Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern Pt 16 (Patreon)

Part Sixteen: Training Day

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by @GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Friday Night, October 1, 2010

Medhall Building

Kaiser

The sun had long since set, the lights of Brockton Bay competing with the pearlescent glow of the force field over the Protectorate headquarters in the bay, when the discreet tap sounded on Max's office door. "Enter," he called out, at the same time pressing the button under his desk that electronically unlocked the door.

As he'd expected, Ed Ferguson entered first, followed by young Peter. Bradley followed behind them, firmly closing the door.

"Edward," Max said. "Peter. Sit." The two chairs in front of his desk were the least comfortable ones in the building. Uncushioned, they had straight backs and were just low enough that he was looking down at Ed and Peter once they took a seat. Bradley stepped in behind them and just loomed there, out of their peripheral vision but close enough that they'd be constantly aware of his presence. "Tell me why you're here."

His brother-in-law was almost succeeding in not looking nervous, but Peter was sweating bullets. That was something the boy would have to learn to control, if he wanted to be successful either as a cape (once he got his powers) or in business.

Neither one spoke. Max let the silence stretch out, not giving them any reprieves.

Finally, Ed got the hint and nudged his son. Peter started slightly, then cleared his throat. "I, uh, we're here because I fu-, uh, I screwed up."

"Yes. You did." Max let his gaze bore into Peter's. "What did you do to screw up?"

Peter drew a deep breath. He was sweating more than ever, now. This was entirely understandable—nobody enjoyed being held to account for their actions—but Max's gaze never shifted. It was imperative that the boy learn from his mistakes. If he could.

Looking like he wanted to close his eyes—that would be a mistake, too—Peter visibly mustered the courage to speak. "I pressured the Hebert girl and the Veder boy too hard at school."

Max nodded once, curtly. "Details."

By now, Peter looked as though he were strongly considering death as a viable alternative to this interrogation. Again, this was unsurprising; quite aside from his elevated social stature within the Empire set, he was tall, good-looking and intelligent. He'd grown used to never having to answer for his actions—aside from the narrowly-avoided scandal involving his ex-girlfriend's pregnancy hoax, of course—to the point that he'd evidently decided that he didn't have to answer for anything.

It was Max's intention to impress upon him that such an attitude required a decade or two more of preparation before it would be appropriate. The boy was a blood relation and had potential, and he was of course a true believer, just the way Max liked his subordinates. But it remained to be seen whether he could learn this most important of lessons in a timely manner.

Peter took another deep breath, this one somewhat more ragged. "When they said no the first time, I should've backed off. Instead, I tried to frighten them into signing up. I, uh …" He winced at the expected rebuke as he spoke the next few words. "I told them that they needed the Empire Eighty-Eight's protection."

Max didn't react, though that was only because Bradley had already filled him in. From the way Ed looked at his boy he'd probably been hoping that it wouldn't come up.

"I see." Max made a slight go-on gesture with his hand. "Continue." Unspoken was the absolute certainty that Peter's fuckups hadn't stopped there.

By now, Peter was performing one continuous wince. "After they turned us down that time, I had Jenna and the others follow the Hebert girl to the bathrooms, while I cornered Veder with some of the guys outside. The idea was to divide and conquer, and stampede them into our ranks. Jenna bad-mouthed Veder to Hebert, and I bad-mouthed Hebert to Veder. It, uh, it didn't go well."

Max didn't bother to speak. He merely waited.

Peter didn't leave things hanging nearly as long, this time. "Uh, Jenna didn't get any kind of rise out of Hebert, except to ask Jenna where she'd been when Hess had been bullying her. But when I called Hebert a, uh, skanky nobody, Veder grabbed my arm and did a hip-throw on me, then shoulder-charged Bronson into the wall. George, uh, grabbed him around the arms from behind …" He trailed off.

"To restrain him without hurting him any further, no doubt?" Max's voice was sharp. He knew what came next, and the way Peter presented it would strongly influence the boy's future in the Empire Eighty-Eight.

To his credit, Peter shook his head. "No, uh, no, sir. Bronson and me … we started hitting him. Then the Hebert girl came up and hit George from behind with her backpack, and he let Veder go. I, uh, I punched Hebert then, because she'd hit George. Veder charged me into the wall, and that's when the gym teacher showed up and stopped it."

"Which was extremely fortunate for you," Max observed, keeping his voice light. "Had either Ms Hebert or Mr Veder been significantly injured, I would have been taking direct reparations out of your sorry hide." He sat forward. "In fact, there were several fortunate instances over the last few days, including your decision to tell the complete truth. You see, building security spotted the marks your people left on Hebert and Veder. Because we have a vested interest in them not being bullied, they were directed on to Bradley. They told him about everything, including your claim to being in the Empire Eighty-Eight. This allowed him to advise them to tell nobody about it, thus avoiding yet another potential sticky situation."

Bradley lifted his chin, silently asking permission to speak. Max nodded, interested in what he had to say. "Young Taylor's a smart kid," the big man said. "She'd already decided not to spread it around, in case it wasn't true. I just reinforced that."

Max couldn't have gotten a better opening if he'd set it up in advance. "That's right. Taylor Hebert is a very smart young lady. In the short time she's been working for us, she's not only performed exemplary work, but she's also spotted and forestalled more than one potential problem ahead of time. On the business side of things, she's saved us at least a million dollars just from spotting things nobody else did. She's personally responsible for preventing the entire Empire Eighty-Eight from being outed. She also saved Victor's life, and alerted us to the fact that it was Shadow Stalker invading the building, not so long ago. And when Stalker murdered Crusader, Taylor was the one who went into the car and saved his girlfriend."

