directly at the leader. “Now, it’s your turn,” he said with a confident smirk.
The gang leader’s bravado faltered, fear flickering in his eyes. Desperate, he shouted for more of his men. Just then, the elevator doors slid open, and the leader’s face lit up with a grin as he caught sight of the newcomers.
Ten men strode out of the elevator, each exuding an air of toughness and swagger as they approached the chaotic scene. Leading the group was a man with a heart-shaped tattoo under his eye, his blonde hair slicked back. He casually held a cigarette between his fingers, exhaling smoke as he walked.
The others followed closely, each with their own distinct style. One had a leather jacket adorned with patches, his arms crossed as he surveyed the room with a cool detachment. Another sported a bandana and mirrored sunglasses, chewing gum with a smirk as if the chaos was just another day at the office.
A tall, muscular man with a shaved head cracked his knuckles, his eyes locked on Lucas with a challenging glare. Beside him, a guy with a chain necklace and a toothpick in his mouth adjusted his sleeves, ready for action.
The group moved with a synchronized confidence, their presence commanding attention as they lined up in front of the leader. The leader, feeling emboldened by their arrival.
The leader chuckled, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You see, kid,” he began, “this place is my domain, and you’ve stirred up quite the mess. But now, my top fighters are here to clean it up.” He gestured to the ten men who had just arrived. “Each of them is a master in their own martial art, and the blonde one here,” he pointed to the man with the heart-shaped tattoo, “is our ace in kickboxing.”
The leader continued, trying to rile up his men. “This kid here thinks he can cheat and cause trouble in my territory. But he’s just a small fly, not even worth the effort.”
One of the fighters, with a leather jacket, sneered at Lucas. “These so-called veterans our leader rented couldn’t even take down a fly,” he taunted, glancing at the bodies Lucas had defeated.
Another fighter, the one with the bandana and sunglasses, added, “Looks like you bought yourself some fake bodyguards, boss. This guy’s nothing but a joke.”
The muscular man with the shaved head looked down at the defeated bodyguards sprawled on the floor. “Why don’t you just stay down before you embarrass yourselves even more?” he mocked, shaking his head in disdain.
As they continued to belittle Lucas, each took turns mocking him, their confidence bolstered by their numbers. They exchanged smirks and nudged each other, debating who should take him on first. “You go,” one said, pointing at his comrade. “No, you go,” another replied, each one reluctant to make the first move, as if Lucas was beneath their notice.
The banter continued, with each fighter trying to pass the responsibility to the next, their arrogance preventing them from taking Lucas seriously. They laughed and jeered, convinced of their superiority.
Growing impatient, Lucas interrupted their banter. “Why don’t you all come at me at once?” he suggested, a hint of boredom in his voice. “Don’t waste my time. You’ll all end up in the same place-under my feet.”
The group paused, momentarily taken aback by Lucas’s audacity. One of them, a wiry man with a scar across his cheek, grinned and taunted, “You think you’re tough, huh? You’re just a small fry in a big pond.”
Lucas, feeling both impatient and uninterested in further conversation, shrugged. “If you think you can handle it, step up,” he replied, his voice calm and steady.
The taunts continued, with the fighters exchanging jabs and insults, each trying to provoke Lucas. “You’re all talk,” one sneered. “Let’s see if you can back it up.”
Finally, one of the fighters, unable to bear Lucas’s calm demeanor any longer, charged forward. He was a practitioner of a martial art he prided himself on, confident in his skills. He launched a series of swift, calculated attacks, each move precise and powerful.
But Lucas, with an almost lazy grace, sidestepped each strike effortlessly. The fighter’s kicks and punches seemed to move in slow motion as Lucas evaded them with ease, his movements fluid and unhurried.
The fighter grew increasingly frustrated, his attacks becoming more frantic as he tried to land a hit. But Lucas remained untouchable, his calm expression never wavering.
With a final, desperate lunge, the fighter attempted a powerful roundhouse kick, hoping to catch Lucas off guard. But Lucas simply ducked under the blow, stepping aside and allowing the fighter’s momentum to carry him past.
As the fighter stumbled, Lucas delivered a swift, precise strike, sending him sprawling to the ground. The room fell silent, the other fighters watching in disbelief as their comrade lay defeated.
Lucas looked at the remaining fighters, his expression unchanged. “Anyone else?” he asked, his voice steady and unyielding, challenging them to step forward.
The room was tense as the remaining fighters exchanged glances, their confidence shaken by the swift defeat of their comrade. Two of them, determined to restore their group’s pride, decided to attack simultaneously. One was a karate expert, known for his powerful strikes and disciplined technique, while the other was a skilled boxer, renowned for his speed and agility.
They charged at Lucas together, hoping to overwhelm him with their combined skills. The karate expert launched a series of precise kicks and punches, each move executed with the precision of years of training. Meanwhile, the boxer circled Lucas, looking for an opening to unleash his rapid-fire jabs and hooks.