Chapter 23
He’s fucking dead.
“The mats. Now.” I growled at the fucking mouse who thought he was a bear just because he got a dirty hit in a simulation.
“What the hell—No. I don’t want to go to the mats with you,” Vann protested, because I was so obviously in the mood to entertain his wants and needs. “Let go of me.”
“I’m not sure what part of that demand you thought was a suggestion.” My patience wasn’t my strong suit on a normal day, but I hadn’t even brought it with me today. “We’re sparring. Right. Now.”
“You’re being ridiculous. We just sparred in the simulator. Wasn’t that enough?” His whining was lost in the ether.
“Nope.” I kept walking and he fought me harder.
“Seriously let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong.” That not-so-subtle fear in his voice was the only part I was happy to acknowledge. “It was just a simulator. You’re acting insane.”
“I promise I’m not acting.” I continued dragging him toward the sparring area, and he continued struggling the whole way, tugging at his arm like there was any world, real or virtual, where he could overpower me.
He was tripping over his own feet in his pointless little act of resistance.
This wasn’t boding well for his chances, but we both already knew he didn’t have any against me now.
We arrived at the training area, and I used my enhanced privileges as a third year, a squad leader, and one of the highest ranking soldiers in this star-forsaken academy to grant us access to the mats afterhours. I picked the nearest mat, and I shoved him onto it.
“Where the fuck did you learn to fight like that?” I demanded, stepping up to meet him.
“You seem awfully comfortable in a Shinka for a first timer.” If he was a spy after all, I was going to beat that information out of him.
No more dancing around the subject. No more bullshit.
I was beyond over this Vann Callan from Protectorate 005 constantly in my space, hanging around people he had no business associating with, thinking he was some kind of fucking warrior, and constantly fucking up my day.
For someone so insignificant, weak, and pathetic, I couldn’t escape him, and he didn’t deserve this much real estate in my mind.
It was high time someone put him back in his place.
“I practice every day on the mat, just like you do, and I’ve trained just like you have.” Vann was explaining in a way that felt more like nervous pleading. “Just because I can’t punch as hard as you, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to move.”
Being intentionally obtuse didn’t help his case.
Because he didn’t fight me like a trained martial artist. He fought me like a fucking street thug who would gouge your eyes out if that was what it took to win.
He wasn’t like everyone else. No one who grew up doing that nauseating mandated battle training fought like that.
“Then how about you show me. I haven’t gotten to square off against you yet after all.” I cracked my neck, then proceeded to crack my knuckles. “I’d love to see how well you fare in a real fight if you’re so natural in a machine.”
“I-I…” He took a step back, and that was telling all its own. He looked around, fear dripping from him like he was melting in the sun.
“No witnesses, Mishka. You can use whatever tricks you’d like. I won’t even be mad if you fight dirty. It’s just going to be you and me and the stars.” I’d beat him to an inch of his life if that was what it took to get him to get the fuck out of my orbit. I was fucking done with this.
He swallowed thickly, then he narrowed his eyes and showed me that foolishly undeterred courage as he took up a fighting stance.
“Fine,” he said through a restrained tremble of his lips. “But I’m not going to hold back.”
I snorted by accident. He was so absurd he was hilarious, but I could appreciate his resolve. It must have felt like a rabbit staring down a wolf, but if he was anything like I thought he was, he was already forming a plan.
I’d been craving this kind of confrontation since he got here. It was about time I got to see exactly what this little mouse was made of.