Avard plucked the bloodstained wad of dollars from Marathon's pocket, brushing the notes lightly on his once-white shirt, before flicking the man's suit jacket closed again.

Rest in peace, chum. You died in a fair fight in the honourable pursuit of glory. I respect that. 

He stood up, tucked the money away and looked around at the people milling about, totally ignoring him. This was nothing new, his street visits regularly drove the masses away. It was a gift he had; Jesus could turn water into wine and Avard could create a discussion that had all the appeal of dogshit toothpaste. Fortunately, today he wasn't starting a discussion. Today he was calling people out. He reached into his pocket and stuck a note to a conveniently placed tree. It read:

TIRED OF EVERYONE THINKING YOU'RE A LIMP-DICKED LITTLE LOSER?

I've got a way that you can prove you've got a pair of boulders between your legs and manhood so thick it belongs in the amazon; challenge AvardT. That's right. The manliest Capo on the continent is letting you test yourself against the best barometer of greatness there is.

There are currently three different challenges I've concocted to allow you the opportunity to prove you're not a loser. Interested? Read on!

CHALLENGE LEVEL 1: PUT YOUR HANDS IN MY POCKETS; TRY NOT TO BE IMPRESSED.

For those beta males out there who want to take a break from virtue signalling.

I'm going to swagger around with a fat wad next to my fat d. You want it? Come and get it. The challenge? Don't let me see you. Any Tom, Dick or Garou can pick a pocket, but only the reasonably talented (kinda) can get in and out without being seen. 

If you can pick my pockets without me seeing you and then send me a gloating mail afterwards, you'll win $50,000.

If your gloating mail is particularly offensive and amusing, you'll win a bonus $50,000.

Lose and bow your head in shame, forever, immortalised in AvardT's wall of shame. Couldn't even beat Level 1 and lets be honest, even if you win, you're still pretty lame.

Getting a taste for this? Ok, level 2. 

CHALLENGE LEVEL 2: DICE ME, BITCHES.

For those who try not to spend all of their time sucking up, but whose trousers still only contain little tiny toddler balls.

I am better than you, your mum and your whole fucking family at dice. I'm probably the best dice player ever. After House, anyway.

I don't think you can beat me. Reckon you can? Send me a dice bet and prove it.

We'll go best 2 out of 3 in Tops Dice bets. If you win, you keep whatever you earn and I'll throw in $250,000.

Win all 3 and I'll throw in another $100,000.

Lose and I'm keeping your money AND I'm going to badmouth the shit out of you all over town. The Streets? First place that I'm going. Las Vegas Business District? You bet. Your grandma's house? She'll have heard about how much you suck, for so long, she probably won't even let you inside for a month.

You've actually got a set that clangs around when you walk? Alright then, lets dance. Level 3.

CHALLENGE LEVEL 3: DICE IS FOR PUSSIES, GET YOUR GUN OUT.

For those who like their whiskey straight and their men SuperThug.

I've been swaggering around town with a sign around my neck saying I'll accept coin flip duels. Only one guy has bothered to challenge me and I put him in the ground without breaking sweat. I figure that makes me the king of duels. All hail.

Anyway, if you've got the rocks for it, you sling old Avard a same time or coin flip duel request. I'll contact you to agree any terms, and then we'll get the party started.

Oh, if you're a little wimp and you've got a shithouse full of bodyguards, you'll need to nominate someone more manly to duel in your stead - I'm not wasting my time with anyone too scared to handle their own shit and need to be Protected.

Win and my lawyer has orders to send you $5,000,000 upon my death.

Lose and well...you're dead. RIP. GBNF. etc. BUT everyone will know you went out on your shield and you're not a limp-dicked loser like the rest of the people around here. Heaven will be ripe for you. You'll have your pick up there, honestly. Angels love a tough guy and you've proven that you're as tough as they come. Plus, I'll honour you forever in my list of big-bollocked challengers. What more could you ask for?

.

