AN: My first fanfiction update in almost a year! My, how the time flies. Forgive me. (and maybe review?)
Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.
Maggie felt stronger than she had in her entire life. She could almost consistently disable everyone in the class and she was getting better at preventing them from disabling her. Little Grace was a particular challenger in that department.
"C'mon, Maggie!" Aaron cheered for her on the sidelines. Maggie was too busy sweating to smile. A few others let out cheers, but mostly they were curious. Grace, with her braids pulled back, had years of practice on her side. Maggie only had determination and the past few weeks of training.
So far she had stayed in the fight with simple blocks, but Grace was fast and her hits came hard. If Maggie didn't go on the offensive soon, she would be too tired to win. A kick flew toward her face, and Maggie barely missed it. An idea struck her instead. Taking advantage of the smaller girl's lack of balance, Maggie flew forward. One thing that being the oldest of four had taught her was how to fight dirty.
Grace threw another punch that Maggie blocked with her forearm. Maggie threw all of her weight onto Grace, pinning her down. The tiny girl—she reminded Maggie sometimes of a bird—squirmed, but Maggie had another trick up her sleeve. She grabbed Grace's ponytail and manoeuvred her so that she was on her stomach. A happy grunt escaped her—no way Grace could escape this hold!
She spoke too soon. Even with her hair still in Maggie's palm, Grace wiggled her way out so quickly Maggie didn't have time to act. A quick punch to her kidney, and Maggie was the one squirming on the floor. Grace put her foot on her chest, and she let her head hit the ground.
Rider signalled the end of the fight.
"Grace wins this round. Nice work. Both of you did well to remember your advantages against your opponent. And you know I don't have a problem with fighting dirty." This was said to Maggie, who took it as a compliment.
Today had been partnered fights, Rider pitting up those he saw as near equals—whether it be in size, technique, or skill. It wasn't usually the case, but today the girls had fought each other while the boys did the same. Rider had been calling the fights as they came, so you didn't know who you were fighting until it was go time.
Maggie collapsed onto a folding chair off the mats. She grabbed her water bottle and lifted the neck of her shirt a few times to fan herself. Aaron grinned at her exhaustion. His had been the first fight, against the stonily silent Luke. Both were new to hand-to-hand combat, and had ended up wrestling more than anything.
He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Did you notice we're an odd number? Wood hasn't fought anyone yet."
Maggie smiled, but couldn't really bring herself to care. She grinned. "Maybe Rider'll make someone fight again—you know, to 'fight under subprime physical conditions.'" She nudged his shoulder, teasing. "I bet he'll make you do it, since you lost to Luke."
Rider cut off Aaron's groan. "Wood. Up on the mats, if you would."
Wood, who had somehow gotten even bigger since his arrival, grinned down at his fellow trainees. He had not yet lost a fight, and he brought it up at every possible opportunity.
"Who's gonna fight me, then? Do I go one-on-two? See if two of these runts can't take me?"
Maggie noticed a few of the younger boys bristle, but Rider shook his head. "We haven't gotten to group fights. That'll come up eventually." Rider stepped onto the mat. "No, Wood, you'll be fighting me."
The room had already been quiet, but it seemed to still. Maggie held her breath. Her mind was suddenly filled with possibilities—how did Rider fight? Was he quick, like Charlie or Olivia or Grace? Or did he refuse to give up ground, like Luke or Josh or Wood himself?
Maggie no longer doubted that Rider knew his stuff. For nearly a month, he had taught them the ins and outs of everything from physical conflict to negotiation tactics. When they did their runs and their sit ups and lifted their weights, he did it alongside them. But never had he demonstrated like this; never had he actually fought someone.
Wood looked surprised for half a second before a mask settled over his features. If asked, Maggie would have compared him to a bear: huge and angry. Rider was more like a leopard, she thought nonsensically.
"Now, this won't exactly be a fair fight," Rider said, and Maggie thought she saw Wood twitch. "I have years of experience on you, not to mention that you've never seen me fight when I already know your style. But I want you to try your hardest, all right Wood?"
Maggie was downright shocked at Rider's tone as he finished his sentence. It was almost as if he was trying to provoke Wood….
With a loud yell, Wood charged across the mat. It looked as though a train was about to collide with a brick wall, and Maggie wondered why Rider didn't move already!
Then she blinked. Rider had shifted behind Wood so quickly she missed it. Had he teleported or something? Wood turned furiously, throwing punches left and right. They were fast and accurate, but somehow they kept missing Rider, who hadn't yet thrown a single punch. Their instructor moved as smoothly as a dancer, Maggie thought, as she caught Aaron's incredulous eye.
The fight was mesmerizing, especially when Rider started throwing punches. Wood blocked some, but some went through. He seemed outraged by his forming bruises, given that he had yet to land any on Rider.
