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FOUR
Five years later
Studying water insertion techniques well into the evening made Rook late the next morning. He entered the training room with an air of expectation fully prepared to accept whatever grueling task his Unit Leader, Kyele, assigned as punishment.
Kyele didn’t tolerate tardiness and ruled with strict guidelines. Joining the team may have been a risk, but Rook didn’t regret it. The former Jutak had made good on his words and brought together three others to form the Ghost Unit. Each member had completed the Jutak Academy and been passed over for selection for varying reasons.
With this group, they’d been given another chance. It wasn’t always easy and some days Rook wanted to punch his teammates but at others he was damn glad to have them at his back.
His attention caught on two individuals sparring at the center ring used for combat practice. Maybe they’d started without him. The mat resounded with thumps as the opponents flipped, swirled and attacked one another.
Rook’s brows arched as he studied the combatants and recognized one as Kyele. Though masked, his fluid way of moving was recognizable to those who’d trained with him. The former Jutak had a certain style of fighting that to this day made him undefeated amongst their group.
Rook couldn’t imagine what had brought this on. Aside from the beginning of forming Ghost Unit, Kyele rarely fought them one on one anymore.
A quick glance revealed his other team members on the sidelines, working out at various stations. Which meant none were Kyele’s opponent.
Kjar spared him a glance, his upper lip curled in derision. Rook grunted. Yeah, yeah. He was late. A rare occurrence.
Not that it mattered. Kjar and he constantly challenged one another off mission. Both of them too headstrong to take orders from another easily. Too bad for Kjar that Rook received the title of Team Leader, making him the one in charge on missions.
Arms folded across his chest, gaze on the two in the ring stood another teammate. Hahn. He had to know Rook had arrived but didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Typical. Hahn hyper-focused if there was something new to be learned.
Off to the side, Dorian lay shirtless on the floor mat pounding out pushups.
Rook made for the inclined treadmill across the room, set the pacing on the digital screen to advanced and started his warm-up. His gaze strayed back to the fight.
On the machine next to him, Kjar muttered, “Whoever the newcomer is fights like a beast.”
Rook didn’t answer and upped the pace of the treadmill though he silently agreed. In the beginning, the former Jutak warrior pushed them incessantly. Late night alarms, interrupting their sleep to train. Early morning alarms, interrupting their morning meal to train. Midday alarms to break whatever rest they sought to train.
Day in and day out, Kyele instilled upon them the need to be sharp at all times. Whatever they’d learned in the Jutak Academy paled to all the knowledge gained under his tutelage.
To this day, Rook remained grateful he’d taken that call five years ago and accepted the invitation.
He’d arrive unsure and full of anger still wondering if someone played an elaborate hoax on him. Hahn, Dorian and Kjar came the same day as wary as he had appeared. They had been selected under the same premise as Rook, graduates who hadn’t been picked for a Jutak Unit.
As initially explained, Ghost members went out as a last resort when all measures failed. Legal that was. There had been a few occasions when assignments straddled the gray line and they were sent to fix the issue. Permanently, if necessary.
Hahn came over and sat on a glider to begin his leg presses. Thighs flexing, he asked, “Any idea if it’s a new member joining?”
Rook shrugged, a frown forming on his lips. As Team Leader, he hadn’t seen any information or received notification of a new member.
“Do you think we’ll see someone actually take Kyele down?” Reluctant admiration tinged with envy laced Kjar’s question.
None of them had yet to defeat their esteemed leader in a session. Rook eyed the match. The unknown challenger was only a few inches shorter than Kyele. Slender but muscled in the all white training suits they used. A protective white helm hid their face from view.
The two swung at each other with rapid blows almost too fast for the eye to catch. That alone caught Rook’s attention. Kyele’s heritage as a Spectar gave him the ability to move like the wind, dodging opponents with a speed unmatched.
But his challenger kept up easily, ducking, swirling and lashing out with strong kicks. One such strike, tapped Kyele on the temple with the toe of a boot. Kjar let out a low whistle at the impressive move.
Stunned, Rook could only stare. With enough force, if the kick landed, it would have sent Kyele flying.
He jerked back in time though, dropped to the floor and rolled behind the other fighter. When he lunged to his feet, their arms moved forward at the same time and both paused. Gloved fists hovered poised at one another’s face but didn’t touch.
Laughing, Kyele backed away to rip off his helm and tucked it under his arm. His scar stood out in prominence against the stretch of the rare smile gracing his face. “You’ve gotten better. Have you been training more on your own?”
The only time Rook witnessed someone close enough to be a fair match to his Unit Leader was when a former Jutak Team Leader by the name of V’hor visited their base. This fighter had to be a Jutak warrior. Perhaps someone else from Kyele’s former unit here to visit.