"The Veder kid's no slouch either," Bradley said, smoothly taking up the narrative. "He was a hot mess when he first got here, but between her and the janitorial crew, he soon straightened up. Saved Taylor's life at school when those little cocksuckers were gonna shove her in a locker and empty a pepper spray canister in there with her. Hess cleaned his clock, but he got up and came back for more. Then he saved Ms Harcourt and some of her girls, and took out Stalker solo. Kid's got real potential."

"They both do," Max agreed. "And all of this they did without knowing who they were working for. If they're opposed to being members of the Empire Eighty-Eight, then I say we need never let them know. Their work is exemplary either way." The message was plain. Back off.

"Uh … if I may say something?" ventured Ed Ferguson.

Max nodded. "Proceed."

"This is partly my fault too. I'd heard about some of what they'd done, and I mused aloud that their talents were wasted outside the Empire Eighty-Eight. Peter was just doing what he thought I wanted him to do. Also, once the facts were made plain to me, I ensured that Peter apologised to both of them and gave his assurances that he wouldn't bother them anymore."

"I know." Max sat forward for the first time. "That's the only thing saving you, right now. But you also both screwed up massively, and it's only by pure luck that the fallout isn't worse. Edward, you should be careful in what you say, and how you say it. Peter, you need to learn to separate wishful thinking from intent." He left unspoken the phrase and for fuck's sake learn how to handle a reluctant recruitment. It was well understood by all parties. "And so, a penalty must be incurred." He looked from one to the other, considering. Judging.

"I … I can pay—" ventured Ed, then cut off with a grunt of pain as Bradley's hand descended on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Not money," Max decided. "Peter, your choice is to face Bradley in the cage for five minutes, no holds barred, or your father in the boxing ring for three timed rounds." He knew that Ferguson already used boxing as a way to physically discipline his son, and was quite adept at the sport.

Peter let out a strangled gulp, eyes flicking from side to side in an unconscious attempt to escape the situation. He was screwed either way, and they all knew it. Bradley would play cat-and-mouse, battering him around the cage but never quite putting him down and out until the last ten seconds. Going into the ring, though, meant that his father would have to do the job himself.

"Well?" Max raised his eyebrows. "You have ten seconds before I make the decision for you."

"D-Dad!" blurted Peter. "I choose Dad. Boxing." His eyes cut sideways to his father, and he whispered, "Sorry," just loudly enough for Max to hear.

Ed's expression collapsed in on itself. Max knew what he'd realised with Peter's choice. He would now be obliged to give his son the beating of his life, just to placate Max going forward.

"Your father, it is." Max looked at Ed, his gaze narrowing. "I expect to see the footage of the bout on my desk by tomorrow."

It wasn't that he didn't trust Ed—the man did his job competently and well—but the temptation to hold back just a little and spare his son would've definitely been there. Now, even that loophole had been removed.

Ed would follow through, of course. Max knew him too well to consider otherwise. But both he and Peter would learn a valuable lesson from this.

And maybe next time they won't mess with the golden goose.

<><>

Hebert Household

Saturday Morning

Taylor

I was settling down on the sofa to watch some TV when someone climbed the front steps and knocked on the door. Frowning, I got up and headed toward the entrance hall. "Were we expecting someone?" I called over my shoulder to Dad.

"Not that I know of." He came out of the kitchen as I reached the front door and opened it.

Greg stood there, grinning broadly; behind him was his mother, whom I’d met on Thursday at Winslow. We hadn’t done much more than swap introductions, but I’d gotten a good vibe off her.

“Hi!” He stepped forward and hugged me. I returned the hug, as a matter of course.

“Hi, yourself,” I replied at my wittiest, disengaging from the hug. “Hi, Mrs Veder. Good to meet you again.”

“Hello, Taylor.” Mrs Veder shook my hand (fortuitously, Greg had grabbed my left hand). “It’s nice to meet you without other things going on. Greg has told me so much about you.”

“About three-quarters of that is probably exaggeration,” I said defensively. “I’m just normal.”

“Uh huh,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Normal. Right. Sure. I bet if I told Bradley or Mr Grayson that you said you were ‘just normal’ they’d have a different opinion.”

I felt my face get hot. “They’re biased.”

Dad joined us at this point. “Hi. Pleased to meet you again. Call me Danny.”

“Likewise. Nina.” She reached past me to shake his hand as well.

It was getting a little crowded in the entrance hall, so we moved back into the living room. I smiled at Greg and he beamed back at me, until I broke the silence with the obvious question. "Don't think I'm not pleased to see you, because I totally am … but why are you here? I thought we were going to be meeting up at Medhall around noon or so."

Mrs Veder raised her eyebrows at her son. "Greg, seriously? I thought you were going to call ahead."

He stared back. "I thought you were going to call ahead!"

Dad chuckled. "And so, nobody called ahead. I've definitely been there before. Okay, why are you here?"

Greg broke the staring contest with his mother to look at me. "I was thinking we could go over the material we covered in class on Thursday—you know, before we were kicked out of school—and read ahead a bit so when we start again on Monday, we know what's going on."

I blinked. "That's … actually a really good idea. But you know, we've got all Sunday to do that."

