Page 57 of The Mentor
Marco grinned smugly at the confident fourteen-year-old, who was tall for his age but only reached Marco’s chin.
“Sure, but you’ll have to wait your turn. We’ll finish with you, Solo.”
Kya, Shelly, and the ten children from the Motherlands stood in a group. Raven’s and Nieall’s eyes shone with excitement, while the others were quietly exchanging looks of concern.
“Marco, honey, are you sure this is a good idea?” Kya called out to him and the fucker had the nerve to wink at her with a cocky grin. I had heard Kya use endearments with the children, but not with him and I didn’t like it one bit.
“If I get a scratch, will you kiss it and make it better?” he said flirtatiously, and I had to step out of the circle before I did something stupid such as challenging him myself.
“Don’t go easy on him,” I shouted to the boys but my request was redundant, as they all looked like hungry wolves’ eager to take the first bite.
Marco did the last stretch with his arms and yawned provocatively before he pointed to the two youngest in the group. “Sultan. Plato. Let's go.”
The two boys were no match for Marco, and although they fought bravely he toyed with them. In a real fight it was easy to see who had won a game, since the loser would be dead or asking for mercy. In a training situation, there were several ways of winning: either you knocked your opponent out, you made him beg for mercy, or you restrained him and made it impossible for him to fight you. Marco chose the last solution with the two boys. With his superior strength, he managed to bundle them together and sit on top of them.
William would've been the next boy to go, but even though his burn wound from two weeks ago had healed nicely, I didn’t want to put him under pressure just yet. “Hey, Nieall, do you want to take William’s place?” I asked the boy because I knew how much he wanted to be part of the boys’ group.
Kya’s hand shot out and landed on his shoulder, holding him back. “No, that’s all right; we’ll just watch, right, Nieall?”
She was behind him so she couldn’t see the disappointment on his face, but I did. “It’s your choice, champ, if you want to join the fun then now is the time.”
Pulling his shoulder free from Kya’s grasp, Nieall ran into the circle and joined Hunter, who had already taken a fighting stance. Hunter was an excellent fighter – fast, intelligent, and fearless. But he was more or less fighting Marco on his own because Nieall had no experience or any particular gift in this area. It only took Marco a minute or two before he was ready for the next two.
Nero and Nathan stepped forward, both of them twelve years old and strong for their age. They worked together and for the first time Marco took a few beatings. Still, he had eight years on them, and at least forty pounds more of muscles to work with. The boys were panting and sweating when he was done with them, and I gave both of them a nod of recognition for their hard work.
“Storm and Niko.” Marco waved them closer. I crossed my arms, ready to see my boys put up a good fight. These boys were only a year older but that year made a big difference, and using their combined strength they broke free when he tried to restrain them. Marco too was growing red-faced and perspiration was showing on his bare shoulders.
A loud gasp went through the group behind me when Storm did a high kick, catching Marco unaware.
“Nice kick,” I shouted.
Marco pulled back and touched his face, his tongue raking over his teeth as if to feel that they were still all there. Then his eyes shot to me, silently asking for permission to take it up a notch. I nodded.
When Marco pulled into second gear, things got interesting. Kicks and punches were accompanied by growls and groans of pain.
Not surprisingly, it became too much for Kya, who came up to me, begging me to stop the madness.
Of course, I refused. “It’s almost over,” I pointed out and true enough, Nikola took a kick to his chest and flew backward while Storm ended up in a choke grip that emphasized that Marco could have killed him if he wanted to.
Since Solomon had been promised he could fight Marco one on one, Oscar Schindler, the last thirteen-year-old boy in the group, didn’t have a partner. I thought about asking Raven to join since she was jumping and cheering on the sideline, but she was a girl and I couldn’t risk her being hurt with all the elbows and punches flying through the air. Oscar didn’t take mercy on Marco or give him time to catch his breath. He was hungry for his chance to prove himself and attacked head on.
For a moment, I wished that Magni could have been here to see this fight. He would’ve been proud of Oscar, who took several punches and even started bleeding from his nose, but still kept going.
In the end, it was conditioning and strength that took him out. He ran out of energy and his punches became weak. By then it was easy for Marco to restrain him and Oscar’s five minutes of fame were over.
“Impressive!” I patted Oscar’s shoulder when he limped past me to go and have a seat next to his other tired friends, and then I called out to the last boy. “Are you ready to take him down, Solo?”
Solomon was growing up to be an impressive Nman and was by far the biggest of the boys. He moved from side to side in full concentration, ignoring my question, his eyes locked on his target.
“So, you really think you can take me down?” Marco mocked him. “You’re just a boy.”
Solomon didn’t take the bait – he was too clever for that – and instead he moved closer with his eyebrows lowered, his knees bent, and his arms stretched to the sides. It was an invitation for Marco to attack him.
“Oh, you want to play?” Marco swayed from side to side and then he exploded forward, taking the first swing. Solomon ducked and took a swing of his own.
From there things evolved quickly and even I scrunched up my face when they started using knees and elbows.
“The face is off limits,” I shouted, but both fighters had their pride on the line and they were in a bubble of heavy testosterone. Solomon was like a wild boar, using every dirty trick he knew to compensate for his lack of experience fighting someone much older than himself.
