The Paladin Prophecy

#31: IT’S NOT A BAD THING, SOMETIMES, IF THEY THINK YOU’RE CRAZY.

“We should just drop the masks,” said Will.

Hodak shot a wary look at him. “What did you say?”

“Let’s stop pretending,” said Will casually. “You can bully me every single day I’m here, and even if you succeed? I will still take you down on the course. I own you there, and you know it. I am the CEO of Beat Todd Hodak, Incorporated Dot Com.”

Todd turned off his treadmill and stepped away. Breathing deeply, his upper body rippling with stress.

“You seem tense, Todd,” said Will, stepping off the treadmill and following him. “Did you have a rough … knight?”

Todd’s face flushed bright red when he heard the word. He balled his fists. Will moved right next to him.

“I don’t care who you are,” said Will quietly. “If you ever take another shot at me, or if you or your stooges hurt any of my roommates, including Brooke—especially Brooke—I’m painting a bull’s-eye on you. And I will tear you up.”

That ought to do it.

Will turned his back on him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Todd give the nod to Durgnatt and Steifel. Both stood up and jammed straight at him.

Here comes the pain.

Durgnatt, the dark-haired one, lunged at Will, grabbed him by the elbows, and pinned his arms behind his body. Steifel went for Will’s legs. Together, they lifted him off the ground. Will didn’t resist. The rest of the team reacted as if they’d rehearsed. Two went to the doors as lookouts. The others gathered around the mat in the middle, where Durgnatt and Steifel forced Will to his knees.

Todd grabbed Will by the sweatshirt and cocked back his fist. Will focused his eyes between Todd’s eyebrows. With a lot more confidence than he’d felt the last time, Will pushed a picture at him:

Hit Durgnatt.

Todd’s right hand flew right past Will’s chin and slammed Durgnatt in the nose. The big kid let go of Will and cradled his face, blood leaking between his fingers as he crumpled to his knees. Todd stared at his fist as if he couldn’t believe what it had just done. He cocked another punch.

Hit Steifel.

Todd’s left hook nailed Steifel flush on the side of the head. Dazed, Steifel staggered away. Will hopped to his feet, danced around shaking his hands, then added a Bruce Lee shuffle for fun.

“What the hell, Todd?” said Durgnatt, looking at the blood.

“Hold him still next time, idiots,” said Todd. “Get him!”

Every guy in the room rushed at Will. They collided from all directions with Will smack in the middle. Their momentum carried the entire scrum to the floor. Will tucked and landed under them. Lowering his head, he tunneled toward daylight, struggling to breathe with their weight squirming on top of him. He summoned his energy into focus again and pushed a picture at the whole group:

Hit him in the package.

A short rabbit punch got thrown by every man in the pile at the crotch of the man closest to him, in perfect unison. Will heard a chorus of yelps as the shots connected. Everyone fell sideways, moaning and writhing in pain.

Will snaked out from under the pile, shoving a few groaners aside, and scrambled to his feet. Halfway up, something slammed hard into his back and knocked the wind out of him. He fell forward, turned, and saw Todd staring at him savagely, holding a weighted hardwood club. Will gasped for air like a fish flopping on a dock. His thoughts scattered, veering toward panic.

Todd threw his legs out, dropped his rear end on the mat, and hammered his elbow into Will’s ribs, driving what little breath he had left from his body.

Oof. That really hurt.

Still bent over and moaning, the others gathered in a circle around them. Todd straddled Will’s chest, then knocked his arms away to take a free shot at him. Others grabbed Will’s arms and pinned them to the mat. Will gasped for air. Short of oxygen, he couldn’t summon the energy to defend himself.

This was about to get completely out of hand. What the hell, Dave? Good time for the guardian angel to put in an appearance, don’t you think?

Through the crowd, Will caught a flash of movement as the nearest door flew open. A shape soared up onto the hanging gymnastic rings nearby, whipped around in tight circles, and then streaked toward them.

As Todd prepared to rearrange Will’s face, a pair of feet slammed into Todd’s shoulder and sent him tumbling into his teammates. About four other kids went flying. A familiar face popped into view in front of Will.

“Whose happy fun-time idea was this?” said Nick, grinning.

Nick launched a series of backflips across the mat as the team gave chase. Nick hopped up out of the last flip, landed on top of a pommel horse, then reverse somersaulted back toward Will. He landed on three of the kids. They crashed into each other, and the ones behind them scattered like bowling pins.

When Durgnatt and Steifel ran at him, Nick sprinted to the uneven bars. He caught the low bar, spun all the way around, let go, flew up, and grabbed hold of the high bar. He circled twice, doubling his speed, then let go, extending his legs and power-kicking both kids into a padded wall, where they crumpled and lay still.

“Next, please,” said Nick.

With most of them disabled—including Todd, on his hands and knees, dazed and wobbling—the few who could still walk slunk away. Nick yanked Todd to his feet.

“Run that down, Ho-Dick.”

Nick pushed him with one finger and Todd keeled over. Nick flipped backward onto a springboard, arced into the air, dove to the ground, tumbled across the mat, and landed next to Will. He knelt down and helped Will to his knees.

“You all right, bud?” asked Nick.

Will nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

“Twelve against one. Slick move, ace. Lucky I came in when I did.”

“Hey,” said Will, finally able to speak. “Forget geography, man. Stick with gymnastics.”

Coach Jericho came through the door, clipboard and whistle in hand. He stopped cold when he saw his squad lying on the ground, moaning, bleeding, or cowering in fear. Todd saw Jericho and staggered to his feet.

“Hey, Coach,” said Todd.

Todd stumbled a few steps toward him and collapsed face-first. Jericho’s gaze settled on Nick and Will, the only uninjured bodies in the room. His eyes flashed with anger.

“McLeish, you chuckwagon, what the hell are you doing here?”

Nick and Will grabbed hands and pretended they were stretching.

“Just stretching out my roomie, Coach,” said Nick.

“What happened?” asked Jericho.

“Not real sure, Coach, we just came in,” said Will. “But if I had to guess … it looks like they overtrained.”

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