He flushed slightly at my praise, then held up a finger. "You know we're going to have bruises on Sunday, probably in places that'll make it uncomfortable to sit down for long periods, right? So, I figured we could do it today. Got Mom to give me a lift, and here we are."

"Ah. Good point." From what he'd told me about the physical training Bradley and the other guard—I couldn't remember her name—were putting him through, the big guy wouldn't even consider going easy on us. Not that I'd want him to. If I was going to be doing self-defense training, I wanted to be able to defend myself.

"So, you think we should?" He looked at me anxiously, as though I was about to shoot down his idea.

"Oh, totally." I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I should've thought of that myself."

He shrugged modestly. "I basically asked myself what would Taylor do? and that's what I came up with."

I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. "Keep that up, buster, and see what you get."

"Why, what will I get?" he asked innocently.

"This." I let go his hand and put my arms around him. In deference to the fact that Dad and Mrs Veder were right there, I kissed him on the cheek instead of the lips (I still was pretty shy about that sort of thing, to be honest) but I made it a pretty solid kiss anyway.

"So how long have you two been dating, anyway?" asked Greg's mom as I let him go.

Greg and I glanced at each other. "Friday, last week?" I hazarded. "We hung out at Fugly's, after work?"

He nodded. "But we only realised that we were actually dating on Tuesday, when you asked me if we were."

"Of course, I liked you before that," I finished. "When you tackled Sophia, that was a massive plus in my book."

His blush should've lit up the room. "Well, I couldn't not do something. You've been helping me get my head on straight ever since we started at Medhall. Nobody else even cared enough to try."

It was my turn to shrug awkwardly. "I just gave you a few pointers, that's all."

Dad chuckled. "They've been an item longer than that, but they just didn't realise it." He turned to me. "Remember when I asked you how the boyfriend was, and you blew up at me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Tracey asked me the same question, the next day. So I'm clueless when it comes to that sort of thing. Sue me."

"If you're clueless, then I'm double clueless," Greg chimed in loyally. "You had to point out that we were dating before I even realised it."

"Well, all I know is that he's been tidying up his own room and doing his own laundry since shortly after he started at Medhall," Mrs Veder announced. "Up until now, I'd thought it was the responsibility of whatever they've got him doing there, but it seems like you've got something to do with it too." She gave me an approving look.

"That doesn't surprise me," agreed Dad. "They've been doing group projects for school together, and getting some very impressive marks. What did you get for that last one? Ninety-five percent?"

"Ninety-seven," I corrected him, realising too late that he damn well knew the right figure but was giving me the chance to say it. "But that was mainly the Book."

"Which you got through the people at Medhall," he pointed out with a grin. "Just another thing we can thank that place for."

"One of the many things, yeah," Greg agreed. "So anyway, I brought my textbooks in the car. Want me to grab them, so we can get started?"

"Sure." I gave him a smile. "I'll just duck upstairs and get mine. Is it okay if we take up the sofa, Dad?"

"I've got no problem with that." Dad turned to Mrs Veder as Greg headed for the door. "Would you like a cup of tea, or did you have to go straight away?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." She followed him into the kitchen. "I suspect there's a lot of gossip I need to catch up on, about my son and your daughter."

I heard the clink as he put the kettle on the stove, and the soft whoosh as the burner ignited. "Gossip? Hardly. We're merely sharing information." The amusement was plain in his voice.

She chuckled. "As I said. Gossip."

<><>

Medhall Building, a Little After Noon

Greg

"Just around the back here, Mr Hebert." Greg pointed at the entrance sign he'd been looking for. "That's the guest parking lot through there."

"Huh." Mr Hebert slowed to negotiate the turn. "I don't think I would've spotted that. Nicely done."

Greg shrugged. "That's the way Bradley told me to come in. No big deal."

"Still pretty cool," Taylor said. "I only talk to Bradley every now and again. You get to work with him."

"Hardly." Greg snorted. "He's security. I'm maintenance. He's only humouring me because I got lucky and took down Shadow Stalker. Now, someone like Brian? He's a lot better suited to doing security work than me." It was an incontestable truth. Brian had something like six inches and a hundred pounds on Greg (maybe not that much, but close to it) and had muscles on his muscles.

The car trundled down the narrow side-street, then pulled around into a small parking lot. Entirely hidden from the street, it boasted twenty or thirty painted parking spots, of which three were filled. Mr Hebert picked one apparently at random, and pulled the car to a halt in it. "Okay," he said. "Now what?"

Greg was once more glad Bradley had gone over this with him in detail. "Now we take our workout gear and go over to that security door, and get buzzed in." He pointed to the solid metal door in the side of the building, which was covered by a security camera. "Bradley said he'd meet us there."

Mr Hebert nodded. "Well, then. It looks like this is where I leave you. What time do you think you'll need to be picked up?"

"Oh, we've got that figured out," Taylor assured him. "We'll be finishing up in time to catch the last bus. If we miss it, we'll give you a call and chill in the lobby until you show up."

He chuckled. "Well, aren't we organised? Okay, it sounds like a plan. Have fun and kick ass."

"Get our asses kicked, more like." Greg wasn't complaining, merely making a prediction. Besides, he'd been beaten up before. This time, at least, he was going to learn from the experience.

They got out of the car with their backpacks slung over their shoulders. Greg had originally figured he'd carry his workout clothing rolled up, but Taylor had reminded him that it was a good idea to not leave their other clothing lying around loose. They didn't want Bradley and whoever else was doing the training to think they were total slobs or whatever. At her suggestion, they'd also each packed a towel (he'd borrowed one for the duration) in case they needed a shower before getting ready to go home.

