Chapter 25: Primates and Primacy

The sluggish breeze wafted over the paired-off recruits. The ground of the field made for a better landing pad than the hard floor of the gym. The haze above had returned and diffused the harsh sunlight from the emitters. Despite the comfortable conditions outside, sweat rolled off of Dozer's brow. He lifted his leg to block Leitner's body kick for maybe the fiftieth time that day.

"Bend your knees." The DI called out while he marched through the rows.

Animal strode through one end of Dozer’s row. “Bend your knees,” the goon repeated. His DI should have called the asshole Parrot.

Dozer bent his knees. He didn't need the DI, Animal, or anyone else to tell him. His years upon years of ballet training taught him. A lower center of balance rooted him to the ground. His very flesh understood even more than his mind.


He returned Leitner’s kick. Dozer’s bruised shin bounced off his partner’s. Sharp pains shot up. “Son of a bitch.”

“Just keep going.” Leitner paused. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Dozer blocked yet another one of Leitner’s half-hearted kicks. The battered muscles on the other side complained.

Animal approached. Dozer squinted at him out of the corner of his eye. After the goon’s appearance last week, they all got the mission—the plot mission no less. If he defeated Animal one-on-one and became the DI’s bodyguard, he’d get an instant Level 2. Not only that, but Dozer would get an extra 100 XP for every time he defended the title and won. He’d be well on his way to Level 3. It made his mouth water. He had counted on the XP from the death mission. Putting Animal on his ass would make up for part of that.

Coldcase watched Dozer while he did his own kicks and blocks with his partner. “He’ll pound you into the ground.”

“Asshole would have to hit me first.” Dozer kicked again.

“Bend your knees.” With the toe of his boot, Animal tapped the back of Dozer’s knee.

Dozer, in full swing, almost collapsed on the ground. He got himself upright and used the momentum to slam his palms into Animal’s chest. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

The goon pushed back. “You wanna go?” A pre-fight ritual centuries old.

Coldcase stood to the side. “Don’t do it.”

Model stopped his practice to put a hand to Coldcase’s chest. The meaning was clear: Let him go.

“Let’s do this.” Dozer spat out the words.

A cheer erupted from the recruits around, sans Coldcase and Model.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Animal beat his fists on his chest.

***

The DI ordered all the recruits to stand in a circle, a ring for the bout. They hooted and hollered, ready for some entertainment.

Animal and Dozer orbited each other, both with their arms up. Dozer examined his opponent’s movements for any gap in his defenses. All it would take was one good punch and Animal would go down… if he was lucky. Dozer would hit the ground with the slightest tap. He would have to be too fast to hit.

“Mess him up, Dozer.” Model yelled over the noise.

“Put him down.” Coldcase showed his supportive side.

Animal shot a punch out. Dozer darted out of the way. His ballet training put him in control of each muscle needed to dodge. Every nerve ending buzzed with adrenaline.

With more vigor, Animal did a left-right punch combo. Dozer floated out of the way of them, too. The goon didn’t seem to try too hard. More like he was testing the waters.

Animal’s fists snapped out in another combo. They reached out for Dozer, a pair of vipers sprung in attack. The guy moved far faster than Dozer thought possible. Dozer pulled his shoulder just beyond reach. The goon spun his body and sent a wide kick at Dozer’s head and almost connect with a recruit’s.

Dozer stepped into the center. Maybe the goon didn’t care who got hit, but Dozer had to live with these guys, to fight beside them.

“I can do this all day.” Dozer kept his distance.

Animal snuck in with a few half steps. “No, you can’t.” The length between them vanished. He launched a straight sideways kick to Dozer’s gut.

It connected, but Dozer pushed himself back and rolled off Animal’s boot. The recruits sucked in through their teeth. Dozer spun around and almost landed on the ground. He got himself upright with a push.

Let him think I’m on the defensive. Gotta find a hole, though.

With zero time wasted, Animal bore down on Dozer. He unleashed a flurry of punches, far too many to count.

Every punch pushed Dozer back a step. Hands pressed against his back. The other recruits kept Dozer inside the ring. He stepped counter-clockwise. Animal ended with a right punch.

He ends with a right punch. Gotta go left next time.

Animal snapped a quick kick, and Dozer maneuvered into the center. He needed room to move, to get close enough to put his stratagem into effect. The goon shot out a roundhouse kick and a straight with the same leg. Dozer slid straight back to not telegraph where he wanted to end up. The goon stepped with a left punch and again with a right.

Dozer drifted to the left. Without any time to think, he wound up and launched his fist through Animal’s narrow window of defense. It pierced the veil of speed. His knuckles landed. They smashed into the wall of bone above Animal’s eye. Something snapped in Dozer’s hand. A pain, the familiar pain, sparked inside his hand.

His fist crumpled around the curve of the bone. Animal flicked his head back and snarled.

Dozer held his hand. It spasmed. “Okay. I think I’m—”

Animal grabbed Dozer’s shirt by the shoulder. Dozer tried to pull away, but the goon planted his fist deep in Dozer’s guts. Breath wouldn’t come. Heat and pressure rushed to his face. His mouth hung open in a silent scream of agony.

Dozer fell, and Animal pulled at the collar of Dozer’s shirt. It tore down to his armpit. He hit the ground hard.

Animal dangled the shredded fabric and flicked it into Dozer’s face. “Easiest XP ever!”

The recruits grumbled, and the ring dissolved. Dozer tried to stretch out his legs, but the pained muscles in his abdomen pulled him back into a ball.

Coldcase rushed to Dozer’s side. “You okay?”

“Hand.” Dozer grunted. He splayed the fingers wide.

“You want to hold my hand?” Coldcase reached out.

“No.” Dozer’s hand flinched. “It fucking hurts.”

Model kneeled. “I thought you had him for a sec. You okay?”

“Don’t think so,” he groaned.

“Holy fucking hell!” The DI towered over them all. “Did you fuck yourself, recruit?”

“Sir, this recruit thinks he broke his hand, sir.”

“Why didn’t you have the goddamn decency,” the DI’s uvula trembled, “to blow your brains out after you got injured! Ass-fucking-backward, Private Dozer!”