The Asshole

Train Harder

In the dimly lit warehouse, the air was thick with anticipation and determination. Wesley and I stood facing each other, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. "We're bounded by blood, but we share desire for a dangerous path that sets us apart from the rest of the world."

Ever since I was old enough to understand, I've idolized our father, a legendary assassin known for his unparalleled skills. He had trained me in the art of combat, instilling in me a sense of discipline and a thirst for perfection. But while Wesley was set on a different path, I always yearned to follow in my father's footsteps.

I understood the allure of the assassin's life. I've seen firsthand the thrill and danger it entailed. However, I also know the sacrifices and hardships that came with it. Determined to protect Wesley from the perils of out father's world, I had initially tried to distract him. But Cross had other plans that couldn't be resolved  now I realize that I can't deny Wesley of the truth any longer.

And so, in the depths of the not so abandoned warehouse, I've became Wesley's mentor, pushing him to his limits and beyond. "Move like your one with the wind, not just an assassin but a warrior is always one step ahead." The training sessions were grueling, designed to test Wesley's physical and mental fortitude.

I taught him the art of stealth, the precision of marksmanship, and the intricacies of hand-to-hand combat. Every move, every technique I attempted to drilled into Wesley's muscle memory until it became second nature.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. We spent countless hours honing, not just his, but our skills, our bond growing stronger with each passing day.

I pushed him harder than he had ever pushed himself, letting him know that the path he had chosen for himself was fraught with danger. I wanted him to be prepared for anything that might come his way.

But as the training intensified, so did the doubts that plagued my mind. "Is this right?" I questioned whether I was doing the right thing, whether I was leading my brother down a path that would only bring pain and suffering. The weight of responsibility weighed heavily on my shoulders, but I couldn't deny the fire that burned within Wesley's eyes.

"We're not leaving until you knock me off my feet!" I growled down at the younger boy as we stood chest to...neck. I'm slightly taller than him. Our fist were wrapped in blood bandages from previous trainings. "No mercy! Why?!" I seethed not looking down at him "Because an enemy has no mercy." he muttered

The dimly lit warehouse provided the perfect backdrop for their training fist fight. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows upon the cracked concrete floor. The silence was broken only by the distant sound of dripping water and the brothers' steady breaths.

Wesley and I faced each other, our eyes locked in a fierce gaze. The tension was palpable as he prepared to unleash his newly taught skills upon me. With a nod of mutual respect, we advanced, our fists raised and ready.

The first strike came from Wesley, a powerful jab aimed at my chest. But I, quick as a panther, sidestepped the blow, retaliating with a lightning-fast combination of punches. Each strike landed with precision, testing Wesley's defenses.

Fueled by my strength, I launched a devastating hook towards Wesley's head. But Wesley's reflexes honed to perfection, ducked under the blow, countering with a swift uppercut. The impact reverberated through the warehouse, but I stood ny ground, my determination unyielding.

As brothers we danced around each other, our movements fluid and calculated. We weaved through the maze of crates and machinery, our fists a blur of motion. Each punch was met with a block, each dodge followed by a swift retaliation.

The sound of our fists colliding echoed through the empty warehouse, a symphony of determination and resilience. We traded blow after blow, ourr bodies moving in perfect synchrony. Sweat dripped from Wesley's brows, our muscles burned with exertion, but neither of us showed any sign of surrender.

Wesley, summoning his inner strength, unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick, aiming to knock me off balance. But my agility unmatched, swiftly evaded the attack, delivering a lightning-fast strike to Wesley's ribs. The impact sent shockwaves through Wesley's body, but he refused to falter.

As the moonlight filtered through the broken windows, casting ethereal beams upon the battlefield, the brothers found ourselves locked in a final clash. Our fists collided one last time before Wesley collapsed to the ground breathing heavily. "Look at me." I whispered. Wesley hesitantly looked up at me in defeat.

I got down on one knee in front of him "Pain hurts but losing...hurts worse." I reminded him before walking away. I walked out of the small warehouse and into the main building. I entered my room to see Fox sitting on my bed "We need to talk." was all she said.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion "About what?" I asked confused "About us. Don't play stupid." she grumbled.