He honestly had no idea how he'd gotten along before he met Taylor.

As they headed for the door, Taylor looked across at him. "I like your mom. She's nice."

Now, what was a guy supposed to say to that? "Thanks." That didn't seem to be enough, so he kept talking. "My dad died before I was born, so she sometimes gets really overprotective and stuff. I'm glad she's fine with me coming to Medhall and learning how to defend myself."

She looked at him with sympathy. "Wow, that's got to suck." Putting an arm around his shoulders, she gave him a firm side-hug. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Nah, it's okay." He gave her a smile that was part grimace. "Stupid accident. They were getting ready to get married, but his brakes failed coming home from work one day. So she raised me on her own. I'm pretty sure she won't let me get my driving license until I'm fifty."

"Yeah, I know how that goes." And from the tone of her voice, he knew she did.

The reached the door, and he glanced up at the security camera. It had a good solid view of them, so he pressed the red call button. A couple of seconds passed, then the speaker crackled. "Veder and Hebert, yes?"

Greg nodded. "That's us."

"Good. Right on time. Come on in." The electronic lock clicked, and the tiny light over it turned from red to green.

Greg grasped the door handle and pulled; it opened easily. "Ready to get your ass kicked for a good cause?"

Taylor grinned tightly. "Let's do this."

She stepped inside; he followed along.

<><>

Rune

The sweatpants and sports top were itchy, and felt weird. Tammi couldn't wait to get back into regular clothes, or her costume. It didn't matter which one. The sooner Kaiser and Hookwolf figured out that she wasn't going to learn anything from this bullshit self-defense thing, the better.

So what if those ABB assholes had nearly gotten her backpack? She would've called the troops together and gone after them, and smeared them into the pavement for their fucking arrogance. By the time their cretinous minds even figured out what they had their grubby little hands on (if they ever did, which was nowhere near certain) they would've been roadkill. Figuratively, if not literally.

But for now she had to suffer through this utter waste of a good Saturday afternoon. At least she wasn't the only one; coming out of the other side of the changing room was Theo, looking at least as uncomfortable as she felt. Now he was definitely someone who could stand to do some exercise and lose a few pounds. As it was, none of the girls were ever going to give him a second look, even with the cachet of being the son of Max Anders. A suave millionaire playboy, he wasn't.

"Hey," he said miserably. "You're here, too?"

She didn't hate him so much as she simply wasn't interested in him—the one time the idea of her pairing up with him was floated, she'd shot it down hard enough to ensure it never came up again—so she nodded curtly. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing." His eyes immediately drifted away from her, and his entire body language shouted at once, I'm lying! "What makes you think I did anything?"

She snorted. "Because your dad says I fucked up, and that's why I'm here. You're usually the invisible guy, so you being here means you must've done something."

He scuffed at the carpet with his soft, pink toes. Even his feet were fat. "Got drunk at Justin's wake. Then I told my father I didn't want anything to do with Medhall."

Her eyebrows rose and she snorted with amusement. "Well, damn. I am impressed. Were you hoping he'd disinherit you or something?" It would never happen, she knew. Max Anders … well, she didn't like to use the phrase 'control freak' about her boss, but he was absolutely a control freak.

"Not hoping. Wishing." He scuffed harder at the carpet. "Why can't he understand I don't want any of this? I don't like what you do, and I don't want to be a part of it."

She easily translated 'what you do' as everything to do with the cape side of the Empire Eighty-Eight. It really wasn't her problem, so she shrugged. "Maybe when you get yours, you'll think differently." She could tell he knew she meant when he triggered with powers. As a third-generation on one side and second-gen on the other, he was almost guaranteed to end up with them at some point. That he hadn't already must have been a constant source of frustration for Kaiser.

"Hey!" Bradley's voice, carrying a sharp edge of command, echoed down the corridor toward them. "You two! We're not starting until you show up, and everyone else is waiting on you!"

Biting back a sarcastic retort—she knew antagonising her self-defense coach when he was already pissed at her would be a spectacularly stupid move, on several levels—she turned away from Theo and headed in Bradley's direction. "Coming!" she called back. You can start without us if you're really that keen, she added in her own head.

When they emerged into the training room—a conference room with padded mats laid down across the floor—Tammi saw the other two students for the first time. She also saw the big black security guy was there as well, just like Bradley had said he would be. Melody was standing back with her arms folded while the black guy coached the boy and the girl through stretching exercises.

"Took you long enough," growled Bradley. "Theo, you haven't met Brian yet. He's gonna be one of your instructors today. You do what he says, just like with me or Melody. Got it?"

"Uh huh." Theo nodded, though Tammi caught the flicker of side-eye he sent her way. He didn't know what was important, so he wouldn't have a problem with one of them giving him orders, but he knew she thought differently. "I can do that."

"Good." Bradley raised his voice slightly. "Okay, Taylor, Greg, that's enough. Get your butts over here. Tammi, Theo, get over to Brian and do stretches with him. Go!"

Tammi eyed the girl—Taylor—as they passed each other by, and received an equally searching scrutiny in return. Taller than both Tammi and Melody by a few inches, Taylor looked skinny even in the baggy workout clothes she was wearing. She had long curly black hair, tied back in a ponytail for the moment, and glasses that made her eyes look huge. Tammi's first impression was that Taylor didn't look like someone who was all that, but then she recalled Othala's description of her deeds. Her cousin wasn't someone who was easily impressed.

