All Hail Masterminds

5: Don't show them you're scared

Emanuel

Song: Highway To Hell by AC/DC

"C'mon, Fabio, is that all you got?" I panted, swinging towards him with yet another kick that he failed to dodge.

"We've been doing this for hours," he complained and threw a lame punch towards my chest.

"And you still suck," I smirked and blocked his punch, twisting his arm inwards. "No wonder why my Padre never selected you for a mission," I teased him, knowing he fights better when he's angry.

He kicked my crotch and pushed me away, lifting his right foot.

I immediately blocked it and lifted him by his leg, smashing him to the floor.

"You have to be faster and lighter on your feet," I told him in his ear, still pushing him down.

"Stop it, I need some air," he said harshly and kicked me in the face with an elbow, crawling to the edge of the boxing ring and taking his gloves off.

I sighed and wiped off the sweat with my arm, eventually taking my gloves off too and throwing them on the floor.

"You're not trying hard enough and it will cost you in the future," I told him and grabbed a water bottle, pouring it on my head. "You have to be prepared for what's ahead of you."

"I have three more weeks to train," he repeated the sentence he's been telling me for weeks now and looked at my reaction. "I'll get better," he promised.

Although we were the same age and he's always tried to act tough around me, I knew he just wanted my approval.

I shook my head and looked at my bare feet which were bruised from many hours of training I wasted on becoming something I didn't want.

"You don't have time, Fabio," I told him seriously, looking him dead in the eye. "You were supposed to be ready months ago."

He scoffed and crossed arms on his chest. "Easy for you to say, your Padre is a Mafia leader," he replied bitterly.

"That's not an excuse, you were trained since you were a kid, too," I insisted and left the ring, stopping at the doors of the gym. "I'm going to go and find a better opponent."

Before I could leave, he got up and smirked. "Bring it on, amigo," he challenged me.

This is exactly what I expected of him. He was too scared that my Padre would hear about his failure that he'll try to overpower me, even if it's impossible.

Fabio wasn't my friend, and never will be, but when you live in a nest of cold-blooded murderers you have to have at least one person to trust.

I kept eye contact, climbing back in the ring. "Fine, but this time we're doing it barehanded."

Fabio's eyes were watching my moves and breath, trying to find a flaw he can use against me.

Little did he know, he will find none.

My Padre raised me in this ring and he said I was the best fighter in generations. I took his comment seriously because he never wasted his words to praise no one, especially me.

Fabio, on the other side, had no breath control, regular step lapse or right posture.

I smirked and swung at his stomach, targeting his head next. "What are you doing, feeding chicken?" I mocked him and punched his jaw.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he raised his voice and grabbed his face. "That's not box!"

I took the beginning stance and examined him, waiting for my next attack. "Yeah, this is not box. It's street fighting," I told him, circling him like prey. "You obviously don't know what it's like to be beaten up."