🏆Wattpad's 1st and Only #Neo-Noir + #Multimedia Story
🏆 '18 Earnesty Writer Awards Hall of Fame
🥇1st Place - '18 Shining Star Awards - Action
🥇1st Place - '18 Ohana Awards - Action
"The Brotherhood separates humans from the animals, athletes fro...
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"They sent us home," said Conner. "No helicopters or airplanes leave the ground today."
Simon rattled his head behind the front desk, anxiety seeping out of his pores like the event had occurred moments, and not hours, ago.
"How was school?"
Simon shrugged, his voice a whisper in the boisterous gym. "The principal made us watch the news, then we just talked about terrorism and tolerance and stuff."
Conner was conflicted about exposing minors to world catastrophes, but Simon was becoming a man, and if he was going to be a fighter, he had to thrive within misery. "We'll be alright, kid, so don't you fret."
Simon looked up at Conner from his chair. "So you're leaving soon?"
The question yanked him back, and his face proved it.
"Yeah, I mean, we'll have to start a war or something to find Bin Laden, right?"
Compassion made up Conner's smile as he shook his head. "I finished my time with the Army, and we haven't declared war on anyone."
Before Simon could ask if war was imminent, the entrance chimed, indicating that a fighter had infiltrated the premise.
Conner turned, and saw Knowlton marching past them with his hands wrapped and a gym bag over his shoulder, tapping his key fob on the scanner. His voice was industrial freezer wind. "Gendron."
The sound stiffened Conner's joints.
Knowlton's livid waddle moved him past the front desk as he threw his voice to compensate for the distance. "Come hold the bag for me."
Conner cracked his left knuckle, easing the tension wherever he could. Knowlton was a nuisance, but Max had no reason to expel him. Conner and Max both knew, however, that it was a matter of time before Knowlton's iconoclastic barbarism caught up with him, and Max could declare him banished.
Conner looked back at Simon. "That guy treating you alright?"
Simon brought his chin to his chest and shrugged. "Most days."
Conner's forehead ached from the stress. "Don't let Knowlton mess with you, 'cause he's got no right."
The two bumped fists, and Conner dragged his feet to the punching bags on the left side of the gym.
Knowlton dressed his hands in sparring gloves and his torso in a white tank top, making no effort to conceal his tattoo. He locked his shoulders beneath his ears, every bone on his face stuck in fight mode.
Few things were worse than training with him, but Conner promised Max he'd elevate the Elite brand, and although he'd never admit it aloud, he resented Max for putting him in such a taxing bind.