She didn't get as good a look at Greg, but he was just a boy anyway. Not all that good looking, or muscular, or anything else that would draw her attention. Sure, he'd taken down Shadow Stalker, but anyone could get lucky once.

"Tammi and Theo, right?" The black guy—Brian—seemed to tower over both of them, and Tammi fought the urge to step back away from him. Fuck, he's like King Kong. "I'm just going to get you to do some basic stretching exercises, so you don't hurt yourselves when we get into the real stuff. Before we start, do either of you do martial arts, or any kind of athletics on a regular basis?"

Theo shook his head mournfully, while Tammi suppressed the urge to sneer. Like one of them can teach me anything. But he wanted an answer, and Bradley was right there in the room, so she gritted her teeth and shook her head as well. "Nope."

"Okay, then." Had that been a flicker of anger in his eyes? Did he know what was going through her mind? But his tone never changed. "Put your feet a shoulder-width apart, like this …"

As she reluctantly followed his instructions, every instinct shouting at her to put him in his place, she seethed with anger.

This was going to be a very long training session.

<><>

Taylor

My joints definitely felt nice and loose, once Brian had finished with me and Greg. I hadn't been sure about the exercises, but Greg seemed to be familiar with them, so I'd done as I was told. While I probably still couldn't put my foot up near my ear—as Melody was doing as a kind of casual stretching exercise of her own—I was pretty sure I wouldn't pull any muscles by accident. Which was the whole purpose of the thing.

Belying every martial arts training montage I'd ever seen, the first thing we did was practise … falling. Once again, Greg seemed to already know how this went, so Bradley focused on me, showing me how to go down onto the mat from any angle so I didn't pop joints or break bones. By the time he was satisfied with my progress, Brian had finished with Tammi and Theo's stretching exercises and Melody was running through some basic holds and throws with Greg. He wasn't an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but he definitely knew a little bit about what he was doing. I knew exactly zero about it, so he was still one-up on me.

As we paused for a breather and a drink of water from the squeeze-bottles, I reflected that I could've done with those falling lessons a year ago, when Sophia's favourite occupation seemed to involve tripping me. She'd even gone so far as to push me down the last few steps of a flight of stairs, just enough that I'd fall hard and look stupid. Now, I knew what to do about a fall like that, but the person who'd made me need that knowledge was behind bars. Irony, thy name is Taylor Hebert.

Once Greg was warmed up, he graduated to trying to use his techniques on Bradley, which I figured would be a whole heap harder. Melody took over with me, showing me the same things Greg was trying to do with Bradley, while Brian started Tammi and Theo in on falls. From what little I could see of the other two, Theo was trying but not very hard, and Tammi just plain didn't want anything to do with the training. Again, I wondered what her story was, and why she'd been shoehorned into this class.

Theo, I figured, was here for a little educational punishment duty; he must've screwed up his speech to his dad about not wanting to take over Medhall, or maybe Mr Anders had found out about his drinking. But if Tammi had been at that party, she certainly hadn't been drinking and making a public spectacle of herself. She was a mystery, and my work so far at Medhall had taught me that mysteries existed to be solved.

Melody didn't talk much, but she could sure teach me how to apply a joint lock or perform one of several throws. When applying the locks, she was smooth as silk and fast as a striking snake; one moment I had freedom of movement and the next my arm was trapped in an iron grip. Even the slightest twist on her part would have me rising on my tiptoes in a way I wouldn't have thought possible.

The throws were equally deadly, in a manner of speaking. She was shorter than me—most women were shorter than me—but all I had to do was blink and I'd find the room rotating around me in a way it really wasn't supposed to. It was around then that I found out exactly why we'd been practicing falls so assiduously. I got to try them out some more, for free.

I got to try the moves on her, too, of course, but I knew damn well she was letting me do it, every step of the way. Still, the feeling of achievement when I pulled off my first successful hip throw was amazing. Though barely had she hit the mat when she bounced up again, critiqued my technique, and made me do it again. And again. And again.

"Okay," Bradley announced after depositing Greg on the mat yet again (I was pretty sure he'd pulled off exactly one successful throw against the big guy, and like Melody, Bradley had allowed it). "Taylor, Greg, take ten. Brian, are Theo and Tammi good on falls?"

Brian nodded. "Good as I can get 'em, sir."

I panted as I slid down to sit against the wall. Greg, sweating harder than I was, plonked himself next to me. He handed me my squeeze-bottle, then bumped his knuckles against mine. "You're killing it, Taylor. Really."

"I dunno," I said quietly. I squirted water into my mouth; even at room temperature, it was heavenly. "I'm just a rag doll to Melody. Up against Bradley, I'd be a doormat."

"Yeah, but these guys are professionals," he reminded me. "They've been doing this for years. We've been doing this for a total of hours, if that."

"That's true." I felt a bit better about things.

We settled down to watch how Theo and Tammi took to learning locks and throws. From the outside, it was very educational.

<><>

Kaiser

Max's phone pinged with a text message. Leaning back in his office chair, he brought it up. On the way up. I've got the footage. Ed.

He tossed the phone back onto the desk, not bothering to send a reply. It was regrettable that he'd had to force Ed to discipline his boy like that, but there was no better motivator than pain, whether it was the physical pain of being beaten or the emotional pain of punishing a loved one. Peter had needed to learn the lesson, and so had Ed.

