“Cute. Are you still daydreaming about that?” said Frederich.
“Go!” screamed Scheffler.
Piotr shifted into stance with his fists raised and began hovering around Frederich. Frederich stood still and waited. He knew Piotr’s fighting style, and was not surprised by the spin kick which came hurtling toward his shoulder. He dodged it with ease. Piotr followed up with a step kick aimed at Frederich’s shin and a jab at his face while Frederich stepped back and used his arm to deflect the punch. The follow-up spin kick caught Frederich by surprise, and while he managed to get his arm up, the force sent him tumbling to the mattress. He remained momentarily on his knees and looked up.
“That’s new,” he said.
Piotr pulsated his eyebrows and shrugged while hopping from leg to leg. Frederich shook his head and rose to his feet. Piotr was getting confident. Cocky almost. It was time to get him off his horse. Frederich faked a right hook and instead jabbed Piotr’s nose with his left hand. While Piotr was dazed, Frederich zipped around the side and brought him down. Piotr lifted his legs to hold Frederich back but Frederich shifted in the opposite direction and wrapped his arm around Piotr’s neck. Piotr kicked and squirmed, his face flushed red, while Frederich held him firmly down.
“Switch!” yelled Scheffler.
Frederich released his grip and stood up. Piotr moved his jaw around and touched his neck while he caught his breath. Frederich looked down on him and chuckled.
“Saved by the be—”
Piotr pushed his hands down and spun his legs around in one swift move, striking Frederich on the ankles and sending him again to the mattress. He chuckled and jogged over to his next opponent.
“Cheap shot!” yelled Frederich from the floor.
Those on the outside of the sequence shifted to the person on their right so that a snaking motion was created. Frederich’s next opponent was Lewis, the young South African with the square shoulders and thick eyebrows with whom he had exchanged a few words here and there. Before either of them could react to the other, Ralph stepped in from the next row and nudged Lewis hard on the shoulder.
“Swap,” he demanded.
Lewis looked at Ralph’s unflinching eyes and shrugged before obeying and moving off. Frederich raised his chin and studied his surprise opponent. Why was Ralph so keen to switch places? It made no sense. Frederich turned his head and looked beyond the mattresses. Scheffler was staring directly at him. Of course. Another of Scheffler’s games.
“Fight!” yelled Scheffler.
Frederich turned back to find Ralph running toward him like a bull. He was caught unprepared. Ralph landed a stiff front kick in Frederich’s stomach with full momentum and took the wind out of him. Frederich collapsed to the mattresses. Ralph wasted no time. He immediately leapt on top of Frederich and pinned him down. Ralph’s fists came hurtling down onto Frederich’s face as he reflexively put his elbows up. The amount of force was unmistakable. Ralph was not sparring. He wanted to inflict damage. The punches hailed down on Frederich’s lowers arms and the occasional one came from the side and connected with his temple.
“Hey, what are you doing? Are you crazy!?” said Piotr, running over and shoving Ralph to the side.
Frederich used the opportunity to roll away and get back on his feet. Piotr was now standing between him and Ralph with his fists cocked by his side. Frederich nudged Piotr’s shoulder.
“I’ve got him,” said Frederich. “Thanks, brother.”
Brother. The word sounded strange. What made him say that? He had never called anybody that before. Piotr gave him a hard stare then his face softened and he nodded.
“Anytime,” he said.
When Ralph noticed Piotr back away he re-engaged immediately. Frederich finally had some space. Ralph sprinted toward him, and Frederich leapt forward with his knee out, colliding into Ralph’s chest. The two of them came to ground. Ralph was dazed and Frederich had the high ground, so the logical next move would have been a chokehold. Instead, Frederich got to his feet and cut Scheffler a defiant stare. If Frederich fought back against Ralph, he would be playing into Scheffler’s hands. Ralph was a pawn. Rather than attack, Frederich relaxed his body and began hopping from side to side with a wide stance. Ralph got up and attacked Frederich with a barrage of kicks and punches, but Frederich remained on the defensive. He ducked, twisted his body and shifted from side to side, not allowing Ralph to connect on any of his attempts. Ralph grew more flushed and sweat formed over his face, but Frederich maintained focus as Ralph’s attacks lost both speed and intensity.
“Abel! What are you doing?” screamed Scheffler, forcing his way onto the mattresses. “Fight!”
The rest of the recruits had already noticed what was going on and one by one had stopped sparring. All eyes were on Frederich, Ralph and Scheffler. Scheffer approached Frederich with a red face and his eyes bulging out.
“When I say fight, you bloody well fight!” he screamed, sprinkles of spit flying out of his mouth.
Frederich wiped his face clean then lifted his chin and shook his head.
“I fight my way,” he said.
Scheffler’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He stepped back and sent a left hook streaking toward Frederich’s face. Frederich ducked immediately but the fist still connected with the top of his head and almost knocked him off balance. Scheffler’s flurry of fists came like lightning. Frederich had never experienced anything like it. The room for error grew less with each punch as he dodged the attacks on borrowed time. Finally, Scheffler connected with a fist to his ribcage. The pain was excruciating. Frederich yelled out and scrambled backwards while clutching at his side. The unhinged Scheffler was worse than he had imagined. He would have to fight harder, or he was going to be badly hurt. He centred himself in the void and got angry. Scheffler came closer and Frederich tensed his entire body, leaping up and giving Scheffler a flying spin
