“Tell me something, Tonto,” Rico says, looking down as his finger strokes his chin, “What’s up with you?” Rico looks John up and down. “You act like your shit doesn’t stink,” Rico tells him, cocking his head to the side, looking into John’s face, and examining it.
“Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” John answers him, he’s clearly trying to reign in his anger, from Rico’s insult, as he moves one step closer.
“Yeah, you walk around here like you’re some kind of big shot, all holier than thou,” Rico narrows his eyes at him. “What are you exactly, Wolfe?” He takes a step closer. “You’ve got to be in to some kind of serious shit. I know you’re hands are dirty as hell.”
John’s blood is boiling, rage is pumping through him, leaving the skin it touches engulfed in heat. Not because this non-entity street scum attempted to call him out.
It’s because Rico just ripped open every wound John had managed to plaster a makeshift Band-Aid on his whole life. Exposing all of his demons, and letting them out to wreak havoc, searing him, each gash deep and gaping.
“I’m only going to tell you this once, Boy, so listen to me carefully,” John begins to speak, his voice so low and menacing, it’s barely above a whisper.
“Speak up, Tonto, or are you afraid that someone will hear me calling you out for what you really are?” Rico taunts him, sneering into his face.
“No, I just don’t want to embarrass you anymore than what you’re doing yourself,” John grits out, through clenched teeth.
It’s all he can do not to grab him by the throat and squeeze until his windpipe disintegrates in his hand, not allowing him to ever utter another pathetic word.
“Don’t think for me, Tonto, that would be making a huge mistake.”
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me now. You will not come in here and insult me, or anyone else. You will not make any derogatory or defamatory insinuations or statements about anyone in here, or about them outside of these walls. If you cannot present yourself as a gentleman, you will be asked to leave, and will not be allowed to return. Understood?” John stares at him menacingly making his point very clear.
“I understand, but this isn’t finished,” Rico responds, smirking at him.
“Not at all, I’ll see you in the cage,” John grits out, before turning and leaving Rico standing at the desk.
He passes Scott on his way back to the bag.
“You ok, Dude?” Scott asks him.
“Yeah, I’m going to enjoy putting that piece of shit in his place. Too bad it’s just for show,” John rumbles as he passes him.
John’s adrenaline is pumping through his body at full speed, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. At this precise moment, he’s focused on one thing, one objective, and that’s pulverizing the bag so he doesn’t kill Rico in the cage.
Brian saw the whole exchange, from the back of the room. It was obvious what was going down but he knew nothing would get out of hand. Some fighters like to taunt their opponents before a match, they think it unsettles them and makes them sloppy. He stayed where he was and let his friend do what he does best; control. Even this, and Brian didn’t know exactly what this was, wouldn’t push John to lose control. He was pissed off, absolutely, but he would never lose control.
John is the best fighter Brian knows. Maybe it’s because of his military training, maybe it’s his heritage. But Brian has a strong feeling that it’s much more than all of these. Brian had seen it first hand when they served side by side. John has this sixth sense, a calm, quiet, primitive knowing, like the unseen were whispering to him without words. He is, and always was, fully aware of his surroundings, of every nook and corner, what was behind every door and window; nothing was beyond John’s sight. And if there was anything which Brian had no doubt of, it was that John could kill Rico with his bare hands, he’d seen John do it before. But more than that, Brian knows John would never do it again.
Elsie, Janie, and Elizabeth all exchange glances.
“What was that?” Janie asks no one in particular.
They were all watching the scene between John and Rico, as well. And they’re watching John annihilate the body bag, which Marco’s holding for him. Every muscle in John’s body is rippling and moving with the force of his emotions, that are being unleashed on the bag.
“I don’t know,” Elsie says with uncertainty, as she shakes her head slowly, “But I have a feeling that shit just got real.”
The room has steadily filled up with all of the women in class, and of course Bambi is in her usual spot, at the front of the group, all decked out in her designer Ho-Bag style workout clothes. Elsie’s almost certain Bambi keeps a camel toe just to show it off.
“Alright ladies, we have a special treat for you tonight. I’m going to be teaching the class,” Brian says, pouring on all of his boyish charm, with his cheesiest smile.
“Mmmm, nice to have you teacher,” Bambi purrs at Brian, jutting her probably silicone breasts at him.
“Thank you, Bambi. But seriously, there is something special planned for you tonight. We are going to have a demonstration, which John will be participating in. We will highlight your defensive maneuvers in a real-life situation, so that you can see them all in practice. Rico will be the attacker and John will be the victim. Please keep in mind, although this is a demonstration, we will try to make the moves as realistic as possible. This way, God forbid, if any of you should ever have to use these techniques, you will have a clear picture of how they look in motion,” Brian says, standing in front of the group, with his hands clasped behind his back, and
