Potere | Book II ✓

v | queen of two kings

I shove another mouthful of fried batter, Aunt Jemima syrup, and chocolate chips in my mouth.

Playful, laughter filled chatter fills the room as Veleno sets the scene up.  He places each man in position as the talking continues.  The volume of the dull chatter quickly rises, and it isn't helped by a group of rowdy gentlemen in the back corner of the room.

"Three on one?" A voice rises purposely, just loud enough for Veleno to hear.  "Who does one-eye think he is? Fantasma?"

A look passes Veleno's face and I immediately feel sorry for him.  This is only the second training session he's tried to run, but according to Liam, not everyone in the house is thrilled to have a teacher.  Many of the men are too confident, most of them believing they don't need the help.  Especially outside help.

Ignoring the group, Veleno turns to the three men.  "Fight me like you'd fight a real threat."  He slightly bends his knees and squares his shoulders, ready.  Uncertain, the soldiers glance at each other.  "Fight like your life is on the line." He continues before playfully nodding in Liam's direction.  "Fight like your boss is watching."

The nagging voice comes again, even louder this time.  "I got my money on the Luciano fam.  I just can't see them losing to a disabled--"

Veleno stands straight up, his eyes searching the crowd.  "To a what?"

"Let me reword it then," A young man emerges from the crowd, his toes barely grazing the edge of the mat.  A beautifully designed tattoo wraps it way around his neck.  Ink is etched into the side of his forehead, along with both arms.  He smiles, wickedly.  "I can't see them losing to a man that's disabled." Casually, the man points to Veleno's blind eye, his finger just inches from an eyelash.  Veleno doesn't blink.

Dominic begins to step forward, clearly irritated with the altercation.  He's ready to say something, to defend his brother's ex-partner.  Liam grabs his wrist, yanking him back into place.  They lean their heads together as Liam whispers in his ear.

"I want to see if he can handle this."

Dom stands down.

"You have beef with me, yet I've never spoken to you a day in my life." Veleno steps forward, the mat giving him a height advantage.  "Care to explain why?"

Suddenly, my pancakes aren't the focal point of my attention.  I find my eyes drawn on the young man as he steps up, forcing Veleno to back away, giving them both enough space.

"Come on, Shawn--" One of Veleno's volunteers interrupts, annoyed.

Shawn ignores the voice.  "I hate you for two reasons.  Would you like to hear both?"

In a dry tone, Veleno replies, "I'd love to."

"Those men standing behind you," Shawn points in the volunteer's directions, before aiming a finger at his heart, "I trained them.  I taught them everything I know and they're some of the best soldiers Liam has." His expression fills with pride.  "What you're doing, you're trying to take all that away from me."

"Your training was..." Veleno tilts his head, ever-so-slightly.  "Cute.  If we're going to go up against the Russians, they're going to need to know more than what a How to Fight For Dummies book can teach them."

"Which brings me to point number two." Shawn steps forward once again, hardly intimidated by Veleno's stature.  "I hate assassins.  I hate everything about you all.  You're just a group of overly confident bastard's that think they're better than everyone else—"

"—We are." Veleno interjects, "Your point?"

"My point is that you're not.  You're the same as us, just with absolutely no morals and a tad less empathy."  Shawn takes another step in Veleno's direction, casually motioning to his eye again.  "And you? With one less eye."