OUR SPOT // SkepHalo

Chapter 23

Warning: Death, mention of death, strong language, fighting

     Two weeks was, not surprisingly, a very short span of time to train someone to be an assassin. Darryl was doing his best, teaching Zak everything he thought the peasant would need. When he wasn't working one of his three jobs, the younger man spent his days practicing what his friend had taught him.

     It was mostly self-defense moves, and a little experimenting with weaponry. Once, Zak asked Darryl where he kept getting the training weapons, but the brunette wouldn't answer him. The peasant found himself to be most comfortable with a battle axe of all things. Despite his smaller stature, Zak had gotten fairly fit from his work. Darryl was pleasantly surprised. 

     Speaking of the Prince, he spent his every waking hour thinking of the countless situations in which Zak could end up hurt, dead, or captured, and preparing sparring routines to help with each. The worst possible scenario would be if he'd gotten caught. 

     Sure, you'd think dead would be a little bit more troublesome. But Darryl had seen how hostage situations usually played out. The prisoner would be highly guarded and locked away, making rescue close to impossible. From there, any hostage would be at the mercy of their captors.

     The brunette thought back briefly to when he'd visited Clay, and the man he'd kept upstairs. George, was it? Clay would've finished with that job long ago. If he'd held true to his word, George would've woken up back on his boat with no memory of the previous days, his friend, Sapnap, murdered mysteriously. Assuming, of course, that George was not found. 

     But those were not the thoughts he needed to be thinking right then. It was roughly three days before they were due to set off. Zak was currently trying to bash his skull in with a wooden axe. Darryl ducked under a blow intended for his temple, sliding behind the boy and wrapping an arm around his waist.

     He let out a grunt of approval as Zak elbowed his stomach and kicked out. Though it wasn't the most accurate form, he was definitely improving. Darryl had never been so proud to be punched in the face. Ultimately, the hitman was able to subdue Zak in one movement, and he did. 

     " Damn it," Zak cursed from his place on the ground. " Why won't you hit back?! How am I supposed to learn if you won't even fight me?!"

     " Oh, shut up and be grateful I'm letting you hit me at all," Darryl retorted. " You just need to know how to land punches for now. Though, it seems like you're not that lucky."

     Zak rolled his eyes and wiggled out of the brunette's grip. " My mother's still not thrilled about me running off with you, by the way."

     " It'll only be a week or two," Darryl tutted. " Your jobs are letting you go, why can't she? I thought she liked me."

     " Don't get a big head," the younger man laughed. " She may like you, but I've never left home for so long. Nothing's gonna make her calm down."

     " She can take it up with me if she wants to fight about it," the chef joked. Zak smiled and they sat in silence for a moment. The air was cool and smelled of incoming rain. It wouldn't be long before they'd be running for cover, yet neither boy made a move. They enjoyed the view in the few calm moments they had left before their mission. 

     Zak was anxious, as anyone would be in his situation. But Darryl was training him well, he never felt like the moves he was being taught were too complicated or horribly unneeded. It was all practical, and the raven-haired man knew that Darryl was far more worried for Zak's health than Zak was. 

     Finally, the silence was broken as the brunette began walking down the hill. He called back to his friend, " Follow me, I want to show you something."