It was funny; back in the day, he'd never really wanted to inherit the Empire Eighty-Eight. Running Medhall had been all he wanted to do, leaving the leadership of the Empire to his sister Heidi. But somehow she'd gotten the idea he was planning to usurp her position, even after Allfather made the official announcement stating that she was his choice to step up as leader once he retired.

Nothing was stated outright; she'd known how good he was at talking, so she never made any accusations that he could refute. But the politicking within the team had become intense enough to cause rifts between some of the members. Max wasn't sure if Allfather had known about it and either allowed it to run its course or was unable to stop it, or if he'd been oblivious to the whole thing. Either way, he hadn't stepped in.

It came to a head during a fight with the Teeth. Earlier in the day, a few Empire capes had been ambushed, leading to the death of Max's wife Alexis, otherwise known as Heith. Berserk with grief, Max hadn't cared who he killed; he'd just wanted them to experience the loss that he felt. Armoured from head to toe, slashing at his foes with iron spikes, he'd pushed toward the thickest part of the fray.

Only when several iron spears plunged past him, missing by the merest of margins, did he begin to pay attention to what was going on around him. Not all that far away, her eyes fixed on him, was his sister. She flicked her hand and another dozen razor-tipped metal shafts dropped out of the sky onto the enemy, though two targeted him instead. It was only with a frantic dodge that he'd evaded both.

At that moment, the tide of the battle changed. Butcher himself charged forward, taking advantage of Iron Rain's distraction. Max was the only one who could both see her vulnerability and do something about it, but in that moment he knew what he had to do. Once their father was out of the picture—as Allfather, Richard Anders put up a good front, but long-standing injuries were beginning to take their toll—Heidi would stop at nothing to remove him as a perceived threat to her leadership of the Empire Eighty-Eight. She posed a clear and present danger to his life and well-being, and would continue to do so for as long as she lived.

He could have generated a fence of spikes and shielded her for the few seconds she needed to retreat, but he did nothing of the sort. If she wanted to treacherously attack him in the middle of a fight, then she could reap the whirlwind. The last thing he saw before Butcher and a couple of the Teeth dogpiled her was the look of utter terror on her face.

No blame was officially attached to him after the battle, though he saw Allfather sag when he learned of her death. Those few who had seen him withhold his protection would also have seen her spears seeking his life, and very likely chose to stay quiet in place of risking their lives by speaking out. Interestingly, her former partisans were now among those most vocal in their support of him.

At that time, the ethos of the Empire Eighty-Eight was very strongly based around honour and 'face'. Butcher was the one who had gotten the final blow on Iron Rain, so once this was announced it would be expected that Allfather would seek vengeance, one-on-one, with his daughter's killer. Nobody wanted this; either Allfather would die (most likely) or he would become the new Butcher and be driven insane by the voices. So, a deal was worked out under the table with Marquis. In return for a few concessions on territory, the osteokinetic would claim the kill on Iron Rain. This would boost his reputation, he would engage in a few inconclusive battles with Allfather, and honour would be satisfied.

In the end, Allfather died of a heart attack before the scripted battles could take place. Kaiser, as the only potential heir, ended up as head of both Medhall and the Empire Eighty-Eight. He still didn't believe in the Nazi rhetoric, but it was damned useful for gathering disaffected white supremacists to his gang, so he mouthed the phrases and turned a blind eye to the violence against the minorities.

But from all this, he'd learned one valuable lesson: a leader must remain on top of any potential problems, before they became actual problems. If Allfather had laid down the law with Iron Rain, she wouldn't have tried to kill Max, and she could've been running the Empire to this day. But he'd let it slide (or never even noticed it) and so she died when she could have lived.

Max had sworn to himself that he would never let such things get so bad under his tenure, which meant that from time to time, people had to suffer for the good of all. Some might have seen his punishment of Peter as being too harsh, whereas he figured it was just harsh enough. Peter would recover, and he would never forget the penalty for fucking up.

He looked up as Ed tapped on the door; reaching under the desk, he pressed the button that unlocked it. "Come in!" he called.

The door opened and Ed Ferguson entered. The man looked like he'd aged ten years overnight, and he carried with him a latest-model electronic tablet. "Max," he said, his voice slightly ragged.

"Good afternoon, Ed." Max spoke as though the unpleasantness had never happened. Once a punishment was over, it was forgotten. "You've got something for me?"

"Yes." Ed passed the tablet over the desk. "I hope this is enough."

"I'm sure it is," Max said warmly. "Why don't you take a seat?"

The chair in front of his desk was a much more comfortable model; Ed Ferguson dropped into it like a puppet with its strings cut. Max paid him no heed as he activated the tablet. There was just one icon on the screen, and he tapped it.

Ed Ferguson had a complete boxing ring setup in his basement, along with four separate digital video cameras designed to autosync into a four-window finished product. From what Max understood, he had originally set it up that way for training and instructional purposes; correcting someone's form was much easier with four different views of the subject matter. Just as Max had figured, it worked quite well for this.

Peter had started the bout by trying to cover up and stay on the retreat, but sharp words from his father had changed that. It had become an actual boxing match after that, albeit a mismatched one. While Peter had done his best to stand his ground and give as good as he got, it didn't work out that way. He'd been pummelled mercilessly from one end of the ring to the other, his only reprieve being the timer at the end of each round.

