Page 31 of Rising

“Now. Get yourgrown assinto The Ring,” I said as I hopped in, turning my back towards him, refusing to recognize him as a threat.

Amaia

The second he entered The Ring, he made his move, taking a quick step towards me as I threw a punch, not giving him a chance to get his bearings. His left arm reached for my left side in an attempt to distract me as he threw a strong right. I quickly fell into my rhythm, the thrill of a fight invigorating me. A dancer hitting the stage for the first time after a torn Achilles.

I was ready for him. Dropping my left shoulder and I grabbed his right wrist once more, catching his eye for a moment as I smirked in my accomplishment before I dropped him to his knees with the same move I had only used a few minutes prior.

It was his turn to be ready for me. He didn’t quite come down to his knees, but I took advantage of his stagger. Jumping a few inches and throwing a kick towards the upper portion of his torso. He caught it. Just barely, using the momentum to pull himself back to his feet, ready to throw another punch.Impressive, but not that impressive.I thought to myself as I continued to dodge his every move, always just slightly out of reach.

A small crowd of soldiers had gathered near the edge of The Ring, enthralled with watching their leader back in action. I fed off their energy, allowing the rage of the past few months to surface and fuel my next move.

Reaching for his right side, I hooked my hand near the cusp of the bend in his arm and pulled down using his weight and the momentum of my movement to hoist myself airborne and twisted. Wrapping my legs around his neck, I forced him to carry me.

Taking a deep breath, I threw the weight of my body down, making gravity bend to my will as I brought him to the ground, flipping him onto his back. A whoosh came from his lungs as he gasped for air and cheers from the small group that had gathered rang out.

His cheeks turned bright red as he glared at me with embarrassment, gasping for air, teeth chattering, and I smirked at him, not caring to spare his feelings. I knew what I’d done wasn’t right. Making a public display out of someone who, to be fair, had fighting skills enough to qualify for a soldier, depending how the rest of his assessment turned out. I shook off the thought, knowing there were still secrets he held that made the rest a moot point.

If his ego was fragile enough that he allowed himself to be embarrassed by that, then oh well. That was a him problem. But I knew that the truth was, hewasreally good. Even I could admit that he fought with precision, speed and skill that reflected a well trained soldier, which did no favors for my current suspicions. He’d surprisingly winded me a bit, though I had no intention of letting that be known. I wasn’t in the best of conditions, but he was quick and forced me to fight at a higher skill level. One that only Jax and Seth had forced me to match, well them and a terribly intoxicated and pissed off Tomoe.

I stood up and offered him my hand. He glared at me in return, opting to stand on his own, leaving me hanging.

“Mad you got your ass kicked by a girl?” I teased.

“What’s next?” His voice was harsh. He was pissed off. Eyes darting to the side at the soldiers still watching from the sidelines.

Humbling myself, I forced myself to act as a proper leader and put the personal issues I had with him aside. Raising my voice just loud enough for the onlookers to hear, but still quiet enough to sound natural, I offered him an honest out, “I’m impressed. It’s been a while since I’ve felt challenged in a fight.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he said quietly, brown eyes staring into the depths of my own, making a chill trickle down my spine.

“Whatever,” I said as I watched the soldiers disperse under my intense gaze. “Take it to heart if you want. I’mUmbra Mortis.My entire existence is a weapon. Our shooting range is through here. Helps keep away The Pansies.”

Nodding my head in the direction of my home away from home, I grabbed my weapons from the side of The Ring. Not bothering to check and see if he followed in my wake.

The shooting range stored most of our troops’ weapons that were general knowledge. We also had the weapon offices around The Compound. They held the restplus what the civilians had brought in with them available to check out, and then there were thebetterweapons. The advanced ones that required research, the ones that were known to few. Only on a need-to-know basis.

Aside from helping with sound proofing efforts, the location was rather difficult to get to. It was well-guarded due not only to what it contained, but also an emergency bunker for those vulnerable in the community as a last-ditch effort. Though everyone was expected to fight if things went to shit and the walls were ever seriously breached, everyone under sixteen, pregnant women, and those who were gravely injured, would hole up down here. It would remain the last place standing for The Compound.

I held the first door open for him as he approached on my heels before stopping near the next door. The soldiers stationed outside nodded as they knocked twice, the soldiers behind the door unlocked it from the inside. It was another measure I’d made changes to when taking over.

It was important that the knock pattern used was changed up every so often. It would only make it that much harder to breach should someone who wasn’t wanted attempt to enter. Once the door opened, we entered a dark corridor. I lit the lamps with my magic as we approached each torch, and I felt the unease in his tense body as he kept close.

“Why the hell is it in some dingy dungeon?” he blurted out, sounding more nervous than he probably intended.

“It’s soundproof.” I smirked. “Amongst its other purposes.” The idea of furthering his discomfort warmed my heart.

His shoulders sagged slightly once we approached the end of the long corridor. Gunfire erupted from the furthest door.

“We’re forty feet underground.” I answered his next question before he could utter it, knowing he’d probably felt the extreme change in temperature from the morning heat above.

“A bomb shelter,” he stated simply.

“Yes.”

I swung open the door and pointed towards the racks on the left filled with different types of guns, knives, swords, and various style bow and arrows. He walked over without me having to extend a verbal invite, grinning as he slid his fingers along the side of an EK 44.Because that’s not concerning.

They were made for stabbing, not slashing, six inches long with a tip sharp enough to cause a sea of blood with one prick. It was a lethal weapon, meant for fighting and not as a tool. Sharp and efficient, they weren’t for anyone who didn’t know their way around some knife work.

He eyed me excitedly. “Which one do we start with?”

---