Groom Wars

59. War (3)

The sound of laboured breathing neared Leandro. The desk near the Dryads' heads was, with teamwork from their opponents, taken down, its legs folded so it could be neatly put to one side. Then, without pause, Leandro and his allies threw weighted plates into the crowd as if they were frisbees. One person yowled as it fell on their foot. Another hurt their knees. The Dryads ducked as the plates they threw came back to them. The lines behind them scattered to let it harmlessly past. It was a dangerous, high-speed game of dodgeball.

The yells of battle filled the hall. But this wasn't the war the producers had in mind when they created the show. Leandro, Steven, and Junho tossed kettlebells. One knocked a man's head, and he lost consciousness. Another hit a competitor's stomach, and he doubled over to catch it before it fell on his feet. The last struck a hand, sending the man's knife flying.

The door to the bathroom opened, and a trembling unattractive man with blonde hair stared at them, then climbed over the table and disappeared into the crowd. Leandro smiled. He hated that Cadmus liked Adriel, but he had to admit, the young man was a good fighter.

Leandro's adversaries hesitated to climb over the remaining walls of tables. A shrill whistle from the back, a commander of sorts, drove them forward. Steven hammered someone's chin with a kettlebell, and the young man, losing control of his limbs, fell. Leandro kicked the chests of the boys attempting to jump the wall, sending them back into the crowd. There were cries behind them as the back barrier was removed, and their army was officially split into two forces. Leandro barely dodged the vicious jabs of the knife-holding men leaning over the barrier. Leandro's palm was cut as he grabbed the man's wrist and repeatedly whacked his opponent's head with the wooden sword till the skin tore. The man stumbled back, bleeding.

More people exited the bathroom, one with a knife sticking out his back. They scrambled over the barrier and meshed with the crowd. The Dryads' second line launched objects at the opposing army, hitting elbows, heads, wrists, and abdomens. People sported bleeding apertures. Someone complained about losing a fucking tooth.

The Dryads kept up their smooth teamwork that had been planned many months before as Leandro and Steven had taken stock of the materials in the house that could be used to their advantage. In the narrow hall, only a few could attack at once. Leandro, Steven, and Junho kicked, jabbed, and slashed those that attempted to climb over the remaining desk.

One person made it into their midst and was knocked out by someone in the second row. It was a bloody, ruthless fight. A knife slashed Leandro's side; the wound stung as warm blood oozed. Luckily Leandro didn't have a knife, or he would have killed his attacker. Sweat matted his forehead.

The enthusiasm of their enemies waned when the Dryads didn't fall as easily or as quickly as their attackers expected. Leandro, feeling drowsy, kicked the chin of a man who bared his teeth and tried to slash Leandro's throat. Then, slapping his cheek, Leandro livened himself up.

There was panic at the back of the line; something had changed. The enemy's ranks parted in half. Director Chen, a small, round Asian man, sighed as he took in the state of the participants. He glanced at the bloody noses and mouths. Chen glanced at the men that leaned against the wall while recovering from concussions. He glanced at the knives in the participants' hands. Two columns of security guards formed behind him. They stopped when Chen stopped and turned to face the men pressed against the walls.

In a pained voice, Director Chen said, "Why are you fighting like children? This is not why we hired you to do. The wounded will go to the hospitals, but the money will be deducted from your pay. As will the cost of repairing any damage to the house and its appendages." He glanced at the tables and sports equipment, "Any death will be considered an accident, but a fee of four hundred thousand dollars will be paid to the victim's family from the killer. Apparently, I cannot trust grown men to use knives for cooking rather than tearing each other apart." He waved people away from the walls. "Go to your rooms and start packing. Or speak to an assistant about going to the hospital. I'll be glad to be rid of the lot of you. There will be no final elimination round; the season has come to a premature end that we will make up some explanation for."

As Leandro's adversaries scattered, Director Chen walked over to the Dryads remaining behind their remaining barriers. He said, "I half-expected to find all of you dead. Luck must be on your side." He turned, paused, then said, "The staff that abandoned their position will be appropriately dealt with. So, remember your contracts and don't spill anything to the press, or our lawyers will come after you and your families. Lastly, go get some rest. You are all a bloody mess."

The last part drew laughs from the Dryads. What were a few injuries if they meant the young men were still alive?

They had almost died, but they had used the narrow hall to restrain the charge and had placed blockades and obstacles to hinder the enemy. Sweat trickled into Leandro's eyes. Junho patted Leandro's back heartily. "We outsmarted the marquess."

Leandro smiled. "For now, but he will try again. And next time, it will be worse."

Junho said, "Let a man be happy, huh?"

Leandro chuckled, then glanced at the bathroom door. He felt the chaos and people around him blurred as he focused on the black wood. Mike hugged Luke, looked over his shoulder at Leandro, glanced at the bathroom, smiled, and said, "I don't know what you did to make Adriel cry, but now's a good time to apologize if he's still alive."

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