To his credit (not to mention Ed's skill as a boxer) he'd lasted all three rounds, only collapsing at the final bell. It had not been faked; Ed's gloves had punished him quite thoroughly, and Max was fairly certain it would take him a day or two to get back on his feet. All in all, a lesson well delivered.

"That all seems to be in order," he said, standing up and rounding the desk with the tablet in hand. "Thank you for bringing this in. We'll say no more about it."

Ed stood as well and accepted the tablet back. "Thank you." He even seemed to mean it.

Max nodded to his brother-in-law. "Let me know how he's going."

He watched as Ed walked out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him. That went well, I thought. Turning, he put the matter from his mind as he headed back to his desk. Other issues demanded his attention, and he needed to stay on top of things.

<><>

Taylor

I faced Tammi, and Greg shaped up against Theo. "Locks and throws only," Bradley instructed us. "If you throw them, follow them down and get a lock. Once you're locked up, call 'yield' and you'll be let loose. Okay? Okay. Go."

She came in fast and aggressive; I gave ground, watching her eyes. Theo yelped as Greg took him out of the running with an arm-bar, but I didn't let my attention be distracted. Turning my body slightly, I trailed my arm out invitingly, and she took the bait.

She grabbed for my wrist, but I twisted the other way, got hold of her arm and did my best to pull off one of the more difficult throws Melody had shown me. I must've gotten it right, because Tammi squealed in outrage as her feet left the floor. She landed on her back on the mat, but I hadn't let go of her arm, and I moved to secure her.

There was still some fight in her, but she reached the wrong way and I got her arm around into a lock and held it. She kept struggling, all the way up until I tightened the hold and twisted just right; she let out a cry of pain, and I eased off the hold slightly. That was the wrong move, because she heaved hard enough to pull her arm free, and elbowed me in the jaw solidly enough to make me see stars. We rolled over and over for a few seconds, but I still had the upper hand and I yanked her other arm around into a lock. This time, I held it.

"Okay, Tammi, you're out," Brian announced from his position as referee. "Also, you would've lost anyway for that foul shot."

"What? No!" Tammi sounded outraged as I let her go and we climbed to our feet. "That was a total accident! And anyway, who says you're not allowed to hit someone when you're fighting?"

"Me," Bradley said, looming over her. "I said, locks and throws only. Fifty push-ups, right now. Taylor, you okay to face Greg now, or do you need to take a moment?"

I touched my jaw tenderly. It didn't feel like any teeth were loose, but it was still sore. "I might go and splash cold water on my face." I pointed at Greg. "And then I'm gonna come back and whip your ass."

"Yeah, yeah, bring it." Greg grinned as he made a come-at-me gesture.

"Go on," Bradley said, gesturing at the door. "Restrooms are just down the hall. Take your time. Theo, let's go over why you went down to Greg so quickly …"

I stepped out into the hallway and trotted down toward where I could see the sign for the restrooms, not far from the elevators. It only took me a moment to splash the water on my face to refresh myself and check for incipient bruising, then I leaned against the bench and looked myself in the eyes.

"I am kicking ass," I said softly. "I just won a fight."

It was a weird feeling. Tammi was only about a year younger than me, and a bit fitter, and she'd definitely been trying to win … and I'd beaten her. Even though my jaw was still aching a bit, the euphoria was there. I can actually do this. I can learn to win.

<><>

Edward Ferguson

I just rolled over for him. I beat up my own son, then brought the proof in to him, then thanked him for letting me show him.

The elevator had never seemed so slow. Ed watched the numbers scroll past, the self-disgust building in his gut until he felt like a volcano about to blow. Finally, he jammed his hand on the stop button, and the elevator slid to a halt. The doors opened smoothly and silently, and he stepped out. He didn't know what floor he was on, but the restrooms were right there.

Storming into the men's side of the restrooms, he checked to make sure the stalls were all empty before letting out a scream of frustrated anger. Grabbing a stall door, he slammed it against its stop several times in a row, sending echoes throughout the restroom. "Fuuck!" he bellowed. "Shit shit fuck shiiiit FUUUUUCCK!"

Ed would do what Max told him; he knew that much. He'd followed Max's orders in the past, and he'd do so again in the future. But there was no rule that said he had to like it.

Running water into the nearest basin, he splashed some of it on his face, then checked his clothing and hair. He was presentable; outwardly, at least, he was fine. The outburst had taken the edge off his anger, so he could leave now without driving dangerously in the late afternoon traffic.

Strolling nonchalantly out of the restrooms, he entirely failed to see the teenage girl peering around the corner from the women's side.

<><>

Greg

Taylor seemed a little perturbed when she came back into the room, but not so much that anyone else noticed. Under Brian's supervision, Tammi was still panting through her push-ups—and making far too much of a production out of them, in Greg's opinion—while Melody was re-instructing Theo in how to apply basic locks and throws. In the process of this, she was using Theo as the test dummy, so he was spending more time on his ass than his feet.

Yeah, been there, done that. Greg could sympathise. Theo gave the impression of someone who was entirely unready for physical confrontation, so when Greg put him in the arm-bar it had been like kicking a particularly defenceless puppy.

"Taylor, Greg, you ready?" asked Bradley. "I don't have to tell you two this, but I'll do it anyway. Locks and throws only. Nothing else."

Taylor nodded. "Got it, and I'm ready."

Greg matched her steely-eyed stare. "Likewise."

"Okay, then. Go!"