Avard lights a cigarette and stands beside the note, which is suitably large enough for everyone to read simultaneously. His legs are a comfortable distance apart. It was the same power pose which had seduced JacksonT's mother all those years before.

So, any of you losers got the rocks for it?

How about a dice game. he who tops wins

Dauner, if you want to prove you're not a total beta, take on challenge 2. 

Sam, you don't get to become the king of dueling without knowing how to brush aside challengers. One glance at the list of recently completed duels will show you that I've won every duel ever recorded. Pretty impressive, right? I know. 

And, if someone somehow does manage to kill me, which I think we can agree is pretty fucking unlikely, then good for them. They will be the pride of their city, $5,000,000 richer and have shown the world they aren't a limp-dick loser.  

Never challenge any of my associates, but hope some dare to do it since it is a fun way to have some good challenges against others ;)

All things are for fun no real challenge rally but as soon as I can I will keep on pp AvardT but always pays back then.

Dicing do I only against the frikkin house or mostly anyway.

Hope you get challenged though bro, keep it up :p

There have been two challengers so far who have dared to test themselves against the might of AvardT.

Neither quite had the stones to take on Challenge 3, with both settling for the beta male option in Challenge 2.

The outcome? Well I think that should be obvious given my world-renowned dice heroics...

Both are clearly cheating bastards.

MeekMill had the dealer on his payroll and swindled me for over 2 large. Shenanigans, I say. Shenanigans.

Freak on the other hand brought his own dice and with hindsight that should probably have been a red flag. Either way, something suspect happened, how else would I lose? My 0% record is clearly an anomaly. 

So, currently I need to earn myself some more green to recover what, I'm sure you will agree, was pure beginner's luck/cheating by these two gentlemen. 

I think the best way to do that will be by crushing some other challengers. 

Let's dance. 

“ ah  ha ha what it do baybeeee”  Meek says after looking at AvardT salty face.  

“This money was well worth it brother I appreciate you and your shitty challenge brother . Cheater I am not  , I’ve  mastered the flick of the wrist back in the day in Philly . Ask Luis_Patangeli I was in philly  wrecking havoc with dice. Anybody who beats Challenge 2 come see me so I can beat you . Freak I’ll be waiting for your dice challenge as we are the only to victors it can only be one. See you soon “

Avard snorted.

The only flick of the wrist you've mastered, MeekMill, was the one that helps you pass all those evenings spent alone.

Now, since your obvious cheating and....mumbles under his breath...conquered Challenge 2...there have been two other challengers.

Both decided to pony up and skip challenge 1, sliding straight into challenge 2. Admirable display of fortitude.

The first was a Seattle Capo by the name of Philli-Stein, who had heard talk that Avard's dicing skill was on the slide. Unfortunately, his opening gambit of 115 was casually swatted aside by my monstrous 506. 1-0. Round 2 saw Philli-Stein break out his big guns and he dropped a solid 764 on the table. I could feel the testosterone pulsing from him in waves. It reminded me of when a devilishly handsome, dicing behemoth of a tom cat (me) is challenged for turf by a mangy, alopecia-ridden, dicing imposter of a stray (Philli). His feline squeals split the night when his 764 was mashed into the floor by my colossal 835. 2-0. His challenge was brushed under the carpet, and whatever happened in the third round didn't matter. He slung back to his own alley to lick his wounds. 

With the first challenger defeated, I turned my attention to the new pretender who came from much closer to home; the second in command of my very own organisation, AddieMoretti. You could be forgiven for thinking I might have a conflict of interest in this scenario, should I bring to the fore the true measure of my elite level dice game and risk embarrassing one of my bosses or should I take the beta male option and let her win? Unfortunately for Addie, I don't have a beta bone in my body and I stomped her challenge beneath my boot without a backwards glance.

Avard was now on tense-changing winning streak and the treachery of the dice god, Housealcoatl, was firmly in the past where it belonged.

Who would be next to try their hand and demonstrate they weren't a limp-dicked little loser?  

“Hey Avard!” A man shouts. He seemed... a little drunk. “Duel?”