Crossed Swords and Bullet Holes

Finally, there was only weapons testing left.

Alex had done extremely well in everything – as expected. He'd been asked to double-up in hand-to-hand, meaning that two men came at him at once. He'd introduced them to the floor faster than they could blink.

Devil was also recommended for the multiple-attack exercise. Alex and Devil took in turns to brave the mats as more and more men were added to their victim count. Soon, both boys were snaking around seven flailing fists and arms, and they were dodging left and right to deliver blows. Wolf had stopped them there.

"We can't actually give you more men," he'd told them grudgingly as the beaten soldiers on the floor groaned. "We need at least some of them not wounded."

Devil and Alex had conceded, before flashing grins at the fourteen men lying on the ground.

"Where the bloody hell did you two train?!" One of them groaned, holding a blood-nose and cracked ribs. Alex's face darkened as he remembered the vigorous training Scorpia had given him, along with his honed ability to fight. Next to him, Devil wore a similar expression.

The weapons shed was stocked with everything anyone could want. Except -

"There aren't any swords."

Silence muffled the large room for a moment before K-Unit and the instructors burst into laughter. Devil, who'd pointed this out, frowned. Eventually, the men calmed down.

"Why would we want swords?" One of the weapons specialists asked mockingly. "This isn't the middle ages."

Alex noticed an angry gleam in Devil's eyes, and for the first time he realised that Devil had a walking stick belted to his waist.

"You said we could pick a weapon to start on," he said, deceptively calm. "I pick a sword."

"Well, kid," another man said, stressing the word. "We don't have swords. They're worthless and don't do anything for real SAS men."

At that, K-Unit froze. They'd only seem a miniscule amount of Devil's abilities, and goading him was something they all knew would land someone in hospital, or worse.

"Well then," the pale boy said. "Lucky I brought my own."

No one moved for a minute as the instructors shared incredulous looks and mockingly dragged their hands down their faces. Alex decided to move away from Devil for the moment.

"Whatever kid," one of them said. "You totally brought a sword into the SAS training camp without anyone noticing. A sword. You're not fooling anyone. Go home!"

At that, Devil snapped. Alex thanked his instincts for telling him to move.

There was a flash of movement and in seconds, Devil was at the instructor's throat. But it wasn't just him.

A gleaming, pitch black blade hovered inches from the man's jugular vein. Stunned silence filled the shed. The man under Devil started spluttering, but the dark-haired boy cut him off.

"I'd like to begin with a sword," he said again. "Would you deny me my choice?"

The pinned instructor gulped, and shook his head. Devil got off him and, holding up his admittedly terrifying weapon, walked over to one of the sparring mats. He stood there, all eyes on him.

"From our friend over there," He said, gesturing to the instructor he'd pinned. "I suppose none of you know how to use a sword. Or a blade of any type."

"We train with knives," someone muttered. Alex felt sorry for the person as soon as Devil looked at him.

"Oh," he said, another smile flickering onto his face. "Would you get one, then? Perhaps you can try and avenge your friends pride by beating me. After all," at this, he made a face that would, if you didn't know him, make him see innocent. "I'm just a child."

The man he'd spoken to held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm not the knives expert," he said, eyes wide. Devil cocked his head.

"Are you saying you're scared of me?"

Another silence coated the room before a huge grin split the boy's face.

"You are!" He cried. At this, Wolf snorted and tried to cover it with a cough. The challenged man's eyes started to blaze with anger.

"Who would have thought," Devil continued. "That a big, scary SAS man who's trained for years was scared of a boy with a sword. Pathetic."

By now, all five of the instructors were getting riled up. Alex sidled over to Devil and whispered in his ear.

"I'd stop now," he said. "Before they attack you."

Devil looked through his fringe and Alex caught the light in his eyes.

"That's just what I'm hoping for," he replied. Alex suddenly grinned. This would be good. If Devil thought he could take on five men with a sword, Devil could take on five men with a sword. From his limited hours with the boy, Alex knew he always played to his strengths.

Nico watched in triumph as the five instructors equipped themselves with knives, short blades, dwarf-swords they insisted were just daggers, and their own fists. Nico knew he'd pushed them over the line, which was exactly what he wanted. Catching Jaguar's eye, he called out.