Neither one moved for a second or so, searching each other's eyes and stances for a weakness. Greg found none; Taylor was an adept student, which wasn't surprising. Melody had ways and means of making sure a lesson was taken seriously. Slowly, he started moving toward his left, and she began to do the same. They circled each other, expressions intent.

Taylor seemed to break first, reaching in with her arm and creating an opening, but Greg recognised it as the ploy she'd used on Tammi and didn't fall for it. He grinned and wiggled his fingers in a 'nice try' gesture. She responded by wrinkling her nose at him.

He attempted the next feint, grabbing for her arm but pulling back at the last second. As it was, he was nearly too slow; her fingertips grazed his wrist, almost getting a grip. He knew damn well that if she got ahold of him, or vice versa, the bout would be over.

And then he spotted it; the tiniest gap in her defenses. She was holding her elbows just a little too far away from her body, which meant that if he turned this way, and baited her into reaching that way, he could catch her wrist before she could pull back—

"Waaagh!" Thud.

Dizzily, as he lay face-down on the mat with Taylor kneeling in the middle of his back, he slowly reconstructed what had just happened. I thought I was baiting Taylor out. But she was baiting me the whole time. What he'd thought was an opening was a trap. And he'd fallen for it.

"Haha damn!" Bradley slapped his knees. "The look on your face when she took you down!"

"Yield," grunted Greg, and the pressure let up immediately. He rolled onto his back and lay there spread-eagled. "Maybe best of three?"

Taylor grinned and reached down to help him up. "Sure." Then she looked around at the wall-clock and her face fell. "Ugh. Nearly time for the bus."

Bradley nodded and dusted his hands off. "Okay, then. Good session, everyone. See you here next week." He gave Tammi and Theo a moderate glare. "That includes you two."

"Okay," grumped Tammi. Theo added his own unenthusiastic agreement, before Tammi pointed at Greg and Taylor. "What about those two?"

Bradley gave her a toothy grin. "They asked to be here."

"Oh." Tammi gave Greg a 'you have to be kidding' stare, then shook her head. "Okay, can we go now?"

"Sure thing." Bradley waved at them. "Beat it."

"Okay, see you around." Greg grabbed his backpack and headed for the door in Tammi's wake, with Taylor close behind.

They went down the corridor to the elevators, and Tammi hit the call button. When the elevator opened, she seemed to want to take it all to herself, but Taylor just stepped in, so Greg got in as well. Tammi hit the close-door button then, and the elevator shut in Theo's face. Greg didn't think that was very nice, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, Taylor elbowed him gently in the ribs. He shut up again.

"So, Tammi," Taylor ventured, sounding as polite and friendly as Greg had ever known her to, "where do you know Brian from? It's pretty obvious that you've met him before."

Just for a moment, Greg thought Tammi wasn't going to answer, but then she evidently changed her mind. "Oh, uh, some ABB assholes tried to grab my bag outside the front doors, and he came out and kicked their asses."

"Huh, cool," Greg commented. "That's kind of how we met him too. Only with us it was Merchants."

Tammi shrugged. "Well, street scum is street scum."

Taylor smiled sweetly. "Very true."

The elevator stopped on the first floor, and they stepped out into the corridor. Taylor waved. "See you next week."

"Yeah," grunted Tammi. "See you." She turned and headed off toward the back of the building, where the access to the exterior parking lot was.

Taylor led the way toward the front doors, waving at the desk security on the way past. Greg gave them a nod too; he was getting to know them by name.

Their timing was excellent; the bus pulled up at the stop just as they stepped out through the doors. "Wish I'd had time to take a shower," Taylor grumbled as they climbed on board.

"Meh, I know I've smelled worse," Greg quipped. "Remember the time they more or less bathed me in bleach?"

She chuckled as they found a pair of empty seats; as always, he let her take the window seat. "Pretty hard to forget that one." He sat down, with her beside him. Quite naturally, his hand fell into hers, and she squeezed it.

As the bus moved off, he looked quizzically at her. "So, what was that about in the elevator? Why'd you shut me up?"

"Not sure," she said pensively. "Do you think Tammi was treating Brian like someone who'd stopped someone else from snatching her bag?"

Greg paused, and thought back. The more he mulled over the concept, the more he frowned. "No," he admitted. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he kicked her puppy in a previous life."

"She definitely didn't like him," Taylor agreed. "Not one little bit. Which is odd as fuck for a way to treat someone who saved your stuff like that."

"I can't disagree with that." Greg tilted his head. "Also, when you came back from the restroom. You looked like you had a major problem, but you didn't say one word about it."

She gave him a beaming smile. "You're definitely a lot less clueless than you were before you started working at Medhall."

"I just figured it was a good idea to pay attention to you." He raised his eyebrows. "I notice you still haven't told me why you were upset."

"Not upset, exactly." She pursed her lips. "I spotted Peter Ferguson's dad, just coming out of the men's side. From the sound of it, he'd been throwing a major tantrum. Which raises a bigger question."

He got the gist immediately. "Yeah. Why would the father of someone who might be in the Empire Eighty-Eight be wandering around in the Medhall building?"

"Exactly." Her expression was thoughtful. "This bears looking into. We might just have uncovered another mole."

"Should we tell Mr Anders?" He knew he'd defer to her judgement either way.

"No." She shook her head definitively. "There might be an innocent explanation. I'm going to need to do some digging and make sure I've got all the facts before I bother him with this."

That seemed the safest bet. "Yeah," he agreed. "Good idea."

Part 17