And yet Wood was not the interesting one in this fight, at least not to Maggie. For a man in a fight, Rider seemed calm, almost unaffected. His face lacked the tightness that usually occupied it. He looked more at peace now than she had ever seen him.
On and on it went. Neither seemed to be tiring. Rider delivered a roundhouse kick that connected solidly with Wood's chest, and finally he was knocked to his knees. Maggie thought the fight might be over, Wood gasping for breath, but he lunged forward to grab Rider around his knees. Their instructor toppled awkwardly on his shoulder, and Wood took advantage of the situation to spring to his feet.
Everyone in the room could see that Wood intended the next strike to be his last—a powerful kick that would connect with Rider's exposed back and likely his kidneys.
For once, Rider was not quite fast enough. Wood's enormous foot and the massive leg connected to it collided with his back, and Rider fell to the mat, still.
Wood stood straight, panting, glee slowly painting his face. Maggie almost couldn't believe it. He had beaten Rider. Clapping started to break out. She looked to her teacher, waiting in nervous anticipation to see his reaction—had this been his intention all along? Or was it a true victory?
But Rider wasn't moving. She punched Aaron's shoulder.
"I think something's wrong! Look at Rider!" Her boyfri—classmate—fellow trainee—leapt out of his chair along with her. Wood and his fan club did not seem to have noticed that their instructor was still motionless on the ground. She and Aaron rushed forward, but stopped when they were close enough to touch him. Maggie realized she had no idea what to do.
Aaron got down on his knees. "He's still breathing," he said quietly. Hesitantly, he put two fingers on his neck. "Steady pulse…he's alive, but I don't know what we should do from here…."
Rider had landed on his side, almost his chest. His shirt had ridden up, exposing some of his back. Morbid curiosity struck Maggie. Cautiously, she lifted it up a bit more, not sure what to expect. Had Wood's kick broken something? She dropped the hem of his t-shirt almost involuntarily, falling backwards in shock.
The others were beginning to notice. They were chattering, surrounding Rider, and Maggie felt it hard to breathe. Aaron took charge.
"Maggie, get upstairs and tell someone. Preferably that Jones woman. Everyone else, back the fuck up!"
Thinking back on it later, she barely remembered finding Jones. She didn't know if she had taken the stairs, or the elevator, or if she had run into Jones or someone had fetched her. Her brain was hyper focused on one thing:
How had their teacher—their 18-year-old spy trainer—gotten whip scars on his back?
The bunkroom was usually quiet. Six bunk beds jutted out from one long wall, while the opposite held small chests of drawers. Their sheets were white and their blankets hospital-blue. If any of them had personal effects, they kept them privately to themselves, like Maggie did with her old family photo. After training, meals, and getting up at half past five, they barely had the energy to read, let alone gossip.
Tonight it sounded like a school lunchroom. Maggie had a headache. Rider had woken up right before she had arrived with Jones, and cancelled the rest of the day's training at once. No one could stop talking about it, Wood least of all.
"He thought he could beat me, and then I knocked him right on his arse!"
She hadn't been sure, but it appeared that she was the only one to have seen Rider's back. She didn't think the others would be acting like this—like it was some sort of school vacation—if they had seen. Maggie had only once seen such terrible scars, and it was in a book about slavery. She couldn't stop thinking about what could have caused them.
Aaron's head popped up next to her feet—she had the top bunk and Olivia had the bottom.
"Mind if I come up?"
She shook her head and sat up, hugging her pillow over her stomach. She watched him climb up, but her thoughts were a million miles away.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, very carefully not touching. Maggie knew that Aaron wanted to ask her what was wrong, but she didn't know what she would tell him.
Finally, she told him. "I checked his back, y'know, to make sure Wood hadn't broken something…." Her words petered off. She didn't know how to continue.
Aaron sidled up next to her so that the sides of their arms touched. "Nothing was broken…was it? He seemed okay when he woke up. Wanted me to get away right quick, anyway."
She shook her head. "He had scars, Aaron. Bad ones. I felt nauseas looking at them. Not from Wood," she added quickly, "These were old."
Aaron looked thoughtful. "I suppose a kick like that to a sensitive area could be intensely painful…but what kind of scars can make you feel nauseas?" He nudged her. "You're so stoic."
Maggie couldn't smile. "They were whip scars, Aaron. Like the kinds you see in books on slavery." Suddenly, words were coming out in a rush. "I mean, he's only 18—three years older than us! How is he teaching us how to be spies? How does he have scarring from a whip? Have you paid attention to him sometimes? He winces, but just barely. Like he's in pain and he's hiding it from us—from the world."
Aaron was watching her carefully. She faltered, unsure of what to say. Again, they sat without speaking.
"I think," Aaron said slowly, "that Rider has been keeping secrets. And I think we ought to find out what they are."