"Would you be so kind as to get the Sergeant?" He asked. "And possibly the infirmary staff too. They'll have a few more patients soon."

"You got that right," one of the prepping instructors growled. "We'll be sending you there in pieces!"

Nico shrugged.

"I wouldn't make promises you can't keep," he said. The man snorted.

"Eat your own words, brat," he snarled, before gripping his dwarf-sword and advancing on Nico. The other four men followed suit.

"All of you at once," Nico observed. "Are you that afraid of a teenage boy you can't attack him without your friends?"

An angry howl came from the lead man.

"Don't retreat!" He roared to his men. "The kids just scared!"

So they all advanced on Nico as one. The son of Hades caught Cub's eye then, and winked. Cub's shoulders lost a little of their tension. Nico was confident. His sword was an extension of himself and he knew it.

Then, the first man attacked.

Wolf watched as Eagle hit the ground in awe, his jaw hanging open so wide it was like a feasting snakes. Wolf barely managed to keep himself on his feet, while Snake and Jaguar had started making strangled noises in shock.

The fight had barely lasted ten minutes, and if Devil had been allowed to kill, it would have been shorter.

All five instructors were on the ground, all bleeding, nearly all knocked out. Devil stood in the centre and from what Wolf could see, there was not a scratch on him. From the side, Cub was nodding appreciatively. Wolf couldn't supress a shudder of fear.

Cub, he knew, was far too talented for his age. Devil was ridiculously talented for his age. Wolf now feared the wellbeing for the entire camp if these two prodigies ever decided to get revenge on anyone who mocked them.

"You'd think you'd have learnt this on your first day, Davids," a voice said from the doorway. "That if an opponent is too confident, he'll end up kicking your ass to hell."

K-Unit turned around to see the Sergeant standing in the entrance, a small smile on his thin lips. They stood to attention as Sanders passed them.

"At ease," he ordered, and they stood down. The Sergeant stopped in front of the mat.

"Did you hear what I said, Davids?" He asked. A groan replied from the man at his feet.

"He's a fucking kid, sir," Davids gasped.

"He's a fucking dangerous kid, I think you mean," Sergeant corrected. Davids nodded weakly from his sprawled position, clutching his ribs and head. Behind him, still standing in the middle of the mat, Devil chuckled.

"I'm touched," he said smoothly, looking at the Sergeant. The man eyed the sword in the boy's hand.

"I don't think it's every day a kid waltzes in and beats the shit out of my instructors," he replied easily. Wolf felt like fainting himself. "With the exception of Cub."

From the wall, Cub bowed.

"Thank you, sir," he said, a grin on his face. Sanders rolled his eyes and made to leave.

"God help the world if you two join forces," he breathed, shuddering at the thought. Both Cub and Devil grinned, sparing a look at each other that Wolf labelled as the most evil thing he'd ever seen. As the Sergeant passed, Wolf whispered to him.

"You had to put that idea in their heads, didn't you?" He groaned. Sanders swore under his breath before disappearing.

The rest of the day showed Cub and Devil, indeed, out-ranking everyone at Brecon Beacons. Cub's shooting instructor ate his words when he checked the targets after Cub shot. He showed a stunned group of fellow instructors, even the ones in hospital, after K-Unit had been dismissed.

"I told him, fire six shots," he started as the men stared at the piece of cardboard.

"But-" One of them started, and he was shushed by the others.

"At first I thought he hadn't, but he did it again and I counted. Then I thought luck. But no one's lucky enough to do that every time he shot."

The target only had two holes in the bullseye. Cub had fired six shots.

"He shot the same spot three times," Davids breathed from his bed. The shooting instructor, a man named Langedly, nodded. More jaws dropped. A man from the group who'd challenged Devil groaned.

"I swear to God, I will never ever get on either of those kids bad sides," he muttered. Davids laughed hoarsely.

"Too late, Goodman," he said. Goodman shuddered and put a hand to his forehead and leg, where his wounds were. Devil had whacked him with the butt of his sword after sending a devastating blow to his leg nerves, forcing him to fall down. The other men had similar injuries. They'd learned a valuable lesson, and were making it their mission to teach their fellow soldiers: never, ever, never never ever, challenge Devil or Cub to anything. Ever.