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You decide to take this opportunity and the instant results of your vigilantism to fuel yourself. With a few quiet weeks ahead as the punks lay low on Level 5, you have a little extra time to train and test your body.
Back at the garage, you decide to check out the entertainment system left behind from Cheryl's father. There is a big CRT television, with color, pretty advanced stuff- a VHS player built into the unit. Beneath it are several cardboard boxes filled with the black plastic tapes. It's pretty advanced stuff- the type that people on Level 4 regularly have access to. On Level 5? Not so much.
You spill out one of the boxes and read the names. <span class="mu-r">"Iron Mike Tyson, Krav Maga, American Judo Championships 1999, UFC Kickboxing Fundamentals, Conor McGregor..."</span> You only barely recognize these words, but they seem enticing to you. It seems Cheryl's dad had a thing for blood sports. You also realize these tapes are really old, probably copied over multiple times, and have some artifacts and grain left in them. The color correction is all off- just look at how weird everyone's skin color looks! But you can still parse the gist of the movements and what's being said over the static.
Following alone- and continuing your warpath against the tax collectors, you cut your teeth with your newfound fighting abilities. You even refrain from using your tonfas in order to train with your fist and feet. You have become <span class="mu-i">significantly more skilled in hand to hand combat</span>. While perhaps not at your natural limits, you have still become a force to be reckoned with- nobody of your same height and weight can touch you now, at least on Level 5.
