The next several days carry on in quite the same fashion: training, discussing strategies with the rest of the Eliminators. Slowly, Chris and his friends begin to accept me, and plead with Josh to let them help train me. Reluctantly, he agrees. One afternoon, the younger Groban announces, "We need to find your strength." I wipe my brow, feeling sweat trickle down the side of my face. "Excuse me?" I exclaim, not exactly sure what he means. Chris explains. "Well, you know Ben uses stars as his defense. Raphael has his snake, and Henry's got a way with knives. Most of us have a distinctive skill." Nodding, I reply, "Alright. What should I do?" Chris' brow furrows. "I'm not sure yet. You seem quite taken with the staffs, though." Motioning towards the far wall of the training area, he continues. "Show me some of your best moves." It was worth a try. Walking over to the Wall of Weapons, I select a shorter, sturdier staff, made of chestnut. Placing myself in front of Chris, I perform a series of defensive maneuvers. Beginning with a quick jut to the chest, I follow that, using the wooden stick to knock his legs out from beneath him, ending the routine by giving Chris a gentle tap on the head. He looks up from the floor, impressed. "Actually," I say, "I would really strike my opponent much harder at the finish." Chris rises, and shakes my hand. "Well done. You're handy with a staff." I beam, putting my newfound talent back on its shelf. Josh appears, suddenly, wrapping his arms around me. Whispering, he declares, "You did great today. I'm proud of you." I turn to him, smiling. "Thank you." Then, as soon as his pride came it vanished. "Carlos wants to see us. He says it's urgent." Confused, I follow Josh to the office of El Miedo's leader. We step in the door, unaware of the sorrow we are about to face.
Once Josh and I are parallel to his desk, Sanchez stands. "The girl is looking well. I see you have been training her diligently." Josh grits his teeth, setting his jaw. "What do you want?" Carlos smirks. "Nothing too serious. Only to tell you the Battle has been rescheduled. We fight on the twentieth of October. You have one month." Josh protests, crying, "That isn't fair! David hasn't even come yet!" His eyes flashing, Sanchez says, "I'm sorry, but unfortunately, David won't be able to make it." I glare at him. "Why not?" The sinister grin deepens, and chuckling, Carlos explains. "He's been otherwise engaged." At this, Josh jumps up, roaring, "What have you done to him?!" This outburst causes one of Sanchez's minions to force Josh back down. However, it is not Fernando, or even Isamu, the muscular Asian that strains against him this time. It's Adam. My best friend. The guy whom I trusted for years, was one of Carlos Sanchez's right-hand men. After my initial shock, I shoot daggers at the traitor. Carlos looks defensive. "Hey, I didn't do anything that bad. Just sent some guys over there to put him down for a nap. A nice, long nap." When the last syllable is uttered, Josh throws himself across the desk, reaching for the throat of our heartless enemy. "How could you?! That was our leader! That was our friend!" As we're pushed out by Adam and Bonita, Josh turns back to Carlos, with tears in his eyes. "You may have taken our Master, but you will not take our will to fight. We'll spill your bloodline across the streets of Mexico. An eye for an eye."
